FINE! (Kress/Silas training thread)

[Kressara Thryn]

Kressara paced around the hull of her ship, chewing her bottom lip until it bruised and mumbling to herself. “I said I wouldn’t ask another sith lord for favors…I told myself ’no more teachers! because it never ends well, but NOOOOOOO…I just HAVE TO ASK! But. I. Don’t. WANNA!” Letting her voice boom throughout the Shyyyo as she stomped about barefoot with a pound of anklets jingling around each ankle. Kress tossed herself onto one of the cots near the cockpit and buried her face into a pillow to scream at the top of her lungs, kicking her legs before jumping back up. “FINE! FIIIIIIIINE!”

Maybe it was petty, but she just hated asking sith lords to teach her anything when she wasn’t already pleasantly buzzed, or just kidding around. Seriously needing help bugged her to no end. Whatever blacked out memories dug at her nerves from the last time she allowed someone to mentor her, clearly they were translating into an existing, misplaced dislike of being taught by anyone with so much as a shred of authority.

Reluctant and still considering turning around to try and learn this on her own, Kress didn’t bother changing into something more befitting a student. It was her usual casual attire. A long black skirt off the hip, midriff top to proudly show off her accumulated multitude of scars that she didn’t bother to have surgically lightened, and enough stolen jewelry to announce her presence from a mile away thanks to all the clinking. She liked everyone else in the academy to hear her coming, to see she wasn’t like them, and to whoop their pompous arses up and down the halls if they tried hard enough to lord their superior attitudes over her.

Something about getting pummeled by a 5’2 addict dressed like a bohemian dancer with a reputation for slacking off on her “training” really made life hell for the people who thought they could take her in a fight. Hardly anyone actually knew the girl had spent years conditioning her body, fighting off world, and learning everything she could about the physical aspect of combat, until they were too late to take back their petty remarks and threats. Now people around the citadel were talking. Less and less they stepped in her way. They were beginning to catch on.

Stomping up every stair leading into statue lined paths, into heavily guarded halls, and eventually to a heavy set of double doors, Kressara hissed with indignation and pushed them open.

“I have tried to become more in tune with the force and it’s not coming to me…so if you don’t mind?...could you, maybe tell me what I’m doing wrong, or something? You don’t have to teach me anything, just…I dunno…”

She already regretted her choice to ask.

[Silas Karn]

Exterior light broke the dimly lit throne room. It had been some time since the Sovereign had taken the title of Dark Lord and the palace was beginning to bear his influence. Candle light was all that pierced the darkness leading from the reception hall and maintained up until Silas's own private chambers above.

The throne now bore two entwined serpents etched in the obsidian from which its foundation was built with lines of pure platinum embossed in ancient sith script. Sitting upon this exquisite site the Sovereign exuded the boredom of his rule prior to the crow's arrival propped up upon his left fist with his right leg hanging off the armrest. A fury of indignation still lit within the eyes of the Dark Lord as he brooded in such an unorthodox stance.

Looking up at Kressara the countenance of the Dark Lord altered to a softer curiosity as she spoke. Their connection seemed almost a bond Silas could not escape, something that drew his attention when it wasn't otherwise warranted. Righting his posture ever so slowly a wry grin coursed Silas's lips as his first instinct was to mock the crow for her ignorance. However, as this was the very first individual to actually seek him out for his insight into the Force despite the shocking disparity between his self and those under him the Sovereign held his tongue.

'If anything the whole lot of them should be lining up and begging me for instruction!' Silas decried the order as he read over Kressara with his learned eyes. Finally breaking his silence the Dark Lord made an offer. "Though many cycles have passed, the early experiences of touching upon the connection to the supernatural is still strongly within the reaches of my mind. Utter frustration, there was no one to turn to in those days and as I lived within the empire any devotion to such study was by law discouraged. I will agree to explaining that vexing chasm in your education on a condition."

The Sovereign gave pause as he expected to be declined. "I require a loch of your hair and a pint of your blood." It had been some time since Silas had taken to the depths of alchemy yet his recent attempts to break Aliclair had granted him some ideas. "If you acquiesce I shall show you the same reverence I would command of those attempting to guide myself. No foolishness nor recitations of belief systems within the Order."

