Begrudgingly

[Jacen Alder]

Begrudgingly.

He felt the cold material of the sink pressing against his warm palms. He gripped the edge of the sink hard, knuckles turning white. He looked up, looked at himself in the mirror. He had cleaned up well, the dirt and blood that was clinging to his skin was mostly gone. His hair had been styled to look semi decent, it made him look mostly put together, if nothing else.

The wound on his leg was jagged. The mixture of bacta and stitching had closed the wound well, however it would take some time before it was fully healed. His biggest worry was aggrivating the wound during his session with the female who had all but become his master. It seemed fitting that in his quest to regain power he had fallen into place under someone with much more power than he.

He didn't doubt that Ariealla would execute him if he disappointed her.

He pulled his tunic over his head. He didn't get new gear, he assumed that his master had nothing to fit him. The tunic and trousers were still caked in blood, his own blood and the blood of his parents and sibling. It really showed that he was starting from the bottom, didn't even get gear that was clean. He would steal some eventually, or buy some eventually. He had access to his parents funds afterall.

He didn't know where they were. They hadn't left Commenor, they had travelled for a few hours. Jacen had slept for most of the journey, he had been through a lot. He assumed that Ariealla wouldn't even think to give him time to recover and he was right to assume that she wouldn't. Less than twelve hours later he was being awoken and told to meet her for their first session.

He wanted to sleep, although he knew that he was being offered power most people could only dream of. He had been given some nighttime reading material about the force, books he had poured over. It confused him more, the history of the force was vast. However, he understood the power he could posses if he mastered control of the force, if he mastered the power of the darkside.

He felt his hand close around the door knob of the bathroom.

He was ready.

Right?

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

The training hall, truthfully it was just an empty room, the walls soundproofed to prevent what occurred from ever leaving, but little else stood out of the room. Cream colored walls, plain wood floors, and Ariealla, sat on a small chair in the center of the room. She sat quietly, donned in her full Regalia and Cape, two lengths of wood resting at her feet. Fake swords, not much unlike lightsabers in length, perhaps a prelude for his sake of what she intended to do tonight. She had promised him she would test him, determine his potential and worth beyond what he had shown. It was her responsibility, to herself and the quality of the Sith, to be certain that he was more than a good coward.

She had her eyes shut, until her acolyte entered the room. At last she opened them, and perhaps to his shock the beautiful violet of her eyes was replaced by the sulfuric yellow known to the Sith. A mark of power, something she had further that he did not. And even though her eyes were stained with this, unnatural yellow, her eons of darkness had stained them completely, to the point the iris was a solid color, lacking in any flaws of the yellow rings. Arguably, they were just as beautiful as the violet, in their purity. She certainly seemed to think so, as she donned what befit a queen rather than scholar, or assassin.

She let the door shut behind him, before she stood to speak to him. "Come, kneel in the center of the room." The wooden weapons drifted up into her arms, held like children as she waited for him to do as she told. Whenever he did so, she would quietly, silently even, pace just behind his line of sight. "You know what I am. It was within those books I gave you. The path to power lies in front of you, the path I once walked, no less eager than you. Tell me, child. Are you afraid of what I am? Are you so certain, even knowing what you may, that you will survive my training?"

There had been no point in hiding what she was to him. Kay knew what she was, and allowed her to stay. Why hide, then, to the one most close to her? Not to mention, were he to take the path in ignorance, it would destroy him. He had to know what steps he took, so he would be ready to face every fatal challenge she would give him, without hesitation. He had already proven willing to separate himself from his past life, this was to be certain he was willing to embrace the new.

[member="Jacen Alder"]

 

[Jacen Alder]

Bergrudgingly,

He walked forward. He heard his boots slapping against the solid wood floors. The room was bare, much like she would make him over the course of their training. She clearly wasn't expecting to have an apprentice however, the room was completely empty. Empty, except her chair and the two swords at her feet. Empty, much like she would make him over the course of their training. She would tear him back to nothing and rebuild him from nothing.

