Apocalyptic Love

[Carach]

The Core​

Coruscant City​

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]​

They were huddled around the bonfires, hope, desperation, pride, all those emotions boiling over into each other and creating a cognition. It was the understanding of chemicals that allowed one to stand above it all and see what was happening right here and now, it was a rebellion brewing, a silent march of the Wicka that would make one feel sorry for those that dared to make a single undefiant sound in their proximity.

Outside, on the outskirts of audacity fulfilled, almost hidden away in the cloaks of shadows were two orbs of molten amber. They were looking, peering, one could almost say they were staring - if only the weren’t so lazy in their execution. Finally, one would settle on contemplating, because it was a pretty word that suited the flair of the owner of those two orbs.

There was hum, a silent melody that finally piqued over the march of silence, some glanced over in its eeriness. Most were too tired to really care, what was one little hum in the face of their auspicious dissent? Exactly, and so the sound went on, and the huddled bundles kept staring into their fires.

Eventually the humming died out as the owner moved away from the gathering, now was the time to tell you more about him. Tall of stature, eyes alcoves of fire and a heart filled with the shards of a thousand shattered souls - which was probably a bit overdone, there were -maybe- ten souls currently occupying said heart, if not less.

But theatrics was important for a story and Darth Carach, Voice of the Dark Lord, knew this better than most others. He kept moving, his feet carrying him to destinations unknown to but only a few. Though little did he know that he wouldn’t be getting to his intended destination after all, the world was funny that way.

 

[Zola]

Darth Adekos would have more than a few choice words for her, but it hardly mattered. At she weaved through the streets of the Core, Jemmila was in fight or flight mode, and this time it was flight’s turn. She had to get off the fething Machinator while it was docked on Coruscant. Her Sith Master was pushing her like a drill sergeant, and her nerves were breaking. She was not quitting his tutelage, no. She simply needed a break from Adekos' relentless sarcasm, his unwavering expectation of perfection and those fregging droids. She hated the sight of them, and the way they hovered around her incessantly. This was how the seeds of technophobia became planted, she was sure of it.

Bursting out of the spaceport like a meteor through the stars, Jemmila had caught a taxi to the Core. She wore a long Sith robe over the baggy grey jumpsuit Darth Adekos made her wear, the one that she wanted to rip to shreds. It would be an improvement over its ugliness, she decided. Strands of long brown hair peeked out from beneath a dark hood, her face half in shadow. An aimless walk through the streets was always the best medicine for the young Hapan woman. A reminder that there was more to the galaxy than telekinetically lifting three-dimensional objects off of pedestals for mind-numbingly lengths of time.

A forest of bonfires caught Jemmila's attention and out of curiosity she headed towards them. Whatever was happening nearby, it would definitely prove to more interesting than levitating objects or running around the Machinator’s gymnasium until she dropped.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

From the urban sprawl a young woman approached, she had appeared out of seemingly nothing and was now dangerously close to crashing into the leaving man. But he knew this, from beyond his vision's eye he had seen this play out and so he knew the different paths set aside for him. In one reality he gracefully slipped past her, another had him standing in her way as a mountain might stand before a hero's quest, a third option had him evaporate her into a wisp of soul. A tasty meal, perhaps.

Part of him wondered why she was walking in his way so purposefully, did she not see him? Or was it perhaps that he did not want to be seen?

In the end those questions did not matter, in the end the path had already been set the moment Carach had smelled the scent of Ardik on her, such things were never coincidences, of this he was sure. Whatever fate wanted of him, currently the invisible hand wished him to entertain a new notion. So the Sith acknowledged the wish and picked the thread. His massive frame, robed currently in the usual Sith attire, moved more swiftly than he should have been able to. Bodies brushed and a deep baritone lingered.

"Far you are, from your master." a question permeated and the Voice continued. "Are his lessons that boring?"

 

[Zola]

Jemmila’s soft shoulder was brushed by an hard imposing figure emerging out of the gloom, almost like an apparition. Flames from the bonfires flickered in her large brown eyes as she lifted her head to look up at the stranger who blocked her path. His yellow eyes bore into her like a drill, regarding her with cruelty, a wolf sizing up a lamb. Standing before her, his voice booming as if it came from the bowels of planet’s core, he asked her a few pointed questions. She was surprised that the behemoth before her knew who she was. The power to sense her Master’s signature that meant he was a Knight or a Master, a person not to be trifled with. Although that hadn’t mattered in the case of Adekos. He was just too fun to rile up.

