"ѕσмє тнιиgѕ αяє мєαит тσ вє вяσкєи." [Dastan]

[Slade Xandir]

-"kicks it out from under you"

When her lips began the last sentence, a stream of water flew up her blazing spine, putting a halt on the fire she exhaled on a consistent basis. Something was wrong. Was it? The last sentence snaked from her lips, and as she spoke the smartass comment, steam began to billow as she had been absentminded when she said it. Something was about to happen. She looked around, thinking it was the dragon, but danger was a bit closer than what she had expected. As paranoid as a cat could get, however, they had remarkable reflexes.
Just as her confused hazels met those unreadable gems of her former Master, Mercy heard a crackle deep within the head of the tower.
And then the sky ran from her.

It happened extremely fast, but time began to mock her as gravity tried to fight her. Time laughed as it slowed, endless chortles that sounded uncannily like the fat bellows of the drunken men that chased her through the parking lot and alleys after 6 drinks, too many. Snaps and grinds that gave her the impression, so mortalistic, of the bones that were broken and smashed on her berserk watch, that disgusting night. And just as easy as a dream, she was snatched from the present, and forced into the past.

The severed man was madly still breathing, despite being both bisected and skewered by her father's emerald blade she had kept for years. He gripped on her foot, which in reality was the floor collapsing under her as she fell through the top of the weakened tower. It was tall despite it's impression, and the depression ran deep, spiraling the fury with it. As she fell, it was near invigorating as she slung the hand that gripped her foot directly at the Gammorrean that ran directly at her, using the halved half dead drunk frat boy as a living weapon against the vibroaxe wielding pig man. Smashing into eachother, the axe knocked the pig back and reskewered the now fully dead half-a-human. She didn't hear it, but the hunk of rock that weight much more than herself smashed into a heave of boulder that held a steel beam, effectively stopping it from colliding with her as it's trajectory was stopped and floored.

In the chaos, the sky fell around her, rocks and rubble drifting past her in the collapsed column of stone, but her waist was turned around snatched from behind, a molty green greasy and pungent arm holding her captive, and though the snagged metal wasn't squirming, her paranoia climaxed, fury courting the emotion in a reaction on parr with time spent on a blink. She wedged a space between her and the last Gammorrean, and performed a precise and lethal roundhouse, launching the grimy porker directly at Makaro, hoping to then the nigt for both of them. It was his sorry ass that got her in this mess. Wasn't it? ...Wasn't it?

She had plummeted a hole directly through the wall of the column, and strode out into the open, watching the pig fly. The man was standing there, Marakro, those platinum devil eyes and raven hair, trench coat billowing in the wind as the chubbamonster was headed directly for him. That unpredictable pirate that...just so happened to be Dastan, and not Makaro. The rest of the tower collapsed behind her, and she relived the thunder from that rainstorm, watching the last drops drift to a stop.

Makaro didn't die that night. He promptly deflected the oinker, expert blastershots and bodily retaliation that swore he was almost anticipating she left a little something left for him to kill.

This was all his fault.
All of it. And she had no problem, just this once, voiceing the built up infuriation and hurt that bled out of her usual growl.

"This...is all your fault."

[Dastan Imatari]

He watched slowly as the tower fell in a growing plume of smoke and rubble. He felt her tumble down through the structure- but obviously couldn't see her... For a moment he wasn't sure she'd make it- until the only thing left standing where the tower was- was a cloud of dust and blowing sand- though Mercy emerged.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, and his mouth curled into an uneven smirk. His pale eyes shimmered sulfuric gold for a moment. Having nothing to do with her success, he still felt a bit of pride that she emerged.

Dastan's eyes then hardened as she spoke.

"You can spend your life hating me..." His vocabulator hissed, "Hate makes you strong." his head listed to the side, "But don't waste time blaming me. Not taking responsibility will only make you weak."

Not pausing he just dove headfirst- the 'white bantha in the room'.

