Another One Bites The...Well Not Dust

[Lira Dajenn]

A young blonde woman hung in the middle of the air from a pair of force cuffs wrapped around her wrists and ankles. Surrounding her were four stark white walls, the floor matching them and the ceiling filled bright white neon lights, around it a force cage. There were no doors, no windows, and the woman had seemingly been within the room for days, her hair unwashed and her body slowly becoming more and more disheveled. After what seemed like another passing age a piece of the white wall finally shifted, sliding open to reveal...more white.

For a second the hallway outside the room remained completely still, no sound, no moving air, nothing. Then the sound of clicking heels could be heard. Loud clacking against the floor followed by a more silent thud, heels on marble flooring.

The noise continued for a few minutes, ominous within the quiet. Click, click, click.

Finally, a figured appeared within the white, a woman dressed in black silks that clung tightly to the body, nearly see through in nature. Dark brown hair shifted slightly as she moved into the room to stand near Kira, seconds later another woman appeared with the same incessant clicking noise. This one blonde, blue silk gracing her skin and flowing down her body as though it were a natural river. The two women stood opposite one another, though both facing their prisoner.

“Hello Kira.” A soothing tone, almost a purr came from the brunette woman, her eyes a fiery orange to match any star. A slight tug of her lips told the world that she was pleased, though about what could not be told. She went on in that soothing tone “I am Nemene, and this is my Sister Evelynn.”

Introductions were always important, at least to Nemene they were. The Queen of Rattatak was a stickler for rules and etiquette. Never mind of course that she was introducing herself to a prisoner, a woman she had captured through deception and trickery.

Perhaps that was why she was so pleased, when they had capture Kira it had been the picture of perfection. Upon learning about the chirpy Jedi woman Nemene had insisted to Evelynn that she be their next plaything, watching the woman charge at Darth Orcus had been simply...astounding, and Nemene had been positively craving to meet her. So in order to accomplish this goal they had tracked the woman through their implant in the Republic Logistic department, finding she was headed for one of the Republics more fringe worlds. It was there that they had used the womans own emotions against her, as they had done with so many Jedi before.

Through Evelynns use of mind trick and compulsion they had bent a small child to their will, they had beaten and bloodied him, then had simply told him to find Kira. In typical Jedi fashion the woman had seen the child and immediately asked him who had done this deed. The boy answered of course with a lie, claiming a group of ruffians. When the child began to lead Kira to this group she found not ruffians, but Sith instead.

Evelynn and Nemene had pounced on the Jedi, and before she could fight back they had had her in their grasp. Now she hung here, being politely introduced to the two Queens of Rattatak.

@[member="Evelynn"] @[member="Kira Liadain"]

 

[Kira Talith]

Noooobody knows... the trouble I've seen.... Noooo body knowss.... my sorrrrrrrrow.

Well you can't blame a woman for zoning into ghostling holo-story tunes to pass the time. There was only so much white one could take before you started singing to yourself.

Well, it was really just for Kira to keep her mind occupied. As the hours bled to days and whatever kind of time she spent hanging here in chains, the Lorrdian pulled every trick from the Protectorate book of 'How to survive as a P.O.W', to keep her wits about her. Granted, nothing had happened as of yet, and she'd still to meet who'd managed to finagle her here. But sure as all things didn't hurt to get her bearings.

Four white walls, no windows --- but now that the two ying and yang females showed up, evidently there -was- an exit somewhere. Which meant she just had to find it.

Nonetheless, there was no denying that here she was, with some rather limp blonde hair ( all the curl went out of it! ) and starting to garner a scent she usually likened to a mix of fresh cut grass and musk. Lovely.

Well, seeing as the brunette with the citrine corseca eyes was all cordial like, Kira gave a small crooked grin. Then again, one really couldn't snuff the general aura of cheerfulness from the Jedi Master. The blonde just seemed to leak it in spades.

"Hello!" came Kira's rather lighthearted greeting considering she was hanging from chains (which by the way, were really chafing the wrists!) Not to mention the whole cutting her off from the Force bit.

"Pleasure to meet you too!" came the chipper reply, along with a puff of hot air to blow the fringe of blonde bangs away from her eyes.

