Trial Separation

Posted on Sun Apr 28th, 2019 @ 9:52pm by Thane & Amare

3,150 words; about a 16 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Inside the Mind Prison
Timeline: Unknown, After "The Games" (Believed sometime around late Day Two)

OLD:

"Most Reverend Bomoor, we both wish you well," Thane said as he and Amare were guided to the door by their new Massassi comrades, finding the humour a suitable remedy for their dire predicament. "We are off to win a war. Do try not destroy the city in our absence."

NEW:

"Did you see that adorably confused look in his eyes?" Amare asked with a soft giggle in reference to their mutual Ithorian friend. She added as she let Thane take the lead escorting her arm-in-arm from what was going to become Bomoor's meditation chamber for the fascinating Wraith Box, "It's like he never saw a little P.D.A. between two people before." The feelings of being at Thane's side in this manner, however fleeting it might be, made all her painful near-death experiences in the last few hours feel worth it just to savour this simple moment. "I wish we had more moments like that together."

I would fight that terentatek again just for this to last a bit longer, she thought, careful not to add too much of her inner desires aloud. Darth Archonus was wise to suspect Amare had misplaced feelings for her soon-to-be Sith master, but it wasn't love...at least, she didn't consciously think it was. Loyalty, yes, but love? No. Ridiculous. For a human, there was no doubt Thane was attractive and charming and could easily captivate the attention of many humanoid females throughout the galaxy. Amare, however, didn't exactly have romantic notions for the pinkskins. For that, she was grateful to be Nautolan, for she knew if she were human, her feelings for Thane might have been profoundly less ambiguous.

Regardless of how she felt, it pained her to know she could never be too close to the man she gladly called "master". Donning the mantle of Darth Bane's colossal legacy meant accepting a firm dividing line between master and apprentice. There was simply no room for romance or true unconditional love as a Sith governed by the Rule of Two, at least from what she saw since entering Thane's profound sphere of existence. There was always somewhere to go; always something or someone to fight; always a new risky task to complete; always pursuing power. Seeking power for power's sake would have to be her new path to joyful fulfillment, the only one left she could think of. She wondered, however, how long she would be able to do that by Thane's side, especially considering his enduring Force bond with Bomoor Thort.

Again, Thane found himself smiling at his apprentice, although there was a certain degree of absence from the expression as the man mulled the circumstances of the gesture, unknowingly in much the same way as the Nautolan. Feeling the younger woman's lithe arm wrapped around his own half-bare limb, he considered it might be best to finally address some of these concerns more openly, especially if they were to engage in this cataclysmic venture together.

"Barring one," he opened with no small measure of guilt, "I don't think he has ever seen me show any sort of affection to a woman. And it has been quite some time since such gestures were commonplace for either of us." Thane's eyes looked into the middle distance as they continued following their Massassi escort. "It almost feels like a lifetime ago, even, since two young maverick Jedi Knights found themselves courting danger and intrigue at the farthest edges of the Third Republic."

Catching the melancholic feel of his words, Thane quickly brought the matter back to themselves. "I am sorry, you know, that we do not often get to enjoy such shows of camaraderie - or friendship." As they walked, arms still intertwined, he found himself struggling for the appropriate words or means of expression, keen to be succinct and genuine. "I know I do not need to patronise you... the nature of our enterprise does not really encourage those sorts of relationships, in fact going so far as to spurn them, really. But it is folly to pretend they do not exist - and it is wrong of me to not acknowledge what you are going, and have gone, through." He halted them both, disentangled his arm from hers and looked at her directly, but he kept one hand clasped carefully about hers. "I have been hard on you," he acknowledged. "And your achievements have not gone unnoticed... Amare."

To hear him say her name--her real name--felt right as rain. The sound of the name Zaracoda felt like a terrible joke she had been witlessly living all her life. She realized that it wasn't Coda who took up a pair of blasters and gave those bounty hunters hell on Nar Shaddaa; nor was it Coda that stood back to back with Thane in the forest fending off those monsters on Vaa; and it sure as hell wasn't Coda who survived a desert, escaped a lab, shot up a nightclub, and won over two Jedi to teach her how to put a lightsaber together, earn their trust to train her with it, and killed them all to prove her worth to her master. That was Amare the whole time, the one the Force chose to be the right hand of the new Sith Order.

"You were right to leave what I used to be on Lorrd," Amare remarked with a nod. Without any visible sign of elation at Thane's acceptance of her true identity, she added, "That part of me, that...girl...she was my greatest chain to break, a burden that I needed to winnow. I had a lot of time to think on that world, and the Force spoke to me when I was at my weakest. It showed me that Zaracoda was my anchor to the light. Like a big sister, I had been carrying her all my life up to this planet, but no further. A short while ago, the terentatek slashed me, and when I came close to death, I found the spirits of ancient Sith Lords, and they tested me...and then helped me discard what you knew as Coda at long last. I found my true self, and became Amare. I took their magicks and I came out of that pit healed and reborn...for you, and I would do it all again without question. I think we both know why the Force sent me to you on that rainy night. I believe that soon, when we leave this place, you too will face your own rebirth, except you will not be alone."