"You never returned." She should know how it all worked. It didn't matter how old, or experienced one was. The strong survive at any cost. "Had I a hand in your disappearance, you think I would have just ushered you into the hands of another?" The Sith were possessive, arrogant. In truth, Mercy did survive. Had she returned to him, maybe even tracked and tried to kill him, he would have taken her back beneath his wing as a success. Tutelage in the sith isn't all about neglect- it's about triumph over pratfalls. If failure doesn't kill, then lessons are hard learned to solidify the knowledge of victory for next time...

Though he felt a burn that she condemned him and didn't even try to confront him about it personally. To him, shying away from conflict didn't seem right. Though seeing such emotions as petty- he shoved it into the back of his mind, like most other things.

"You blame me for your predicament? Blame yourself." he huffed, his posture setting back to as casual as he could get in this environment. Hoping she would see that her anger and hatred would grow with confronting him, he stoked the fire a bit.

[Slade Xandir]

Blinking through the rainfall, she felt the water lighten as it was clear it wasn't anything of the sort. It was dust. And the boulder that supposedly hit Makro, the very Makaro that stood before her, she listened to echoes of shatters that swore to not even exist. What...
Makaro spoke, his voice digitilized, not his own. Blinking more, the dust cleared and Makaro fluttered away in the breeze, fading and fazing into Dastan.

Those blue's scaled into a different range of color, and she couldn't tell whether she was proud or actually suicidal. Did she want to crumble in that tower, just to escape the memories? Or would she use the remaining wrath that simmered in her to slay her former Master? Currently, she was lost, emotionally, mentally, despite her being prime and pristine physically. She just felt like a sludge that had nowhere to drain.

His words, words that actually had a toll on her weighed heavy as they hit her. Words she had allowed to slip past her defense, as for right now, she felt just as lost as she did when her Fa was assassinated so long ago. Hoth was a cold place to her not, and it was definitely not because of the temperatures. But the ice storm before her buffeted the fire storm she once was, cooling her without even giving it permission.

The final shard of ice was driven into her chest, forced so deep it was almost like Dastan had personally walked up and shoved it in, himself. Distance never mattered so much to the girl who wanted to forever be alone.

He was right. She hadn't returned. And it was her own fault, her own fault. Her communications were shagged when she had gotten dropped off. She was fresh, new. She didn't get to bond with Dastan, nor build a cord in the Force to call upon him or vice versa as she had with Blood.
She didn't even know if Dastan had made it out alive by the time Fox and Slade found her.

How the hell was she gonna find a Master she didn't know?
It was then the ember was rekindled.

"You didn't usher me into a damn thing, you poppy scruffed frakking insult to humanity. They found me. And they raised me better than you ever could. So you and your blonde chew-chick can go burn."

Her own inferno blared as her anger revived itself. Indignation was dangerous, and if he was trying to keep her prisoner in anything, whether it be guilt or whether she really was wrong, she wasn't going to have her freedom robbed by his garbage.

Mercy was fully willing to fight for her choice of words, and her hands rested on marched hips.

[Dastan Imatari]

"Raised you?" He chuckled. "You've been coddled." his lips pressed tight across his teeth.

"No apprentice of mine would be petty enough to keep that motor running instead of doing something about a situation that mattered." He adjusted his hood, and drew it back from his helmet- the black-brown worn material sagging back, resting on the layers beneath.

Though she mentioned Naria, his first instinct was to force bolt her. Hit her so hard through the force it'd take her a week to recover- in a bacta tank. instead he allowed that boiling hatred feed him- seething in the dark force power- the power Korriban emanated made this easier for him. For now he's draw the force within himself-

"Unlike the rest of this order, I haven't stood idly by- hoping to absorb the power of others." He strode toward her with one step, and pointed an accusatory finger her way, "You're no coward, Mercy. You were made to unleash your wrath. How much have you really learned? How much have you really grown?" His hatred and power began to pulse off him on waves. Dastan wasn't known for his restraint. That was beginning to wane. The dark side temptation was burning in his breast. He wanted to see red- in any instant he could have killed her. Crushed her body with the force. Cut her down with his blade. Crushed her throat with a vicious blow. All the scenarios flew through his mind.

"Are you afraid to confront the actual problem, or are you just complacent on having something to blame and complain about for the rest of your life?"

