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Thread: The Devils in the Details: Violence and Variation, Part 3

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    Closed Thread The Devils in the Details: Violence and Variation, Part 3

    Somewhere in the outer rim.

    It was spinning. A ghostly sea of turbulent cotton waves. It looked familiar, reminding him of the porridge his mother used to make for him when he was younger. She used to give him Xepracian brown sugar for it. He would sprinkle a crooked line of it over the gray lumps then watch as the sugar dissolved into a swirly pattern under his mashing fork.

    It tasted sweet like...like...

    Then, like so many times before, the memory decayed, leaking through the withered fingers of his mind. He blinked and for a moment the sea of gray vanished inducting his vision to the condition of his remembrance, an empty black. Perhaps this blank slate fantasy was the place his lost memories dwelled. To be created at a whim and thought of as real. A way for the mind to cope, to manage a fleeting sanity, to console his consciousness.

    Could it be I was never a child? Created by Vader in a tube? A sort of wet work droid. Is that why these memories flee so quickly? Shouldn't a man be able to tell his dreams from his memories?

    Though he couldn't see it spinning anymore the sensation of a twirling world beneath him remained. Tear opened his eyes and again the tumbling wash of ash greeted him. Persistent this illusion, he thought smugly. Tear tried to listen, to lift his head, maybe a familiar sound or sight would explain his surroundings. But there was no sound beyond the high tone ringing in his ears. Move, he thought next, trying to sit up but the tendons in his body twitched with rejection. The action at least had coerced a sudden and violent cough which finally granted him the momentum to at least roll off his back. The cough continued a moment longer, raking through his chest, he painfully recoiled into a fetal position. Waiting for the spasms to subside he noticed the fit had left a spray of light crimson to rest on the snow beside his lips.

    Snow?

    His eyes dimmed with exhaustion barely comprehending the scenery before him. Although, at least now the turbulent gray sea was explained, it was the sky. Below was a frozen wasteland of icy hills. They sloped and dived endlessly toward a darkening horizon. If the sand of a desert could ever be turned to ice and snow this world would reflect that story perfectly. Above him the sky continued to boil and darken supported by the pillars of smoke rising up from the trail of still burning wreckage.

    Wreckage? His mind bit back a tide of images and sound. Another dream. This one of loud shuttering durasteel and panic. The crackling lick of flames and descent through the atmosphere. There was a woman too. Blonde hair with blue eyes that matched the icy hills. Something about her caused his body to contort with rage. She was important to this dream. Was this a dream?

    A tight lipped growl burned in Tear's throat as he rolled again. This time drawing his knees up beneath him, his spine arching, as he leaned forward to rest on his forearms. His fingers dug painfully into the icy snow looking for relief. It felt good on his fevered skin, even better when he relaxed his face into it. Perhaps best of all, the cold brought a realistic contrast to his troubled thoughts, making him realize this world was in fact real and not a dream. His body shuddered painfully as the new position granted gravity strength, and with a spurt, blood began to pour from his nose. Lifting his head he saw the ice had made a dull mold of his face. The blood that was dripping off his chin was beginning to fill it.

    How fitting, he thought to himself with a smirk. If I should stay any longer I could create a brother of ice. Maybe he will be immune to this curse of flesh and dreams.

    Tear sat for a moment longer watching the drips of crimson pepper and melt into the ice mask he had created, then with a wincing swallow, he sat up. What remained of a shuttle was still burning hot just a few meters away. My shuttle, he thought, as another series of images burned their way through his head.

    "She was with me..." The blood made his lips sticky and the words felt almost alien to his rust covered tongue. Still recovering from the stupor he squinted at the billowing smoke coming from the open hatch. Focusing, concentrating on the images, it was beginning to return to him.

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    The flames licked with thirsty tongues, eager to consume. Their vibrant dance, darting in and out between thickened smoke and twisted metal, seemed endless and never sated - reaching with long hungry fingers, yet never grasping their desire. Hera blinked slowly, her gaze held fixed in fascinated wonder at the restless, anxious movement so contrary to her unanimated state.

    She wondered why she felt no heat, only cold. Perhaps she was too far away and needed to move closer. It felt like such an effort though. Why hadn't they built the fire nearer? And why had they used their ship to build it?



    **********************************


    45 minutes earlier


    "I dont know whats causing it!" Hera was not taking Tear's criticism well. "Its just...lethargic, unresponsive. Like something is draining the power core"

    Tear stood beside her, glowering. He had left control of the ship in her hands for no less than ten minutes. Ten! And now there was a problem.
    "You must have done something" he asserted, again. "It was fine when--"

    "It was fine when you were driving, yes, I know that" she snapped, struggling to reroute the drive grid and failing to make any difference to the "Nomad's" performance whatsoever. If anything, it became more sluggish.

    "You've made it worse" Tear said unnecessarily, prodding her in a signal to yeild the chair. Hera sat heavier in her seat and ignored him.

    "The pressure is changing, we need to correct this now, Hera" Tear's voice was firm, nothing that revealed alarm, but just that he'd felt the need to prompt her that way was alarm enough.

    The pressure was indeed changing, dropping. She couldn't understand why this was happening. They were not quite past the orbital sphere of the Ice Planet, Diado and were making a standard descent. There was nothing external to account for the change in the shuttle's handling. Nothing external at all..

    It was as if she'd spoken out loud as she and Tear looked at each other immediately, the suspicion of sabotage simultaneously springing to their minds. Hera quickly listed off the possible sabateurs in her head...The idealistic Mephis? The angry Sasseeri? Someone sympathetic to the plight of the captive Moffs or someone in terror of Tear's insanity? The list could go on. She was about to speak, when something in the Grand Inquisitor's eyes gave her pause. He suspected her? The damned man was glaring at her and reaching for his blaster!

    His accusation would have to wait, however. At that moment, a mighty blast erupted from below deck throwing both Tear and Hera, who had still been seated in her chair, across the cockpit bay. The "Nomad" careened sideways and and began a violent lateral spin that made regaining control almost impossible. The g-forces thwarting any attempt by Tear or Hera to reaquire the helm, let alone reverse the maniacal spiral of the ship. Wedging herself hand and feet under a portion of the cockpit bulkhead, Hera did her best to use the force to slow their plummet planetside. Perhaps Tear was doing the same, she couldn't tell, there was no time. There was no time..



    ***********************



    The smoke billowed black and thick, polluting the gray sky.

    The ship, the "Nomad". Hera remembered now. The crash. Ice blue eyes drifted from the burning wreck, flicking upward, she saw his form. Tear was bleeding badly and struggling to get to his feet.

    "She was there with me..." he said.

    The words were laced with anger and Hera recalled his accusing eyes just before the explosion. She pushed herself up, registering vaguely that her back was protesting with a burning wave of pain, a long gash down the length of its one side cracking the congealed blood with fresh bright crimson.

    She looked like a drunkard, felt like one, standing groggily and trying to stop her head from spinning off into oblivion. Glistening in the snow, in the glow of the burning shuttle, a short cylindrical object caught her eye. Creasing her brow in an effort to make sense of the recognition, it took Hera a moment to register what she was looking at. Her head snapped up, eyes burning with a sudden fevered focus. Tear had seen the same thing and was already moving toward it.
    Last edited by Hera; Jul 20th, 2009 at 04:13:22 PM.

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    He remembered now. The fiery descent from orbit. The blackness that took him when their ship impacted. The searing memory of his lungs burning when he struggled to free himself from the wreckage of the cockpit.

    Where was she?

    Something groaned. From the corner of his eye, beyond the curtain of falling ash, he caught a shiver of movement. Rising from beneath a sheet of snow the form of a woman struggled to her feet. Melting flakes of ice slid from her body to the ground with hints of red staining them as they fell. He turned to face her, stumbling briefly onto his knees as he did so.

    You did this

    Hera's blonde hair came to life with a tugging gust of wind, insuring the pair it had suddenly gotten colder, if that was possible. Tear's hand twitched at the sight of her. She was hunching slightly, favoring one side, and for a moment her knees trembled, but only for a moment. With a tilt of her head that cold look of confidence found itself restored in her blue eyes. The dancing flames from the wreckage began to bend toward her as she took a long inward breath, her body confidently straightening as she did so. Then with a moment of pause, as if she was savoring the very taste of the frigid air within her puffed chest, she exhaled. Long her breath spilled smoothly into the icy air before crystallizing and falling between the pair. Thats when he saw it.

    His lightsaber, laying directly between them, its silver casing reflecting the swirling orange glow of the flames behind them. Had she seen it? Tear's swollen eyes flicked to hers in time to catch them rising from the same position.

    She plans to take it. To finish you.