She gently squeezed Thane's hand which still held her's, and she said softly, leaning ever so slightly closer to him, gazing up into the deep twin oceans of his eyes, drawn in by the stormy golden outlines around his light blue irises, "When the darkness becomes pitch black, and all hope has abandoned you, I will fight by your side. When there is no light to see, I will be your eyes. And when you are lost, I will find you."

Thane had listened to Amare's words carefully and was examining each powerful notion with a composed consideration. The intensity of the young woman's near-confession was almost overwhelming to him, and certainly resonating. A litany of thoughts came to him, of the gratification he felt at his choice to train Amare and her development thus far, of his appreciation for the philosophies he represented and aspired for - and for the legacy he knew they would be forging together.

His eyes wandered down to their hands, narrowing at the contrast of her pale aquatic flesh against his own. "It is more than serendipity that brought us together, and we have both changed much since our paths were set upon this course," he agreed, deciding to speak his thoughts than simply allow them to fester in silence with him. It was time for a more transparent conversation, for Thane to tear away the thin veil he had kept between him and his chosen apprentice.

Thane knew he had been too silent on the topic of their relationship, especially since Vaa, Lorrd and Yavin. It was only right that he was open with her now.

He matched her gaze once more, searching the dark pearlescence of her eyes with a deep and meaningful focus of his own. "For years as a Jedi, I felt deeply other from my fellow knights, a part of the Order but apart from it at once; it was as though I strove for the same goals, or so I thought, as them. I fought for what was righteous, made decisions to preserve the Republic and its peoples, battled against injustices and corruption as I saw it - and ended lives when it was necessary. Through all of that, working towards all that I believed in and had been taught was the duty of a Jedi Knight, it nearly always felt like I was doing it alone, or that I was doing it in some manner that was contrary to my kin, that even though I took action, it was the wrong one, or in the wrong spirit for their tastes. They saw me as separate – they treated me as separate, a pariah, unwilling or unable to comply with their dogmatic and narrow worldview. I was a renegade, a radical with too much idealism and too much ruthlessness."

Thane paused just for a moment before continuing. "Bomoor is the exception, of course. He is wise, knowledgeable… and understanding. But even through all of it, there are limitations. We share kindred feelings and beliefs, of that there is no doubt.” Even as he spoke, Thane was conscious of the underlying bond between him and the Ithorian, ever-present, sometimes a whisper and sometimes a raucous call, but always there. “But he… I… What I do – what I have done – goes beyond noble sacrifice or civic duty. It is not a mere conflict of philosophy.” Thane’s hand grew tighter around Amare’s, clenching it, and his voice took on a darker edge, leaving behind the softer and more kindly tone it had taken before. “I will end Axion, and I will restore the Sith. But not just for the galaxy, because it is the just thing to do… I will also do it, because I want to do it. For me.”

The gold of the Caanan’s eyes appeared to glimmer in the golden glow of Korriban’s sun, gently swirling around the irises. “Bomoor is not a selfish man, and it is not his truth to seize a mantle because he desires it, or because he thinks he is deserving or mighty. Even in his grimmest moments, he is ultimately stalwart, a force of nature of his own that carves his own path, unique and awesome in his brilliance. But it is the truth of the Sith. It is our truth. That is what I am able to share with you, my apprentice, that I have not, and cannot, with any other. The one other Sith in this galaxy, with whom I can share and revel in the darkness with; with whom I can unleash my true and inner frustrations without fear of reprisal; with whom I will stand at the centre of the storm, conducting its symphonies.”

Again, he paused, conscious he was speaking at length, an unnatural but invigorating righteous fury coursing through him. It was the darkness, Thane knew, and he was not going to turn from it. He was going to claim it. “That is our truth,” he repeated. “The truth of Amare… and Serus.”

That name...Serus. It had the qualities of an even pitch, a subtle tone, and a precise metronome's rhythm akin to a classical cantata with but a single word to be sung with the epic retort of a choir in a concert hall. The spoken name became a feeling that chilled Amare's spine in such a way that was both as soothing as it was oppressive. It was a thrilling influence from a man that knew poverty and wealth; sacrifice and acquisition; weakness and power. Amare, by her own master's words, understood that "Thane" was just the mask, and his spiritual hands were gripped upon the bony surface, on the verge of revealing the phantom presence beneath. Amare could feel just how close the future Sith Lord was so close to revealing that truth for all to see. All her hopes rested on being there when it happened.

Amare made no move nor spoke no words to express her feelings towards her master's revelations save for a gentle smile of satisfaction. She continued to gaze up at him, content to be in the eye of Thane's unseen storm, almost oblivious to the approach of the Sith warrior dressed in similar revealing clothing to her master's garb, though a bit less ornate. Behind and to the left of the formidable soldier that was saluting Thane was a Sith woman that quietly observed the duo, and Amare in particular.