A pause, then began the first of many... many possible horrible jokes.

"Y'know, if I'd known this was going to be a formal event, I'd have put on my blue dress," Ah, the infamous blue dress. She only had one other article of clothing that truly and utterly belonged to her, and that was this cute sundress type blue thing that clung off her shoulders and fell down to a rather becoming drape to her feet. It was simple. Modest, but hey, it was hers!

"And washed the hair," she added, as the tips of her bangs again tickled the edges of her lashes. Add in another puff of hot air to blow them off her face.

"Definitely washed the hair. Got a nice lemon verbena shampoo. Make it myself! Smells amazing!" Lots of rambling, but it was what she did.

Finally, a more serious expression came over her features, as she asked, "Where's the younglin?" There was a method to her madness. Joke joke joke, ask the serious question. Her concern was on the child, more so than her current situation.

Then again, younglin's were the Master's soft spot. Not a weakness, but her joy. There was a difference.

 

[Louise]

What Nemene wants, Nemene gets.

The Silent Sister stared at the Jedi, almost befuddled by her excessively chirpy nature. Curiouser and curiouser. Every time Evelynn thought the woman was going to stop speaking she made an addendum, then another and another and it caused pure puzzlement to erupt across the young woman's features.

Kira Liadain was going to be a tough cookie to crack.

These first few moments of interaction spoke volumes about this woman's character. Torture through isolation had wonderful effects upon the unsuspecting, you could take hardened soldiers, veterans of literal horrors who would keep schtum under the blade and the needle but stick those same men into absolute nothingness and they would eventually erode.

They all crumble in the end, even tough cookies.

When the question was finally posed towards the fate of the child, the edges of the mute girl's lips curled ever-so-slightly. Her granite eyes flitting from the Jedi Master to her sister and then back again. If eyes could speak.

Naturally, given the excitement that Nemene had practically excreted upon witnessing this woman's encounter with Darth Orcus she would have to take a step back for now. Let her sister have her fun, maybe a touch of goading, a slice of mocking, a sprinkling of horrible agony and torment. You know, sister stuff.

So Evelynn took a step backwards, folding those disfigured arms across her chest. The girl would simply observe, for now.

@[member="Nemene Talith"], @[member="Kira Liadain"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

Nemene's face contorted into an imitation of what surprise might look like, one hand rising to her chest and the other to cover her mouth as a small forced gasp escaped her lips, as if she was shocked by the implication that Kira had just made. “The Youngling? Why he's perfectly fine, better than fine I would say.”

Suddenly the pitter patter of little feet could be heard down the hall, and Nemene's expression of forced shock turned into a cruel smile, a glimmer in her orange eyes. The pitter patter drew closer and closer, then it slowed, becoming more of walk. Then finally it too reached the corer, and into the room came the same small boy that had lured Kira into their trap with.

He no longer appeared the street urchin that he was. His hair was cut, his skin was clean, and his clothes were a mock up of silk, leather, and other materials fit for a prince.

The boy should have been jumping for joy, he looked well fed, well dressed, and generally as if he had been living the highest of lives over the last few days. Yet, there was no joy in his face, no inkling of happiness in his cold brown eyes. When one looked into those eyes, there was nothing. No joy, no sadness, no emotion at all. It was as if the boy had been completely broken, turned into a husk of a child.

The boy stepped up to the right of Nemene, and almost in response she coolly walked behind him, placing two perfectly manicured hands upon his shoulders. She smiled, and evil smile.

“Oliver, introduce yourself to the nice lady.” Nemene purred slightly as if she spoke, as if the expectation of what was about to happen was too grand to even contain herself. The boy looked up at Kira, big brown empty eyes seemingly trying to stare into the womans soul.

“Hello Kira. I'm Oliver.”

A Sith Lord could not have sounded more dead inside.
@[member="Kira Liadain"] @[member="Evelynn"]

 

[Kira Talith]

[member="Nemene Talith"] [member="Evelynn"]

There were moments in time that one would remember quite poignantly. Kira had a feeling at that very instant that this was going to be the start of a long series of moments that she would not be particularly fond of.