    What little light this world had seemed to be fading quickly. The pair stood, trembling, shivering, they're eyes never flinching from the other, both with the taste of fear and blood on their lips. Snow mixed ash continued to fall silently around them. The super heated metal of the wrecked shuttle hissed with spouts of steam with every dropped snowflake. Beneath the crashed ship the hiss was more akin to a roar as steam and smoke from the thick ice the ship had previously careened across began to melt away.

    What came next was inevitable.

    The ice cracked, deep and loud, an almost ancient sound that echoed like a low howl across the landscape. It was the spark, the source of ignition for a chain of reactions. First, the tightly packed snow swayed beneath the darksider's already tedious footing. Like a spent wave being sucked back with the tide the packed snow began to roll toward the sinking wreckage of the shuttle. With lost balance came a moment of uncertainty, the fight or flight moment, to take action or flee. Tear reacted first, there would be no running. Whipping his right arm forward he reached out for his weapon only to find Hera had been quicker on the draw. Her own arm was already extended causing the small cylinder to leap from its resting place. The object came flipping end over end toward her with a tail of white snow trailing softly behind. It stopped inches from her reaching finger tips, she took a step forward in attempt to grab the item but instead found it quickly pulled away in reverse.

    They both knew what was happening, a tug of war, a test of skill and strength with mortal consequences for the loser. Tear took a heavy laboring step forward, his foot sinking deep into the crisp snow as he braced himself. It was hard to tell the difference between who was pulling and who was being pulled as the two duelists struggled against each other. Their bodies tight, their muscles quaking with effort, Tears biceps bulged with each measured pull on invisible chains that strained like the tendons in his forearms. The very ground beneath the lightsaber cracked and split causing wisps of snow to ripple outwards as the torrents of power battled against each other. Hera added a second hand to her clawed first. A drop of blood seeped from her bottom lip as she bit down in focus. Helping push back the aching pain while she curled her forearms towards her chest.

    No. The urgent thought ran desperate circles through Tears mind as the weapon once again began to drag in the witches direction. His shaking hand contorted as if to physically wrench it from her grip. The weapon again stopped. A low hum filled the air as it began to vibrate under the exerting pressures. Until, in a brilliant flash of blue sparks and flame, it exploded. Tear found himself accidentally flung back by his own efforts with the object of his focus shattered.

    He took a moment, hunched over on his hands and knees, the snow easily coming up to his shoulders, or to his hips if he should get the strength to stand again. His chest heaved, his insides burned, and he knew the dark price of using his strength was coming to collect its toll. The familiar dark taste of bile and blood rose warmly up Tear's throat. His body seizing briefly before he could turn his head to throw it up. The Inquisitor pulled his slick tongue away from the tang of iron stuck to his teeth., grimly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before struggling once again to his feet.

    "You...bitch."
    Last edited by Tear; Aug 2nd, 2009 at 01:48:37 PM.

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    He had destroyed the lightsaber. Blown it up into a thousand tiny peices - obliterating the graceful, legendary weapon in an uncontrolled burst of dark, desperate energy.
    And he called her the bitch?

    "You frelling idiot!"

    She snarled at him and fixed him with a furious stare. Tear was barely standing, blood dotted his chin and he swayed on unsteady legs. Around them the snow whipped up in gusts from the wind and Tear's hair danced in frantic, whipping twists. Hera supposed her hair was doing the same thing.

    She could hear the fire, its cracklings and murmurings as it devoured the ship played second strings to the buffeting wind. Its orange glow hovered and peeked in her peripheral vision, reflecting in amber pools of her own blue eyes. Tears eyes, however, were engulfed in flame - orange buring within itself in ever deepening torrents of fire. He will kill her if he can - Hera could see that plain as day and she could feel it even clearer in the roilling hate that peeled off of him and waved over her from the space between them.

    He's unhinged. Mad. Hera could feel the crazy from where she stood. The crash, or the constant plotting and scheming, or may be it was just his own wicked soul now jarred unbridled and loose. Whatever the cause, Tear was giving it free range in his head and directing his violence at her. She could not give him any quarter. He was not as skilled as her in the darkside, but he was powerful - to assume she had the superiority over him would be a grave mistake. However,it wouldn't hurt if she could make him think she had the superiority..

    "You frelling idiot!" she repeated even more harshly and launched herself at Tear. He knew she would come at him and even as he prepared himself, the burning wreck took the initial wind from her attack. Something in the "Nomad's" core had reached its limit of incendendary heat and with a concussive blast that threw both Hera and Tear again to the snow, the shuttle blew its insides out and up into the heavy gray sky, raining down a hail of schrapnel and durasteel debris around them.

    She was quicker to react than Tear and snatching up an ugly length of twisted, jagged metal Hera swung it with full force at Tear's head just as he was straightening up onto his knees.

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    He saw it, the shimmer of metal in her hands. The twisting of her torso as she reached back with a hiss. She was moving too fast. Tear was still on his knees when she came at him. Not enough room to escape the swing all he could do was fold his arm like a shield, tucking his head just beneath his elbow as he raised it defensively. The air filled with the deep metallic hum of her swing until it found contact with a wet thud. The charred twist of metal vibrated awkwardly in her grasp as it bit into the Inquisitors shoulder. Tear's back bent with pain, feeling the impact reverberating down his spine to his hips. She swung again, this time he brought both forearms together in an attempt to deflect her strike. The crushing impact of which allowed the tip of her weapon to graze the side of his skull with a punishing thump. The world around him heaved in vertigo rocking the Inquisitor onto his side in a fit of growling agony.

    Tears body twisted in pain with each impact of Hera's unrelenting assault. No mercy spared as the jagged weapon found home stringing the snow with dots of his blood with each backswing. From beneath his curled arms he could see her. Framed by the spiraling flames of the now completely destroyed shuttle she looked the part of some drunk angel of vengeance. Hera took a shaky step back, using a quivering hand to wipe her blood spattered cheek, which really only managed to smear it into her hair. Her chest was heaving, he could tell she was winded, its hard work trying to kill a man.

    She thinks your finished.

    Tear could see it in her dark eyes, the satisfaction that was surging through her body at finally being able to strike back and beat her tormentor. To make him bleed, this man who had raped and taken so much from her. Now he was laying limp and bloodied beaten by her own hand. Hera gave her bottom lip a lick, savoring the iron tang of blood that had dried there. She felt euphoric, the flow of adrenaline, the icy air on her sweat covered body, for the first time in years she felt control within her numbing fingers. Now all she had to do was take it.

    Hera reached skyward, her shoulders flexing as it confronted the weight of her weapon. She felt the blood, like warm oil, dripping from the jagged club against her forearms. It was empowering looking down at him, weak and cowering, surrounded by bits of burning debris that sat like thousands of floating candles on an ocean of ice. An avalanche of sudden thunder rumbled from behind, Hera turned to catch the last bits of the "Nomad" collapse in a dance of cinders and ash. Something made her skin shiver at that moment like frigid fingers of death counting the discs in her spine.

    Mixed in bile, anger and pain she sensed it floating like water under oil...it was confidence? Her eyes widened in shock when she realized the mistake she had made in taking her eyes off her adversary.

    Hera's knee gave a tight popping crack as Tear's foot shot out from his prone position in the deep snow. Pain slithered up from her bent joint and quickly spread through her entire leg. Hera found herself twisting awkwardly off balance and began to fall to one knee. With a heavy grunt Tear brought the same raised foot down like a sledge hammer. His heel slamming down onto her boot covered toes to the ring of snapping bone. Her body contorted over the sources of pain while inadvertently coming within arms reach of the Grand Inquisitor. He was already on his way to sitting up when he reached out to hook his frigid fingers around her neck and tugged. Meeting the bridge of her nose against the flat of his forehead with an audible crunch. Hera yelped, and he rewarded her with a second head butt to the same spot, feeling a spurt of her blood gush out across his forehead as it connected for the second time.

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    Hera saw stars, literal blooms of light exploding in her head, as Tear released his fingers and let her drop back into the snow.
    Her nose was a torrent of blood and she groaned loudly as she tried to push herself with her feet away from Tear, holding her face with her hands.

    The layers of snow beneath her body was soft and slippery making it difficult to find purchase with her boots - her one leg and foot rendered almost useless by her opponent did not lend themselves to any progress either. She needed to gain some distance, get herself into a better position in order to come at him again - he would not stand another attack like the first, she was sure of it. But Tear had no intention of allowing that to happen.

    He threw himself forward so that he lay pinning half her length beneath himself and clutched her about her hips. This forced Hera to bang on his head heatedly with her fists while attempting to wriggle free.

    Beneath them, below the thick snow, something began to crack and what had started as only hairline faults from the impact of the crash veining through the ice they were on, quickly became thicker breaches of intergrity.

