Private Back to School

[Mercy]

POMOJEMA ACADEMY
Spencer Varanin | Sael | Ashin Cardé Varanin (Feel free to make a cameo if you want, but no obligation)

Even without the idea of Spencer teaching Sael, Mercy would have eventually brought her first and only apprentice to the Pomojema. This is where Mercy had gone from a chaotic and messy brawler with potential, to taking her first steps into becoming a true Sith. The Mercy of today would not have existed if it hadn't been for the years spend on the Pomojema under the tutelage of Ashin, the proximity of Spencer and a dozen other Masters.

This place was unlike the Sith Academy on Korriban or now on Jutrand.

It was less refined, less focused on breaking people down into becoming perfect little soldiers with the thin veneer of self-actualization. When you left the Academy nobody expected you to swear fealty to Ashin or anyone else. They made you into whatever version of you was the best shaped to approach the Galaxy and all its challenges, and to come out on the other side a victor instead of a victim.

"Today you will meet Spencer Varanin. Wife to my own Master, Ashin Varanin. You will meet many people on your journey who claim to be an expert, or a true master of this and that. But heed my words, you will never meet a mentalist like Spencer." Mercy said simply as they stepped down the ramp of their ship and entered the hangar bay proper. The greetings were casual and easy, even after Mercy had left the Academy and been formally Knighted she still took the trip back every once in a while.

Someone had to abuse the sniper range of Varanin, Mercy was one of the few with the guts to keep doing it even after she was no longer imprisoned.

"Be polite, but do not let yourself be pushed around. Spencer is not... a Sith the way I am, or her wife is, but she will test you. Remember what I told you. You are worthy, all you need to do is show her that."

 

[Sael]

​

Ever since she'd heard Spencer's name for the first time, it had been nothing short of compliments. She was the most the most powerful mentalist this Galaxy had ever seen, according to Mercy. And that was a title worth coveting.

Ambition was not something Sael had cultivated in her pre-Mercy life, but now, under the red-haired mountain's tutelage, it was encouraged more than basic aptitude.

She nodded along to her Master's words of recommendation, but let her eyes wander. When they'd first discussed this training, she'd expected Pomojema to be some archaic, ancient strone-based thing — au contraire, it was nearly the opposite in every way. Further, she'd anticipated that any darkside training academy to be a place where her power would feel ample, if not wholly doubled, but she felt vaguely as though a fraction of it had been drained on entry. As if a portion of her power were a toll for entry.

"I understand Master.

I appreciate this opportunity, and I won't hold back." She gave a small smile, calling back to the first time Mercy had mentioned Spencer when encouraging Sael to be committed as a Sith: "Powerful as a planet."

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Mercy | Spencer Varanin | Ashin Cardé Varanin
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​

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Mercy //: Sael //:​

---

Being summoned was never something Spencer enjoyed — especially not by her wife's apprentice. Mercy was brash, rough around the edges, and reminded Spencer of a bantha in a crystal shop. The mental image drew a faint smile to her lips. Mercy was... something. And more than once, Spencer had questioned Ashin's decision to train the girl.

But over time, she came to understand.

The Pomojema wasn't a place Spencer visited often anymore — only when called. However, her wife could do that; it was part of their agreement. One didn't stay married for almost a century without them. Still, Spencer wasn't a fan of schooling and preferred the way she learned.

Although that style was no longer often an option.

The room hummed with energy. It was modeled like a meditation chamber, designed to stretch today's mind beyond the limitations of reality.

In this space, Spencer felt still. It kept her mind calm, and more importantly, it kept the Phobis Core dormant — the one she had consumed so many years ago.

At the edge of her awareness, she felt her approaching guests. Mercy, of course, never moved lightly through the Force. No matter how Ashin had tried to teach her subtlety, the girl crashed through it like a sledgehammer.

What caught Spencer's attention, however, was the one beside her. The erratic pulses of the Force around this girl were undeniable.

Emotional surges. Unshaped power. It reminded Spencer of herself —before refinement. Her children had inherited her empathic sensitivity, but they were born into a disciplined environment.

This one was something different — raw and uncut.

Waiting to be molded.

Spencer waited as the pair approached. The room subtly shifted, forming a quiet mental barrier—just enough to give Sael a moment of peace from the surrounding noise of others' thoughts as she stepped inside.

"Hello, Mercy. And who is the little one you've brought to me?"

Spencer's voice carried effectively across the space. She leaned against the table, her head until Spencer's soft laugh echoed in the otherwise still chamber.

"Is this the one you wanted me to meet?" As she spoke, her presence stretched wide, filling the room like an invisible tide.

Each step she took was steady and ethereal. The Force rippled behind her with quiet strength. Spencer Varanin had become something more than what she once was, and it was felt in every movement.

She approached the girl, her gaze sweeping over her as if studying a sculpture. Not unkindly — just with interest.

"Hello," Spencer said, extending a hand with inhuman grace. "I am Spencer Varanin. And what do you want to be called?"

 

[Sael]

​

It felt unnatural, the silence that wrapped around her. A sudden absence, like stepping out of a storm and into a sealed jar. Gone was the riot of Mercy's feelings, the sharp tang of her thoughts, the Force itself gnawing and muttering at the edges. Sael blinked against the quiet, and in the next instant it was gone, replaced by something vast and tidal that filled her marrow.

From nothing to everything. That swell of power lit her through with want. This—this was the way she longed to feel.

She caught her breath as the woman came nearer. Beautiful in a way that stretched across dimensions: through the eye, yes, but also the gut, the nerve, the trembling place where emotion lived. Spencer's presence sang like golden velvet, soft, entrancing, and rich.