Especially when Oliver came into play.

He had the exact empty stare that brought her back to the slave pits of Lorrd and the orphanages on Kuat. It was the exact same stare of a broken soul that the younglings in her childhood carried due to the warden's Rodian whip and heavy hand. The reason why she too carried the faint pale pink lines at her back, and healthy dose of nightmares for some time before she was able to push past it.

Past the murder she once dealt to protect those like Olivier from the pain.

Her thoughts were her own, and while the upward corner of her mouth faded, her compassion did not. The Jedi Master had an innate goodness about her that would radiate as she drew her focus on the child, Force cuffs and chains giving a slight jingle as she bent forward a bit, ignoring the two women as Kira, with a soft warm smile, said in turn.

"Hey there Oliver... I like your shoes."

 

[Lira Dajenn]

Oliver did not respond to the compliment, in fact he did not respond to anything at all. He simply stood and stared at Kira within her chains, soulless dead eyes looking into hers with no hint of anything except emptiness.

Nemene on the other hand held a placid smile on her face and in her eyes. She was highly amused by Kira's attempt to speak to the boy, confidence brimming within her. Slowly the Queen of Rattatak raised herself up, taking a few steps over to a nearby table and picking up a scalpel. She twirled the small blade between her fingers for a second, then stepped back over to Oliver. The little boy held out one of his small hands and slowly Nemene slid the scalpel into his hand.

“Now Oliver, do just as mommy taught you.” Addressing herself as the little urchins mother was practically painful to Nemene, it stung her in ways that were difficult to describe. The little pest was of course absolutely nothing to her, and eventually he would be ended. She knew however that Kira would be even more hurt by it, and that was what she wanted.

Slowly the boy stepped forward, his movements just as dead as his eyes.

He gripped the scalpel tightly, and then reached out to Kira with the blade. The tiny knife carved into the womans exposed flesh, just tiny cuts at first, then deeper more penetrating slices. Oliver cut into Kira's thigh, slicing out a whole chunk of her while Nemene spoke again.

“He's quite good at this now.” She let out a chuckle as blood dripped onto the floor. “We allowed him to practice on some of the other children from his orphanage. He enjoyed the first few, though there was one girl...oh what was her name, I can hardly recall what will all the screaming.”

Nemene smiled coldly at Kira, then regarded her sister. “What was that girls name again Evelynn? The one dearest Oliver begged not to touch?”

[member="Kira Liadain"] [member="Evelynn"]

 

[Louise]

This psychological aspect of torture was more for Nemene's pleasure than her own, with the Silent Sister's obsession revolving around physical pain and only that, her vice was one that you could feel, perverse and savage touches. Not that she was crude and couldn't appreciate a good mental game of tic-tac-absolute horror, far from it, there just wasn't the same visceral pleasure to be brought.

There was no blood.

Not yet.

Evelynn remained there arms still folded across that meagre chest as the victim, the child and the sister interacted. This was surely to become a high point in their notoriety, one that would take quite a bit of outdoing.

As if the boy had been programmed he went about his grim deed, and it was only then that Evelynn moved, the frail girl stepping forth and crouching down beside Oliver, eyes intent upon his grip of the scalpel. There was pride in that granite gaze as the mute granted the boy a soft smile. As if he were still capable of receiving its warmth.

Lilly.

A slight frown appeared and the blonde woman halted Oliver's work for a moment, gently repositioning his grip upon the blade. It was important where you placed the index finger, it allowed for much more control. Once adjusted, Evelynn granted the boy a small nod and let him return to his grim task.

She was such a pretty girl.

Was.

[member="Nemene Talith"], [member="Kira Liadain"]

 

[Kira Talith]

There are some horrors in this galaxy one should never have to bear witness, let alone experience first hand. Seeing the husk of a youngling following mutely the perverse orders of the twisted Queens of Ratatak like a puppet is one of them.

There is physical pain in the act of being carved up like a Nerf to the slaughter, but there is more to torture than just that . It ain't the act in itself that may break a mind.

But the possibilities.