[Kressara Thryn]

Kressara had been meandering her way down the long walkway to his throne when an odd request stilled her movement, silencing the twinkling of bangles. From afar in the dim of a candlelit great room, she appeared more spirit than living flesh being, flickering little lights catching on every glimmering strand and shine. His condition would not be so easily agreed to, obviously raising concern from someone who was so often bereft of it entirely. Calculation looked strange on her face, no masking smiles to hide her caution as she mulled over the intentions behind what unexpected payment he wished to extract from her. The deadman who called himself her master, a talented alchemist was not, yet he had his ways of controlling her; a time that seemed far more distant than actuality. Old ghosts of a past Kressara almost never gave proof of thought nor consequence, were very much haunting her mind at that moment.

Finally budging from her freeze, she closed the distance between them and approached his throne, not in the slightest concerned with the possibility he might take offense to her lack of decorum. Silas could launch her across the room and through a wall for all she cared. He could delve into her mind anytime he wanted to, but for her to truly read him, she needed a closer proximity. She needed to see his eyes, the way his smile touched them, how the smallest changes to his face and posture were made in response to whatever she might say. Kress stepped up the dias and strode over in such a way, Silas might have thought she intended to walk right through him before stopping short of the toes of his boots. Leaning forward, a hand was placed on either arm of the seat and low light hazels scoured his face like star clusters, intent on peering into his very soul as long waves of stardusted platinum hung from her shoulders and draped against the throne.

How uncommonly serious she was.

“What, in precise and non-misconstrued detail, do you need with a lock of my hair and a pint of my blood?” She chose her words carefully. That request really had jostled up some old wary sense of unease in her. Come to think of it, she never once put herself in a position to give anyone leverage over her which might truly control her. She would sell her services and offer her aid so lightly, follow lord after lord like a blade passed down between them and sharpen herself against their enemies none the lesser for it, but only one had ever taken her loyalty by force. Only one captured her beyond the simple confines of a promise and a favor. The very thought of someone having the ability to dictate her actions again…perhaps she wasn’t without her fears after all. She certainly wasn’t ignorant to the power such ingredients had in the right hands.

[Silas Karn]

A fierceness lit the eyes of the flighty Sith as Silas’s request began to dawn on her. The Dark Lord’s presence seemed to grow ever menacing despite his intentions as the crow was a word away from attempting escape. “I’ve seen those eyes before. It seems the spark of indignation’s fire dwells within your core as well. Only those that have suffered supplication as we have would possess such kindling.” Standing up from his throne still bearing a smirk on his face Silas continued, “You would think that after all we have been through I would have earned a modicum of your trust by now.”

A slight guttural cackle could be heard emanating from the Dark Lord after he spoke. After a pause to allow Kressara a reply to his words Silas finally touched upon the heart of the matter. “As to your question I’ll first ask if you have any understanding of Darkside Alchemy.” Granting a moment the Dark Lord continued, “Well you see there is a craft within this art that requires three divergent sources of life to forge materials beyond the durability of any metal currently known and capable of resonating with the currents of the Force itself.” Silas looked the crow directly in the eyes gauging her understanding of what he spoke. “The user of this art serves as one, a target of their greatest hatred serves as the second. The last…” Silas was given pause as even speaking of such entanglements was clearly outside of his element. The last demand was almost intentionally limiting to those that truly dwelt in darkness. Tormentous’s capacity to meet such was always a point of contention between the two masters.

“Well suffice to say I believe you to be the most capable of clearing its requirement.” It was clear that Silas wanted to avoid outright stating exactly what this final hurdle was yet the Dark Lord had hoped that Kressara would assume this was simply his desire not to reveal the secret of the craft itself and not the underlying emotional depth of his request. “As for the lock of hair I intended to encase it within the object I intended to forge.” The Dark Lord had done as the crow had requested but knowing Silas as well as she did it was decipherable that he was still withholding on the key details behind his request. Kressara was close to the truth of the matter, perhaps too close.

[Kressara Thryn]

He wasn’t wrong. Of course he wasn’t wrong. Indignation didn’t even begin to describe it and her mockery of a cinema worthy smile that splayed over glittering, worry picked, red lips betrayed her stinging nerves. “You are not the only one who buried something to stand here now.” Those words harkened to a previous talk, her fists tightening until knuckles whitened as she backed away, allowing Silas to stand. She would have said exactly what she meant, if she did not fear it’s full transparency being used against her. The Echani teasing her mistrust from the dark of his own being would withhold certain truths from her for fear of how they might bite him in the eventuality of things, as did Kressara keep the core of her own hatred, wounded dignity, and bleeding heart as heavily masked as she could from him. An ice cold giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep beneath the surface that could have made her sound rather snide, had her eyes not been so full of an unhidable wariness.