    "Stop" Tear growled through clenched teeth, his voice muffled from being buried in Hera's torso as he avoided her avid thumpings to his skull. "Listen!" he shouted louder and Hera froze immediatley, realising at that instant how precarious their predicament suddenly was - the ice was reverbating beneath them.

    They shared a desperate look to one another and then Tear dropped from sight as the ice split under him. The crash and their subsequent battle had taken place on a frozen lake and the impact and heat from the destroyed "Nomad" had finally torn right through the covering layer of solid ice and was shattering it like an eggshell. Tear plunged bodily into the frigid water, leaving Hera to shamble as best she could away from the edge. Yet she was anchored down and couldn't make ground. The reason for this impediment bobbed his soaken head up from beneath the lake surface and was desperately climbing back up her.

    "Let go! You'll pull me in too!"

    Hera rolled onto her stomach and frantically tried to claw her way forward, kicking her one good leg to smash Tears grasping fingers with her heel. He wouldn't let go. She twisted back over and folded herself around, trying to keep as much of herself away from the lip of the lake as possible and using all her might, she pushed Tear's head back down beneath the water and held it there. He'd have to let her go when he drowned.

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    He gasped, the shock of cold crushed the air from his chest giving him a choking gulp of water in trade. Tear scrambled blindly through the freezing darkness feeling for anything or anyone to pull himself out of the icy water that needled like tiny daggers into the warmth of his body. His numb fingers found something solid and eagerly he pulled, dragging himself up and out upon it. The "it", in this case, happened to be Hera and she wasn't pleased with aspect of her body being used as a makeshift ladder.

    Quote Originally Posted by Hera View Post
    "Let go! You'll pull me in too!"
    Not a terribly bad idea, but before the Grand Inquisitor could attempt it, Hera doubled back and drove him, sputtering with a yelp of rejection, under the water. Again he was plunged into darkness, his eyes shut tight against the icy water that was quickly sapping his strength away. He reached up with his right hand and tried to rip Hera's grip away by her wrist, it didn't budge. Without thinking he attempted to lift his other arm, he felt the tendons in his elbow crunch and what little air in his lungs bubbled away between gritting teeth. It was swollen, possibly even broken, and without it he couldn't hope to overpower her leveraged position.

    Dive.

    With lungs starved of oxygen, Tear lifted his legs up, bracing his boots against the ice beneath Hera and prepared to push. The next moment was sudden, he felt her nails rake against his scalp as he came free from her grasp. Something had happened. Tear hadn't pushed against the ice in his attempt for freedom something had struck him free. The water embraced his tumbling body as he struggled to right himself in its shadow swallowing depths.

    He could feel it, whatever 'it' was that had nudged him free, was alive. In a moment of curious fear he forced his eyes open against the freezing water. Catching a glimpse of some behemoth shadow slithering its down into the depths and away from the dull glow of light that the ice above provided. Tear winced, slamming his eyes shut and pushed toward the breach in the lakes frozen surface above.

    His head came through first with a desperate gasp that only left his lungs aching for more. It hurt to breathe, Hera's previous assault with a twisted piece of metal had left his side with a stinging bloody reminder of the pay back she was deserving. Another gasp this time mixed with lake water, he coughed hard feeling just how broken his body had become. Twisting about in the water he could see Hera had managed to drag herself some distance from the waters edge. She wasn't even looking in this direction but tending to her leg. All the better, Tear thought as he reached with his one good arm to the biting edge of ice. He pushed, lifting himself out of the water and onto the blessedly solid surface. The ice squeaked with prediction, waiting for the moment when his hips began to rise out of the waters icy grasp. Then, in that instant, the ice crumbled ushering a domino effect that caused the frozen surface beneath his very hands to break away and with a splash he sank again.

    Tear could feel it now. The overwhelming cold that licked the warmth away from his limbs and chest leaving him feeling hollow, weak and most of all extremely heavy. As he slipped further under the waters surface he could only watch the ghostly pale ice above him drift further away.

    '"Sleep now my darling prince." She whispered. Her voice wrapped around him like the comfort of a warm blanket.

    "Let go." Another whisper, deep and long like a blissful sigh.

    Mother? He knew the voice, its haunting familiarity bringing a taste of Xepracian sugar to his mouth. Could this be her voice that wrapped around him so soothingly? It had echoed up from the depths below urging him to obey, to follow. His chest fumed with want, with need, and in his confusion he obliged, opening his mouth to let the icy waters flood in. Tear let the air escape his lips. Bubbling in great bursts at first until it eventually tailed off into tiny dots of silver that collected in his hair and caught in his eyelashes.

    "Now breathe...and come to me."

    Not yet.

    The fiery words split through the water like a crack of lightning. Tear's body contorted, seizing in a sudden hideous fit influenced by the sudden clarity of his situation. A searing image tore through the sleep that had infested his mind bringing his drowsy body back to life. A vision from his god ripping back the veil deceit that had been cast over his prophet. The vision was of the present. Hera was sitting with the snow up to her hips. Her legs were crossed, rocking gently beneath the slow fall of snow while mumbling incantations like some witch.

    That was her voice coming from the deep. Trying to make you drown yourself and like a fool and you almost believed it. Rage shook through his still sinking body causing his heart to thunder against his chest and his limbs to kick into action. For a second time he broke the lakes slushy surface. He wasted no time in quickly launching himself onto the nearest edge. On his knees he fell, peeling away the ragged and torn uniform he had worn over his thermal body suit. They had planned on coming to a frozen world in search for another piece to his masters puzzle, albeit crashing on the planet was the a small deviation from that plan. The body suit would fend off immediate hypothermia but time would only work against the Inquisitor from this point on. Tear struggled to his feet again, slipping awkwardly as he struggled toward the traction a near by snow bank provided.

    "Show yourself! There's point in hiding! I can sense your fea-" A mound of snow exploded in a flurry to his right. The Inquisitor turned in time to catch Hera's fist with the square of his jaw. Tear twirled with the impact stumbling until his back heel found stability on the slippery ground. She hissed at him with the effort of her next punch, he had seen it coming from the corner of his eye. The witch had reached far back hoping to catch him still off balance and land a critical blow. The smack of flesh from the impact echoed into the frozen air, her fist had been caught firmly his his waiting palm.

    "I hope that was satisfactory for you?" Tear tossed the caught fist away, despite the crooked branch of crimson that was dripping down his face from the gash near his temple he still managed a smug look of superiority. It was a taunt, subtle, but he knew she would find it infuriating. Quickly taking the bait, Hera stepped in line with him, her shoulders rolling back in anger. Tear watched, reaching out with his senses, he could feel the muscles in her core contract, the nerve endings in her spine firing pulses that rippled up from the back of her heel,were she was deriving her momentum, into to the right hook her shoulder was launching. It felt close, even though he saw it coming his body had moved slowly, his joints screaming like some rusted droid begging to be put down. Her fist sailed over head and with his one good arm he reached back with a lip splitting back hand that sent the witch tumbling to her hands and knees.

    "No..." Her cheeks puffed as she sucked back on the blood that leaked from her lip. She stood slowly her cold blue eyes defiantly trying to stare Tear down. Then without missing a beat she spat straight into his eyes. Her leg made a swooping sound as it arced through the air before landing with a loud thump into the Grand Inquisitors groin. "But that was."

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    She hadn't quite considered just what price she'd pay for that little maneuver. In order to fascillitate the kick to Tear's groin (satisfactory as it was), her injured leg had been forced to take on all her weight. A firebrand of pain shot its way up through her shin and thigh - its searing intensity making her dizzy and blinding her momentarily.

    Hera howled unrestrained and fell again to her knees, grasping impotently at her wounded limb. "I hate you, Tear, you gutterscum!" the words came out gnashed and chewed up in a vileness of fury.

    She threw out a hand and the force exploded from her fist in an invisible shockwave, in a bolt of focused energy that torpedoed the center of Tear's chest, lifting him and tossing him back through the air violently. His body careened across the arctic landscape, shrinking into the distance until he landed with an audible thud against the ground, the snow pluming into fairy clouds on either side of him. Hera continued to extend the manipulated power against Tear, pummelling him to tumble over and over, all the while bringing the Force's might to bear against his body so that the effect was akin to being bulldozed over and over by an Imperial Tactical Assault vehicle, or the closest thing Hera could imagine to such a thing. She continued until she could not longer see her adversary and until she felt her control waning.

    Beside her, unnoticed, in the depths of the icy lake, a dark shadow glided silently beneath the surface.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Hera View Post
    "I hate you, Tear, you gutterscum!"
    She had shouted something, growled in anger but that went largely ignored, overshadowed by the waves of paralyzing pain that pulsed out from Tears groin. His teeth ground together between the hissed grunts of agony as his upper body began to claw into the mounds of snow for any reprieve the cold might offer, however brief.

