All I Found Underneath

[Kuzo]

Curled on her side, Irajah dreamed.

As always, the kitchen of her childhood home was lit with warmth. Her mother sat near the window, her easel turned toward the light. As she painted, the glittering eyes of an amphistaff, Azi, peered out of her hair, watching as the brush stroked across the canvas. The biot's head moved in tandem with the woman's arm, perfectly comfortable and at ease.

Irajah, small, a child herself, sprawled on the floor. [member="Boo Chiyo"] sat on the kitchen table, a sign that she couldn't read, but nonetheless knew said 'No Girls Allowed', propped up. He played with toys she couldn't see, his back to her. He'd glance back, suspiciously every now and then, as if to make sure she wasn't sneaking up on him, before going back to his game.

The fact that she couldn't see what her mother was painting bothered her more than being left out of Boo's club. She stuck her tongue out at the back of his head and rolled over to look at the ceiling. The wooden beams shifted strangely, roiling in subtle movement as though something lurked within them. She frowned.

"Your friend is up there," came her mother's voice. Irajah turned her head.

"He's not my friend."

Her mother shrugged, and Azi curled a little more tightly around the woman's neck.

"He's not allowed in my club either!" Boo's voice drifted over. When she glanced in his direction though, the kitchen was too large- he was too far away. She frowned. Had the kitchen always been that big? At some point, the floor had changed from smooth wood to mud, but it seemed perfectly normal.

"I'm not going to be able to finish this painting in time," her mother said, sadly. "It won't be finished by the time your father gets home."

"Can I help?"

"Oh darling, no. You'd ruin it. Besides, you're in it. It's bad luck to see a painting you're in before it's finished."

Was it? That made sense. Her mother fell silent behind her.

She heard the door beside the window open, and she turned around. A figure stood in the doorway, and Irajah stood up.

"It's time Irajah."

"I don't want to dig the hole, papa."

Simon Ven stepped into the kitchen, a shovel slung over his shoulder. He smiled at her sadly.
​"You're the only one left to do it."

She looked around. Her mother was gone, but Azi was still on the chair, curled around a cage. It was hard to see what was moving inside the cage, but something shifted and turned. The table with Boo on it was a tiny speck in the distance. He waved cheerfully, the table slowly sinking into the mud. She was trying to get to him, running unbearably slow through the mud, but the table sank long before she could reach it. Why couldn't she go faster?

Despite how far she had run, her father was still standing behind her. In one hand was the shovel, in the other, the painting. They weren't in the kitchen anymore. The mud stretched in all directions, but, somehow she knew they were in the front garden.

"Papa, it's not finished. It's bad luck."

"It doesn't matter anymore, lovely. You already have bad luck. It can't get any worse."

She looked at the painting, but all she saw was more mud. She frowned. She thought she was in the picture?

When she looked up, the shovel was in her hands. She stood, neck deep in a hole. Her father lay beside it. Unmoving, gaunt. Dead, his eyes staring at her.

"You have to finish the grave. We can't rest until you finish it."

"I can't!" She cried, "There's too many of you and the mud keeps filling the hole in!"

As the mud flowed, slow and thick from all sides, she shoveled as fast as she could- but it always seemed to be slower than the mud itself. Along with the mud, bodies started to slide in over the top.

"No, you have to wait! It's not finished! I'm sorry, I'm digging as fast as I can!"

She couldn't move her arms. The weight of the mud and bodies, all staring, all murmuring quietly, barely audible, immobilized her. She couldn't hear them, but she knew they were asking her to keep going, to keep digging.

"I can't," she whispered, the mud reaching her neck. She tilted her head up, trying to keep her mouth above it. It squeezed, forcing the air out of her lungs as she struggled to breath.

"I can't."

She closed her eyes as the mud covered her face, holding her breath as long as she could. But the mud was more patient than she was. Cold and wet, she gasped, lungs filling with unbreathable viscosity as she choked.

Irajah gasped, eyes flying open. For a moment, she didn't realize she was awake, the darkness of the room complete- it took a moment of ragged breathing to assure her lungs that she could, indeed, breath.

It took a moment to remember where she was, to banish the cold chill of the mud from her skin. There was a line of warmth a few inches from her, the impossibly smooth sheets wrapped around her legs, likely in the final moments of the nightmare. She tried to deliberately slow her breathing.

She didn't want him to wake up.

