Private Dream Sequence

[Corazona von Ascania]

When she opened her eyes, she was back on Arkania.

A frigid, white wasteland of snow and static.

Cora squinted, as though she could make out the shapes of mountains beyond the blistering storm. Her gaze fell to her feet to find that they too, were partially obscured by the blizzard.

The wind whipped around her, but its chill was superficial. It didn't sink into her bones, it didn't turn her lips blue and slow her breathing, it didn't embrace her into an icy near-death as it once had.

But, the wind still howled. The storm still churned. The snow still blotted out everything that wasn't her, and…

Hm?

His presence struck, unsettling in how visceral and alive it felt against such a stagnant backdrop. Her pulse stuttered before thundering in her ears, and she spun on her heel, voice carrying sharp and clear through the tempest:

"Have you not done enough?"

Voldran Molf

 

[Voldran Molf]

Information and Tag

Shadow Lord, Prince of Nightmare, Dream Lord​

"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ["Úr-kittat"] | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>​

Objective: Speak with Cora
Location: Cora’s dream plane
Equipment: OPBC-01m
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Voldran had not given up on finding Cora and discovering what had become of her. Until he knew something, he could not even ascertain whether the girl was alive or dead. The man wanted above all else to understand what the demon had done to her, for later all he could recall was leaving the girl outside the temple library in the snowfall, a place he had been able to take her to. After that, however, there had been nothing of her, as the demon had joined the other Dark Side Elite within the building.

He had no notion of whether weeks or months had passed since Arkania had been taken, though he scarcely cared. In every meditation he undertook, he sought the girl. He was almost on the point of giving up when, in the dimension of dreams, he finally felt something; himself. This was partly strange, for the man had never had offspring and would not risk begetting some monstrosity upon anyone, so this should not have been possible. Unless…

…no! He faltered for a moment as the thought ran through his mind that perhaps some trace of the demon remained in Cora. The man felt whole; he sensed no absence of a part of himself and bore no injuries. Yet this was a trail he felt compelled to investigate, one he could not ignore. Over the following days, he endeavoured to draw ever closer to this something that felt his own.

Finally, after who knew how long, he managed to reach a dream-plane. He was once again at Arkania, amidst a snowstorm. Moments later, he heard Cora’s voice, and around them, the blizzard receded, forming a circle about the pair. Voldran remained in the black attire he had been seen in before, only his pale skin now appearing as onyx, as was customary when he entered such a plane. Seeing the girl alive, he exhaled with relief, despite her anger.

"My lady… I… am sorry this happened to you, but I am truly glad you are alive. When I healed your wound so that you might not die… I fainted from the pain and exertion, and the demon prevailed completely. I am sincerely sorry I harmed you." he told her in an infinitely sorrowful tone, a tear spilling from his eyes, more visible against his ebony skin perhaps, as he sank to one knee and lowered his head, speaking then in a hoarse voice. "If it were within my power, I would do anything to turn back time and refuse your offer. Then you would not have been harmed…"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Finally, he stepped through the whipping winds to meet her. The storm encircled them, leaving the pair at its eye.

Cora observed Voldran, the lines of her face unreadable. She felt his sorrow, his genuine regret. His willingness to turn back time. His relief at finding her alive, even on this plane, because it meant that there was a living, breathing body somewhere.

He'd healed her? Interesting.

The knowledge that she was truly asleep, safe and warm next to her husband, lingered somewhere in the distant corners of her mind. Cora only felt the cold, harsh edge of the endless, unforgiving winter that churned around them.

She tilted her head in consideration of his tears, watching in momentary fascination as they slipped down onyx skin like little glass gems. Her hand slowly extended to softly caress Voldran's cheek, thumb brushing back his tears. Her fingers moved beneath his chin to tilt his focus up and towards her.

Pathetic.

Anger rose from her chest and spilled into her throat, bubbling like lava, a violent source of heat in the blizzard. Her hand surged for his neck, metallic fingers wrapping around the Shadow Lord's throat with a steel grip. She sought not to throttle the life from him, if such a thing were possible in a dream, but to levy her ire upon the man who had crippled her.

"Sorry?" Cora's upper lip curled. Her thumb brushed against Voldran's windpipe, the strength of her cybernetic hand absolute. "I cannot do a thing with sorry."