“My lessons are what they are,” she admitted, neither confirming or denying their level of excitement. “Despite his fondness for red tape, my Master, Darth Adekos is a inspiring teacher.” It was the truth. Despite her petulance, her skills were growing in leaps and bounds under his tutelage. She didn't dare touch on the fact that she had basically run away from his ship. Even if she had intended to return, it was not an action that the Sith would take lightly.

Jemmila, uncovered her head to get a better look at him. She peered into his bearded face. Bearded face. “So, are you this Darth Vornskr I keep hearing about?” she asked him.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

In a distant past he had been a Sith Lord in someone elses right, but he had decided to go for a different path, a better path if Shule had to be believed. Carach had chosen to take the door and step through it, making himself anew and that meant a few things for the practicality of the moment. When he had been a Sith Lord, his skill in mentalism and the manipulation of the technical had been considerable, but after recreating himself Carach had found that mentalism and mechu-deru were no longer the interesting things he had once known.

And so he had decided to deny himself their more direct favor, instead opting to go for a different road, magicks, alchemy, the esoteric arts of the Darkside… and oh the power one received from it. But the point was this, a man does not simply lose his power previously gained, one does not lose the experience and skill… a man can simply decide not to utilize them unless he wished it so.

A Sith Master according to Darth Lumiya, a Sith Lord if compared to his peers, but to himself and the spirits he had fought on the field of blades? Still a newcomer to the arts of magics.

Darth Vornskr? Heh.

‘I doubt your Master has told you about me.’ his lips curled into a smile. ‘He has always been slightly annoyed about my accomplishments.’

The Sith tilted his head slightly, amber eyes focused themselves over her shoulder back to the bonfires. Expression softened just slightly, until his voice once again carried to her ears.

‘Who sank the city of Ahto? Who stole the armies of the Jeedai on the fields of Kashyyyk?’

And she would know, Darth Carach, Voice of the Dark Lord.

 

[Zola]

The man's deep voice resonated so strongly that it almost shook the pavement underneath her feet, making her flinch involuntarily. The stranger before her was such an imposing figure. A looming monument to what was perhaps once an ordinary warrior, metamorphosed into a powerful galactic conqueror.

Jemmila knew she should have knelt in front of him. Or at least folded her hands together in a courteous bow. Your average, everyday Sith acolyte would immediately show some form of deference upon the revelation that he or she were standing in front of one of the Voices of the Dark Lord. However, this lost girl he had found wandering around the Core was no average, everyday Sith acolyte.

“Well, Darth Carach,” she said softly, brown eyes never wavering from his blazing stare. “One cannot blame Master Adekos for being annoyed at your accomplishments if you boast about them so freely to every new person you meet.”

She let out an anxious huff of air. Yes, her statement was bold and foolhardly, but sleep deprivation did funny things to an already fragile mind. It wasn't as if she didn't fear the Sith lord. The man towering over her most definitely filled her with a cold dread. However, as her Master back on the Machinator was well aware of, her insolence was simply a facet of the rough gemstone that needed careful polishing.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

For a silent moment those words floated between the two, burning pitches against unflinching audacity and perhaps for a moment Jemmila would get the sense of being judged, weighed and finally filed away for future reference. Perhaps… for a moment she would consider her life to be forfeited by the act of a few unwise words spoken, but there it was already.

A booming laughter through the plane originating from that same Sith Lord who had boasted, and boasted good about the things he had done in the war against the Republic, it seemed that he had been properly amused by the girl’s sassiness. How far his patience stretched? Only the Dark Lord would truly know those depths.

Subsiding slightly, he pinked away a tear and addressed the figural elephant in the not-so-room. ‘Oh yes, he hates it when I do that.’ a lazy grin spread out from his lips, curl turning wider and pleasure made apparent. ‘Which only makes it more worthwhile, no?’

His hand stretched out, traversing the little distance that was left between them, palm upward and his head just slightly inclined.

‘Lady Kyrgen, it is my pleasure.’