Her eyes had changed. No longer violet, now yellow and solid in colour. He had read of that happening in his book, yellow eyes and pale skin being solid indicators of a person who constantly taps into the darkside of the force and bends it to their will. Ariealla had clearly bent the force to her will more than once for her eyes to have been stained yellow and her skin to be as pale as it appeared to him.

She never hid what she was.

He knelt in front of her. It was strange in a way that in his quest for freedom he had instead become a slave to someone else, a very special Sith. She would shape him into a weapon, a powerful tool she could use and as a consequence both of them would learn more. The Sith craved power but they were smart in how they got it. Jacen could imagine Ariealla being the shot caller, not the person actually doing the work.

"You are a Sith Lord. The stories confirmed it, you lust for power much like I do"

He wasn't afraid. She could very easily kill him, but she wouldn't.

"The Sith don't take followers, acoloytes, unless they can be used, unless they show power. I have little reason to be afraid because you clearly see potential in me, potential that you are unlikely to waste. That leads onto your second question, my master. It's clear to me that I will never survive this training, you will tear me back to nothing and I will be reborn more powerful that this form I am currently in."

He looked at her with a sick grin on his face.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

The boy struck with words, speaking to her unwillingness to waste his potential. He spoke well, but perhaps he believed he held something over her, a victory, for she would not so happily kill him and cast his soul into darkness. Oh what a fool he was if he truly believed that, though perhaps the answer to her second held more understanding. Who he was, the person, would never again take a breath in this life. She would break him down to the basic parts, and what was left would become the foundation of the apprentice she sought... assuming of course he was worthy of the title. She, ever fond of that silence after his answers, let it linger, holding no emotion on her face to betray her thoughts. Only the rhythmic footsteps echoing gently to remind him she was even alive, and the silence to question if he had answered well.

Then, finally, she spoke. "No, I will not kill you. But it is unwise to be without fear. If you are speaking truthfully child, you are more naive than a pacifist. Fear is the foundation of humanity, of emotion. There is little else more primal and true. You should be afraid, but not of death. Child, I may not be one to waste your potential, but as of yet you are no apprentice, no Sith. You are an acolyte, what once some would consider fuel for another's fire, perhaps a useful assassin, or soldier at best. Even the barest amount of worth, to be the bottom rung on this ladder of power, you must earn it, or the title Sith, freedom, will ever be beyond your reach."

She lifted her hand, grabbing hold of one of the wooden swords, and without even the sense of effort she brought it down onto the ground next to Jacen, point down, with enough force to create a loud thwapping sound that echoed in the room, loud enough to hurt one's ears. The fake weapon was nearly embedded, it seemed, into the ground, close enough even a twitch would likely cause him to connect with it. Simply put, he had been very close to being subjected to great pain, again. Her face stared down at him, still holding back signs of her mental state, before she gently let go of the weapon, letting it clatter down before him. She made no mention of it, as though the point had been that 'scare'.

Quiet footsteps, as she turned her back to him, taking several steps away. "Peace, is a lie. There is only passion. The Code has such sweet words. You have memorized them by now, you should hear their echos in your sleep. Tell me, what do the words mean, what is the Code of the Sith?" The way she said it was much like a school teacher asking students to interpret a book, as though there were few if any wrong answers. Truth be told, perhaps when it came to the Code there truly was no wrong answer, only inferior ones. Mindsets too weak, too addled to comprehend truth. The first lesson on the path to Sithdom was to know and understand the code. If Jacen couldn't manage this, he was little more than a beast with talent.

All the while, the wooden sword rested before him.

Waiting.

[member="Jacen Alder"]

 

[Jacen Alder]

Begrudgingly,

He would have to work. He was expected to fight to earn the title of Sith. For the moment, he was but a pawn for Ariealla to play with. Perhaps in the future, when he earned his right to be named a Sith he would be as powerful as she. Perhaps in the future, when he earned his right to be named a Sith he would be free. Perhaps in the future, when he earned his right to be named a Sith he would be a true master of the force.

