Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Beauty & The Beast [Kära Vi'dreya]

Aboard the Vhailor

A loud gasp for air could be heared echoing between the walls of the room. It was darkness surrounding him as he breathed heavily, a sweat forming across his forehead. He was burning hot, and upon noticing not his own hand - scarred, charred and ashen - but instead one of skin, flesh, blood and bone, he panicked believing he was still inside a dream, or perhaps a nightmare brought on by the demon lay dormant within him - his other self. He flew out of the bed onto his feet. A bed? The Ashborn did not sleep - he couldn't! The room was pitch black, and he kept stumbling into things as if his chambers had purposely been littered by obstacles just to enrage him. Crashes and loud thumps pierced his own ears as he finally broke something made of glass. He didn't care what it was - he immidiately grabbed a broken piece of it with his hand. He attempted to spot some sort of reflection, but all he could see was a pair of crimson eyes staring back at him; fiery red coupled with brightly yellow pupils. They were not his own, they couldn't be! This was all some sort of trick!

He panicked once again, this time his legs refusing to carry him as he fell to the floor with a loud *thud*. He had trouble walking, or doing anything for that matter. It was as if he was doing it for the first time. He was terrified. He called out, loudly, to anyone able to hear it. He cried for help, like a boy calling for his mother after a terrible nightmare. "K-Kä... Kära!" was the first word formed by his lips. "My Queen, where are you?!" he shouted out into the dark nothingness of his room. He had no recollection of what had happened just the previous day, of how he was resurrected by the Dark Lord of the One Sith and brought back from Death's Halls to serve his master once more. All these new sensations assaulting his entire being set him aflame, his body burning-hot to the touch, sweating and heaving. Why didn't the piece of glass in his hand melt? Why didn't it break?! He increased his grip of it, now using both hands as he attempted to crush it, but all it managed to do was cut up his palms and smear it with his own blood. Blood, followed by such pain. Eventually it broke under his strength, shattering into pieces burying themselves into his skin. Again he cried out, even louder. Tears began to run down his cheeks as he very slowly came to realise what he had become - a monster.

@[member="Kära Vi'dreya"]
 
With a start she sat upright. hearing shouting in the distance. There was only one other aboard, which meant that Ashborn had awoken. Slowly the Sith Lady slipped down from the bed, donning a cloak to fight against the chill of hyperspace. Her footsteps were precise as she strode through from her quarters toward the newly furbished suite she had ordered the construction of for Thyrian. With each step came a louder cry for help, until it was difficult to think straight. The door to his room opened without any issue, casting light down upon the human form of Thyrian; no longer a creature of the flames, instead a man of flesh and bone... And blood.

Looking down to him she saw his hand split and dotted with shards of glass. "Thyrian" she breathed, stepping closer and kneeling down, ignoring the pain of the glass in her knees. Reaching out she settled a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look upon her. "Thyrian, calm down. I'm here now, everything is okay..." This must have been a shock to his system, to wake, to feel pain and be lost in the darkness. Pulling down the blanket from his bed she wrapped it around his body, before turning her gaze to his hand. "Hush, let me see to this..." Her voice was soothing, like a mother speaking to her child.

@[member="Thyrian Ashborn"]
 
A bright light entered the room in the form of his Queen, surrounded by a heavenly glow as if she was an angel. No... she is an angel. "My little one...!" he gasped upon her entrance, tears welling in his eyes. As she stepped closer, the light surrounding her ebbed away to reveal her features. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The sight made his heart race, beating ever faster as she approached, as if it would punch a hole through his chest at any moment. She kneeled before him, dwarfing herself to him in comparison, yet she was the one tending to him. The thought of his little one caring for one such as himself was too much to bear, and when she lay her hands upon his skin, the Ashborn broke all inhibitions. Tears desperately held back now streamed down his cheeks. He did not flinch by her touching the self-inflicted injury in the palm of his hand, for he relished every moment of her touch against his broken self. Sobbing uncontrollably, he attempted to speak to her. "Master... my Snowflake..." As she worked on his wound, removing all the pieces of broken glass, a trembling hand settled upon her cheek - the one he had once scarred; by his own hand, he had damaged the most sacred thing he's ever known. His fingers traced the lines of the old scar - a constant reminder of his failure to protect her, that he is still a monster. "I'm not worthy of you."