 

[Zola]

Cold dread spread through Jemmila’s veins, slithering through her body, primed to consume her. The urge to flee rose up like the flames from the surrounding fires. The feeling licked its way up her throat and lodged itself there. Her body tensed, but instead of running with her tail between her legs, she swallowed it back down. She knew that Darth Carach could break her neck with a flick of his wrist, leave her lying here on the streets, a nameless acolyte, a footnote in the history of the Sith. What was wrong with her, saying something like that to him?

For a nanosecond he looked as if he were about to flick that wrist, then he began to laugh, a low, throaty sound as primal as thunder. Jemmila blinked and then gave the man a sheepish half smile.

Jemmila looked at his hand suspiciously, as if it were about to rise up and grasp her throat. After a moment, she carefully put hers in the center of his palm.

“The pleasure is mine, Darth Carach,” she replied, her hand lingering in the middle of his, the darksided power humming off of it, giving off a hedonistic sensation. A sea of power into which a terribly lost girl could plunge into. And eventually drown in its depths.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

It seemed the girl did have a sense of propriety every now and then, which pleased Carach to a distinct degree. These days it seemed as if the acolytes of this world thought themselves… invincible, as if they somehow thought that their Masters and Lords could not touch them without their permission, and perhaps on a metaphysical plane that was the truth. But that was the thing, truth was relative and so was that metaphysical plane.

His lips brushed the skin of her hand, hot breath washed over and set her skin on fire - figuratively speaking, of course. That would have been awkward to explain later, before finally giving her hand back.

‘Walk with me, if you will.’ the Sith finally proposed. ‘The night is young and I have a craving for entertainment.’

 

[Zola]

The press of lips against porcelain skin seemed to be unorthodox greeting for a Sith lord. Not that she had too many comparisons to make beyond Darth Adekos, who barely looked her way when she entered the training room. Darth Carach's touch was as electric as his dark-sided presence. Both made her feel wired beyond her physically exhausted state. She glanced up at him again, full lips parting slightly as she chanced a wider smile.

“No disrespect to Darth Adekos, but my as Master apparently thinks his acolyte responds better to being held under lock and key, entertainment sounds like just what I need Master Carach.”

“I’m afraid I’m not appropriately dressed for anything calling for formal wear.” At this revelation, she opened one side of her black robe and showed him the blasted grey jumpsuit and boots ensemble. She’d rather be force choked ten times over than be made to wear that thing one minute longer. Hopefully whatever Darth Carach had in mind wouldn't call for her to actually be seen by anyone.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

Carach could only blink at that display of ragtagged bunch of attire, it was beyond the Sith Lord why his acquaintance would insist on dressing his acolyte in such an inappropriate way. It was written law that your apprentice reflected upon yourself, it had been a point of stress for him back when Vell and Finn had been under his tutelage though thankfully that was no longer a problem he had to deal with.

For a moment he pondered, his idea of entertainment had been something else, but seeing this injustice in front of him? Well, he couldn’t really just pass such an opportunity up, now could he? A frown was caressing his expression, as he finally deemed it worthy to give a response, as they started walking away from the bonfires.

‘No offense to Adekos, but erm.’ the Voice of the Dark Lord, the man who always knew what to say, whose literal voice was his most powerful weapon. He literally didn’t have a clue how to bring this up without dying of laughing on the spot. ‘What do you say if we get you some… more inspiring attire?’

This was twofold, one part an annoyance to Adekos and two part giving the poor girl something of note to wear. Truthfully he was simply giving Adekos a lesson in how to properly adjust one's reputation. He should be… grateful, yes.

 

[Zola]

Jemmila covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. She could see the sympathy in his eyes. Even Carach knew that that the grey jumpsuit was oh so full of wrong.

“It’s horrible isn’t it?” she admitted gesturing with a nod to the baggy nightmare underneath her cloak.

Then it suddenly dawned on her. She had a respite of freedom. Well, sort of. Jemmila glanced up at Darth Carach. Surely he would let her partake in a few harmless vices, wouldn’t he? Let her drink and smoke and do spice? Some illegal indulgences could certainly help calm her nerves, which were still a bit frazzled given her slight fear of Carach. Additionally, a little slip into some light debauchery would make the next few months on the Machinator a bit more bearable. She decided to feel the situation out. But first things first.