Slowly, carefully, she slipped across the expanse of the bed. Where had her clothes ended up? They hadn't paid any attention to details like that at the time. How much time had passed? How long had she been asleep? Her internal clock was skewed, and the pervasive darkness in the room didn't help. She moved gingerly, only in part to try not to wake him.

She had a basic idea of the layout of the room. The distance to the far wall. There was a sconce somewhere on it (well bolted to the wall). The location of a desk (she thought it was a desk, it had been sturdy enough). She'd only been vaguely aware of just how large the bed was though apparently, because it took a moment to find the edge.

After the heat, sitting perched on the edge of the bed was particularly chilly. But she needed to be dressed before he woke up- before the lights came on. She didn't think he'd buy whatever excuses she had for the bruises (though that one from the corner of the desk, well, he'd believe that one). She was certain there were other new bruises as well- they had not been gentle with each other, and she bruised easily. But most of them were obviously older than last night.

Whatever this was, it wasn't based on trust, on understanding. She'd only explained any of this, as something she was experiencing, to one person. And she didn't want to try to explain it to [member="Darth Prazutis"]. Not now. Better to leave the night as it had been, rather than sour it with that.

She shifted, about to slip off the bed in an attempt to find her clothes.

"I'm never going to find them all," she muttered under her breath. He was asleep. It was quiet enough that it wouldn't wake him up.....

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Just as the lights went on they were turned off in rapid succession by Braxus who remained in bed alongside the sleeping [member="Irajah Ven"]. As his anger spiked while his mind stewed over the many bruises coating the doctor, a devious plan was hatched. He would act like he was sleeping and quietly analyze what the doctor does when she wakes up, how she acts. It was clear she didn't want him to know of these bruises for some reason, time spent in the dark and long sleeved clothing both were indicators of that, did she lie? No she just cleverly his the truth from him about whoever was beating her so terribly. How could she hide those wounds for so long? How did they not cause her pain? Who gave them to her? So many questions swirled through his mind, too many questions and absolutely no answers.

​So when she finally stirred Irajah wouldn't see the Sith Lord laying there with his eyes wide open, she wouldn't see as he watched her gingerly slide to the end of the bed. The doctor took great care in ensuring her movements created minimal disruption, desperately trying to ensure she didn't wake him up. Several minutes passed after she slid off of the bed and began her first creep around the room to try and find her clothes from among those thrown all over the room.

But quite suddenly the mans voice serious and cold rang out through the room "Who?"

There was no immediate sound behind his word, only the motion of him climbing off of the bed and yet another shadow cast over her from the dimly lit darkness. Braxus moved towards Irajah his burning sulfuric eyes boring holes through her skull and the only thing she could see of him in this blackness. "Who hurt you? The truth."

 

[Kuzo]

Nope, definitely not mine. That would look ridiculous-

"Who?"

"Sweetmotherofthemaw-"

She whirled around, then froze in place as the shadow, barely discernable against the darkness, loomed. His eyes, however, and the palpable, frigid anger in the air were impossible to miss.

"Who hurt you? The truth."

She had no idea for a moment what he was talking about. The visual difference between bruises caused by what he thought, and what she knew them to be, was subtle- and Irajah never thought of them that way. Knowing so intrinsically the cause, she rarely considered what they would look like to other people. To her, she assumed that others would see them the same way she did- they marked her as sick. As weak. And of course, she still thought that he hadn't seen them.

So when she started to speak, she wasn't trying to lie to him. The bafflement in her voice was real for a moment.

"What are you talking about? No one has hurt m-"

She stopped, almost physically swallowing the words as she realized just what he meant.

"The bruises."

She was silent for a moment, certain that he could hear the sound of her heartbeat in her chest. No. Not this. Not now.

"You saw the bruises."

It wasn't a question.

She wasn't going to be able to make excuses here. He wouldn't buy the 'well, I'm just a klutz' angle. And if she did try to go with his assumption? What happened when the bruises didn't go away? Irajah had never been a good liar. Lies of omission were best. They were easy. But faced with the straight, tawny gaze of [member="Darth Prazutis"], this was not a situation where dissembling and dismissing were going to work.

"No one hurt me," she said quietly. "At least, not the way you think."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Not in the way he thought?

