Expiation By Conscriptment [Galactic Alliance]

[Vittras Zerga]

follows from here​

Sullust prison, Lava fields​

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Rivers of molten rock as far as the eye can see, sulphuric fumes and pure acid bubbling in hot springs; the entirety of landscape of Sullust was an effervescing, barren inferno. The air was heavy with soot and dust particles, grinding against Vittras' trachea every time he inhaled. The cell he was placed in had a spectacular view of the surface, the prison compound literally carved out of solid rock into the side of a mountain that was home to a dormant vulcano, no other way to reach the prison unscorched but by air. The Kiffar had simply exchanged one prison for another, the keys of his freedom handed from the warden of Stormvault into the hands of the Galactic Alliance.To his dismay, he was still alive. But the chamber he found himself in could've easily been hell. The shutters of the viewport were open, the noxious atmosphere filling up every crevice of the cell and raising the temperature well above room level. The sensation was like being encapsulated inside a pressure cooker, with occasional breeze from the lava fields bringing in a flurry of vulcanic ash.

Zerga stood with legs apart at shoulder's width, facing the blaze of Sullustan panorama. The night was nigh, the last rays of Sullust Prime vanishing behind the jagged horizon only some minutes ago. Beads of sweat formed on his skin, coruscating like gems scattered across chiseled bod embellished with tattoos. He had been stripped of his shirt when healers treated the self-inflicted stun injury he sustained, leaving the dark-maned man in nothing but a pair of worn out onyx leather pants and spacer boots. Wet strands of hair reached half-way to his torso, adhering to sides of his hardy, beard-covered jawline.

"Finally." a woman's voice echoed behind him - "You are here."
Unlike before, Vittras was unmoved by the presence of his late wife. He did not turn to face her, to remind himself once again of the warmth of her brown eyes. Vittras felt nothing on the inside, just an abysmal void where his personality had been. Detached from reality, the man stared into the fires of the underworld that raged before him.

"At least have something to eat." Zharia said, extending a ghostly hand towards the tray with food that had slid under the door - "To regain your strength."

Without warning, cerulean eyes ignited with an uncanny lustre, serene shades of blue surpressed by tide of crimson red. Vittras half-turned in his waist and with a quick flip of his wrist smashed the tray against the wall with the Force.
"Nooo!" he screamed, his tattooed face sneering at the apparition. But Zharia had already vanished in the same hap-hazard way she appeared.
The rouge glow in his pupils subdued instantly when Zerga's eyes fell to the hand he used to destroy the offerings he was brought earlier on. A strange energy permeated his flesh, invigorating his being, infusing him with emotion. The call was tempting, drawing him like moth to flame. Clutching hand into fist, the Kiffar inhaled deeply.
Crossroads lay ahead, but no roadsigns to tell the way.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Over time, Gabe had lost his fondness for this planet. For time spent, contemplative towards his own penitence, it had felt appropriate for a man that deemed himself a monster. Someone given into his own weakness, dragged along by the mane by a brother with no moral compass. Forever tumbling down the rabbit hole. This was the place where he discovered how deep the hole went, realizing that he didn't like what he found. The noise of the planet, it's boisterous ways of turning and churning, he couldn't stand it. Like persisting against the face of a sun, there was just far too much for a mind to be distracted by. At first, that was good. He had a lot on his mind, the sins of a past being relived, broken up by the moody temperament of the planet. But as time went on, he grew to miss the solace. The quiet. The serenity, he longed for something he had never truly known.

But he was an active member of the Alliance now and one that held sway now and then, depending on who was speaking for him. And in this case, it was a request to see a particular prisoner in a situation that hit close to home. Though even less blame lied with Vittras, he was no closer to removing blame then when he had first laid eyes upon the Kiffar. Gun to head, he looked to silence the woes of a lifetime, not knowing the happiness he once had and celebrating the moments for what they were. It had taken Gabe some time to come upon such conclusion, toiling over thoughts of wife and children removed by his own hand. And he couldn't take the lions share of the blame for moving on, everyone needed help. Even if they couldn't admit it.

"Is he in there?"
"Could you not hear the scream?"
"Over this planet? Heavens no." Gabriel patted the guard on the shoulder. "I'd like a few minutes, if that's fine by you."
The guard gave a nod. "It was about time for a break anyway. I'll be back in a bit."
"Of course...take your time. He's not going anywhere."

The guard vanished into the obsidian hallways as Gabe approached the door. Inside, it was hard steel, outside it was transparisteel. And with a button, the metal slid away to reveal the man within his cell. Gabe gave a flare of the nostrils, the stink of emotions and raw power flooding the door like some smoke whipping out from the planets surface, molten liquid glowing beneath its blanket. Grabbing a stool, the man slid it over near the door and sat down, the sound of metal against stone aching and hollow. Pushing his hands together, he exhaled. "I...uhh..." He tilted his hand, shaking clawed fingers in gesture. "Tinkered with your gun before you fired it. Sorry about that..."

[member="Vittras Zerga"]​