“I would love to get some new clothes, Master Carach. I am unfamiliar with Coruscant, so I would be honored if you were my guide.” With that, Jemmila offered her arm for him to take.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

And so they walked, almost a comical visage considering the difference in their height, but Carach had long since accepted the fact that most people were small compared to him it didn’t bother him anymore and it only served as a point of private amusement to one such as him. The Sith pondered for a little while, oh yes, he could almost see the cogs turning inside the young apprentice’s head - a little break, perhaps some debauchery to partake while away from the Master’s stern grasp.

Perhaps, the Sith Lord was not yet sure if he would grant her such pleasures and freedom on this night out. It really all depended on how the night would go and how she would behave herself while being out, could go either way.

‘Remember this, Jemmila.’ the pronunciation of her name was executed smoothly, reigned in silk and would make something ring within her. ‘Sith, us… we thrive and live by reputation. The reputation of our Masters, the reputation of those we surround ourselves with and perhaps the most important thing, our own reputation.’

‘As an acolyte you have far and few rights, privileges and you live only by the grace...’ it almost sounded sarcastical. ‘of your Master. It is his reputation that should shield you from most blatant assaults.’

An almost imperceptible shrug was executed.

‘And yet this is only the beginning, even now you are busy cultivating your own reputation. What you do now, how you appear now, how you act now? It will always precede you in the future, if and when you are a Sith Lord in your own right.’

Carach paused in his stride, his eyes met hers; head slightly tilted.

‘Do you understand?’

 

[Zola]

Darth Carach’s words sank deeply into her psyche, anchoring themselves in her soul. Perhaps her exhausted state had left Jemmila as heavy as a sponge ready to soak up whatever advice or admonishments came her way. Perhaps it was the honeyed tone with which he delivered the message. Darth Carach was deliciously smooth and breathtakingly handsome, just the type of man women were warned about. She still feared him, of course, but it certainly wasn't a punishment to be walking arm-and-arm with him down the Coruscant streets. Additionally, he seemed to understand something about her, something that couldn't be explained with text books and rote mental exercised. Something more primitive in nature.

Her ragged emotions would either be her salvation or her downfall as a Sith. She did not regret her behavior on the Machinator. Did one regret the rush of the waterfall into a river? But she knew that she wouldn’t last under Darth Adekos’ tutelage in her current state. And she didn’t want to waste the opportunity to seize the transcendence he had spoken of.

“I get it, Master Carach,” agreed Jemmila. “But you know my Master. Something about his demeanor inspires a small rebellion in me.” She shook her head, brushing a few threads of silky brown hair out of her eyes.

“He pushes me and I can’t help but push back.”

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

Carach simply nodded, he had been friends with Adekos for a very long time now and in that time there had only been a few times the man had truly been less… well… a guy with a stick up his ass. That one time on Zeltros for instance, that had been truly fun, some other moments- let’s not get into that too much, there was a thing called PG and those certainly weren’t worthy of that moniker.

‘Yes, Ardik has his own peculiar way of handling things, I suppose.’ the Sith snapped his fingers and a cigarette appeared in his extended fingers, he took a smoke from it and frowned. ‘No… not quite there yet, I am afraid.’ he threw it in the air and the bud disintegrated, ashes flying up in the air.

It would need a little bit more work, before that became feasible. A shrug was followed by him reaching into a side pocket and revealing a regular cigarette pack, offering one to his current companion before taking one for himself.

Soon before long he started enjoying the cig.

‘The Darkside is an entity with its own will, some… they get lost in it, become slaves to its will.’ Carach winked. ‘But I am sure your master has been throwing out those warnings for a long time now, and you must be tired of hearing them.’

‘The only thing I can say is that discipline has its place, and yet… we are not Jedi. Sometimes… heh, we should be able to let off some steam, that is the key difference between us and them. We do not suppress our emotions, we study them, accept them as they are and learn to control them.’

Another puff, they would need to get on a taxi. Lower levels and all, there wouldn’t be any trendy shops here. They would need to visit the higher levels for that.

 

[Zola]

“Yes, Master Adekos certainly does love his speeches, doesn't he?” agreed the Hapan, curiously watching Carach’s trick with the cigarette. “I have to admit that sometimes they’re a bit long-winded for my attention span, but he’s a brilliant man.” Again, she wasn’t embellishing. She highly respected Adekos for his knowledge and accomplishments.