​It angered him more in her response it was as if she thought he was beyond understanding what her problem was. To the Sith Lord it looked very simple with so many bruises covering her body. Someone had obviously done a significant number on her, there was no other option. Quickly his mind searched for various galactic diseases he thought could cause such dark welts, coming up with nothing. There seemed only one logical conclusion, she was clearly still keeping something from him. But [member="Irajah Ven"] was always a terrible liar, so he would press until he got the truth. "Then what is the truth then if someone hasn't hurt you? Explain."

 

[Kuzo]

The idea that 'I don't want to talk about it' would be sufficient for this man was laughable. Slowly, Irajah sunk back down onto the edge of the bed. She felt the motion, more than anything else, as if he were going to turn on the light.

"Please leave the light off," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "It'll be easier."

When she started talking, it was clear, concise- possibly the most academic tone he'd ever heard from her. It was neat. Clean.

​"I was accidentally infected by an engineered virus. I assure you, I am not contagious to those around me. The virus causes the bruises, among other symptoms." She didn't go into the details, leaving it glossed over for the moment.

"I keep it in check with a technique my father taught me," her voice dropped in volume slightly there, before picking back up again. "I don't know what it's called, but it's the only aspect of the Force I have been trained in. It allows me to keep the virus contained in my organs, rather than having it replicate through my entire body. I can move it around before the damage caused is too great in a single location to recover from. The process of moving it however causes small internal bleeds- hence, the bruises."

​There was so much she didn't say. How she was in pain, every day. How exhausted the process of moving the virus every few days left her. How she had let it stay in one organ for too long and it had almost killed her. How if she stopped fighting it, every hour of every day, keeping it contained.... that it would kill her.

"The other research I mentioned....." She trailed off, her voice faltering slightly now for the first time. "That research is into the virus. To hopefully find a cure. Which is why... no matter what else happens..... I cannot put it aside. Nor will I."

Stubborn. She didn't know how he would react, what he would say. But it was clear that if at any point the choice came down to her life, or his displeasure?

There was simply no question which she would pick.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Braxus remained silent the stoic, cold look on his face unchanged as [member="Irajah Ven"] gave in and told him exactly what the bruises were. It took quite a lot for him to hide the look of surprise that threatened to form on his face as she mentioned the flesh eating virus, and especially the symptoms she exhibits from it. An engineered virus? A part of him hoped it was someone beating on her, he'd be able to solve that problem with the snap of a finger compared to this.

​She uses the force?

​No it makes complete sense. The virus violently attacks her internal organs effectively tearing them apart trying to shut them down, the only way she could stop it from killing her in a matter of weeks, possibly even days was to use the force to move it around. The techniques she was referring to were a specialized set he had heard of before, control disease. Irajah Ven knew so little of the force yet she already used it and in such a precise way, to move a disease from one organ to the next But...didn't she realize what this meant? "You do realize what this means, Irajah? The damage is still done on the organs the techniques your referring to cannot heal them. Eventually your organs are going to fail." ​Braxus said, stepping closer. He knew she most likely knew all of this, it simply needed to be said.

​"What does the data say about this disease? Is it cureable?" ​Braxus added, crossing his arms as he stood over her. "Is it?" ​​She wouldn't be able to lie or omit her way out of this question, there was no deceiving him. "I wouldn't ask you to stop your research...in fact I will lend my aid to your cause, my knowledge and resources are yours to help...but you are limiting yourself with the lengths your willing to go to find your solution."

 

[Kuzo]

"I am painfully aware of what it means, Braxus." Her voice was quiet, but even.

"It's one of the reasons I chose to work in a major hospital, rather than a smaller center. There are certain therapies I can access when they are necessary."

The tone made it clear that she understood these were only stop gaps. Some of her reluctance to leave Dosuun behind utterly was becoming clearer.

She shifted slightly. Unlike earlier in the lab, she seemed unperturbed by the looming presence of [member="Darth Prazutis"]. At least here and now. So much of the strangeness, the ambiguity in his actions had been clarified. She knew where she stood, and he knew as well. At least here, in the darkness, it was Irajah and Braxus. Who knew what the daylight would bring?

Where the feelings behind the experience were something she had only spoken of with one other person, so too now were the gritty details in how they related to herself on a physical level only coming out for the first time now.

Somehow, it was easier than she expected to explain this part of it at least to him.

"If I make a mistake with the timing, the damage is irreparable. And certain organs, well, there is no room whatsoever for error. Early on, I made mistakes." She paused, her voice shocking deadpan when she continued. "I learned."

After all, the alternative was to die.