Perhaps in the future, when he earned his right to be named a Sith, Ariealla would have stripped everything away from him. Perhaps he wouldn't even remember who he was, he would be a shell who had been simply trained to kill. Perhaps he was only alive because he would be made into the perfect obident soldier, clinging onto the every word of his master because she promised him the one thing he craved more than anything else he had ever craved.

He watched Ariealla walk.

He saw her drive the sword into the ground.

He flinched, the noise ringing through his ears much like a slugthrower shot. His eyes snapped shut as a defensive measure. He was quick to regain his composure, refusing to show weakness in front of the one woman who would punish him for showing weakness. She would punish him for reacting, although he wasn't truly aware how she would punish him, he didn't want to find out.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the face of his master before she turned, letting the weapon drop in front of him, his for the taking. He kept still, waited for her to finish her speech. He heard her words, he accepted her words. She was treating him like a school teacher, as if he were a pupil. He needed to understand the basics of the Sith Code, what the Sith were offering him.

"Peace, is a lie. There is only passion. The Code has such sweet words. You have memorized them by now, you should hear their echos in your sleep. Tell me, what do the words mean, what is the Code of the Sith?"

He looked up at her. The Code of the Sith, printed in every single one of the books he had poured over all night.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.

"The Sith Code will lead you to the true power of the force, the true power the Darkside offers one who can master it. Pease is a lie, there is only passion. You can't force yourself to grow without proving yourself on a battlefield. Conflict causes growth or death, it weeds out those unable to survive and to master the power offered to them by the Darkside of the force."

He looked up to her. Peace was a lie, nothing was ever peaceful no matter how many governments attempted to claim it was. The Sith needed conflict to prove themselves, to show their masters the power they had gained. The Sith needed conflict to grow as people, to adapt to situations they otherwise wouldn't be faced with. It was interesting to look at, would the Sith exist without conflict?

"Through passion, I gain strength. The true aim of the Sith, to grow in knowledge. You can not grow in knowledge without passion, you must enjoy what you are being taught, what the Darkside of the force is offering you. Without enjoyment, you will never become truly strong in the force, you will never successfully master what you are being offered"

He looked at her. It was the goal of the Sith to grow stronger. According to one of the many books, the Jedi denied the natures of the Sith and were afraid of the truth. The Jedi wanted peace and were afraid of passion, although passion served as the only reason for the survival of many species who would otherwise be truly extinct and dead, with no hope of rescue.

"Through strength, I gain power. The demonstration of power is temporary, a Sith must always desire more. While you may be strong in the force, light or dark, you should always demand more. You should always want more, always quest for more. You should never be satisfied with where you are, for you are never at your best. You can always be better than you are."

He offered a sick grin. He could never be happy with where he was, he always needed to be better. He was never satisifed with himself, he always needed to be better. He needed to be in better shape physically, he would need a better understanding of the force to master the true power of the Sith, of the force and the powers that he could control.

"Through victory, my chains are broken. I can never be free until I am victorious over myself, until I am victorious over whatever keeps me chained. I can never be a true master until the chains that keep me secured are broken. Those chains can never be broken without the force, this the force shall set me free. I can only break my chains with the power of the force"

He looked at her. He thought back to one of the books he had a read. The words had twisted the idea of the Sith Code, written down a man with the name of Keth. He had swapped the code, replaced the word through with the words "I gain" and the words "I gain" with the word through. It felt more fitting to the Sith, the idea that the gained strength through passion.

"The code can be written differently.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
I gain passion through strength,
I gain strength through power,
I gain power through victory,
I gain victory by breaking my chains.

The force shall set me free

Those words were written in one of the books you had given me. Those words show that you can only meet the Sith code by gaining victory, without victory you can't have power or strength or passion and therefore you will never truly meet the Code of the Sith. You need to free yourself, accept the words of the Sith for your chains to be broken."