Jemmila watched his piercing yellow eyes carefully, searching them with her own. “Perhaps its his age, but Master Adekos doesn’t seem to understand the nature of passion.” She shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly.

“I could be wrong, but frankly, Master Carach, I’m not sure he really knows what to do with me.” She let out a sharp laugh. Who would know what to do with her? She was a mess of mood swings during the best of times, and in the worst, she was as vicious as a starving rancor.

Jemmila gratefully snatched the cigarette out of Carach's hand, lit it off his, and took a long, luxurious drag as he hailed them both a speeder taxi. Sitting dangerously close to Darth Carach in the taxi, Jemmila wondered why she trusted the Sith Knight enough to open up to him in ways that she could not with Adekos. Blowing smoke out of the side of her lips, she decided not to overthink and just enjoy the breadth of the stars that painted the night’s sky.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

‘Mmhmm.’ he hummed in agreement, while pondering on this thought or that. How interesting this evening turned out to be, he had been considering going out for some investigations and ended up meeting Adekos’ apprentice, one of those funny little things the world tried to throw at him every once in a while. Surprising, amusing, not even annoying this time around, considering Jemmila was a gem, an uncut one, slightly rough around the edges, but a gem nonetheless.

No, Ardik had been very lucky in finding this particular pebble. Part of him wondered if he should attempt to steal her away from him, but he waved that thought away immediately. Gerion was his friend and he would not debase himself in such a way as to take away one of his apprentices - even if the Sith Lord had tried to do it himself.

Even evil has standards.

Which wasn’t to say that the evening was entirely out of luck, their knees touched and Carach halted his cigarette in mid-air, head slightly tilted he looked at her eyes, then her lips and then back to her eyes.

Mouth curled in a grin.

‘Perhaps there is someone else who knows what to do with you.’

 

[Zola]

Darth Carach seemed momentarily lost in thought, and Jemmila took that time to appreciate the Coruscant skyline, glittering like a mountain range behind them as they rode to one of the upper levels of the sector. Whatever punishment she would face back on the Machinator would be worth the sight of those durasteel spires that lit up the sky. The night air blowing through her hair gave her almost as much of a rush as the feeling of Darth Carach’s knees touching hers.

The young Hapan turned and found him looking into her eyes, then down to her full lips. A blush bloomed on her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. The charge between them was palpable. She let her mouth quirk into a coy smile and returned his gaze, her large brown eyes lingering over his large muscular frame for a prolonged amount of time.

In a few heartbeats, Jemmila boldly reached out her hand and gently grazed the top of his thigh with her fingers right above the knee where their bodies touched. She let her hand rest there, tracing a pattern in the fabric. Stargazing could definitely wait until later.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Carach]

[member="Jemmila Kyrgen"]

The touch of her hand came as a surprise, a pleasant one but a surprise still. He had guessed she was an unorthodox thing, but the sheer audacity and boldness, my oh my. Carach hoped Ardik would cherish her, not waste her away as some kind of second-rate cleric for his company, that would have been a shame. His cigarette flew off into the distance and the curious driver suddenly had the distinct wish to focus strongly on e road ahead andn above him.

Some would have led the dance in, would have dragged it out. But as she traced a pattern she would hear a him coming from her, distinctly comparable to the purring of a pleased lion. Their lips brushed and soon it was passion that reigned free, breaking shackles and cetera.

 

[Zola]

Speaking of passion, that was something Jemmila could certainly cross off her bucket list. It was a good thing that neither one of them felt an iota of shame that there was a furry-faced Bothan driver present when they mutually pounced on each other after that electric touch of Jemmila’s hand on Darth Carach’s thigh. Unfortunately the dull grey jumpsuit she wore was a royal pain to navigate around. So the garment ended up being thrown off the side of the speeder, just like their discarded cigarettes.

When they were both finished, Jemmila sat on Darth Carach’s lap dressed only in her Sith robes, her face flushed with a sated afterglow. Letting one hand tangle in his long, dark hair, Jemmila’s full lips grazed his ear as she whispered in a low purr.

“So was that a lesson in passion, Master Carach?”

This was much better than robed figures speaking in esoteric tongues around a circle of ancient symbols.

[member="Darth Carach"]