"The original data on the virus is over thirty years old. When it's creators built it, they did not see a possibility of a cure. However, there have been advances since then. Technology, knowledge.... And the virus's creator lived with it in the same fashion I am for that entire span."

"And who created it?"

He couldn't see her face in the dark. It was better that way. She drew in a small breath.

"My father."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

"The original data on the virus is over thirty years old. When it's creators built it, they did not see a possibility of a cure. However, there have been advances since then. Technology, knowledge.... And the virus's creator lived with it in the same fashion I am for that entire span."​

"And who created it?"

"My father."​

​Well that certainly was unexpected. The story told by [member="Irajah Ven"] was not at all what he expected when he saw the bruises covering her torso. An uncurable, flesh eating disease ravaging her body and it was created by her father. More questions surged through the Sith Lords mind: Who was her father? He had to be a force user to teach her the techniques of control disease. How long did she have before the disease ate away at her organs? However one singular thought, just one thought rose above all of the questions and dominated his mind.

​Denial.

​Irajah possessed a false hope in that she would one day find a cure to the disease, her only factual basis based off the idea of an advancement in technology. For a doctor and a woman steeped in science and medical knowledge, the idea of her ignoring the facts and believing the impossible could in fact be possible was interesting. It was disappointing to see her put stock in something that wouldn't happen, and it showed a greater future for her in the goals he had in mind if she was already willing to cross what she believed. Irajah was destined to die by the disease that wasn't curable by medical means, but her stubborn determination kept her fighting. Braxus knew of other, unnatural ways to ensure that she lived through this disease in some form, however he tucked them safely away for future use.

​"You'll be sending me the data on this virus. But from how it sounds...it sounds like a false hope. The medical world doesn't have the capacity to cure, and solve the problems you have...but the force does. The dark side is a path to many abilities some would consider...unnatural."








​

 

[Kuzo]

"You brought me to Panatha for the expressed purpose of cracking a puzzle that has remained a mystery. Not with the force. But with the knowledge of medicine. You called a Doctor."

Her voice was low, but fierce.

She stood up then, pacing. She was too angry, too frustrated to sit still. But it wasn't with him. It was anger at the helplessness. At the very idea that she would fail. Because failure meant death. Everytime she had considered simply ending it, doing the responsible thing and removing the risk of her very existence from the galaxy, she had been unable to. She had called herself selfish, for taking the path she had, rather than making the sacrifice for others. The one her father had been unable, unwilling to make.

Pausing for a moment, she looked up at the shadow of [member="Darth Prazutis"].

For almost a year, she had let the virus and the bruises on her body define her, dictate how she acted, what she did. She had hidden, kept to the dark, to the shadows- out of fear. Out of shame.

You deserve better than this.

She hadn't really believed that at the time.

Irajah strode with purpose across the room. Without thinking about it too much, just letting her anger move her, she turned, flipping on the main light switch. She stood there, with her hands on her hips and chin high. The anger that fed the action still flared in her eyes. Anger with herself. And how she had thought, for even a moment, that staying alive had been selfish.

"Trust me with the limits of science, and I will trust you with what the Force is capable of.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​If it had been anyone else in the similar situation as he was with [member="Irajah Ven"] her response of anger would've been misconstrued as disrespect, and a spark of defiance towards him. But this was Darth Prazutis and he was skilled in the art of reading people, their subtle actions and movements while the force gifted him with how they were feeling. Irajah was angry and he felt the palpable surge, but she was angry at herself more than she was at him. So when the lights on and her hands went down to her hips Braxus was presented with Irajah in her barest form.

The doctors arms torso and neck were covered with the dark splotches, the black bruises from her constant work to keep the flesh ripping virus ravaging her internal organs at bay. It was odd to see the white flame of anger in the gleam of her eyes as she met his own sulfuric yellow ones.

"You don't deserve this." ​Braxus said walking up to her.

He placed a hand on her shoulder then not to tempt her but a calm reassurance, the mask of care forming on his face as he spoke. "You're right Irajah. It's not my place to make such assumptions. I trust you and your expertise. I brought you into this project because of your abilities. I trust in your role as a Doctor and your knowledge, but also Irajah." Braxus said, pausing and leaving his response open ended as he cleverly manipulated the doctor, shaping the flame of rage into something productive. "I'm here to help. My resources, my knowledge, and my hand are yours to help in our projects and your own if you need them. I'll help you cure this virus ravaging your body one way or another."