“It would take five lifetimes to undo my inability to merely trust someone with power greater than my own, one for each person or thing that’s taken my freedom…I only truly began to live again when I swore never to be controlled by another.” Maintaining eye contact, she spoke as truthfully as she could without outright spilling her entire history on the floor between them. “So you see, it isn’t your fault. You’d have my trust completely were I the naive girl I was when I first came to the sith. I am sad to say, you will merely have to put up with me.” The molten acid in her stare was dissolving, revealing more and more of a fawn like worry. If only he knew just how difficult it was for her to give even the smallest inch of ground to one who could repeat the torments of her past. It might have been impressive then how easy she made it look to stand, smiling in the company of sith lords. “You have earned my loyalty though, that I can promise you…even if I would have preferred to gut you when we first met. That in itself is trust, if you can believe it.”

He went on to explain his need for such unusual components and for the sake of not sounding like an idiot she feigned some knowledge of sith alchemy…even if all she knew was to fear it. He was keeping something from her, which might have been entirely too obvious had she not been hyper focused on one fact alone remaining unspoken. Sun gold glassy eyes softened on him, unsure.

“If I agree…this thing you’re crafting will not affect me in any way after its creation? It will cost me nothing more than blood and hair?” Where had the built in bravado gone from her voice? She wanted an honest, straight forward answer. Whatever he wanted it for, she wouldn’t pry if he would only promise her that it would not result in one of the few possibilities she truly feared. If he answered truthfully, there was a chance of another small fragment of trust belonging to him.

[Silas Karn]

A quiet serious tone took the room as Silas’s own intimidating visage softened. After looking the crow up and down the Sovereign then looked directly into Kressara’s eyes. “I believe you have mistaken your standing within this Order. I am not my predecessor and with the lack of a suitable challenger within the Sith there is no need to press every advantage handed my title. Moreover, had I ever desired to indenture yourself to me it would have already been accomplished.”

So many words, it was starting to become clearer to the acolyte that Silas was not just careful with them but carried a greater degree of difficulty in doing so when it concerned her. “That is not your fate. Neither, it seems, is it that you may seek to be my successor. However, the fact remains that there is still much to learn from one another. While you might rise to be a contender to any practitioner of the Force regardless of alignment or creed, I will continue to seek other pursuits…”

Seeing that only addressing her concerns directly would Kressara be calmed enough to strike an accord Silas paused a moment with an audible exhale. Gesturing for the crow to wait where she stood Silas departed for his private chambers just beyond the throne room. In a few short minutes the Sovereign returned and presented Kressara a token of faith.

“As you might guess, due to the circumstances of my removal from Eshan I hold very few items related to that time. Additionally it could be said that of all the relics I’ve managed to claim this holds the most sway over me of any possession I currently hold.” With a short exhale akin to his own frustration Silas continued, “This belonged to my father Vasto. Though broken to the length of a short sword this blade retains the super-cooled nature made famous by my kin. When I first reclaimed my families land and titles it was this relic and only this that I was able to recover from the then forsaken homestead.”

A great sorrow could be read from Silas’s countenance, likely magnified as a result of the schism that further removed his mind from his past. “Hold this blade in trust as I grant you my word that what I seek to forge will have no bearing on you. After all . . .” It was not in him to finish his thought aloud as he held out the hilt of what had been once his failsafe weapon back in Silas’s mercenary days.

[Kressara Thryn]

There was much to learn from one another, even if that meant he had no intention of binding her to his rule as many sith fancied doing to those weaker than them in need of teaching. Of course, he could be lying…but for once Kressara was not so readily convinced that the words coming from a sith lord’s mouth were untrue. Yet, it was his next action which served to ease the majority of her worries, rather than words of reassurance. Silas left her alone in the dim glow of the throne room, making the climb to his quarters to return moments later with a rather beautiful broken blade. Brows quirked over starfield eyes which could not find a permanent place to linger between the echani and the weapon he offered. She remained uncharacteristically quiet and he explained the priceless sentimental value of the fractured blade he offered her to keep for so long as he still needed to prove himself sincere. Kressara’s fingers touched the handle, retracting when she felt the chilly bite of the echani forged sword, but ultimately taking it with great care not to disrespect something he treasured so. A weapon that beautiful, even broken, deserved reverence.