She scoffed, sharp and dismissive. A measure of resentment always lived within her, buried or otherwise pacified. But here, the smoke demon had teased it out into action.

"But if I kill you," she murmured in soft consideration, thumb tapping gently against his throat, "Will it die too?"

Voldran Molf

 

[Voldran Molf]

Information and Tag

Shadow Lord, Prince of Nightmare, Dream Lord​

"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ["Úr-kittat"] | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>​

Objective: Speak with Cora
Location: Cora’s dream plane
Equipment: OPBC-01m
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Voldran remained motionless, waiting still, even when Cora touched him. Of course, this was not reality; here only the soul could be reached, yet it was true that one could be killed here as well. Simply in a different way. The man had already learnt that this world was so unlike reality that the mind had simplified it to a level the consciousness could comprehend.

Thus, when the girl’s arms in this dreamscape wound around his throat, the meditating Voldran back on Coruscant felt the sensation of suffocation. Even so, it took all of his strength not to reach for the girl’s hands, though instinct would have driven him to do so.

He felt the anger, which was not Cora’s alone, but partly his own. The man had learnt, over nearly a hundred years, to suppress it, to deny the rage and the demon’s hunger from influencing him. Every single day had been a struggle, relentless work against it; he thought it plain enough that the girl had no such protection, and that this fury and wrath had been stirred by the demon’s animalistic instinct, lingering within her somehow.

"I know, and if I could, I would undo it all…" he forced the words out between his teeth, barely audible, strained by the pain and the grip around his throat.

He had to think on her question, and quickly; for if the girl lost control, or tightened her hold even further, she could easily kill him. The man clenched his fists, resisting the urge to reach up and struggle. He had fought many times in the dreamscape, he knew how, but precisely because of that he did not wish to harm Cora. He feared that if he acted with aggression, the smoke demon would only wound her more grievously.

"No, it will survive and binds you even more under its power." There was sorrow in his voice still.

For a few moments he stared at the snow before him, then raised his gaze, meeting the girl’s eyes. He sought Cora, the girl who had tried to help him; not the one corrupted by the demon.

"Now you know what I fight every day… I can help you resist it, until I can find a way to tear it out of you." he offered, not for his own salvation, but for hers. "Please, my Lady. You cannot allow it to be stronger than you… it must not consume your goodness, your kindness. You must not let it." he beseeched her.

Only then did the man reach for her mechanical arm, taking it gently in both his hands.

"If you do not resist, it will grow within you and destroy you utterly… and then it will leave, moving on to your loved ones. I still do not wish for you to come to harm, Lady Corazona. Allow me, now, to help you." he told her.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora's firm grip around Voldran's throat twitched. His touch - felt as a chill through the artificial nerves of her cybernetic - sank into her veins like ice. Not a bitter freeze, but something brisk.

It brought her clarity.

Cora released his neck and took a half-step back. The furrow of her brow deepened, uncertain and untrusting.

It took a while for Voldran's words to land. For a few long moments, there was only the howling of the wind that encircled them.

It must not consume your goodness.

Cora shook her head, trying to dislodge that thought. His voice invoked such vivid imagery in her mind, and she half-wondered if there was more dark magic at work.

And then it will leave, moving on to your loved ones.

She became still. Then, a heavy exhale softened her expression, draining the malice from her body language. The tension in her shoulders dropped as she drew her metallic hand away from Voldran's own. Her eyes, though, lingered on the inky shadows of his hand - one that hurt her, but one that also healed.

Nothing was ever simple, it seemed.

"So this is what you live with," she murmured. Cora glanced toward him in silent apology for her behavior.

"How do you stand it?"

Voldran Molf

 

[Voldran Molf]

Information and Tag

Shadow Lord, Prince of Nightmare, Dream Lord​

"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ["Úr-kittat"] | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>​

Objective: Speak with Cora
Location: Cora’s dream plane
Equipment: OPBC-01m
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Voldran’s life still lay entirely in the girl’s hands, for he did not defend himself against Cora’s actions. He could only hope that, in the end, his words would reach the girl’s sanity, that she would shake off the demon’s animalistic impulses and the compulsion to turn the one with whom she had been forced to share a body towards the Dark Side. The seconds seemed endlessly long, yet at last the girl took her hands from the man’s throat and stepped back a little. In that moment even Voldran let out a breath of relief.