 

[Kuzo]

She hadn't realized she'd been steeling herself for rejection until....

It didn't come.

Whatever it was she had expected from him, the admission she was correct, the warmth in his voice, those had been so far from it that she did not immediately have a reply.

The last time she had opened herself, bared who and what she was- it had been sneered at. Not enough. Never enough. This was different- this was not her feelings she was sharing with him (not deliberately), but the fierceness in her soul. A refusal to lay down and die when the galaxy around her whispered 'sleep.' She had told him that, if she let go for even an instant, the only thing waiting for her was death.

And rather than treat her as a broken creature to be pitied and cared for, or as less than what she offered....

I trust you.

I'm here.

Instead of why can't you trust me more, he was telling her that he believed in her.

Did she deserve that level of faith?

For the first time, in a very, very long time.... she felt as though maybe she did.

"Thank you," she said quietly, but there was a steel there that hadn't been there before. A certain deep pride. Behind the sincerity, behind the appreciation in those two words-

There was real hope.

It wasn't for his offer of aid, as useful as it would be. The usefulness of a person to her had never been a consideration. No. His faith in her washed like cool waters across a landscape too long battled by drought.

Secretly, she had doubted. Always doubted herself and her ability to crack Gideon. But if he believed in her....

Rising up on her toes, she slid her arms around his neck, pressing her lips warmly against his.

If someone believed in her, she could do anything.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​There was a subtle shift in the immediate aftermath of his kind words to [member="Irajah Ven"]. A reassuring hopeful gleam formed in the eyes of the doctor that had never been there before in all of their conversations. It was as if she was the desert oasis of hope and faith long dried up and spent, and he was the blessed waters to end her drought. In truth Braxus did have faith in her abilities, and he trusted her his kind words were' t entirely a cleverly worded lie but ultimately made it that much more convincing to say. Behind those eyes there was a deep pride calming the fires where anger and frustration once held dominion.

"Thank you,"

​A simple two words were all that was side before she closed the distance and rose higher her arms snaking around his neck to kiss him laced with passion. If there was doubt or hesitation in her actions, in her abilities it certainly wasn't showing in her actions as the two remained there in the light locked together. Braxus lightly lifted her up into the air and moved slowly backward...

​The lights never went off.

​Several hours passed as the two remained locked in the throes of their passion, a slower less frenzied experience unfolding between them. Where animalistic passion took hold previously tenderness remained. Once more they collapsed their regained strength spent once more. It was some time after their experience that Braxus once more woke up. This time the situation was different, the lights shining into his eyes being one of them as he woke. But there was another presence absent previously that was now here. This time he woke to Irajah laying by his side, the ciurls of her dark hair covering her face as she laid laid into him. He gently brushed the hair from her face before speaking softly to the sleeping woman. "Irajah...wake up. We both have a lot of work to do." ​

​While the situation was unexpected and deadlines would be pushed back, it was perfectly fine.

 

[Kuzo]

"Mhmm?"

She curled over on her side a little, a small sleepy smile tugging at her lips as she turned her face into his hand.

"Caf an' breakfast first," she mumbled, still half asleep. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking owlishly up at him for a moment. A little disoriented, but not distressed by it.

After all, that was a much more pleasant way to wake up than being shattered out of sleep by nightmares.

For a moment though, she looked thoughtfully puzzled.

"Or is it lunch?"

*****

Normally, Irajah would have returned to Dosuun the day before. Instead she was in the main lab, humming absently to herself as a series of samples spun down. If she still looked as tired as she always did, well, that could be expected. After all, she wasn't really getting any more sleep than she usually did. But there was a certain spring in her step. She leaned over, reaching to draw a mug of caf over across the counter toward her, hazel eyes glued on the machinery as it whirred in silent anticipation.

When the machine beeped softly, she hopped down off of the stool, pushing it gently out of the way with one foot as she popped the top open. Drawing out a half dozen tubes, she carried them over to the scanner, slipping each one into the chute in turn.

Still humming she sipped her caf, putting the mug down as she punched in the commands.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Darth Prazutis was scheduled for a trip to the nearby world of Rattatak where in recent times he had been named its undisputed Warlord. The new regime he brought along with freshly drawn up reforms to the world were settling in nicely, and an visit to his new palace grounds on the world was in store.