The cut of a scalpel can be more painful than that of a serrated knife. Perhaps the galaxy's ironic little twists of Fate that the smallest and thinnest of blades used for precision can oft be the source of such agony. It isn't the actual initial cut in itself that brings on the horror that awaits. It's in the other senses beyond touch.

Sight and sound. Seeing the light glint off the blade before it sinks into the flesh. A sentient's natural response to potential pain triggers the brain into reacting. Signals rush down the nervous system, tensing muscles, quickening breath, and thundering the heart. Fight or flight kicks in to deny the inevitable. The pressure of the point, the breaking of skin, the beading of blood.

Emotions would rise. Fear, panic, and anger. Desperation in spades. Of course, everyone had their own threshold of pain. Their own line of demarcation.

For Kira... well... this was only the beginning.

The pain sunk into her body and spread as the child began to carve upon her flesh like a sculptor to a slab of clay. However, it was not the sting of the scalpel that truly gave way to the agony, but the listless gaze upon the younglin that had been so obviously broken. It was in the stillness of his body language. The motion of robotic delivery of instructions. That blank fanthomless gaze she'd oft seen upon the orphaned children in Kuat. The anger rose like a sudden flaring of a candle, only to extinguish as soon as it lit.

One can only help those who are here in the now.

There was a hitch of breath, a fine trembling to subtle to catch. Blue eyes soon rose up towards the two females, their bodies all together singing a different tune for the Lorrdian to decipher. Her training in the Protectorate certainly allowed a measure of mental and physical tolerance to what was being done upon her; a lifetime of managing her own body language and kinetic movement also aided in that fact.

So it was with a low commentary, Kira drew her attention upon the child, ignoring the women again. "Hey Oliver... It's okay. I'm not upset about the alley... or now." she spoke low enough for the child to hear, knowing that a broken mind can put themselves into a protected room elsewhere, as if hovering over the actual scene, watching themselves instead of the realization that they are the ones doing it. A mental escape of it all to cope.

But even broken minds can still register what is spoken to them. It may not be immediate, and time was likely beyond her hands, but she would try. She had to.

"It's not your fault."

 

[Lira Dajenn]

Nemene didn't say anything to Kira, she didn't say anything to Evelynn. She stayed completely silent, her body language nothing but expectation.

Oliver was a child, his mind could not handle the things that Nemene could do to a mind. He had broken completely and totally, and now with but a nudge the child would do whatever she pleased. If the boy once known as Oliver was truly in there, it would take months, perhaps years to bring him out again. Kira simply did not have the time to coax him back into existence.

“No.”

The Boy spoke. His voice raspy and broken, but not at all sad. It was filled with the same apathy as his gaze.

“It's yours.”

Then Oliver began his work again. He moved down onto his knee's looking down Kira's legs and then placing the very tip of the bloody scalpel on the very beginning of Kira's big toe. Without a second of hesitation the boy sliced off the bit of flesh, cutting into it partly and then tearing away sinew and muscle with his hands, breaking the bones in the toe and then tearing it off her foot in one quick jerking motion.

There was no hesitation on Olivers part. He was well versed in such gruesome things.

 

[Louise]

A frail hand crept over Evelynn's mouth as she oh-so-deliberately stifled a giggle, well, what constitutes as a giggle from a mute. It's more of a disconcerting rasping.

Of course. How noble. How kind. The defender of children, would so selflessly try and save the broken child before her without even sparing a shred of a thought for her own grim predicament. It would be doubtful that while Oliver stood she would give up on him. Something about principles. Maybe stubbornness. Maybe because when you believe that innocence like that can be lost and never regained, well, how do you keep on going?

Evelynn took a step back, having nothing to add to the scene as Oliver continued his task. She observed, noting that Nemene had taught him well. This was her forte in the torture chamber, Evelynn's signature dish being less about the flaying and more about the invasion.

Maybe later, if you're good.

She looked to Nemene, sending her sister a private message through telepathy, I'm going to savour this, she offered with a wicked smile.

[member="Kira Liadain"], [member="Nemene Talith"]

 

[Kira Talith]

It takes certain skill to cut off a toe. With the proper instruments, one can easily do it without too much of a mess and a lower amount of pain to the patient.