He would grow in the darkness by denying himself his rage.

[Slade Xandir]

Mercy was taken aback by the baby-insult. Coddled? She had been shown a hellovalot of Force skill, and all of them she picked up with more ease than her original tried. Blood was understanding, and he used words and illustration to ensure she got through the lesson without falling back into her wrathful ways of not giving a damn. She had earned patience, had sacrificed a good chunk of her vicious nature to ensure she got stronger in an efficient manner. But here her prior master was, pointing fingers and calling it all useless.
Situation?

"What-...What situation that mattered? Standing idly by what?! What's.."

Mercy wasn't in the loop for anything. She didn't know any of the political things that went down. Blood, if he needed something done, he would point the finger and just expect them to get it done. If he knew they couldn't handle it, he would do it himself. He had reasons for what he did, in everything...didn't he?
Did he have a reason to leave her, and probably Fox too, in the dark on the happenings in the Sith?
And did it have to do with the Emperor missing?

"Does it involve Tormentous?"

Again his finger jabbed directly at her, and instead of the confident fire that kept her warm and alone at night, it felt different. It felt...unfamiliar. Alien.

"I've! I have grown! I am stronger than what I had been, and I'm currently on parr with more Sith Lords than you've even considered yourself training under. You don't know anything about me!"

His step forward gave her an instinctive step back. Not from fear of him, but fear of his words. Was it true she hadn't been fufilling her true potential under Blood? Should she have been beyond him? Could she have been past him if she had stayed with Dastan?
And what the hell was going on that she didn't know about? So many questions buzzed endlessly in her ears. It was clear he had the upper hand in this matter, but it was simply because he seemed to know the unknown, rather that the girl who lived in the here, and the now.

[Dastan Imatari]

"You have a lot of questions all of a sudden." He added with a certain satisfaction. Something he hadn't seen a lot of from Mercy. She was always a generally self-assured individual. "Good."

He stepped forward again, and her mention of Tormentous made his brow lower- and his nose scrunch slightly. The salt and venom he about spat would be washed away with keeping his point in their conversation.

"And maybe your tutelage under Lord Blood was me dodging a bolt." His eyes narrowed and he sized her up from behind his helmet. "Or maybe it wasn't."

"either way, for you to fulfill your destiny-" his voice darkened, "Things will need to change."

A loaded statement if there ever was one.

"So go on, if you wish. Live in your bubble that you seem to have figured out. Storm away in a fit, playing that tired old note about how I left you for dead. Keep blaming me for your station." He gave a pregnant pause.

"I came to Korriban to commune with the dark side of the force." he huffed. "But here I stand, you before me. What- do you think that means?"

[Slade Xandir]

Mercy listened to the vocalizer, the words sort of falling into his own baritones in her mind despite the mechanical work the helmet was doing aloud.
The hell did he mean he was dodging a bolt out when it came to training her? What, was she more trouble than what she was worth? A lost cause? No. She was much know than that.

"Things will need to change."

Again her mouth flew, already trying to get a grasp on a situation that was beyond her control. The restraints she held when her mentor were around, blazed up and blew away. If there were things she were being kept from her and she was supposed to know, she wanted to know.
But was it worth it? Was this another one of those 'doing it for a reason's?

"What needs to change, Dastan? You speaking in riddles isn't going to help me see any clearer than the fog I'm in now. And out doesn't help that I'm in it because of him."

The girl didn't know what she was walking into. She also didn't know where to turn, let alone who to trust.
From his step forward, she didn't take one back.

"What change."

Was she meant to be here with him? Her Fa told her 'everything happens for a reason'. Was this one off those circumstances?
Or was she just going through another dumping phase?

Raising her chin to the question, she replied, "Two people are brought together to either accomplish something great, or kill eachother. And unless you're toying with my life right now till you get bored, it's gotta be door one."

Mercy had grit. That much was for certain. But she felt as though every grain of sand on this damned planet was on her shoulders right now. And If it was confirmed, if there was something major going on and her own master kept her ignorant on purpose, then she would just leave him.

And this time, it would be on her own terms.