​However the Arch-Prince instead found himself back at Vain Hollow holding court for his dominions on Thule, Rattatak, and Maena from his throne here. The meetings had ended early for now. When it came to ruling he always found one needed to expect the unexpected, prepare for the inevitable. There was a far more pressing concern that guided him through the halls of Vain Hollow descending from its highest peak to move down to the laboratory of one [member="Irajah Ven"].

​In recent times the Doctor expressed her concern that despite the excellent samples he had given her, it wasn't sufficient enough to make substantial progress in her project. So the Arch-Prince reached out through the galaxy with his vast influence and plucked a subject for her experiments. A man marred in dark side corruption, corruption that had gone so far through his system there was no hope for him, he didn't have the knowledge either to transcend death.

​Braxus swept into her laboratory ever the shadow on the wall. The goliaths foot steps muffle and silent as he crept across the lab towards her. Once more his hands came down on her shoulders, while he called upon the force to catch any tossed objects. "Good morning, Irajah. How goes your work? I have something for you."

 

[Kuzo]

There was no shouting expletives this time- perhaps she was less tightly wound than before?- but he did startle her enough to make her jump, hand knocking the mug.

She could actually appreciate the arc of steaming caf, frozen in the air. It was a nice catch.

Irajah turned half way around on the stool, the surprise melting into a slightly crooked smile.

"Samples?" She asked hopefully. That it could be anything else didn't even occur to her.

It wasn't that the ones she's been working with were excellent. They had been meticulously gathered and stored before reaching the lab. But they were insufficient. She needed more extensive samples to make further headway. Dead, inert flesh was not going to get them anywhere. She could see the results of the corruption. But it was passed, complete. She needed samples with a combination of healthy and damaged tissue, she suspected. Or samples that, at the very least, weren't completely dead. She wasn't sure how he'd manage the later, so she expected the former.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Braxus nodded a light smile on his face as he replied to [member="Irajah Ven"] "Samples. This way." ​​Braxus placed a hand on the folds of her back while the doctor hopped from the stool. There had been a slight change in the doctor since that day. In the past when he crept in to startle the doctor the frantic jump and swift tossing of objects were accompanied by spews of profanity, usually sending the doctor quickly up to her feet. The doctor in the past was wound far tighter, and on edge. In the past they were some of the telltale signs that allowed him to reveal entirely the source of her odd behavior, and it was exactly this unspoken communication that guided his ultimately successful plan.

Instead he found a doctor that was wound a lot less tight as before no profanity spilling from her mouth when the object was tossed this time her mug of caff. It became a ritual almost of their meetings grabbing whatever object she tossed into the air. Typically if it was something oriented with her work he'd freeze it in the air until she carefully collected it and placed them back in their specific spots. A place for everything and everything in its place. He heard her say a few times. Additionally most of the time when he made attempts to put it down on his own they usually resulted in a frantic doctor raising her voice to tell him that he was contaminating samples, or the work area. Irajah was very particular about anything when it came to her lab. While most of it was a product of her wound behavior, he imagined it was less prevalent now.

​Braxus guided her out of the laboratory with a hand still pressed to her back while they briefly walked down the relatively Spartan, imperialistic halls of the science wing located deep within the hidden labyrinthine levels of Vain Hollow. A brief walk took them into another relatively large lab lined with various scientific and medical equipment, except a large viewing window dominated the left wall along with a door. Inside the chamber an officer of the Crownguard stood close to the viewing window monitoring the vitals of the test subject in the next room. The man had been brought in, restrained, and sedated. Immediately at the Arch-Princes insistence the man left the room. "You asked for more samples and so I have brought them to you in the form of this man. Another subject gifted in the force and powerful in the dark side, except his corruption has escalated far beyond my own. For your and our protection he is to remain restrained. The Ixetal Cilona running through his veins should be wearing off any moment..." ​Braxus said.

​Ixetal Cilona was a unique chemical substance created by Imperial scientists of the Inquisitorius during the days of the Old Sith Empire, a chemical that completely suppressed the force connection of the individual. It was used mainly in the complex collars the Inquisitors of the time used to contain their force sensitive, namely Jedi captives. Fortunately during this period Braxus and his agents came into possession of the chemicals composition, and began producing its collars for his own private use.

 

[Kuzo]

Staring through the observation window, Irajah's breath caught in her throat. She stepped away from [member="Darth Prazutis"], her steps slow and measured but utterly without thought. Hazel eyes flickered over the prone form beyond the glass, her hands reaching up to press against the cool surface.