For an instant, habit tugged at her spine. She should bow, shouldn't she? In her old life, the floor would already be kissing her forehead, arms spread wide in submission. But Mercy would sneer at such a gesture now. Stand tall, she'd said. You are Sith.

Sael felt her shoulders roll back involuntarily, correcting any slouch that might have crept into her posture, and chose to dip her head forward in a polite bow she'd seen exchanged amongst masters before.

"Hello, Master."

When Spencer asked how she wanted to be called, the word dug in like a burr. Want. What did she want?

She despised the name she'd carried, a careless accident. A thing born of repetition, for sale, for sale, until the syllables hardened into her name: Sael. It was not the name she would have chosen.

"I am Sael," she said at last, listless about it, "But I would want to be called your pupil."

And then she dared: "Or something equally fearsome."

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Mercy | Spencer Varanin
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​

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Sael //: Mercy //:
​

---

She felt every wave of thought and emotion that swirled within the student. There was a quiet sense of pride — rare, but real — toward Mercy for bringing someone with such potential before her. Maybe Ashin's favor for the woman hadn't been misplaced after all. Spencer knew her wife to be picky with her students. This meant that they always had a reason to be chosen. The wife would never admit to Ashin, that Mercy was a perfect choice.

As if reading the girl's mind, Spencer tilted her head, her voice calm and soothing.

"Never bow."

Her gaze flicked toward Mercy, acknowledging the titan's silent approval of the girl.

"No one — not even Empresses or gods — deserves your servitude." A subtle gesture toward Mercy followed. "Not even that one," she added, her tone playful, her smirk warm but edged with power. She knew what fueled Mercy's ego. But here, in this space, Spencer was god.

The Mother stepped back and began to slowly circle the girl, listening not just to her words but to the rise and fall of her emotions. Desire and determination echoed in the Force. Spencer felt it the moment she expanded her presence; the apprentice didn't flinch.

A good sign.

"You're not fond of your name?"

There was something in the way it sounded hollow. The girl understood the need for one, but Spencer saw how it didn't fit.

She paused, one hand raised thoughtfully to her chin.

"I won't call you Sael," she decided. It wasn't her habit to rename students. But this time was different. This one was meant to cast off the past completely.

"I'll call you Alcariel."

A smile touched the former Queen's lips as she nodded, pleased.

"It's in the Echani tongue. It means 'daughter of glory,' or 'daughter of greatness.' It's what I see in you and what your master sees as well."

She stepped back and began to head deeper into the room. Her hand extending towards the girl, waving her to follow, the lesson was starting now.

"We're in a meditation sphere," Spencer explained. "Here, you can learn your own mind without the galaxy intruding. When I was young, the whispers of the galaxy never left me alone."

She stopped, gaze settling on the girl. Spencer recognized something familiar in her struggle.

"I never knew what it was like to feel only my thoughts. I'll teach you that. I'll teach you how to push the others out, how to funnel them." Spencer mused as she continued, "How to pull the threads of the mind and twist them to your will."

Her presence, which had been vast and encompassing, suddenly retreated into a single point, a pinprick of pressure in the Force.

"I will teach you anything and everything you desire," the Mother said softly. "I'll help you become what you truly want to be. But you must trust me. And you must practice."

She let the silence stretch, giving her words space to land.

"So, Alcariel... what is it that you desire to become?"

 

[Sael]

​

Every moment that passed felt more surreal than the last. Encouraged not to show servitude, the dawn of a new name, and welcoming to a lifetime of knowledge.

She bade a glance over her shoulder at her Master, and sent a sprinkle of joy to shower through Mercy's skull. Like a trill. The woman had give her a gateway to greatness and introduced her to the gatekeeper without reservation. She felt deeply grateful.

If not even an Empress deserved her servitude, Sael quickly realized how fast her attitude would have to shift. She'd been a daughter of chains her entire life, and with Mercy, she showed as much gratitude as she could — but the life Mercy encouraged her to live seemed far too fanciful, too grandiose for someone she affectionately coined as 'Little Worm'. Why did she let the words that were ready to hurt affect her greater than the ones that were meant to lift her up? Why was she like that?

"I'll call you Alcariel.

It's in the Echani tongue. It means 'daughter of glory,' or 'daughter of greatness.' It's what I see in you and what your master sees as well."

Her breast swelled with something close to pride — a cousin of the emotion. Related to hope. To gratitude. She dipped her head in appreciation.

"Thank you, Master Varanin. I will earn this name." She loved it. And couldn't hide the smile that twitched along the thin line of her lips. "It is beautiful."

Sael said it once, to hear it from her own tongue: "Alcariel."

She followed along without hesitation, head swivelling left and right to take in what Spencer informed her was the meditation sphere. She'd never heard of such a thing, but the name itself was pretty self-explanatory.

"Yes!" she heard herself respond readily in emphatic agreement. The Master had articulated that which Sael hadn't even realized, but once spoken aloud, she latched onto. It was relatively easy to see into the minds of others, the fears of theirs, but perhaps that's why it was so hard for her to answer what her wants and desires were —— seeing into her own mind was a clouded affair.

In an instant, the room that had felt surrounded by Spencer's golden velvet spread suddenly turned into a vacuum. Sael reeled from the shift, and felt herself gasp.

"I will. I absolutely will." The Zeltron agreed, nearly ready to pitch herself to the ground in obeisance but held her posture firm. "I will practice and make you proud. Thank you, thank you."

"So, Alcariel... what is it that you desire to become?"​

"Unafraid." She answered plainly.

"I wish to be Sith, and to be so in control of my power that I am no longer afraid."

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Spencer Varanin | Mercy
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​