    A moment barely passed as Tear found himself struggling to his shaking knees, hunched over, supported by his one still functioning arm. The other still clutched sorely to his ribs with the elbow a knotted mass of inflamed flesh. The Inquisitors stunned stare benignly took in the sight of blood that was dripping ceaselessly from various cuts and gashes across his body. It had stained the shadowed snow beneath him with dots of dark crimson and for an excruciatingly small serene moment he found it beautiful. That was until his face rose to catch the extended fist of Hera being thrust toward him.

    The white world around him was ripped away in a gut wrenching tumbling blur. It was like being in the center of a youngling's snow globe, filled with flecks of bone for snow, and he was the tiny ceramic figure come broken loose under the shaking of a child's furious tantrum. It wasn't until the landing that Tear fully appreciated the brief respite of weightlessness.

    The Inquisitor had barely stirred from his thudding drop when, what felt like a cannon ball, slammed into his shoulder sending him tumbling through a spray of white powder. In the moments that followed the tumbling torment, of how it must have felt being mauled beneath the rampaging charge of a Reek, Tear laid motionless over the freezing ground. The dry snow slowly melting beneath the fleeting warmth of his broken body. It's icy wet feeling being the only aiding deterrent that kept the darkness from completely swelling his vision and dropping him into the ever waiting bliss of unconsciousness. He counted each long shivering breath that escaped his aching chest while making the false promise to attempt to stand after each.

    Until finally with a slowly tightening fist, the frozen twilight landscape echoed with the sound of Tears frustrated wild scream. He was quickly humbled as the sound of cracking ice exploded from the crash site accompanied by an inhuman roar. Tear flinched as if the very sound was an assault on his shivering body. He could sense it, the same creature that had bumped him under the ices surface. Rising to his feet, yet again, he could see the behemoth creature in the distance. Its massive worm like shape swaying against the dark black of the sky, no doubt its full length still coiling up from the depths.

    Then something made Tears lip twitch in an unfamiliar way. His blood spattered face relaxing as he realized his mouth had twisted into a smile. The creature wasn't after him. It was after her.

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    Lifting it's great head to tower high over Hera, the water creature hesitated in an instant of indecision, it's dragon-like eyes casting to and fro between the two combantants in a reconnitory sweep, and chosing against Tear, settled on her instead.

    Water rushed off from its body in reams, cascading down the length of its powerful neck and over veined spines to freefall in froths of foam, forming deep rivules within the snow. The sound was like the bootfalls of an invading army thudding to form ranks in the line of attack. Hera stared agog, frozen on her knees at the sheer size of the beast, forgetting instantly the rage and spite she held for Tear in the complete overwhelming shock of what she was now confronted with. The beast opened massive jaws and released a peircing screech in her direction, slaver and seawater both spraying onto her along with the rush of sound and hot breath. She could see the creature's long grey tongue vibrating as it brayed between milk-white incisor fangs and rows of sharp teeth, thinking how much it looked like an eel twisting around restlessly in the horrible maw. And then it struck. The flattening back of its side-gills against its head was the only indication of the beasts intent to strike and Hera had bare seconds to react. She ceded to herself that it was a flinch of instinct more than a calculated defence, but thowing herself against the ground one way and then tossing herself bodily again to roll rapidly the other way quite literally saved her life. The beast collided violently into the cold frozen surface, biting viciously and came up empty. Raising its head once more, its speckled blue skin rippling along its spine in riot of being denied its prey, searched her out again with serpentine eyes.

    Hera cast about herself in a desperate search for some form of weapon and found none. The Worm screeched again, the cry shattering the air and resounding off the million little peices in painful echoes. Hera held her hands to her ears in resistance to the wretched noise, but it was small help. The side-gills flattened once again and the creature's eyes narrowed with malicious intent. Hera knew what was coming and this time, as the head snapped down toward her, she hurled herself forward towards the sea beast's body, taking the momentum from the strike and pitching herself in close quarters against its body that she was at an unobtainable angle for the yawing mouth. This tactic worked -- and didn't work. The razor teeth may have missed her, but the beast's tail did not. The creature twisted and a slick, fin-tipped tail slipped around between herself and the Worm's speckled belly, flicking her from itself with the ease of batting at an insect, to send her sailing through the air to crash heavily at Tear's feet in the distance.
    Another peircing screech cut through the air behind them and as Hera glanced up to share her panic with Tear, she was unhappy to realise that he looked rather amused.

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    The ice trembled beneath Hera's knees spelling out the inevitable presence of the massive worm like creature. It would be upon the pair in moments. The Sith witch struggled for a moment, like a drunkard having slipped from a bar stool. Her fingers were numb to the point of uselessness, using instead her elbows to help prop her body up. It was then she found herself suddenly plucked from her landing place. Flailing like a broken kite rising unfettered up into the air. A small yelp of surprise escaped the pale blue of her chilled lips.

    She could see him, standing beneath her now suspended body, his eyes like embers, burning with wrathful intent. The smile had faded. Tear would kill her now. She could feel it, the rage roaring from his body like an unstoppable inferno. Even in this place of desolate ice and unforgiving cold his hatred seared into darkside of her soul. A man once the Grand Inquisitor, once calculating and reasonable, was now simply a shell of unwavering rage.

    Tears hand twitched, his gloved fingers pulling themselves into a fist. He would make sure she felt this. Twisting and bending, her body seized as if possessed by some horde of impish demons trying to gnaw their way out from her insides. She writhed violently, trying in vain to escape the invisible forces that mauled her flesh. Tear inhaled softly, his body shivering in the ecstasy that was Hera's pain. It rolled from her spirit like drops of thick honey. So sweet did it taste that he would like nothing better then to watch it gather and drip for hours. Another moment was all he needed to hear the snap of tendons, the crack of bone giving away, the last breath held in her lungs escape in a scream. But he wouldn't get it.

    Beyond the focus of his eyes the blur of a massive beast loomed. He could hear the shrill howl of it breathing. Its nostrils shunting out twin plumes of steam like the over spent exhaust of a star fighter. The ground shuddered with a growl so deep it made the ice beneath Tears very feet squeak with anticipation. Instinct played its part in the shell of a man. Tear gave a flick of his wrist discarding Hera, dazed but very much alive, to flop behind him like a broken rag doll. Leaving nothing but frozen air and ice between devil and beast.

    Tears lips sheared back to bare clenched teeth. Spittle sizzling between them as he hissed his words of warning. "She's mine."

    The shadow of the beast quickly caught Tear as its massive coiling body lowered. It regarded the Inquisitor with one dagger like eye at first. The shiny black spade of its pupil contracted to define Tear's form in the darkness of its own shadow. It quickly swayed to regard him with the other eye. Measuring him with curiosity so honest only a simple beasts could possibly possess. It may not have known exactly what it was going to do as it sized up the surprisingly defiant tiny creature. But Tear knew. This was a predator with no equal on this planet. It would either kill or find it's prey had eluded it. There was no in between. Its muscles swelling in waves beneath the armored plates of its indigo scales. It sounded like boulders grinding down the face of a mountain as the worm coiled its length around itself. It's head rising like some dark Coruscanti tower with its spines twitching in a growing agitation. An inevitable screech cut into the dark sky, echoing over the frozen wasteland with such piercing quality it left Tear's ears deafened and ringing. Thousands of tons of muscle lunged, spear headed by the beast's gaping maw which shuddered with the prospect of an easy meal.

    Above the pair a crumbling avalanche made from bone and muscle wrapped in scales fell with a hunger. Yet Tear did not look up. His eyes were cast down to the snow that melted around his boots under the buffeting putrid breath of the worm. Tear's good hand ripped through the air snatching something intangible tight into his fist. The worms motion halted, the sudden feedback of the stop rippling chaotically down its spine. The beast howled in confusion. Attempting at first to bite down, finding its jaws snapping shut but left hollow. Then it struggled to reel back and inspect whatever obstruction had blocked its strike. It didn't take long for panic to set into such a large beast when it realized some invisible force was binding it down.

    When you were a child

    "I played a game..." Weather it was through his bodies faltering condition or purely a reaction of his brains nervous system rejecting so forcefully to his imminent situation, he wasn't sure. But what was of certainty is the life beginning to flash before Tear's eyes. Hills of bleached snow were swept away in a tide of earthy browns, filling the landscape with dunes of sand and rocky crags. Beyond the gates of an Iridonian city a human boy was sitting cross legged. In front of him sat a Lari'an viper. Its purple scales shimmering warmly beneath the planets single, but brilliantly hot, sun.

