All Good Things Must End...?

[The Spark]

The blades of grass would blow gently in the cool breeze in a place that felt familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. The feel of the wind against her face was comforting, the sound of scavenger rats skittering through the field caught her attention, causing her slow gaze to lull to the left and then to the right as they passed by. She would slowly stand, lingering hands touching the tips of the grass as she did. Her amber orbs staring forward into the distance, away from the Nomad Mountain range from where she was. Soft steps were taken with bare feet across the earthen plane, her arms spreading out wide as the wind pressed against her nearly bare form. Pieces of white ripped cloth concealed her breasts and her lower extremities but nothing more

Flesh that adorned scars of different shapes and sizes were exposed to the wraith of nature’s breath as it tried to press her back, yet the woman didn't falter. Her steps were slow and purposeful, ahead of her a dark abyss that was dark and endless. She merely stared, as if she were a mindless drone, walking to her doom without a care. Tears would brim up at the edges of her eyes, a coastal city stood tall and proud in the distance and beyond, the aquamarine oceans of the world she was on. As she continued to step closer and closer to the edge, tears would flow freely from her amber hued orbs, streaking down her face without obstruction. Her facial expression never changed, she appeared to not care nor was there anyone there to stop her.

The softness of the earth began to become jagged pieces of rock that pierced the softness of her flesh under her feet, leaving behind trails of blood in its wake. The stains of crimson would cause the image of the woman to shudder and shake. The tears streaming down her face began to shade light red, and gain a thickness that slowed their decent. She couldn't feel the pain, all she felt was the sensation of the wind against her body, the flow of the wind through her fingers and against her skin of her outstretched arms.

She could see the dark abyss ahead…Yes…

From within, a voice called to her, a female voice she didn't recognize.

As she drew to the edge, she dared not to look down. She remained calm and poised, face streaked with blood and tears. The wind would cease and the calming sensation would subside, with it…the world would stop. The sun would no longer warm her skin, the birds would no longer chirp, and the rats would no longer skitter along the field she came from. Everything ceased to function.

And with that, she fell forward into the darkness and the unknown that awaited her...

 

[The Spark]

Artemisia would jolt awake, the bed she slept in was soaked with blood and sweat. Her nails had dug into her skin from the nightmares that plagued her. These places that came to her, she grew tired of seeing them as she knew not where they were or how she had ever been there. All she knew was what she could see from her memories. Was there something else missing? Where did this rage come from? How could [member="Darth Isolda"] walk around so cool and calm and these other drone-like Sith just followed orders and did what they were told. Who was the man in her dream that spoke to her, the dark haired elderly man…Did he really make a difference in her life? What difference did he make? Was he her father? Or someone else of importance? He was a brutish looking man, very rough looking...like he was rode up hard and put away wet. ([member="Ember Rekali"])

She would rise up from the bed and move to the transparisteel window on Coruscant, her hands touching the dried blood streaks down her arms. She felt the burning rage within her, beating at her body and mind like a caged animal, but at this point she was so numb to it. She was used to it, it was almost like second nature.

She just simply stared out into the cityscape, wondering what all of this meant. Something didn’t feel right, hell, nothing felt right. Not even these Sith, her supposed brothers and sisters. They felt like they were traitors who needed to be purged themselves from the Galaxy. A knock at her door caught her attention, causing her to shift a bit and then the sound of soft footsteps as one of the cloaked followers of the One Sith entered her room, bringing a robe and other items.

“I don’t care for these things…” She murmured.

The cloaked man spoke, his head bowed low. “I bring them on behalf of the Dark Lor-“and then his voice cut out suddenly as the rage within Artemisia ignited into a burning flame. She gripped the man tightly with the Force, her hand clenching slowly into a fist as the invisible power of the dark side began to crush his throat, his neck and his upper body.

“I don’t give a damn about the Dark Lord or his gifts. I don’t give a damn about his false persona and his kindness he shows to the weak!” She began to close her fist, the sound of tissue ripping and bones snapping echoed through the enclosed space and the lasts gasps of air exited the servant’s mouth before death took him.

“I CARE NOTHING FOR HIS FALSEHOOD!” She bellowed as she threw the corpse blindly through the transparisteel window and out into the chasm below. The wind roared to life in the room as the pressure suddenly changed, causing her hair to whip around wildly. She could only breathe deep as the rage began to subside. Her time on Coruscant was done, she could feel it was time to move on to Byss. She quietly moved over to the bed and gathered her armor and her weapons, adorning them quickly before tossing the silly robes to which she was presented. The wind sucking them out the window and up into the night sky.