He looked up at Ariealla, he looked down at the sword. He understood what happened next, he had to take the sword. He would be put through his paces in weapons training. He looked down at the wooden sword again. He would be expected to fight, he would be beaten. It was undeniable that she would beat him, she was experienced and he was not. All he had was his knife.

He closed his fingers around the sword. He got to his feet.


[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

"A cruel and twisted world we live in, cruel and twisted indeed." This time, when Ariealla stared at the man through the Force, rising to his feet, running through every sentence he had uttered to her in her mind, she let a small smile through. Even a Sith must know when to reinforce and when to punish, for without one the other lost meaning. She had yet to truly punish the boy for weakness, in some respects his very training would itself serve that purpose well. She no doubt would punish him greatly in the future still, but for now he had spoken well enough. Less suitable words had come from greater apprentices than he, so at the least his mind was open. That, would be useful.

She had no use for single minded fools.

She let him rise to his feet completely, before turning to face him and let him briefly see that small, proud little smile. An accident, were it anyone but her. Still several steps away, she slowly uncrossed her arms, slender fingers wrapping around the practice.. toy handle. Calmly as she could, she let her arms drift into a loose stance, as though completely at ease, and in a non-threatening situation. Like, waiting in line for a cheap burger, nothing more. "A Sith is one who understands this world best. The cruel order of life. To live is to face conflict and adversities great and small. To be Sith is to refuse to let these adversities be the end. You are right when you suggest none are as good as they could be. To conquer every adversity is to stagnate, and one day surpassed. Even conquering death is not the end for us, only another beginning. There were others, like you, who wished to claim Apprenticeship."

Slow, paced steps.

ONE two three... ONE two three...

The first of each three just a bit more, planted, to cement it in her mind. The rhythym in place, the tempo moderate, she knew the dance they had in store. She was certain of victory, even as she had barely begun to lift the false weapon up, to bring the tip into an angle towards his face. He knew he would lose, that was their shared expectation of him. He had no experience in a duel, and Ariealla had centuries, nay, millenniums of practice. Victory was not his goal, not in a traditional sense. Victory here was not to break his chains, but to understand those chains. To know what his place was, not in words but in memory. Their places must be cemented, before he could hope to claim the title Apprentice. Ariealla gave one last order to Jacen.

"Surpass them."

And with that, on the first beat, she simply thrust the weapon up at his throat. It was simple, and she hardly moved a muscle, but what more was to be expected from the first motion of a dance? Naturally, she intended him full well to avoid the strike, though she wouldn't spare him if he were slow. Such would be punishment for failure to avoid such an easy, telegraphed strike.

[member="Jacen Alder"]

 

[Jacen Alder]

Begrudgingly,

He listened.

"A Sith is one who understands this world best. The cruel order of life. To live is to face conflict and adversities great and small. To be Sith is to refuse to let these adversities be the end. You are right when you suggest none are as good as they could be. To conquer every adversity is to stagnate, and one day surpassed. Even conquering death is not the end for us, only another beginning. There were others, like you, who wished to claim Apprenticeship."

Jacen watched as she walked. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Her boots collided with the floor below them, the noise ringing through the room, ringing through his ears. She clearly knew exactly what she was doing, the way she walked was as if she had rehearsed every single movement. She had likely rehearsed every single movement, Jacen didn't doubt that. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had put hundreds of potential students through this same test, the same trial.

He kept his grip tight on the wooden sword in his grasp, missing the cool handle of the knife he had used to kill them all. The knife was balanced in his hand, the sword was not. He had the power advantage over Ariealla, she had every other advantage over him. Strength and power wouldn't win him a fight against someone as technically gifted as he expected her to be. Strength and power would likely be his downfall.

