Post by Nyrai on Aug 13, 2019 7:07:57 GMT
(Seven Years Earlier...)
Dark. Warm. Soft.
Breathe in. Out.
"Wake up."
Subtle movements, falling deeper into a wonderful abyss.
Steady rhythm. In. Out.
"Get up, please."
Further and further down.
Maintain the rhythm.
"WAKE UP!"
Nyrai opened her eyes, and saw only shadows. In her arms was a woman, a mirialan, her head tucked into Nyrai's chest, legs intertwined with her partner's, breathing in a steady rhythm. She was still asleep. Wishing she could savor this a little while longer, but knowing that whatever had irritated her psychic sense enough to rouse her from a deep sleep wouldn't stop until dealt with, Nyrai began to maneuver herself from the embrace.
She moved one leg free, then the other. The grip tightened in response. She moved her arms to loosen it, and her lover began to stir. Further movements, and Nyrai was greeted by a cessation of pressure on her chest, coupled with the sight of two half hidden emeralds glittering in the dark.
"Hmm...?" Arvaa tried to blink the sleep from her green eyes.
"Shhh." Nyrai kissed her on the forehead and ran her fingers lightly through her hair. "I'll be back soon."
The emeralds vanished behind eyelids, and Nyrai slipped free of the other's grasp. She rolled quietly from the bed, allowing the cool Nar Shaddaa air to play across her skin for a moment. She began to dress herself in the darkness, relying more upon the force to feel her surroundings than actual eyesight. A simple grey shirt and pants would suffice. Then, almost as an afterthought, she grabbed her toolbelt, and took her lightsaber from it.
Closing it as softly as possible, Nyrai turned from the bedroom door and flicked on a light switch. Silence prevailed for a tense couple of seconds.
"Before you say a word, I'm going to get a drink."
Nyrai moved to a cabinet on the wall, pulling out a half-empty bottle, and a single shot glass.
"Relying on alcohol for everything that doesn't go your way?"
Nyrai poured a shot of the mandalorian black and knocked it back in a single swallow.
"No, but this feels like a good idea at the moment."
She poured another glass, then set the bottle back in the cabinet. Taking her lightsaber in one hand, and the glass in the other, Nyrai turned to face the twi'lek who was sitting on the couch. Leaning on the kitchen island, half crossing her arms to allow the drink to reach her lips, she simply stared.
"You're not going to greet an old friend?"
"Why should I?"
He sighed softly, looking away.
"I had to go through a lot to find you, Nyrai."
"It's almost like I didn't want to be found."
"Are such crass replies all you're capable of now?"
She looked at him, taking a small sip from the glass.
"Nyrai, please, I'm only here to talk."
"There is nothing to talk about." She snapped. "I want nothing to do with the Order, and nothing to do with you."
"Why?"
Nyrai's voice seemed to suddenly take on a more feral tone, sounding to the unfamiliar ear as a lithe beast very close to drawing blood.
"Why do you think?" She snarled.
A few moments of silence passed.
"Do you still believe that?"
"Take a guess."
"The Order saved your life."
"I wouldn't call forced indoctrination into a cult 'saving' my life."
"We gave you purpose and direction."
"You used me, just like everybody else in the Order. I was a tool for the tiny group of people who call themselves the 'Council' to employ and discard."
Nyrai took another sip of the drink, resisting the urge to knock it back.
"I've come here to try and help you see the light again, to try and bring you back to the good fight."
"I'm perfectly content where I am, thank you."
"This newfound lifestyle of yours, revolving around hurting others in horrible ways, how does that make you feel?"
"If you're looking for regret, Larek, you won't find any. I stopped giving a damn three years ago."
"You just ignored what you've been taught your entire life?"
Nyrai grinned, despite herself. "Yep, and it was the best decision I've ever made. Now, I have freedom to do whatever I want. Alcohol? Of course. Sex? Yeah, with men and women, though I prefer the latter. And all the crazy jobs I find in the mercenary business..."
"What happened to the kind, gentle padawan I once knew?"
"Oh, she's still around, I just have no need for her-"
The relative quiet of the night was abruptly shattered by a small, metallic explosion, and it was close. It was the unmistakable sound of a scattergun. Turning towards the source, Nyrai saw the door to the bedroom had been opened, and was running before she knew what she was doing. She pressed the light switch, and spared a second to take in the scene. A brown cloaked figure was slumped against the wall facing the foot of the bed, clutching his heavily bleeding torso. On the bed was another figure of the same fashion in an odd crouched position; one hand raising a green bladed lightsaber, the other attempting to subdue the writhing woman beneath him.