But such commodities were not a luxury to the Jedi Master.

For one thing, this was done with a scalpel. Put into the fact that it was a youngling who is able to only put out a certain amount of strength, skill, and dexterity, it was obvious that this wouldn't be your typical surgical process. Flesh gave way easily. Bone, sinew and marrow on the other hand... would not.

And the pain would be excruciating.

A silent scream would rip out of Kira's throat, for the Lorrdian had been well versed to be quiet even in the midst of pain. Blood would flow upon the snow white floor, her fingers would curl upon themselves as her body went straining against the bonds that held her.

Breathing would spike, adrenaline would shoot through her veins, shock would set in and a fine sheen of sweat would soon spread over her growing pale face as she shut her eyes tightly.

Pain is a weakness leaving the body.

It was a mantra often heard among the Protectorate grunt ranks, the Marines of the ODF ground forces as gungho as the next. It was, after all purely psychological, but whatever worked was good. In this, she set her mind to.

Ride the wave, ride the wave, ride the wave of the pain.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Ghost toe came in to play thereafter. Even if it wasn't there, she couldn't help but attempt to wiggle, the slimy sensation of her now stump of a toe sliding against the other a very real and tangible reminder of what just had occurred.

Blue eyes went snapping open, nostrils flared. The scent of blood thick in the air like tense cloud. Beyond the crown of Oliver's head, her focus fell upon the two responsible for the younglin's broken state of mind.

The corner of her mouth quirked.

"Mine... perhaps. But I still won't blame you, no matter what you do." she told Oliver, her gaze still settling upon Nemene and Evelynn. And she wouldn't, despite the agony and the fine trembling running through her limbs, fingernails digging into the palms of her hands.

"It's not you after all... It's them."

 

[Lira Dajenn]

For the first time since he had entered the room Oliver's face changed from that neutral glazed over state.

Anger flurried across his face, spreading to his entire body. This was no fake reaction, no game to be played. Kira would see that Oliver was truly angry, in fact everyone in the room would see that he was truly angry. His face contorting with tiny adorable child rage.

“Their fault?”

He yelled at the Jedi, lashing out with the scalpel and slicing the blade across Kira's left Achilles Tendon, rendering her foot completely and entirely useless.

“They took me in! Fed me! Taught me! You were going to leave me there! Leave me on the street, like everyone!”

Oliver raged, cutting and stabbing at Kira's legs and lower abdomen. He was truly angry, and his intention was to entirely mutilate the Jedi that was strung up before him. He cut into her over and over again, deep gashes that spilled blood almost instantly. Nemene let this go on for a few minutes, allowing Oliver a nick here, a cut there, a slice of Kira's flesh.

Then finally she placed a hand on the boys shoulder, pulling him back. “Oliver!”

The minutes his name was called the boy seemed to snap back into reality. His body language returned to a meek zombie like state and his eyes once again glazed over. Nemene tsk'd three times, and squatted down to face the boy.

“That is no way to treat a guest.” She said with a frown and a wag of her finger. “You'll have to be punished.”

 

[Kira Talith]

There came a laboring to suck air into Kira’s lungs, the agony of it all shooting through her body like ice shards, every nerve alite as if in flame. Her body would jerk as if it would draw her away from the nicks and slices of the scalpel, but it did halt the attacks.

Still, she did not cry out. She did not vocalize any bit of the wave after wave of pain that went crashing against her as she exhaled to a painful point. Her chest locked down tightly, her lungs deflated. All the while as she hung there, her fingers were violently twitching, an eyebrow would quirk and her head would jerk so. While she was seemingly unable to give the two the satisfaction of her screams… she was crying out in agony through the native kinetic language of her people.

But they didn’t know that. For one might think it was merely a body’s natural reaction to pain, and yes, it this was also the case, but there among the instinctual arching of her back as fight or flight kicked in, were Lorrdian actions.

Oliver yelled incessantly while he hurt me, told her things that didn’t quite penetrate her pain-muddled mind, but might later, in clearer waters, resurface.

As the scalpel went moving over her abdomen, Kira finally wheezed violently, sucking down air, suckin in her belly as if that would save it. It did not.