@[member="Kära Vi'dreya"]
 
Her eyes closed briefly to his touch yet for now she did not say a word in response. She did not have to, as even Thyrian ought to be mildly aware of his irrationality with regards to his worth. Why else would he be here? Why else would she? Kära worked swiftly, her hands deft as they removed the glass fragments. He would feel the sensation of the Force making its way down through his body, cleansing the blood of any possible infection as it made its way to his hand. That was as far as her Force-Healing stretched, so next she produced a bacta-salve from within her robes. Gently applying it to his cut hand she lifted her gaze to meet his own. She did not care that his hand was upon her cheek. No one was around, nor would they; it was just Kära and Thyrian, she had little to uphold here, not with the one individual who knew her wholly. Or as close to wholly as was possible. Immediately after the salve was applied she tore a strip off her immaculately clean clothes, the very bottom hem, and bound it around his palm. Obviously she did not have bandages on hand, but the strip of cloth would act as such either way. "Rest, Phoenix, you have nothing to fear here."

@[member="Thyrian Ashborn"]
 
Sweat mixed with tears ran down his cheeks as she spoke. He had no desire to rest, not again. He feared he would wake up and everything would be gone - his Queen, the softness of her skin against his, her guiding light. It was what had sustained him for over a decade, ever since meeting the girl for the first time. She was the only one who wasn't afraid of him; who didn't treat him as filth or talk down to him. "I do not need rest, Snowflake", he spoke softly as his breath calmed itself, and once she had finished her work on his wound he put a hand beneath her chin and tilted her icy gaze up to meet his fiery. "I need you, here with me. It's all I care about, it's everything I hope for. Without you I'm broken, and I might as well become ashes once more. Without you I become the monster I myself fear, and my world becomes fire and brimstone before it all falls apart. You have all you could ask for; power, wealth, men who would die for you. But all I have, is you - my Queen. Every breath I take is for you, and I will continue to do so until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, or until the rivers run dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. All that I am is yours, and when I finally return to the ashes I was born from I shall not feel regret or remorse, for I found in life what I believed to be forever lost to me..." He paused, meanwhile his thumb gently caressed Kära's soft lips. "...love."

@[member="Kära Vi'dreya"]
 
Very slowly, Kära lifted her gaze with his urging. Her eyes narrowed subtly, but not enough to suggest she was angry. No, she was confused by what he was doing, what he was saying. It was almost as if she was trying to tell whether or not he was speaking the truth. "You made yourself who you are today, Thyrian; all I did was push you in the right direction." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes boring into his own. "I will not take credit for your transformation from ash to man. I refuse to." Bowing her head slowly she heard the rest of what he had to say, a slight tense sensation spreading through her abdomen. "You are tired, Phoenix, and know not what you are speaking of. Return to bed, you're not yet used to the necessity of rest but you will soon." The last word he uttered had constricted her heart and it pained her to hear it. Slowly the woman stood, offering him a hand. "Please, Thyrian, it is late..." Breathing out slowly Kära allowed herself to take a step back from the Lady she had become, and instead she added, "I can stay here if you wish, just for this evening, until you feel more settled."

@[member="Thyrian Ashborn"]
 
Wiping his tears away, Thyrian sat up on the floor and leaned towards his Queen as now both his hands caressed each of her cheeks. Their foreheads touched and their very different body-temperatures mixed with eachother, creating a perfect blend where their skin met. "Thank you, my little one. My beloved..." he whispered as his hands then moved around her back before gently pulling her in for a close embrace. "I will always be here for you, my love. I swear to you; I'll never leave your side, and not even in death was there a moment when I did not think of you, nor was there any doubt. I will be yours until the end of time - in life and death alike." This was his vow to the woman he loved and the master he served; no longer out of subjugation would he follow her, but out of sheer love and devotion. Whether or not she felt the same about him was unimportant at this point. The cold touch of Kära's skin upon his managed to stay the tides of sweat upon his exposed upper body, already riddled with scars and minor injuries sustained when trying to adjust to his newfound mortality. His chin resting upon Kära's shoulder as he embraced her, Thyrian braved a kiss upon her collar-bone.