After all…

The words unspoken sounded louder than those she heard.

“Your father’s name was Vasto? That’s a lovely name. This weapon is a masterpiece…” Even missing a section of blade, it was well balanced, freezing her fingertips which supported the flat of it to examine the broken end. “The folding is immaculate. Even the core of the blade is nearly flawless. I can only imagine your sorrow when it was snapped.” Though she fought with cheap, easily replaced or repaired weaponry, the shimmering little assassin knew a thing or two about fine metalwork. Call it a hobby, or perhaps an underexplored passion, but she enjoyed working in the forges, though such masterwork was far beyond the skills of an occasional artisan like herself.

Just as he made himself less intimidating, putting caution and thought into every word to sooth the trust deficient human, she let her own visage soften and used one hand to reach around her own neck, pulling her curtain of diamond dust white gold to one side of her head. Gathering it into a fistful, she took the ice cold blade and gently used it to cut ten inches off the bottom of her impressively long hair, sending a multifoliate rain of glitterstim particles from the sliced open strands onto the floor like fairy dust.

Surely he meant just a lock, and she gave him enough to make a wig if he wanted, bringing her pearlescent waves to hang just beneath her ribs.

“...It grows fast.” She explained with a small smile, eyes avoiding him for a few seconds before finally landing on his gaze. Kressara offered him the soft bundle of hair, fresh cut ends catching light like silvery fiber optics. “I hope the glitterstim deposits don’t interfere with your forging…I know it's a lot…I have been cutting back.” Why she felt the need to admit it to him, she didn’t know, cheeks flushing slightly and thankfully only barely visible by the flickering candles. “Someone else will have to take my blood. As much of it as I shed from myself and others, I never could turn a blade on myself with a steady hand. I’m only used to losing blood when I’m working, I guess.”

Oh, someone shut her up before she kept nervously rambling!

[Silas Karn]

Speaking of his heritage felt weird. In fact in all his cycles of life he had not willingly disclosed such information with anyone. Further removed from this, was the partition that Silas had willingly placed upon his mind distancing his self from his true emotions. Yet that barrier had begun to ever so slowly dissolve the longer he interacted with Kressara. This effect served to magnify the initial curiosity the Sovereign had when meeting the flighty Sith.

Receiving the overwhelming quantity of hair from the young woman Silas was stunned momentarily. Shaking his self from such stupor he held a hand out in order to halt Kressara from further discomfort in her ramblings. “Follow me to my quarters, as I spoke to you before all I require is a single pint. Moreover, it should only take a moment and then we may properly address the actual reason for your arrival.”

Despite everything involved in their interactions Silas did not forget his place or title. The nobility both born and learned over his many cycles allowed for very little frivolity of any nature let alone his engrossment within the Sith teachings. Once the pair entered his private domain Silas carefully secured the hair that Kressara had granted him. Moments later the Sovereign secured the instruments necessary to draw the required allotment of blood and did so as gently as he was able.

Of course Silas was no surgeon and was far better acquainted with battlefield triage than trained medical care. Once finished the Sovereign beckoned Kressara back to the throne room before she could go snooping too hard through his quarters. Of course there was a limit to such measures and Silas was sure that the crow would get a good glance at many of his artifacts and old armaments.

Notably a pair of sleek silver Arkanian modified blaster pistols, his original curved platinum lightsaber hilt alongside its smaller partner, and strikingly a crystal orb atop a pedestal overlooking the front of the chamber facing the throne room. After the pair returned from Silas’s quarters the Sovereign’s countenance stiffened and his stern features returned. “With the formalities taken care of we need to get at the heart of your appearance here today. In order to properly ascertain the best approach to take I need to know in what you are most lacking. That weakness will gnaw at your efforts should it remain ignored.”

[Kressara Thryn]

Stepping over the patch of pearlescent dust from her severed strands, the placated assassin followed with a held tongue. Only the jingle of purposely loud jewelry twinkled behind him, her steps overwise virtually soundless like a cat with a bell to save the birds. Given Silas’s propensity for sorcery, she thought he might take a ritual knife to her, the icy blade he gave to hold onto, or even a dark spell to draw the life essence from her skin. One fair brow arched when they entered his quarters and the dark lord of the sith produced simple blood drawing tools.