We’ll leave it up to your imagination just what the results were as flesh parted and stained the sliced remnants of her robes, blood flowing in rivulets down her limbs, her feet unable to truly rest her weight after having her tendons lacerated.

Through her haze of pain, a thought came to the Jedi Master -- the two women before her who had psychologically and physically broken Oliver did it through the sadism of a pure sociopath, or immense rage. So, what was she dealing with? Sociopath or hair trigger? Neither boded well for her. She might be able to manipulate a hair trigger. She wasn’t sure anyone could survive a sociopath.

Especially when she caught the tail end of Oliver possibly being ‘punished.’

“Then… why would I.. follow you… to that alley, if I was?” came the strained and breathless agonized voice of the Lorrdian in a low whisper to Oliver. A reply to his outburst. The trick was to keep on talking, to spark a link. A bridge.

The fact that she even managed to get him to react beyond that of a robotic persona meant it was working.

Blue eyes rose thereafter to Nememe that while reflected pain, also mirrored a measure of truth.

“Punish him… and you’ll … never…” there came a sharp intake of a shuddering breath, “Getwhatyouareafter.”

Enter the Kira smirk.

She knew that they would know exactly what she meant.

 

[Lira Dajenn]

“I don't think thats true.” Nemene said as she crouched behind the boy once again, a smirk drawing on her face. Oliver was breathing heavy now, his chest rising and falling, the anger still clearly running through him. The boy had been broken, fundamentally gripped in a hand and twisted in ways that were undescribable. Perhaps Kira could have fixed him, perhaps with enough time the boy could have been well again, but it was all moot now.

Oliver wouldn't be around for long.

Nemene touched the boy on the shoulders, grasping him in an almost soothing embrace as arms snaked around his tiny form. Her chin rested on his shoulder, though her eyes peered directly at Kira, smirk growing on her face. This time it was a genuine smile, one that touched her eyes.

“Oliver.” Nemene purred. “What did I say would happen before we began if you lost control?”

The boy remained silent for a long moment then replied.

“I would be punished.”

Nemene nodded. “Yes, but how?”

Again Oliver remained silent for the longest time, as if he was thinking.

“You said you would kill me. Like Lilly.”

The Queen grinned slightly. Then nodded, moving Olivers shoulder slightly. Her eyes peered into Kira's, her grin spreading. “Perhaps if you ask nicely. Miss Kira will forgive you.”

Oliver did not ask for forgiveness, he simply stared at Kira's mutilated lower body.

 

[Louise]

Evelynn, much too familiar with the scolding tongue of her sister disconnected from the scene, her own eyes glazing over in an homage to Oliver the broken boy.

The Silent Sister's stare melted into the wall behind them all, as if their acts of monstrosity weren't interesting or exciting at all. As if watching the twisted little creature slice into the resistant blonde was boring, like it was a lecture on economics.

I'm not here anymore. Disconnected.

With her gaze lost she considered the décor of her chambers. Those thick rouge curtains, they were somewhat cliché, no? I mean, who was she kidding? Rouge? Crimson? Yes they were colours associated with blood and that look fit like a glove, but it was something a bit bold, a bit strong. It was much more Nemene than it was her.

What about a violet? Sounds like violence...

[member="Kira Liadain"], [member="Nemene Talith"]

 

[Kira Talith]

The Jedi are the guardians of peace in the galaxy…

Although it may not seem like it, this isn’t a story about darkness. It’s about light. Kira had heard it say ‘Your joy can fill you only as deeply your sorrow has carved you. If you’ve never tasted bitterness, sweet is just another pleasant flavor on your tongue’. One day she was going to hold a lot of joy, enough joy to fill the Nine Hells.

Jedi use their powers to defend and to protect…

Bottom line was that the two women didn’t want her dead. Not yet. It was clear they knew many inventive ways to cause pain without doing permanent, debilitating injury. They wanted her to anticipate the horrors they had planned for her, for Oliver, the instrument of their torture.

Jedi respect all life, in any form…

Such cruelty should not be left to wander freely.