@[member="Lady Kyros"]
 
Kyros did not know how to react to the way Thyrian was being. A very small frown had worked its way upon her lips, yet she did not stop him. It was clear she was discomforted by his actions but he is adjusting. He will need time to do so, or a trigger...

"You forget yourself" she asserted, unable to lose herself in the moment he had created for them. "Come, with me." She shuffled back away from him, trying her best to rise and keep her distance. She wasn't scared of him, more uncertain how to be. Thyrian ought to have known as much.

Beginning to walk away from him she ventured through the vessel, her pace a little faster than usual. "I have a resurrection gift or two for you." she let him know, trying to reassure him that things were alright. Her steps brought her through to the cargo bay where a group of wailing men were chained.

"They made you what you are, what you were" she told him, a little bluntly. "You may do with them as you wish." In truth she was trying to distract him from his bothersome emotions.

[member="Thyrian Ashborn"]
 
As his master pulled herself away from his intended embrace, his heart sank. With weary eyes he gazed up at the woman he loved beyond death's halls themselves as she rose to her feet, turning and walking towards the door. The disappointment he felt in her eyes struck him with guilt unimaginable, yet when she stepped away from him, he felt compelled to follow wherever she'd go. Her desire for him to keep his distance as the two companions paced through the ship was palpable, as if she was somehow fearful of him. Had he now scared away the one he loved, as well?

She made mention of a 'gift'. He deserved no gift - not the disappointment that was the Ashborn. "The cargo bay...?" he mumbled to himself as they stepped into what now served as dungeon more than anything for now. "No..." he whispered upon seeing the faces of his countless nightmares. He remembered them well, for they had occupied his mind for the first few years of his miserable existance. Kära's words were like faint echoes in the back of his head for what seemed like an eternity - like a hazy dream. "No", he said again with more assertiveness in his voice. Taking a few more steps towards the terrified and squirming men-in-shackles, Thyrian leaned in to stare into the soul of one of the scientists.

"Y-y-you...! It... it's you! H-how...?" Before the poor man could finish his sentence, he was silenced by the mere sight of the Ashborn's eyes slowly lighting up with fire, casting a steady glow down upon the group of prisoners. For several seconds, Thyrian merely stared down at them all, making no movements or sounds other than his breath picking up with each passing second, until he finally snapped and roared fully: "NOO!" A clenched fist came crashing down into the man's face, breaking the nose and fracturing the skull. With a low grunt he dropped to the floor, followed by his wailing and cries for mercy, along with the others. "YOU WILL ALL BURN IN THE FIRES OF THE UNDERWORLD, AS YOU MADE ME DO FOR SO LONG! I AM NOT THE MONSTER HERE - YOU ARE!" His words echoed throughout the majority of the entire ship, snapping eardrums and causing momentary deafness in his soon-to-be victims. More concrete fists rained down upon the rest of them, breaking bones and rending flesh. Blood began to stain the naked upper-body of the huge Ashborn, who was back in his old self for the duration. The tortured screams of those who had inflicted more pain unto the "man" currently revelling in their murders were ultimately overshadowed by the loud crunching of bones beneath his great strength, further powered by the Force.