She turned without skipping a beat. The weapon she held in her slender fingers was targetted perfectly for the throat. The wood was sharp and would splinter, it would damage but not kill. She would hurt him and put him through his paces but he didn't expect her to kill him. In his head, she needed him as much as he needed her. He could be trained to be the perfect warrior while she was the smart one, the hidden one.

Time slowed down.

The sword still glided towards his throat, thrusted by the witch who would torment him until he broke. He would be expected to move from it's path, she hadn't left him enough time to parry the weapon away. He felt his back arch, a reflex he wasn't even controlling. His legs moved under him as he stepped aside, attempting to dodge the sword that was aimed directly at a vital part of the body, the throat. A good shot to the throat, the juglar would kill him.

He felt skin peel from his neck.

He had done well to side step, however he hadn't done enough. The edge of the sword had cut down his neck, tearing flesh. He felt blood trickle from the wound, cold and sticky against his neck. It was a flesh wound, nothing serious. As he expected, she wasn't aiming to kill but she would punish if he made a mistake. He had made a mistake, he hadn't moved quick enough and as a consequence she had punished him by allowing the blade to slice.

He offered Ariella a sick grin, he enjoyed the pain she had caused him.

It was her move. She hadn't done as much to him as she had hoped, or expected.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

A lesser man would have felt far worse.

Jacen had done well to manage such a minor wound.

Ariealla pulled the blade back, and with a slight flick cast the crimson liquid resting along its blade to the floor, the droplets spattering almost in rhythm. Already he was obeying some of her order, surpassing a good portion of her potentials. Many had fallen to that first strike, food for the beasts. Only slightly useful in the end. But still the testing would be necessary, he had yet to show more potential than her promising students of old. Than her apprentices. She gently licked her lips, though it was hard to see as she wasn't crude enough to show more than the tip of her tongue.

How she would make Jacen bleed.

She kept her pace, feet stepping in time to keep each of the three beats. One, two, three... One, two, three... She lifted the weapon in hand up and to her right, as though about to bring it down in a mighty blow. One, two, she struck on an odd beat, a timing harder than normal to predict. And yet as the weapon came down, she suddenly shifted the way she held it, so the blade would never strike, instead coming down at an angle, to again thrust it, this time at Jacen's right shoulder. Each motion was timed in her head to come just a moment later than one would expect, to throw him off if like her, he was able to realize what she was doing with her steps.

Hit or miss, she intended follow this thrust with a swipe down to her right, to bring the weapon away. Were she taking him seriously she would have long since attacked his mind with the Force, to subjugate him, weaken him. But he was not yet a serious threat, nor did she wish to reward him with a demonstration.

Yet.

[member="Jacen Alder"]

 

[Jacen Alder]

Begrudgingly,

He readied himself to fight on. He wiped some of the crimson joy from his neck, giving his mentor yet another sick grin. He watched as his own blood trickled from her blade and plastered her floors, a stain of his presence in the room. He licked his teeth, swinging his own wooden blade backwards and forwards slowly, attempting to get a feel for the blade before she began her dance once again, before she tested him again.

Together, the duo danced. Ariealla kept herself on the attack, Jacen reacting quickly to keep himself on the defence. She attacked to a beat, allowing herself to be predictable. It made her random attacks more predictable, the monster smart enough to expect her to throw random attacks in. She would attempt to catch him off guard, occasionally coming dangerously close to dealing more damage but never landing another shot.

She went for his weapon, attempted to disarm him.

And his advantage came into play. He just deflected her shot, she went to the right in an attempt to trick him. He followed up with a forearm, aimed for the face of his mentor. He had the strength advantage against the woman, he would use it. She would either appreciate it OR she would punish him, either way he would show her that he could adapt and realise when he was outmatched by a foe much more superior that he.

He backed off, looking at the bruises developing on his arms. Maybe she had caught him a few times.

[member="[URL="http://starwarsrp.net/user/11672-ariealla-vareldi/"]Ariealla Vareldi[/URL]"]