Jedi serve others rather than ruling over them…

Oliver’s silence held a truth in it that perhaps, Nemene would not realize in her sadistic mania or Eveylnn in her disassociated mental wander. His body language would relay it loud and clear, like a terminal patient waiting for the end.

There was no plea for forgiveness from one who only desired the oblivion of death.

...for the good of the galaxy.

Should she not survive this, it was clear that Oliver would not either. Not with the two Queen manipulating the puppet strings.

The pain was rapidly becoming more than Kira could think past. She was nearly out of her mind with pain. She couldn’t feel one of her legs. Her abdomen and thighs were dripping with blood. That last blow to her abdomen had nearly cut at her femoral artery, and she had dropped as far as her knees could take her, her wrists straining with her weight.

Sweat was rolling in beads down her pallid face, now blanched from shock and loss of blood. There were subtle twitches in the corner of her eyes and mouth, ragged strands of blonde hair falling over her eyes in spiky tuffs, as electric blue eyes bore upon Nemene.

The corner of her mouth gave an upward quirk. Fingers twitched, then gave a jerk. Pain had her riding the wave in spades. Yeah, this was not a good outcome for her… or for Oliver.


Her eyes fell to the youngling. Her expression softened, and in it relayed that she understood.

Listen to the Force, Kira. A Jedi’s first concern is to preserve life.

Unless if confronted with a life-or-death struggle. If it saved a life or if the Jedi was acting on the will of the Force.

Was this the will of the Force?

In it perhaps, a mercy for Oliver? There was not much she could do for him. Not tied as she was now.

But if Evelynn could use telepathy without a single compromise in this blasted cage, then perhaps, Kira could too.

Oliver… came her telepathic thought to the child. Oliver… It’s okay. Ask for forgiveness, live.

Live so that you can leave here. Live so that you can survive.

The cage would serve to prevent any use of Force powers. But if she could get him out of here.

She needed her hands free.

Do they have the key for the cuffs with them?

All the while, she said aloud, “It’s okay… ever heard...of the tale…” Heavy grimace, and a sharp intake of breath,”..of Nok Drayen… and the loot... of a thousand worlds?”

 

[Lira Dajenn]

“She's speaking to me. In my head.”

Those were the first words Oliver said, not a reply to Kira or a desperate plea for forgiveness. The boy was truly lost.

Nemene made a tsk'ing noise, tapping her finger onto Olivers nose as though Kira speaking in his mind had been his fault, not hers. She shook her head in disappointment, a frown forming on her face as she looked Oliver in his big gray eyes. Like saucers they expanded, and then he nodded like he understood. He had to be punished, he had made two mistakes, and he had asked for forgiveness for neither.

Slowly the boy lifted the blade again. At first it looked like he would cut Kira once more, perhaps the inside of her thigh or the very top of her pelvis, but at the last moment the blade inched away from her, and towards himself.

The Sith Lady tightened her arms around the boy, snakes constricting him.

“I'm sorry mothers.”

There was no hint of disgust in Nemene as the boy dubbed herself and Evelynn his mothers, it was what he had been taught to do. Before saying anything else however, Oliver placed the edge of the bloody scalpel on the end of his throat, then in one quick slice dug the blade into his neck.

The scalpel tore apart skin, blood vessels, arteries, and everything else in Olivers neck. Blood spurted forth like a waterfall, streaming from the boys throat and covering Nemene's arms in an instant. A pool of sanguine red fell onto the floor at their feet, and in seconds Oliver went limp in Nemene's arms, dead as a doornail. Nemene held him for a few seconds, cradling him through the pouring of blood. Then, without a care in the world she let him drop.

The boy fell with a soft thud onto Kira's feet, blood spilling out onto her as his corpse expelled the last of the liquid red.

Nemene sneered. "Wretched little thing."

 

[Louise]

Evelynn, so steeped in the mundane just about missed every moment of excitement that had taken place since her eyes had glazed over. Design is important, you know. One couldn't have a gaudy chamber, you know. Given the sorts that the sister's were prone to entertaining appearances were everything. This meant one thing:

Those cliché rogue curtains simply had to go.