Arvaa's shotgun had been knocked from her grip, and she was too close to her assailant for Nyrai to risk using her lightsaber. She reached out with the force, took hold of the man and flung him from the bed. He landed on his feet, and swung at Nyrai much faster than she anticipated. She ducked under the blade, missing it by a matter of centimeters, and retaliated with an uppercut. He caught her hand, and swiped again with the saber. She grabbed his wrist, and twisted his arm to angle the shimmering blade away from her.
The room flashed green, and the man staggered. Another flash, then four more in rapid succession. Feeling him slump, Nyrai pushed the corpse away from her, letting it and his saber fall to the floor. Nyrai turned to face his executioner, who still held out her blaster pistol, and wore only an expression of shock and anger.
"The hell is going on?" Arvaa asked, lowering the weapon.
Nyrai didn't answer, instead looking around the room. The two cloaked men were Jedi, no doubt about it, probably shadows. Next to the bleeding man was a sith holocron, which had seemingly fell from his grip as he was shot. Nyrai looked up at a shelving unit which stood against one wall, and saw the spot which that holocron normally occupied was empty, along with a few others.
"Stay here." Nyrai said quickly, turning to leave the room.
"What are you-"
Nyrai didn't hear the rest. All she heard was the rush of blood in her ears, and the quick beat of her own heart.
Larek was standing now, and had his lightsaber unlit in his hand.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you here." Her voice shook with rage, and her whole body was tense in anticipation of the duel to come.
"You have been deemed a threat to the Jedi Order. I wanted to see if I couldn't persuade you to come back, but I know now that you never will."
He shifted into a fighting stance, and pulled another saber from his robe. They stared at one another for a few seconds, trying to measure the abilities of their opponent through sight and the force.
Nyrai struck first.
Igniting one blade of her saber, she slashed at her former master's head. The fire orange blade was met with two ice blue sabers, resulting in a shower of sparks. They both held the lock for a few seconds, turning about the center of the duel. Soon, Nyrai had her back to the entrance of the apartment, and Larek broke the saber lock. After a moment's pause, he began a series of fast and hard blows, forcing Nyrai into a defensive stance.
Larek was a phenomenal duelist; much of Nyrai's skill with a blade came from the hours the two sparred in the Jedi Temple. As a result, she could somewhat hold her own against him, but Larek could reliability predict and counter nearly every attack. Nyrai tried to circle around him, to give herself more room to maneuver, but she couldn't find an opening.
Deflecting and parrying what she could, and dodging the rest, Nyrai avoided any major injuries outside of a few minor burns. Blocking an downward strike, she took the force of the blow mostly in her right arm, and used the momentum to push her elbow into the front door switch.
It opened with a hiss; Nyrai sprang back and away from Larek out onto the extended balcony. He followed her, still intent on maintaining the offensive, and threw one of his lightsabers at her while quickly advancing. Nyrai ducked under the thrown blade, rising again to meet a heavy swing from her assailant. She deflected the blow, then leapt a meter to her right, dodging the returning thrown saber. Her retaliatory swing was met with a swift parry; the ensuing riposte was delivered just as fast. Nyrai twisted away from the blade meant to impale her, but was put off balance.
Larek kept pressing, delivering harsh blows with both sabers. Nyrai's back was to the balcony railing, and the signs of fatigue were beginning to show. Her reactions were slowing; only by a small fraction, but enough for Larek to know he had the upper hand. Soon, he was able to force Nyrai into another saber lock. She was breathing heavily: sweat beading her forehead, and heart pounding. Larek broke the lock, stepping back a few paces, and sent forth a blast of force energy at his former padawan before she had time to recover.
Two, five, eight, ten meters. Nyrai hit the ground, and felt at least a few things break. She lay where she had fallen, registering the screams of shocked passerby, the calls of Hutt security trying to figure out what was happening, and the pain that now coursed through her body. It seemed to her a thousand knives had burrowed deep into her flesh. The slightest twitch sent fire along her veins, and every breath was taken through a haze of misery.
Not all of the pain was due to the fall, however, as Nyrai's own emotions served to amplify her agony. As she lay there, battered and broken, thoughts and feelings whirled inside her mind. Disappointment at herself for failing to beat him, despair at the prospect of her dying in a battle she had known was coming for years, even regret for all the things she had wanted to see and experience, but never would. Above all else in this sea of pain and emotion, there was anger. A vile, foul hatred which seemed to soar from the depths of her suffering and swirl about her soul.