It was not for his own life that he felt relieved, but because it seemed the girl had won this battle and was herself again. Yet the question always lingered: for how long? The man suddenly did not know which might be easier to remain neutral upon the neutral path, or to walk the Light Side and strive to remain a Lightsider. He supposed both could be equally hard, though a Lightsider could fall far more deeply if the darkness consumed him. Those who walked the neutral road were always tempted by shadow.

"Yes, with this…" the man murmured barely audibly, ashamed.

He bowed his head; this side of himself was not something he could ever boast of. Voldran felt ashamed that he was like this, and ashamed that he could do nothing against it – that he was not strong enough to fight it. At times his expectations of himself were unrealistically high. He saw the regret in the girl’s eyes, which only made him feel worse. He had hurt her, though he had not wished to; Cora had only wanted to save him. He pondered her question for a few heartbeats.

Before he answered, he looked up at her with bitterness.

"With difficulty; greater and greater difficulty. But I have no other choice, because I do not wish to harm others. I have seen what the Dark Side is, how it devours you, how you lose yourself. I do not want to be like that. I want to remain myself, and this give me strength and to find some way to atone for harming others, as I harmed you too, my Lady." he said bitterly.

For a few moments he thought again of what he should say. A trembling, heavy sigh escaped him.

"Most of my days I spend in meditation, seeking harmony and peace, a way to calm the demon’s impulses and urges. And of course there is hope… it is hope that sustains me and helps me fight, that one day I might be free and live as I wish." his voice was still bitter, and his lips curved into a melancholy smile.

He hesitated a few heartbeats more, then asked a question with caution.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me for hurting you, my Lady?" His voice now held a tone like that of a frightened boy who knows he has done wrong but does not know whether forgiveness will come, and fears or dreads the answer. Regardless of her reply, he continued. "If you allow me, I will help you rid yourself of the demonic part within you. I do not wish you to suffer because of it."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Shame and regret pervaded her senses, so potent that Cora could not tell where Voldran's guilt ended and where her own began.

With a slow inhale, she drew the bitter cold deep into her lungs. It burned with clarity, but also with raw feeling. The sort she'd been taught to temper.

Empathy for his plight - not entirely dissimilar to her own, at least in concept - began to seep through the cracks. It moved like a liquid in her psyche, seeking to fill every fracture, any space it could find to exist in. It was something that he could choose to exploit.

Cora sighed before drifting down into the snow, legs crossed beneath her. Where she'd held his throat in a vice grip only moments ago, standing tall above him, now shs sat beside Voldran.

"Forgiveness is a long road," she admitted. "I am to blame as much as you are, if not more. I was arrogant to think that I could undo the seal." Tilting her head back, Cora peered into the sliver of sky above them. Thick grey clouds greeted her.

"Instead, I only ended up causing more pain. For you, for me, and for those around us."

Makko had spent weeks by her bedside while she was unconscious, never knowing if she would awaken, never knowing if she would be there even if she did. How much worse would it have been if he hadn't felt the unsteady quiver of her pulse on that mountainside? If he'd brought home not his gravely injured wife, but her corpse?

And then there was Voldran, a man caught between the destiny of a monster and the desire to live freely. The shame that he felt for harming her couldn't have been easy to carry.

Yet he carried it all the same, just as he carried the demon he was burdened with.

Cora tilted her focus back towards the inky black figure of Voldran. "Lift your head," she said softly. "You do not need to prostrate yourself before me."

The wind howled around them, but it didn't drown out the quiet, steady cadence of her voice.

"You are not the first man to harm me. I believe that you will not be the last." A pause, during which her expression lost some of its lingering frustration. "You…didn't want to hurt me. That helps, a little. So many who are lost in the Dark enjoy inflicting pain."

There was something about his tone - and the terrified child within - that harkened back to her own upbringing. How many times had she worn such an expression in the face of her father's wrath?

"I've consulted as many texts and healers as I could manage. With the loss of the Coruscant and Tython archives, I haven't had much to work with," she admitted. "How can something like this…" she trailed, pressing the fingertips of her flesh hand to the wound at her chest. The gnarled skin didn't exist in this plane, but she could still feel a distance ache.

"…be healed?"

Voldran Molf