    It's indifferent eyes held no judgment. No malice to play a part in its choice. The snakes only venom lay within its bite. Instinct as simple as the sand. It was something Tear found solace in at a young age when the children within the city would no longer play with him. But the Vipers would play, and better yet all the snakes knew the old Iridonian game of reflex. The child would sit across from the snake. Then slowly lean forward until either the snake retreated under the child's stare or, it would strike. Then the winner would be decided.

    Tear blinked and the world returned to its frozen reality. The sub arctic winds were howling across the icy planes just as loud as the worms own panicked bellows. The Inquisitor's body had begun to pay back the debt of power that had incurred during his frenzied rage. Cuts and gashes across his body previously minor now deepened of their own accord. The biting cold held at bay by Tears own fury now effortlessly sucked the warm from his flesh. Blood pooled at the corners of his eyes and he could feel his organs begin to simmer and liquefy within. Bruises spread like cobwebs, deep and black, darkening the veins throughout his body. It was a mortal choice his anger had made for him and now he was paying its price.

    Movement to his left as Hera began to stir once more. It wouldn't matter now, Tear thought as his fist trembled beneath the worms violent flailing, barely keeping the creatures head and neck bound through his weakening will. Once released it would devour them both and unlike the game of reflex back on Iridonia. Tear would not have the strength to catch it a second time.

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    "That lightsaber would have been really useful right about now"

    Hera's voice goaded, cutting into Tears mind despite the vehemence of the wind gathering force around him. Their lives in mortal peril, Tear thought incredulously, and the woman still spared breath for sarcasm. He so wanted to kill her.

    Hera had risen unsteadily to her feet and was swaying beside him, staring up into the malestrom of the twisting, thundering serpent still yet harnessed by Tears' unrelenting will. It was quite a spectacle and being witness to its writhing body and wailing mouth, so expressive of the sensation of restricted rage and unattained vengence, Hera couldnt help but empathise with it. The Worm's tail pounded against the ground, side to side lashing the frozen surface in fury and spraying up snow and ice like geisers so that the she and Tear were peppered with the frozen shrapnel. The effect gave Hera inspiration.

    Rolling in from the West was a storm, the effects of which they were already experiencing with the strengthening wind and the fact that snow was now beginning to fall. Tear continued to grapple with the beast but he was starting to weaken. Hera could sense it, as too could the Worm and it released another caustic screech, doubling its efforts to twist free of the invisible vice holding it in place.

    "You hold that thing back, Tear" Hera shouted, as he staggered back a pace or two. She pushed against him with her hands to reinforce him, and, turning in place, she propped herself bodily against him, so standing back to back they held their ground.

    Hera spoke an ancient command, verse laced with darkness and an ageless knowledge. The gale carried away her words and Tear, if he heard anything, he would not recognise the old Sith language of the Sacred Ones that passed her lips and stirred the elements of air and wind. Tear felt a shudder run the length of Hera's spine as she pressed against him and the hairs on his neck and arms bristled with electricity. He felt heat radiating from her body and his own flagging power was imbued with new depths from which to draw from.

    Tear, with monumental effort, refocused his assault on the giant creature and its unchecked cries choked the air with their anguish.

    Around all three of them, the elements deteriorated. The sky darkened with broiling, thick clouds that spewed hail and snow on them without mercy, drawn down by the timeless arts of the Darkside. The wind pulled and plucked at them like the frantic fingers of a madman desperately searching for sanity, or at the least, some small elusive peace. Hera continued her chant, her monotoned raising of the darkside of the force, willing it to terrorize the elements into doing her bidding. Lightening began to streak the sky in brilliant forks, illuminating their world in bright flashes and the claps of thunder roiled deafeningly over them, causing the Worm to shriek and cower, all thought of its attack draining away in the flood of terror and self-preservation. The natural instincts of alarm it felt at the building storm began to overwhelm it, so much so that the Worm ceased its struggles and coiled itself into stillness, it's dragon eyes hooded and wary and terrified.

    Tear and Hera began to move away, stepping in unison together while maintaining focus and hold on their respective forces until they had put some distance between themselves and the deadly creature, at which time Hera felt Tear disengage himself from her influence by stepping away from her. The storm continued on, but did not intensify further and after a short time, though they couldn't see it because of the swirling snow and ice, they heard the Worm splash back into the ice-lake from where it came.

    "I saw the outline of a building - a factory or something - during one of the lightening flashes" Hera stated as she looked into the shadowed eyes of her companion. Tear's eyes still blazed orange and there was an unspoke violence against her still burning inside them. She noticed the veins beneath his skin were very prominent and dark and there was a tenseness about his mouth that bespoke a man teetering on the brink of a very deep abyss. She decided they should get to shelter before she pushed him all the way over. She still needed Tear now and so he must answer for what he did to her earlier at a more convenient moment.

    "Im not going to carry you, so you best step lively" she declared and despite their hatred for each other, they linked arms and plodded the long walk to the abandoned factory ahead.

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    Like a little girls worn doll. Tear's joints tingled with the remnants of energy that Hera had conducted through him. She had become his dark seamstress, allowing for the brief moment to mend his splitting seams. Giving the ragged doll the softest of extensions to be held together by fraying strings of flesh and will.

    A runway of red followed the traveling pair through the world of stinging white. The blood trail was hard to miss, broken lines followed by larger pools and smears of red, marking the spots where they had fallen and fought, beneath the blizzards unrelenting gusts, back to their feet. Tear had kept up at first, only missing a step or two between limping alongside Hera. Their falls largely blamed on deep patches of snow that would drag them down to their hips. But soon the delicate threads that held Tear together were showing signs of unraveling. Tugged on by the freezing tempest that continued to pummel the pair. Hera could feel it through his body, the waning of his rage, the dying rasps that rattled through his throat with every struggled gulp of air. She tried to catch his faltering body as it finally went limp but her wounded leg gave out under the full weight, dragging them both down to their knees.

    "Tear." Hera's voice cracked with exhaustion. "TEAR!" She shouted this time, but even then her voice was carried away under the howling winds that circled and danced tauntingly around the fallen pair.

    If the storm had a will, it was becoming clear that will was set against them. As soon as they had stopped the winds had picked up attempting to bury them where they sat. The flecks of ice carried by each gust felt like icy razors being dragged across their faces, even through the numbness creeping over their bodies, the sting was clear.

    "Get up." Hera reached to nudge the still body of the Inquisitor but her had was slapped away by flurry of snow. She recoiled as if bitten by some wild animal, sucking at the reddened flesh of her fingers to try and instill some sense of warmth or feeling back into them. All the while struggling to keep her eyes open against the freezing air, watching for any stirring movement from Tear, but none would come. Hera growled in reluctance, knowing what she must do despite her inciting earlier words that she would not.

    At first she had managed to drag him a few meters, a hand hooked under each of his arms, clenching her teeth through the blinding pain of her knee and foot. Then she too dropped, even the force couldn't support the effort needed to remain standing through the torrents of bone chilling wind while also dragging a body through the snow. So she crawled, one hand gripping the Inquisitors torn uniform, while the other clawed into the snow to work in unison of her one good leg, pushing and pulling herself forward.

    Finally sight of the looming factory began materializing through the white. It looked besieged by the planet itself, sections of the factory had collapsed into ruin, while its walls had nearly succumbed to the ever climbing snow banks. Despite the buildings apparent decay, the portions that hadn't crumbled seemed to be relatively intact and solid. At a point, possibly six stories up the face of the factories wall, a small opening could be seen. It might have been entirely missed if it weren't for the harsh contrast of black scorch marks against the white snow. A steep climb up the banks of snow leaning against the wall and they could reach it.

    A moment later Hera crawled through the shattered hole in the wall, dragging Tear from the icy clutches of the storm and into the darkened sanctuary of the factory.

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    The relief from the wind was immediate.

    Having pulled Tear through the opening by his shirtsleeves, Hera allowed herself the delicious indulgence of collapsing, both of them falling prone on the frigid metal landing of the factory's inner platform structure.

    The wind buffeted the building outside, but its howl was diminished by the protection the shelter afforded them, its sound spiralling downward to echo and bounce off the consecutive levels below them. Hera had her face pillowed on her hands and watched as her warm breath erupted from her lips in ragged bursts to swirl wraith-like into the darkness of the factory interior.

    Hera closed her eyes, desperately tired. She longed to yield to the fatigue that now took her in its embrace like an affectionate lover, encompassing her bodily in a blanket of weariness and promising her utopia if she would only give in.