That loathsome being had no name, no face, no form. It was the monster which one lived in fear of, the creature locked deep within the hearts of everything living. Nyrai had always been taught to avoid it, to destroy any trace of it in herself and in others. Now, it stood before her, it's presence drowning out everything else she thought or felt. It saw her wounded form and doubt-laden mind, and offered a simple choice.
It extended a hand to her; flesh black as night and clawed fingers dripping with the blood of millennia past. It was a simple gesture, but held more significance than any mortal being could fathom. Whether out of fear of death or desire for revenge, Nyrai took the hand, and dedicated her blood to it's cause.
Larek landed in the courtyard where his fallen pupil lay. Part of him wanted to try and bring her back, to restore what they once had together. He was shaken from these thoughts when he saw Nyrai begin to move. She rolled onto her side, and slowly pushed herself to unsteady feet. Master and apprentice stood facing each other for what they both knew would be the final time. Nyrai had lost her lightsaber, and was heavily wounded; Larek didn't want to see her die like this, and it pained him that he was to be her executioner. Taking a breath, the twi'lek stepped forward her.
Nyrai saw him advance on her, intent on delivering the fatal blow. The sea of pain and emotion was roaring and thrashing, demanding an outlet. She held out her hand, palm and fingers facing him, and released the grip on herself. Bright, violet lightning sprang from her fingertips towards Larek, who quickly brought up his sabers to deflect the torrent. With her free hand, she grasped his clenched fists through the force, and began to crush his hands around the hilts of his lightsabers. She heard bones snap and metal crunch. She saw his rising panic as his blades began to flicker under the increasing pressure. She saw the ice blue sabers finally give out, and her lightning found its target.
There was no sound other than the crackling of the lightning; no screams or wails. The bolts seemed to pierce his chest and wrap themselves around every available surface of his body. They snapped and snarled at one another, fighting for purchase and untouched flesh. The spectacle lasted only a few seconds, and left only a blackened husk as evidence of the battle.
The power, drawn from such incredible hatred, was gone. Nyrai sank to her knees, drained and in pain. Her mind seemed to slow, lessening her capacity for coherent thought. Blackness tugged at the corners of her vision, and breathing was becoming increasingly laborious. The last thing Nyrai was aware of before slipping from consciousness was two black clad hands grabbing her upper arms, laying her on her back. She saw the face of a concerned zabrak looking down at her, and heard her say,
"My lord, can you hear me?"
Dark. Warm. Soft.
Breathe in. Out.
"Wake up."
Subtle movements, falling deeper into a wonderful abyss.
Steady rhythm. In. Out.
"Get up, please."
Further and further down.
Maintain the rhythm.
"WAKE UP!"
Nyrai opened her eyes, and saw only shadows. In her arms was a woman, a mirialan, her head tucked into Nyrai's chest, legs intertwined with her partner's, breathing in a steady rhythm. She was still asleep. Wishing she could savor this a little while longer, but knowing that whatever had irritated her psychic sense enough to rouse her from a deep sleep wouldn't stop until dealt with, Nyrai began to maneuver herself from the embrace.
She moved one leg free, then the other. The grip tightened in response. She moved her arms to loosen it, and her lover began to stir. Further movements, and Nyrai was greeted by a cessation of pressure on her chest, coupled with the sight of two half hidden emeralds glittering in the dark.
"Hmm...?" Arvaa tried to blink the sleep from her green eyes.
"Shhh." Nyrai kissed her on the forehead and ran her fingers lightly through her hair. "I'll be back soon."
The emeralds vanished behind eyelids, and Nyrai slipped free of the other's grasp. She rolled quietly from the bed, allowing the cool Nar Shaddaa air to play across her skin for a moment. She began to dress herself in the darkness, relying more upon the force to feel her surroundings than actual eyesight. A simple grey shirt and pants would suffice. Then, almost as an afterthought, she grabbed her toolbelt, and took her lightsaber from it.
Closing it as softly as possible, Nyrai turned from the bedroom door and flicked on a light switch. Silence prevailed for a tense couple of seconds.
"Before you say a word, I'm going to get a drink."
Nyrai moved to a cabinet on the wall, pulling out a half-empty bottle, and a single shot glass.
"Relying on alcohol for everything that doesn't go your way?"
Nyrai poured a shot of the mandalorian black and knocked it back in a single swallow.
"No, but this feels like a good idea at the moment."
She poured another glass, then set the bottle back in the cabinet. Taking her lightsaber in one hand, and the glass in the other, Nyrai turned to face the twi'lek who was sitting on the couch. Leaning on the kitchen island, half crossing her arms to allow the drink to reach her lips, she simply stared.