Her face was a clear mirror of fascination with only the barest trace of horror as she took it all in, silently absorbing and processing.

The man lay still for the moment- though she would be hard pressed to call the wretched creature before her a man. He was naked from the waist up. His muscles were misshapen beneath the grey, cracked skin- some grotesquely over sized, others atrophied beyond redemption. She could see the dull white of bone in places- places where the skin had become so brittle it has simply cracked and never healed. Something had happened to the muscles of his lower face (rot? She couldn't tell without looking deeper), and every time he breathed she could see that his lower jaw hung too loosely. The tips of his fingers.... the skin there had shattered, leaving nothing but raw flesh and gleaming bone right up to the first joint. Each time his chest rose, she watched as it hitched, lungs and heart struggling, as though that would be the last breath he drew. And yet, it continued. Living. Breathing.

When she looked back at Braxus, her face was somber.

"This..... is what will happen. To you." It wasn't a question.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Braxus silently observed as the look of shock and concern flashed on the face of [member="Irajah Ven"], at the sight of the corruption filled creature laying before them. While the intricacies of the force were unknown to her, as the ability to transcend death she was right. If the darkness was allowed to run its course in an individual who achieved the levels of power that he had, it began to break down ones body. The body couldn't possibly hold the great concentration of darkness within, and eventually he and all Sith Lords would end up like the man laying before them.

​While the doctor was given samples aplenty of the dark side corruption she had no idea what the darkness would truly do to someone, what it physically looked like as the body broke down. The subject served a dual purpose for the experiments, and in his plan to continue shaping Irajah guiding her further down the path of the dark side. "Yes. When the corruption is allowed to run its course...this is the end result. There is no hope for him."

 

[Kuzo]

Her eyes searched his face for a moment, but for what wasn't clear. Usually, Irajah's expressions read like an open book, her emotions writ clear for anyone to see. But for a moment, the thoughts behind those wide hazel eyes was completely obscured, unfathomable and ethereal in an alien way. Whatever it was, it lasted only the span of a few heartbeats before she nodded once, a tight, curt motion.

Turning away from [member="Darth Prazutis"], it was like he fell away utterly. There was a barely constrained energy in each step as she started speaking, directing. Braxus, in his quest to break through that armor, had never seen it turned, in full force, against something. For a moment, Irajah was gone, replaced soley by the commanding presence of Doctor Ven.

She addressed the attendants, moving from person to person, from task to task, utterly certain that each would be carried out, not stopping to explain or further elaborate. The energy in the air whispered 'go, now!' And they moved, surprised by the firm, no nonsense tone coming from the diminutive figure.

"Get the scanning equipment in here immediately. Set for full body, internal, spectral analysis, electromagnetic, everything the scanners can handle. I want him scanned before he comes out of it. And then scan him again. I want full, active imaging of both scenarios, effected by the Ixetal and fully off- no. Three scans. On, coming off, and then again when he's clean. Set up a saline drip, I want his BP up- no I don't need to check it first, that's not important- I need samples of blood and lymph." If the pressure was too low, it would take too long to gather. But she didn't bother to explain it, just required action upon in.

"Gel slides. A small stasis capsule for live organ samples. Heart. Lungs. Liver-"

She moved in a small hurricane of action, directing the circus forming around her with immediate responses and control. This was not the woman who shook in Braxus's arms several days before. This was the woman he had hired, sight unseen, to unravel the medical potential lurking beneath the corruption of the Dark Side.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​The titan stood by the viewing window as [member="Irajah Ven"] went to work ordering around the various other individuals in the chamber. This was the visage of not the warm mask he so often showed the doctor, the visage that he used to enact subtle manipulations to guide her down the chosen path. This was the Dark Lord of the Sith, the Arch-Prince and King who ruled over lesser men. The Dark Lord folded his hands together beneath the black robes he wore.

​The armor.

​Irajah once more brought the façade to bear turned fully with a renewed vigor against the other individuals in the room. A sly grin pulled on the fringes of his face as he realized how the situation had shifted. While he did in fact unravel her persona his actions and words cemented that he'd always have a place beneath this armor, a key to unlock it and pass by if necessary. Typically in times past he would occasionally sweep into these chambers to break down this persona, not today.

​Now he would let her work.

​The Dark Lord remained an ice cold gaze forming on his face as he beckoned the men in the room to listen to the doctor, the sulfuric eyes like daggers cutting across the room.