"It seems the time has come for our truth to spread," the Nautolan apprentice remarked upon nodding towards the approaching soldier.

"My Lady, Your Eminence," the warrior introduced, inclining his head to the two non-Sith, a fleeting glance of confusion offered at sighting the interlaced hands of his supposed-seniors. "I... apologise for the interruption, but the speed at which the Infernal Engine approaches is reported to have increased. The last Envoy of Atâmsol reached the city borders just twenty minutes ago, intercepted by one of the few Massassi raiders left to us."

Thane quickly withdrew his hand from Amare's and turned his fierce expression onto the red-skinned warrior, paying only secondary attention to the female Sith nearby. He made note to resume his conversation with Amare later, when they had conquered Hazzarah's trials. The small smattering of essential knowledge 'gifted', or perhaps loaned, to him confirmed Atâmsol to be the next city along from Trayset, the first in a line towards King Adas the Ax's capitol - the Builders ultimate target.

"Where is this Envoy now?" He asked, his hand rising to stroke the sigil carved into his forehead. As he did so, Serus mused on how freeing he found it to not feel the cybernetics fused into the bones of his remaining digits, to have the illusion of a fully-organic hand once more.

"Dead, Archzealot," the warrior confirmed, "but he spoke of troubling tales before succumbing to his wounds. The Builders ride the Engine as a floating fortress, its trajectory undeniably bound for Trayset. His... he... he confirmed the verity of the rumours. Atâmsol is a ruin, consumed by the terrible and damning power of the Engine. The Envoy said... that the dead of Atâmsol now march... with the Builders, as their thralls. They ride atop the Engine that made them, he claimed. He named them as Fabricants."

It was impossible for Thane to not scowl, and he shared a brief glance with his apprentice. He did not doubt the claims being put before him; even if this was an embellishment of what had truly transpired during Hazzarah's tenure throughout the actual Siege of Trayset, it did not change the fact these were the challenges being posed to the three of them. How powerful these Builders must have been, he mused, to even conceive of such colossal devices of destruction and unnatural perversion. He knew the subsequent factions that would name themselves Sith had achieved similar feats of terror, even if they, too, had been exaggerated by the passing of time and folklore. Had he also not seen Darth Cabal’s own warped revenants on Vaa, he might have been more reserved. It was still a marvel to consider, however, that these Builders were imposing galactic cataclysms two-dozen millennia before he had even heard the story of Darth Bane’s own Thought Bomb from the fallen Dark Lord’s holocron.

Thane looked forward to sharing his own tale here with the gatekeeper – and the tale of the rise of Amare.

“If this Engine arrives and does indeed add the dead to the Builders’ own ranks, then all of the High Protector’s work with the Wraith Box will be for naught, and the capital will fall,” he said to the Pureblood, finding his own classical syntax already fairly in-keeping with these ancient beings – a courtesy of Hazzarah and the Mind Prison, he was sure. “Did the Envoy give any numbers of troops, or if this flying fortress is escorted?”

“The Fabricants ride both upon the Engine and escort it from the surface, Archzealot,” the warrior replied, “some hundreds strong in Builders, Fabricants… and Soa’s turncoats. We are unsure of the actual figures, but we know that the forces both deploy from the Engine and from the surface, with the Fabricants ever remaining in the shadow of the hell that spawned them. A Builder known as the Herald is said to be the master of the Engine… and the traitorous Sisters of Sorrow ride with him.”

Amare went to her master's side and leaned in and tiptoed up to whisper in his ear with a hand masking her lips, "I feel something...off with that female and the way she's staring at us. Shall I deal with her while you take command here?"

Thane's eyes subtly flicked to the mysterious woman, whom he had noticed had been offering his apprentice more considered and focused glares than to him. Given there seemed to be no small detail that had not received Hazzarah's careful, twenty-thousand year-long consideration, he acceded to Amare.

"Yes," he said simply, walking past and around her so that he stood between the woman and Amare. "Mind yourself with this creature and be mindful of your own recent transformations," he whispered in a hushed tone. "This is undoubtedly your game, suited to your talents and/or pitfalls. You will succeed."

With a small nod to her, Thane turned away from Amare without waiting for further comment as she made her way to her target. In turn, the armoured man faced his own Sith contact, a deep sense of satisfaction and achievement buoying his mood, leaving his heart feeling oddly lighter following his conversation with Amare than it had at the start of their adventure within the Mind Prison.

Whilst there was a long way to go for the Sith master and apprentice to know each other in the intimate fashion that would be necessary for their gambit as Dark Lords of the new age to be truly successful, he knew he would recognise this as the first time he had pulled the veil to reveal Lord Serus to Amare.

It was only fitting it be on Korriban.

TBC

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