"You're not going to greet an old friend?"
"Why should I?"
He sighed softly, looking away.
"I had to go through a lot to find you, Nyrai."
"It's almost like I didn't want to be found."
"Are such crass replies all you're capable of now?"
She looked at him, taking a small sip from the glass.
"Nyrai, please, I'm only here to talk."
"There is nothing to talk about." She snapped. "I want nothing to do with the Order, and nothing to do with you."
"Why?"
Nyrai's voice seemed to suddenly take on a more feral tone, sounding to the unfamiliar ear as a lithe beast very close to drawing blood.
"Why do you think?" She snarled.
A few moments of silence passed.
"Do you still believe that?"
"Take a guess."
"The Order saved your life."
"I wouldn't call forced indoctrination into a cult 'saving' my life."
"We gave you purpose and direction."
"You used me, just like everybody else in the Order. I was a tool for the tiny group of people who call themselves the 'Council' to employ and discard."
Nyrai took another sip of the drink, resisting the urge to knock it back.
"I've come here to try and help you see the light again, to try and bring you back to the good fight."
"I'm perfectly content where I am, thank you."
"This newfound lifestyle of yours, revolving around hurting others in horrible ways, how does that make you feel?"
"If you're looking for regret, Larek, you won't find any. I stopped giving a damn three years ago."
"You just ignored what you've been taught your entire life?"
Nyrai grinned, despite herself. "Yep, and it was the best decision I've ever made. Now, I have freedom to do whatever I want. Alcohol? Of course. Sex? Yeah, with men and women, though I prefer the latter. And all the crazy jobs I find in the mercenary business..."
"What happened to the kind, gentle padawan I once knew?"
"Oh, she's still around, I just have no need for her-"
The relative quiet of the night was abruptly shattered by a small, metallic explosion, and it was close. It was the unmistakable sound of a scattergun. Turning towards the source, Nyrai saw the door to the bedroom had been opened, and was running before she knew what she was doing. She pressed the light switch, and spared a second to take in the scene. A brown cloaked figure was slumped against the wall facing the foot of the bed, clutching his heavily bleeding torso. On the bed was another figure of the same fashion in an odd crouched position; one hand raising a green bladed lightsaber, the other attempting to subdue the writhing woman beneath him.
Arvaa's shotgun had been knocked from her grip, and she was too close to her assailant for Nyrai to risk using her lightsaber. She reached out with the force, took hold of the man and flung him from the bed. He landed on his feet, and swung at Nyrai much faster than she anticipated. She ducked under the blade, missing it by a matter of centimeters, and retaliated with an uppercut. He caught her hand, and swiped again with the saber. She grabbed his wrist, and twisted his arm to angle the shimmering blade away from her.
The room flashed green, and the man staggered. Another flash, then four more in rapid succession. Feeling him slump, Nyrai pushed the corpse away from her, letting it and his saber fall to the floor. Nyrai turned to face his executioner, who still held out her blaster pistol, and wore only an expression of shock and anger.
"The hell is going on?" Arvaa asked, lowering the weapon.
Nyrai didn't answer, instead looking around the room. The two cloaked men were Jedi, no doubt about it, probably shadows. Next to the bleeding man was a sith holocron, which had seemingly fell from his grip as he was shot. Nyrai looked up at a shelving unit which stood against one wall, and saw the spot which that holocron normally occupied was empty, along with a few others.
"Stay here." Nyrai said quickly, turning to leave the room.
"What are you-"
Nyrai didn't hear the rest. All she heard was the rush of blood in her ears, and the quick beat of her own heart.
Larek was standing now, and had his lightsaber unlit in his hand.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you here." Her voice shook with rage, and her whole body was tense in anticipation of the duel to come.
"You have been deemed a threat to the Jedi Order. I wanted to see if I couldn't persuade you to come back, but I know now that you never will."
He shifted into a fighting stance, and pulled another saber from his robe. They stared at one another for a few seconds, trying to measure the abilities of their opponent through sight and the force.
Nyrai struck first.
Igniting one blade of her saber, she slashed at her former master's head. The fire orange blade was met with two ice blue sabers, resulting in a shower of sparks. They both held the lock for a few seconds, turning about the center of the duel. Soon, Nyrai had her back to the entrance of the apartment, and Larek broke the saber lock. After a moment's pause, he began a series of fast and hard blows, forcing Nyrai into a defensive stance.
Larek was a phenomenal duelist; much of Nyrai's skill with a blade came from the hours the two sparred in the Jedi Temple. As a result, she could somewhat hold her own against him, but Larek could reliability predict and counter nearly every attack. Nyrai tried to circle around him, to give herself more room to maneuver, but she couldn't find an opening.