    She may survive it, a short sleep just to recoup. But then again, she may never wake up. It was hard for her to judge her own degree of incapacitation. Tear certainly wouldn't wake again if she slept. He was already pathetically weakened, Hera thought indignantly and was annoyed at the burden he'd become. She just wanted to lay there, let everything wait until she felt like moving again..It was such a temptation.

    Hera forced her eyes open and after a moment, found that her sight had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out some of her surroundings. There was light filtering in below from the other side of the building, though Hera could not see from her current position just where from exactly. She rolled over onto something that squished, Tear's hand, and he groaned lowly in his unconscious state as her weight accidentally crunched his fingers beneath her. Still alive then.

    She sat up looking about her and then using the platform railing for support, pulled herself to standing. With staggered and embarressingly slow progress, Hera did her best to spare her injured foot and shuffle-hopped her way along the platform and down the stairways to see what she could find.

    The factory was more than just a single structure, she discovered. It was, as most setups in such inhospitable terrain are, a small outpost - designed not only to function its original purpose in extreme and contrary elements but also having to house it's workers for weeks, or more likely months, at a time.

    Attached to the main facility and connected by a long corridor were dormitories with, by Hera's quick count, the capacity to billett atleast one hundred workers. There were also what Hera determined to be the Supervisor lodgings - small self-contained units that were not that much better than the grunts got, but did boast a livingroom with a small kitchenette, a bathroom off the bedroom and, thank the gods, a fireplace. Hera spent a little time inspecting one of these lodgings and found a bottle of Corellian Vodka with which she toasted her own health a couple of times.

    Perhaps an hour had passed since she left Tear drooling in oblivion on the sixth level landing, or perhaps not that long. Time was difficult to measure given her circumstances. All she knew was that it had been one very long day so far.

    Hera had discovered a hoverlift propped against a large ceramic vat - a dollie of sorts - and rode herself like a May Queen on festival day back to where she had left the Grand Inquisitor. She had yet to discover just exactly what this factory was for but if she had to venture a guess it was to mine and wash some kind of ore from the planet's terrafirma. It had been abandoned some time ago, but it did not look as though the departure had been planned as permanent. The occupants of the dormitories, it appeared by the belongings they left behind, had been fully intending to come back.

    She did know, however, that it was gas powered and she assumed by the rows of currently dark fluorescent lights there would be an electric generator somewhere, she had just not had time to locate it. She did know that there was hot water in the pipes and that the fireplace worked in the Supervisor's dorm as she had left it crackling and dancing with flames before she returned to retrive his sleeping high and mightyness.


    ***************************************


    The Supervisor's room was markedly warmer upon her return and it felt like walking into the sun compared to the rest of the place as she maneuvered Tear, the great lump, through the doorway and dragged him by the arms to lay him in front of the fire. She paused to touch the back of her hand to his face and it was like ice. She pulled the bedding from the bed, sheets included and bundled them around him. She noticed the blankets crunched a little as she tucked them around him, frosted for so long in the sub-temperatures of non-occupancy.

    Then, she ran a bath. It was not in the refresher style, but rather a big tub with taps at the far end. Going back to Tear, she removed his boots and socks and then pulled him out of the little nest she'd made for him and hauled him fully clothed into the tub where she let the hot water run until it threatened to overflow. She then got the bottle of vodka from the kitchen and returned to tip some between Tear's frozen lips, craddling his head toward her as she did so. Hera was remarkably gentle doing this and though the spirits barely passed into his mouth she saw an immediate result. Tear opened his eyes, barely, but she could see him looking at her through hooded lids. She tipped the bottle again and then after administering another small sip, she set it down and began to peel Tear out of his water-logged clothing.

    **********************************

    He woke briefly, long enough to note the heat of the fire on his face and his body wrapped once more in blankets, firm hands rubbing his back, his legs, his arms before he sank again into the void.

    Hera had changed into some clothing she had found in one of the dorms, cargo pants, undershirt, navy pullover. The best of these though were the thick socks. She'd found a number of pairs and piled them and some clothing for Tear as well for when he got around to be able to dressing himself, and set them not far from the fire.

    He would have to eat as part of restoring him back to the living. This meant she would have to go rumage around the building some more to find the cafeteria or messhall as there wasn't much in any of the kitchenette cupboards.

    Tear began to shiver violently beneath her fingers as Hera continued to work at restoring his circulation. She looked at him closely, seeking signs of improvement. His color was certainly better and his skin felt much warmer, yet the shaking was a worry. Selfishly, Hera considered what it would mean if the Inquisitor failed to rally.

    If Tear died, she would be lost. Her position was tenable at best with the current setup, but should he die it would mean disaster for her. She was awol from the Citadel. She would be a fugitive from the Imperials again. With Tear gone, Inquisitor Valten would have no reason to keep from disposing of her should he ever get his hands on her again. He could throw her to Helghast and be happy to have him dismantle her peice by tiny peice with his poisons and his needles. True enough, she was not as vunerable as she had been before without her Force ability, but that did not mean she was untouchable. Without Tear, she would be back to a life of running from the Empire and its Force hunters. Back to being alone - with no ally, no one on her side.

    She tucked the blankets higher under Tear's chin and brushed his hair back from his face with her fingers.

    "Come on Tear, dont go out this way"

    Her lips drew together in a thin, determined line, willing him to respond.

    "I wont let you do this" she said grimly.
    Last edited by Hera; Jan 23rd, 2010 at 01:07:45 AM.

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    The cold white had surrounded him. It penetrated his eyelids when they closed, bit into his flesh through his shivering, it swallowed him into a world of heavenly white, from which there was no escaping.

    ---

    A small boy, his face bloodied, a wound beneath his clothing dotting the hot sand under his feet with a steady drip of crimson. He stumbles forward toward a grouping of elders, the foremost a woman, tall, baring raven hair with strands of braided blonde. Her slender arm, jingling with the sound of numerous metallic bangles, is outstretched inviting him to take it when he manages closer.

    "My child. Always limping home to mother when you've gone and hurt yourself." The child's face is plain and indifferent but his body is bent with very apparent pain.

    "Do not baby it. This creature is not your child." A voice from behind his mother, deep and vicious.

    "He came from my womb, he is my child." She knelt down, her adoring green eyes coming in line with the boys empty blues.

    "Only because of necessity. Don't you dare treat it as if it is anything more then a weapon. Emotions will only serve to confuse it." Again the voice boomed. This time the shadow of a thick shouldered man loomed behind his mother staring down at them both.

    "You are mistaken. It is love that will focus his mind." The back of her hand stroked against the child's stained cheek, smearing away the blood. "It will be anger that drives him. It is passion that will provide my son with clarity.

    "He will be our promised spear." She smiled, leaning forward to kiss the boys matted forehead.

    ---

    The ever present white faded, swallowed by darkness. The soft bite of snow beneath his body was suddenly replaced by something hard but equally cold. Tear's eyes struggled to open, his eye lashes having frosted together, he could see nothing. Even if he could it would only serve to increase the blinding pain that pulled at the tendons behind his eyes. His body was tight with agony, every small movement pulling on a muscle that was bruised, every muscle wrapped around a bone or rib was fractured or broken. Tear's body was like a cracked pane of glass and every second he lived served to develop the pressure on that crack until it had spread like an elaborate spiderweb, testing its shattering threshold.

    Time had become abstract. Minutes tortured him for what felt like hours as he slipped in and out of consciousness. The moments he realized he wasn't waltzing through a fevered dream he could do little but curl into the fetal position and quiver in pain. The bath had woken him. The warm water felt like acid on his frost bitten skin. But even that delightful sensation wasn't enough to keep Tear anchored in the waking world.

    ---

    Alone in a dark room sat a boy. Around his wrists he bore steel shackles attached to thick chains that trailed off toward the walls, disappearing into the darkness. Above him was hole in the ceiling that poured harsh white light down onto his naked body. Covered with gashes, bruises and welts, his pale skin was hardly distinguishable beneath the thick smear of swollen red and dirt. Before his kneeling body was a plate of food still steaming despite the cold.

    "Its poison." They said. It was always poisoned. The morsels had been separated into sections of three and one of the sections was toxic enough, that if he ate it all, it would kill him. The other two were poisoned as well but not sufficiently to kill the boy.

    Twice he had killed himself. Twice they had brought him back and lashed him until he no longer had the strength to scream. The boy ran a bloodied finger tip, worn nearly through to the bone, along the rough concrete floor. A bloody series of tallies and crosses counting the number of days he had been held in the room. This was day seventy two.

    The food came every three days.

    The boy picked through the food in his plate. Taking bits from each section, sniffing and licking, sometimes they were generous and he could taste or smell the poisons they had used. Other times they used odorless and tasteless poisons. When they did this they told him he was supposed to, "Feel the right choice. Sense the danger," the boy mostly felt starvation.