As the blonde mentally rotated through the colour wheel she considered purples, greens and blues. Even creams and browns (beige is the new black, don't you know?) Evelynn was settling, but the exact name of the colour sat uncertain on the edge of her mind. Mave? No. Move? No. Meeve? No. Ma...mau...

A dramatic spurt of blood caught finally caught the woman's attention as those granite orbs flicked over to the scene of the dear orphan boy going limp. Oh yes, that, that was a thing that was happening, wasn't it? Her brows furrowed slightly, annoyed that she had lost the name of the shade that she had almost coaxed out of hiding.

The body was dropped, and Evelynn finally entered the gruesome scene once again. With a touch of concern laced throughout her features. Hold on a minute...

Mauve!

Concern changed to relief as she recalled the colour on the tip of her metaphysical tongue.

Mauve curtains with a gold trim, yes, that should be marvelous. What do you think, ladies?

[member="Kira Liadain"], [member="Nemene Talith"]

 

[Kira Talith]

Before that moment, I was clinging tenaciously to the side of a tiny lifeboat of optimism in my sea of pain.

Before that moment, mauve was just another color. Quite a pretty one actually.

Before that moment, I had one particular goal. To keep Oliver safe.

That moment marked a line of demarcation. Before Oliver and after. Funny, how things can change in a single instant.

My vision, already blurry, would fill with moisture. Complete and utter sorrow filling my soul as my body would shudder in outcry at the loss of his life.

What I could not say aloud was sent out in a sorrowful cry through my body. The tensing of painful muscles, the twitching of hands and fingers, the subtle nuances of nerves dancing along my face.

Hot tears would flow freely down my cheeks, such wretched sorrow filling my core. All the more because it was not by Nemene’s order, but due to Oliver’s silent and desperate desire for oblivion.

That he had been broken so that no other venue could exist for him.

My head would hang, blonde tendrils of damp hair falling over my face. Internally, I fought within myself. Anger would threaten to rise, wanting to cry out at the injustice.

But it was the combination of Nemene and Evelynn’s self satisfied expression and mocking words that would quell the current of energy rolling around inside.

Staring through the fringe of my hair, feeling my life’s blood spill onto the ground, I had a sudden revelation. There as I read them both like a book through the only language that one could not fake.

I had a sudden insight into her character then: At the core of it, beneath the monstrous villainy, the e’chu’ta was a self-indulgent, spoiled bully. Not a sociopath at all, but an out-of-control, petulant child that couldn’t stand anyone else having better toys, more wealth, or greater power or, in my case, being more epic than her. ( My lack of screaming ws really starting to irk her. Both were bored.)

If she couldn’t own it, do it, or be it, she would destroy it.

Or use any means to pilfer a reaction from the object she currently had her attention on -- me.

The motionless body at Nemene’ feet would prove it so.

“I pity you.” I would say quietly, but surely. Never matter that I was the one hanging by cuffs in an energy cage meant to whap me back three fold with any Force power I’d use.

 

[Lira Dajenn]

Nemene looked at her sister with a flat eyed stare, lids dropping low to a point of annoyance. Her face contorted into something strange for a moment, and she looked to Kira, who was staring at the dead boy on the ground. Her eyes panned back to Evelynn, and in an even tone she replied to the woman. "We'll speak of it later.”

Her words very much implied that no, mauve curtains would not at all be acceptable. The color would clash hideously with the limestone construction of the palace, especially when the noonday sun was out and shinning into a room. Quite honestly her sister had no taste for fashion or decoration, something that Nemene rather loathed. She always had to dress Evelynn. Suddenly, he thoughts were interrupted by the rudeness of the hanging woman.

Kira was right in her assessment of Nemene.

In this time and place, Nemene was little more than a bully and a spoiled child. She had not grown yet, had not learned to be a better evil. So when the Jedi spoke, the words stung. They struck at Nemene's core, and almost instantly rage contorted throughout her. She wanted to kill the woman right then and there, but she stopped.

White hot rage twisted into a cool seething, and with calm deliberate steps she walked towards the table on the right, picking up a small scalpel.

“No.” Nemene said walking back over to Kira, making no effort to avoid stepping onto Olivers corpse. “You are the one who will be pitied.”

The Scalpel cut into Kira's abdomen.