Deflecting and parrying what she could, and dodging the rest, Nyrai avoided any major injuries outside of a few minor burns. Blocking an downward strike, she took the force of the blow mostly in her right arm, and used the momentum to push her elbow into the front door switch.
It opened with a hiss; Nyrai sprang back and away from Larek out onto the extended balcony. He followed her, still intent on maintaining the offensive, and threw one of his lightsabers at her while quickly advancing. Nyrai ducked under the thrown blade, rising again to meet a heavy swing from her assailant. She deflected the blow, then leapt a meter to her right, dodging the returning thrown saber. Her retaliatory swing was met with a swift parry; the ensuing riposte was delivered just as fast. Nyrai twisted away from the blade meant to impale her, but was put off balance.
Larek kept pressing, delivering harsh blows with both sabers. Nyrai's back was to the balcony railing, and the signs of fatigue were beginning to show. Her reactions were slowing; only by a small fraction, but enough for Larek to know he had the upper hand. Soon, he was able to force Nyrai into another saber lock. She was breathing heavily: sweat beading her forehead, and heart pounding. Larek broke the lock, stepping back a few paces, and sent forth a blast of force energy at his former padawan before she had time to recover.
Two, five, eight, ten meters. Nyrai hit the ground, and felt at least a few things break. She lay where she had fallen, registering the screams of shocked passerby, the calls of Hutt security trying to figure out what was happening, and the pain that now coursed through her body. It seemed to her a thousand knives had burrowed deep into her flesh. The slightest twitch sent fire along her veins, and every breath was taken through a haze of misery.
Not all of the pain was due to the fall, however, as Nyrai's own emotions served to amplify her agony. As she lay there, battered and broken, thoughts and feelings whirled inside her mind. Disappointment at herself for failing to beat him, despair at the prospect of her dying in a battle she had known was coming for years, even regret for all the things she had wanted to see and experience, but never would. Above all else in this sea of pain and emotion, there was anger. A vile, foul hatred which seemed to soar from the depths of her suffering and swirl about her soul.
That loathsome being had no name, no face, no form. It was the monster which one lived in fear of, the creature locked deep within the hearts of everything living. Nyrai had always been taught to avoid it, to destroy any trace of it in herself and in others. Now, it stood before her, it's presence drowning out everything else she thought or felt. It saw her wounded form and doubt-laden mind, and offered a simple choice.
It extended a hand to her; flesh black as night and clawed fingers dripping with the blood of millennia past. It was a simple gesture, but held more significance than any mortal being could fathom. Whether out of fear of death or desire for revenge, Nyrai took the hand, and dedicated her blood to it's cause.
Larek landed in the courtyard where his fallen pupil lay. Part of him wanted to try and bring her back, to restore what they once had together. He was shaken from these thoughts when he saw Nyrai begin to move. She rolled onto her side, and slowly pushed herself to unsteady feet. Master and apprentice stood facing each other for what they both knew would be the final time. Nyrai had lost her lightsaber, and was heavily wounded; Larek didn't want to see her die like this, and it pained him that he was to be her executioner. Taking a breath, the twi'lek stepped forward her.
Nyrai saw him advance on her, intent on delivering the fatal blow. The sea of pain and emotion was roaring and thrashing, demanding an outlet. She held out her hand, palm and fingers facing him, and released the grip on herself. Bright, violet lightning sprang from her fingertips towards Larek, who quickly brought up his sabers to deflect the torrent. With her free hand, she grasped his clenched fists through the force, and began to crush his hands around the hilts of his lightsabers. She heard bones snap and metal crunch. She saw his rising panic as his blades began to flicker under the increasing pressure. She saw the ice blue sabers finally give out, and her lightning found its target.
There was no sound other than the crackling of the lightning; no screams or wails. The bolts seemed to pierce his chest and wrap themselves around every available surface of his body. They snapped and snarled at one another, fighting for purchase and untouched flesh. The spectacle lasted only a few seconds, and left only a blackened husk as evidence of the battle.
The power, drawn from such incredible hatred, was gone. Nyrai sank to her knees, drained and in pain. Her mind seemed to slow, lessening her capacity for coherent thought. Blackness tugged at the corners of her vision, and breathing was becoming increasingly laborious. The last thing Nyrai was aware of before slipping from consciousness was two black clad hands grabbing her upper arms, laying her on her back. She saw the face of a concerned zabrak looking down at her, and heard her say,
"My lord, can you hear me?"