    ---

    "Come on Tear, dont go out this way"

    Tear's eyes cracked open, the veil of dreams still hanging like a thick fog in his mind. It was beginning to get confusing. Which world was the dream and which was his reality? The barrier between was beginning to crumble, both felt real, and both were filled with agony.

    "I wont let you do this" Hera's voice seeped through to him as he roused from the edge of sleep. Her meaning cryptically out of context but the conviction of her voice touched a nerve. Even in this deathly state he would not be told what to do. Not by her.

    Tear attempted to stir, his fingers flinching as he tested to see if the stiffness left by the cold had gotten worse. "I do" His voice cracked weakly preluding a coughing fit that left the Grand Inquisitor's body bent into a fit of spasms. "whatever I want woman."

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    The coughing fit came as no surprise. Hera thought, served him right for being such an ungrateful son of a bitch. Tear's unyeilding will, however, was quite something else and she couldn't help but admire the man's grim determination to be as onery and as unobliging as possible, even should it kill him. For everything he had been through, there was still, amazingly, some fight left in him.

    She lifted back the blankets and looked over his body again, her brow deepening in concern. He should be improving but, as was blatantly evident by the increasing black spidery veins cobwebbing visibly beneath his clammy skin, he was not. To the contrary, he was drifting further and further away from recovery and Hera was faced with a difficult decision.

    In the glow of the hearth's dancing flames, Hera sat very still and wrestled within herself with the options left her. Her visage, alternately cast in the vascillating shadows of the fire - now an Angel of Mercy, now an Angel of Death - as Tear's supine form glistened in a soporific fever, his body a sheen of sweat, unmoving as it increasingly lost the war raging inside it itself.

    She could just let him die.
    Not do a thing, just sit and watch as he slipped from this life into vacuous oblivion, his life nothing but a footnote in some historical Imperial record as having perished ignobly on some frozen waste planet. But that would not be any advantage to her apart from the gratifying, smug satisfaction that he got what was coming. The joy, while fleeting, would almost be worth the dismal future that would result from that outcome - for her a return to life on the run, enemies on all sides. Almost worth it, but not really.

    The other option was to save him, which she knew she could do. The drawback? She would have to expose herself to such a point of vunerability as to endanger her own survival. The exposure would be now, the vunerability would come much later. She would be able to hide it from him for a time, years if she was clever, but it would always be there, a weakness to be exploited, a trigger waiting to be pulled. Hard, blue eyes raked over the again-unconscious Inquisitor as Hera weighed her own needs against his in the balance of decision.

    Tear groaned lowly and Hera watched in morbid fascination as whispery threads of toxic death meandered their way further across the Inquisitor's chest. His body was a story in itself - thick swirling tattoos journeyed over his body, begining in dual points on his upper torso and expanding outward and upward to climb in ever more elaborate detail over his shoulders. Merging, they travelled and then divided again in peculiar fashions the length of his back only to sweep frontward again and wrap intricately about his hips and thighs. They were significant, obviously, but Hera had no clue as to their origin or their meaning. It was a story Tear, should he survive, might be persuaded to one day share.

    She pressed a hand to his chest and he felt on fire. Whatever the poison was that was invading him, it was most virulent and gaining in aggression. Hera couldn't understand what was causing it - it wasnt' something they had been exposed to while on the planet as she would be suffering the effects from it also. She decided it was something indigenous to Tear, something skewered within his own body, as if the power of the dark force inside him was too overwhelming to contain. That made her laugh - his own mortal vessell couldn't even tolerate him. He groaned again, weaker this time and she knew there was no more time for delay. Hera would have to act now, or not at all.

    She rose and crossed to the kitchenette area, her leg was throbbing painfully, but the dressing and splint she'd fashioned during the time she had been watching over Tear was holding well enough to bear it.

    Returning to take her place beside the Inquisitor, Hera lifted his right hand and speaking in the language of the Ancient Ones, she began the Chant of Reveal while carving deep into the flesh of Tear's forearm. The blade of the knife proved a passable tool and she etched the symbols, known only by the initiated, easily into Tear's pliant skin. It took Hera back to a time when she had first taken the name as her own..

    A blade had been used then, too, but it was a ceremonial kris, not a common carving knife like the one she was utilizing. There was a glow from a fire, then as now, casting an ambiance of intimacy and secrecy. The memory flooded Hera's mind of the day she became a sister of the Veil and took unto herself the name of the initiate.

    It was a year or so before her forced exile to Myrkr. Hera had been delving further into the history of the Sith and those who practiced the Dark side of the Force arts. She had paid alot of money for information leading her to a holy man on Dagobah, whose repuation for knowledge of the old ways was spoken of in hushed voices and nervous, cryptic glances. When she found him, the old man had not been as forthcoming with information as Hera had hoped and so she had killed him and stolen his books. She remembered now with amusement the shocked look in his aged eyes as she ran him through with her lightsaber. As it turned out, it was a good thing she had as the ceremony she eventually needed to conduct required an act of sacreligion, ie murder of a holy vessel, on the part of the worthy participant. Quite convenient, Hera reminisced with a dark smile. The Ritual of Claim was one where a Darksider supplicates to take to themselves their true Sith Name. It is an appellation that embodies the traits and characteristics that are particular to a subjects' strengths and qualities, it is the expression of the aspects which make them uniquely who they are. It is not an undertaking embarked on lightly. If the name is not true to the individual -- if the petitioner is not honest with themselves and seeks for an identification beyond their capabilities or in falseness to who they are, the reprecussions are violent and often lethal. Hera never had any such misguided notions. She knew exactly who and what she was. She sought a name of a self-serving, manipulative and narcissistic nature, prone to vindictive turns and malicious designs. She was a force-user who would use anyone or anything to her own advantage, be it her own feminine wiles or the weak, indulgent foibles of others. She could be hot or cold, cruel or kind depending on the moment, but the underlying force of any move she made was always her own self-interest.


    The ceremony was easily completed - the name, Hera's name, was branded into the softness of her forearm in a searing wave of force-power that knocked her from her knees. The firebrand sensation of it travelling up her arm and across her chest to settle in the center of her ribcage did not dissipate during the hours she lay stricken, prone before the altar of Aggidonn unable to regain her strength as a swirling darkness engulfed her. On her arm there was no sign of the branded name, but that meant nothing. She was now Salome' and everything she was, everything she was capable of, was encompassed in that singular designation. It was a door to her power, an access to all that she was and it while it carried enormous power that she may draw upon, it was an achilles heel that should never and would never, until now, be revealed. Part one -- the exposure.



    Beside Tear, Hera spoke the formal words without passion or emotion of any sort. It was a cold and calculated articulation that she realised could well be the beginning of her own future demise. Tear would not understand or comprehend the enormity of what she was doing - not for a long time, if ever. The revealling of her true name, the opening of a conduit of force power between herself and him would only compute out to Tear as a bridge of strength and ability which could be navigated in times of desparate physical depletion such as he was suffering now. It would be initially her that crossed over to Tear, but in time, Tear would be able to come to her. Hera could moderate the communication, possibly forever, but it was a very real risk that the door could never truly be closed, the access never completely denied. And that was Part two -- the vunerability. Tear could touch her like no one else. Had an advantage over her that no one ever should.



    Taking the blade, she placed it in the molten coals of the fire's base and held it there until its tip glowed brilliant red. Then, with unhurried strokes, she seared into Tear's arm in a series of angry, blistered whelts, superimposing the symbols once more over the ones in cuts she'd just made. Tear's body twisted feebly under the pain of her ministrations, but if he was conscious, he didn't have the strength to thwart her. "You will thank me one day" she said ruefully.

    Putting down the knife, she stretched herself at an angle across Tear's chest and lowered her lips to his ear. Uttering in soft repetition the sacred words of Conciliation, Hera cemented the link between them - the invisible symbol on her chest burned hot, the symbol on Tear's arm began to throb, and the door to her force power was blasted open sending a tidal wave of energy coursing into the languishing Imperial.
    Last edited by Hera; Mar 20th, 2010 at 02:17:33 PM.

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    Hera's chest heaved. Her body remaining over top Tear's as she struggled to catch her breath. The relentless suck of air causing the roof of her mouth to tingle. While the very walls around her swelled in rhythm with each secured breath. The world was beginning to go numb. The nearby fire had lost its gentle crackling. Drowned out by the sound of her pulse throbbing loud through her ear drums. All leading to the encroaching darkness of tell-tale tunnel vision. It was then, Hera realized she was hyperventilating.

    The fire place slowed until each curling lick of flame could be watched like a ballet doused in molasses. The very light it radiated began to melt away into the shadows it played against. Leaving Hera to reach to her eyes rubbing them for focus. A quick swipe of her fingers and the world she had been in was sucked away to black.