The voices died out one after the other, as what eventually remained of the group of scientists was nothing more than piles of flesh and bone, leaving nothing for anyone to discern what once used to be what on the human body. The flesh and blood littering the floor upon which Thyrian was now kneeling had began to become almost liquified after his relentless beating, causing the beast to punch straight into the metal of the ship itself rather than landing blows to human flesh. His punches waned as time passed, until at last he came to realise his own knuckles were broken and bleeding from hitting the hard metal floor. Sitting on his knees upon the floor, bathing in the blood of his creators, with gore covering much of his muscular torso, the Ashborn was silent. The first sound he made was that of the sobbing of a little boy, watching what he had turned into once more. He had become the beast yet again, and so he had exacted his revenge upon these poor fools. He felt no pity towards them; after all - they created him and intended to forge him into the weapon of fury itself. What he was sat weeping over was his soul. Could he ever recover it now, after what he'd just done?

Eyes closed and crying profusely, he could not manage to turn and look at his beloved. "Snowflake... I'm a monster..." was all he could muster with a trembling voice. He believed it more now than ever before.

[member="Kyra Sol"]
 
As much as the little girl still trapped inside her wanted to turn away, Kära forced herself to remain steadfast and watch the massacre unfold. While internally she flinched to the sound of bone cracking and skin tearing she maintained an outward appearance which reflected the cool and icy state of her gaze. She could not show any form of weakness at this crucial moment, not even when the scent of metallic blood seeped into her nostrils and threatened to make her gag. Not even when the ground ran red with blood and the bodies of so many familiar faces were smashed into the ground, indiscernible.

Even when he seemed to have finished she did not move; she watched him like a hawk, focusing on every subtle movement and noise he made. Truly, the sobbing reminded her of a time in her own life, when Lucien had ordered a torturous interrogation on the then seven year old child she had been. It had taken no time at all for the child to break and the tears to flow, but the torment had not ended even then. So too it had to be for Thyrian; she had witnessed first hand the dangers of letting him cool off, of trying to make him into something he was not. Doing so had made his flames dwindle.

Never again.

"Yes," she asserted somewhat casually, far too blunt considering the situation at hand, "You are a monster, Thyrian; the monster of Ash and Fire, bathed in the blood of your creators." With that she took one slow step towards him, "and in the moment just passed your strength surpassed its usual state, you became something great. Do not fear the core of your being, embrace it. To fight it is to deny your own existence and your place in this Galaxy. Give in to it, Thyrian, and retake your place at my side." As his Master was it not her duty to maximise his efficiency and capabilities?

"You are mine, Ashborn; now rise."

[member="Thyrian Ashborn"]
 
Her words were cold. Her words were harsh. Her words were truth. The faces of his Sith creators lay mangled and scattered across the floor, not one piece of them remaining intact. He did that. He made sure of it. All this was his work - a testament to his brute strength and hidden potential. It was something predatory, something carnal inside him. Something he thought had been locked away in his resurrection, yet had re-awakened at the bidding of his only master. She had that much control over him that she could bring out the beast in him and likewise muzzle it at a moment's notice. None of this was news to him; he knew better than anyone what power she held over his body and soul, and those of so many others. The little girl of his had gone so far, all on her own. She didn't need him, yet she chose to make him strong. To make him her own.

His sobbing stopped and his breathing calmed. There were no signs of his weeping, for the tears had blended with the blood covering his naked torso in its entirety, face included. His muscular form akin to that of a body-builder slowly stood up, surrounded in the blood and guts of his most hated enemies. With their deaths so ended his past life. Now he was hers, fully and completely. "You forget, my Queen; I was never anything but." He turned to the slender shape of his master - so tiny in comparison to himself in both length and mass, yet so much more powerful - and brought his gaze down to meet hers. The blood dripped down onto the floor with every movement. His eyes literally turned into fire as he spoke: "I am the Ashborn. I am forever yours, my Master." He then took his first steps as the arosen Phoenix that he was, until he was stood mere inches away from his Queen. "There are few things I know for certain in this world, but I do know this: You have a kind heart. You may refuse to accept it, or try to hide it, but this I knew when I first saw you, Snowflake. When the time comes, you will live on, and I shall die for you. Again and again. It is the nature of things."

[member="Kära Vi'dreya"]
 

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