[Dastan Imatari]

"You -are- in a fog. I will be the one to lift it."
Dark premonition maybe. But a goal that wasn't one taken lightly.

"I came here fully expectin to have had to cut down a terantetek or two before sitting in a dark room that used to be filled with a long dead Darth's belongings. I came to commune with the dark side of the force, as most Sith do..." His dark clothed arms crossed over his charcoal breastplate. Leatheris gloved hands tapped a moment.

"But I've found you."

His premonitions were strange, and the force rarely made sense to him. Though when signs were goven, it was immestakeable.

"Maybe I should kill you." His left hand dropped to his belt, and his right hand called his saber, flipping to his hand. It ignited immediately with a deep booming electric splash, followed by its lightly unstable bassy babbling. It's blazing blade hung casually, pointed at the ground.

It made sense. Maybe she would hinder him later, and should strike her down now, with a flick of the wrist.

"Or maybe not..." His left hand raised, "Come with me, Mercy... and I can show you how the Sith have all died. Come with me, and we can spark life into a new age. Wake the darkness from its hibernation."

[Slade Xandir]

"You -are- in a fog. I will be the one to lift it."

She sure hoped so, because having blinders on this whole time was useless, regressive, and unattractive. And frankly, she was right sick of it. All of the 'Just do this, don't ask questions, I'm doing this for a reason's were draining her of her free will, and it felt as if she were just some sort of pet to the man. In fact, that was what it felt like she was to him. She was a survivor prior to being changed by Slade, and though she was taken in, groomed, and now sitting higher on the totem pole, she felt as though she were just being robed of her own independence. Like she was just chained to him, only to be unleashed if he said so.
It was revolting to a girl who valued freedom.

It was quite the coincidence that she and Dastan happened upon each other at the same time; she did give him that, as she thought the same thing. He was last on her bucket list of 'To See', and Mercy was pretty sure she wasn't his favorite face, either. But it was uncanny.
The vixen was caught up trying to connect dots that she didn't have any string to when he had mentioned his thought on killing her. The sharp cracks of his saber hissing to life snatched her attention away from her thoughts as her mind went blank. Damn, was she supposed to go with door 2? Was he playing with her life, thus far? Cruel ass joke, dude.
'I really dont feel like dying, right now,' she groaned to herself.

Or, maybe not. "Or, maybe not," he vocalized her afterthought.
"Come with me, Mercy... and I can show you how the Sith have all died. Come with me, and we can spark life into a new age. Wake the darkness from its hibernation."

It was then she realized...she had a knack for once serving this sociopath. And despite him being a sociopath still, she still had a thing for it. Atleast he offered answers. But whether it was for her protection that Blood kept her in the dark or whether he just wanted to hog all of the information himself, or whether he was simply coming up with bigger and better plans for their group, Mercy had an issue with it. So she was going to take that step into the naughty side of life, and follow Dastan, once more.

Mercy took a breath to steady herself in this decision, as she felt something deep in her whisper how intense this was, how important it was, and how she was going to be satisfied with this choice. She just hoped that little voice was right, and not the garbage of some wasted dead guy this planet was home to. Stepping forward, the fierce young woman took his offer; and soon she was before him.

"Alright. I'm down for the ride."

And it was gonna be a hellova ride.

[Dastan Imatari]

"This all may seem dramatic, but I can assure you that you're making the right decision."
At least it was a decision that allowed her to live. At this point, lines were beginning to be drawn.

He slowly brought his saber blade up, and pointed it's tip toward Mercy. It's rhythmic crackling, music to his ears- like listening to a raging fire beneath the deep boomy electronic hum.

"Step forward." He commanded, though a certain pride in his tone. "And kneel." He tilted the blade aside a bit so as to not be in her face if she were to approach. Not usually one to be a stickler for traditions, though now things were different. Dastan was going to take Mercy back as his apprentice. Not just to be used as a practical, assistant, or lackey. She would be the first Dastan would trust with knowledge he'd grabbed with his own fists.

Her serving beneath him would make her the first of Dastan's small victories to come, as well. The road ahead was to be wrought with a lot of work. Work that would start as soon as he would have her rise as a full member of the Sith Order.