Kressara peered around the room while Silas reacquainted himself with his implements, noting things of interest. His quarters looked more like an armory, or a museum of regal weaponry than a place to sleep, fingers loosening and tightening around the cold hilt absently. Her arms were already bare when she took a seat and laid one palm upwards in his control. Pin marks colored her inner elbow from so many needle sticks before, each shimmering like little stars embedded on permanently bruised skin. None recent. She really had been trying to slow down, to do better for the people who were starting to believe in her. Even so, not so much as a blink when he pierced skin with the skill of a field medic rather than a bedside nurse. Hazels drifted from his old lightsabers to the diamond dust blood he collected, sitting in silence with him and listening to the whispered patter of rain outside.

Wasn’t very common to catch Kressara in a quiet mood, but not unpleasant. For once she didn't seem to be keeping up a mask and putting on a show. She wasn't about to murder Silas (nor could she likely then), so that left only one other explanation. The authority aggressive little anarchist was beginning to trust him as a leader, or at the very least a companion of sorts.

The pint steadily filled with scarlet liquid which shone pure silver in the right light, refracting off impurities in her blood to make that starlight ichor two toned. Most glitterstim addicts died not long after their blood started noticeably shimmering. Kressara wondered if he’d be able to do anything at all with that pretty polluted mess drawn from veins forever changed. It didn’t usually bother her to think about the damage she did to herself. Normally remorse was a passing thought followed by a cheeky grin and a shrug of scarred shoulders. Lately though…she could see fear in her friend’s eyes when she reached for her kit. Peers who once viewed her as their rival, now cursing at her for letting them surpass her so easily. There were efforts to develop new drugs designed to ease her off the stuff, which was the only real reason she wasn’t raving mad begging Silas to jam that syringe in her brain.

“Sorry…I don’t know how much blood is actually in that pint.” Was all she said until he put away his tools and guided her from his private quarters. Kress made sure to hang onto his father’s old blade as they descended, about to remark on his collection of weapons when he spoke instead. Sun spot irises looked from the floor to the ceiling, falling on candles as she sighed, “The force. The earring you gave me helps, but it’s like a crowbar trying to pry a door open just enough to see what’s inside. There’s always something fighting it…glitterstim gives me access for a while. I can feel the force with it, bend it to my will if I try hard enough, but the reality is that’s just not a long term solution. I can acknowledge that now…a little.” Bringing herself to look him in the eyes, she finally admitted, “I struggle to learn force techniques at all. I would like help and you seem to live and breathe the force like it’s nothing. I don’t expect to reach your level. I’m just tired of beating up mouthy acolytes who think their easy surpassing of me through the force means they’re superior in combat. After a while, even my deflated sense of pride can suffer.” Her tilted grin returned. “I’m no longer looking to pad my reputation as a sith with my incredible swordplay and shockingly intelligent tactics~”

[Silas Karn]

Drawing the blood and seeing the contaminant Silas gave Kressara a disapproving glance before the crow apologized. As the pair returned to the throne room the flighty Sith divulged the source of her frustrations and what she had sought in the Sovereign. Turning to face the young beauty Silas addressed her with prodding inquiries.

“The primary issue we need to face is a goal for your training. For as long as you have fumbled in the dark your greatest weakness has been a lack of formal study. However, it would ill suit to simply start from the basics as if you were a complete novice. As an example I was able to achieve some mastery over sorcery long before I was capable of truly taping into the building blocks of alteration necessary for telekinetic manipulation.” Silas could tell that his inquiry wasn’t fully grasped and elected to swiftly change tactics.

“So, rather than taking a closer look at the three fundamentals lets place the bulk of our focus on the block that separates you from the true heights of your potential I’ve seen in you.” Giving a moment’s pause the Sovereign finished the discussion, “A goal, you need something tangible to strive for. Breaking down this barrier is fine as a first step but it’s what you wish to achieve after doing so that truly matters.” Motioning for Kressara to take a seat on the cold floor of the throne room the Sovereign gave charge to the security staff not to allow any to enter his domain until further notice. Likewise sitting down in a meditative pose in front of the crow, Silas began anew. “It’s time to supplant the maelstrom within yourself. That mind that you’ve taken great pains to numb and ignore, it’s time to bring it to heel. To succeed you must first wrench control back without need of substances.”