    She was now sitting alone. A void of emptiness leaving her with the momentary fear of blindness. A fear quickly relieved for the tall pillar of light that gently grew into existence a short distance away. Hera moved to stand with the intention of investigating when suddenly, the black gap between them closed and she stumbled suddenly right next to the light.

    At the center of the spot light was a boy. His wrists chained, face cast down, silent and unmoving, despite the trickle of blood flowing through the cracks of caked on dirt. Beyond him, a droning murmur filled the surrounding dark. An audience of strange faces sat up high while looking down toward the boy in the light.

    "My son." The voice was gentle and clear, cutting a sharp contrast against the rain fall of whispers. Her pale face framed by auburn hair, both curled and braided, emerging from the surrounding black like a wisp of wind blown sand. The boy's chains rattled as he lifted his head to meet the voice of his mother. As Hera watched, the mother knelt down, her lips moving in speech but no words could be heard. In turn the boy would respond but again no sound slid past his lips.

    "I am witness to old memories being reborn. Buried once but now uncovered. All because of me."

    Hera spun around surprised at the sensation that rolled up her spine and into her head. Was that her voice? It felt strange and foreign yet comfortable at the same time. Then she understood. Something in the dark. It held no form. Held no single face but instead wore many. Multifaceted like a diamond that shimmered differently with every angle you looked at it. Each was recognizable like an old friend's face who's name you couldn't quite remember. It's lips parting with voiceless intent and somehow scribing Hera's own thoughts as if they were her own. It didn't speak. There were no words just a sound.

    "I've filled the spaces in between." A white wash of sound like that of a transmission broken by interference. Again, Hera's lips moved to voice a statement not of her creation.

    "What are you?" Her voice quivered uncertainly.

    There was no answer. Merely a feeling to turn back around. When Hera did she found the mother had wrapped her arms around her son. She seemed upset and the boy was slow to drape an arm receptively around her neck in return. The boys eyes raised up to meet his mothers.

    It was a small moment. Held in both their eyes, hers a deep green, his a pale blue, joined together in doubt. His left arm pulled back like a scorpions tail with a small shining blade held tight within his palm. The boys right arm was still wrapped around her neck from their embrace but stiffened now in case she attempted to struggle for freedom. With a single quick thrust he slid the blade easily into her throat. Her body shuddered, her once clasped arms became rigid, attempting to force the attacker, her son, away. Another moment and her pole like arms folded with weakness. The mothers body began to fade like a dying flower petal. Her skin withering like burning parchment before his eyes. The boy cradled his dying mother in his arms, watching intently as her head drifted back and her eyes dimmed. Blood pooled at the corners of her mouth as she moved to speak, sputtering words too dim for Hera to hear.

    "This is when he learned of why." Hera spoke the foreign words easily now. "A defiant mother's dying gift to her son."

    A blistering white light erupted from the boy's mother. Hera snapped her eyes shut, clutching her face as the light burned through flesh and thought. Images too numerous flooded into Hera's mind. It was sudden and sharp but ended just as quickly. The blinding light faded behind closed eyes leaving spots of color, vivid color, swirling in the shape of memories. Faces and places she never knew existed but somehow seemed familiar with now.

    Slowly, Hera opened her eyes. Finding herself on her knees with her arms around the boy in the same position his mother had been in. The boys face raised to meet hers but it was different. He was snarling, "You are not supposed to be here!"

    Hera knew what to expect next. The metallic flash of steel. The sharpness of the blade as it bit into the supple flesh of her neck. The warm taste of copper flooding her mouth. The choking pain of trying to breathe. She struggled, panic taking control of her arms as she flailed wildly in his grasp but it was no use. He squeezed tight, holding her failing body close to his until the dying throb of her heart was over taken by the rapid beat of his own. All around the pillar of light the shadows began to encroach. Dissolving it with long sticky tendrils of black oil. Until all that was left was darkness and the soft hiss of breath that left Hera's lungs for the last time.

    Then it was gone. Hera's eyes were closed again. Her body tingling numbly as if she had slept too long. She flexed her fingers and toes, feeling the odd pulse of hot and cold sensations as blood flushed back into them. The side of her face felt warm and as she opened her eyes she came to realize she had fallen asleep on Tear's chest. Lifting her head, her cheek peeled smoothly away. Hera gave her cheek a rub as her eyes evaluated the Inquisitors body. The blackened veins that had taken root were receding. His fever had broke and he even seemed to be awake, watching her through sunken eyelids.

    Tear gave his lips a raspy lick as he attempted to speak. His voice cracking like a dust cake, "What have you," He paused, attempting to take out the accusatory tone to which he was accustomed, "done to me?"

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    The images of her own death ebbed from her as the dreamstate withdrew, the sensations of blood in her mouth and life leaking from her body thankfully waned with each clarifying inhale she took.

    Looking up into Tear's face, she saw his eyes - clear now from his fevered delirium - were searching her own. He knew something had happened, knew - as she did - that they had crossed a threshold from which neither of them could return, yet he had no clear understanding just what that meant.

    Tear could feel the weight of her body against his and it was both reasurring and cloying at the same time. Hera's solid form brought a comfort that was unnatural and disturbing. Tear thought it akin to cuddling up with a poison-spined Asyyyriak - you knew you shouldn't, yet it wasn't like a person had any real choice about it.

    After an awkward moment where Hera imagined Tear again plunging the blade into her throat, she arched an imperious eyebrow and smiled coolly.

    "Why Tear, I've just made you indebted to me. I saved you. You and I are forever connected..."

    Tear's pupils constricted into pins of black as Hera puckered his lips together with her fingers, squeezing his cheeks like he was her newest chew toy.

    "You're going to have to be a whole lot nicer to me now" she said, giving his face a light slap.

    Her smile broadened and she even had the audacity to nuzzle into his neck.

    "We are going to be so good together"

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    Connected.

    It was like watching a boy opening a present. An excited boy with expectations. Eager to rip away the wrappings and unveil the gift that would match his most stimulated dreams. Only to find the gift was not what he had expected. It was not the answer to his dreams. It was that look of contemptuous disappointment that held Tear's features hostage now.

    And Hera was like a school girl reveling in it all. Her chin set comfortably on her former wardens chest, looking up at him with a wide smile. A smile so consistent and eager you couldn't help but hate it for envy.

    Hera could have died happy at that moment. Warm in the fact that her original quest to find solace in the hands of those who hunted her had finally succeeded. To know with certainty that no man would hold a collar to her throat ever again. The steady heart beat of a man who thought himself untouchable was now held in her hands. Not even the skin shattering cold of this world could touch her at this moment.

    Connected how?

    That was the question that continued to swell at the forefront of Tear's thoughts. His blue eyes idly taking in the setting of his surroundings and of the panther, pretending to be a woman, who lingered with paws on his chest. A chest that burned but not in the same way his body did. His body felt broken, something he had felt many times before. Fractures, torn muscles, the shearing pain of frost bite, it was all familiar but what pulled at the pit of his stomach was something new. Something he had not felt in years. Panic.

    Tear attempted to stir beneath the blonde as his instincts compelled him to gain distance from this parasite that was clinging to him. It was then he noticed a new pain. Something sharp and biting along his forearm. The former Inquisitor tentatively raised his arm into view. His face twisting in confusion at what was displayed in his mangled flesh. Markings? His fingers reached to touch the symbols that glowed with still smoldering cinders like stars in a black sky of burnt flesh.

    Tear sunk back onto his elbows, defeated. Hera's earlier words echoing tauntingly through his racing thoughts.

    Why Tear, I've just made you indebted to me. I saved you. You and I are forever connected...

    His dry lips came apart again, "I don't understand."

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    He didn't understand? Hera eyed him closely. Well, Tear always was a bit slow on the draw. And wasn't that a fortunate thing.

    "Shh.." she hushed him as might a lover. "No need to worry now. All you have to know is that I will be to you the best of friends. I will help you, protect you."

    The words sounded too good to be true. As much as Tear might want to let himself fall into them and allow the comfort and relief of relinquishing the burden of struggle and find a haven within her arms, he still resisted. Hera sensed his restraint.

    "It will take time to trust me, I know" she touched a hand to his brow, her gentle fingers cool against the heat of his skin, "but I will prove myself, I promise"

    Clear blue eyes held his, a softness in them that rankled against every intuitive sense in his body. "Try rest now, you will feel better soon and hopefully that fool Mephis will be looking for us. I know, Im supposed to be comforting you, but he cant be entirely useless, can he? Help will come soon, surely, and then, we will talk more. Sleep now..."

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