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Fire and Ice

Anara Valnor

The Crimson Siren
Writer
-sOKCZq24B8.jpg
Corellia​
The night air was chill and the wind harsh as it lashed against Anwen's small form. Head bent against the wind, she held the fur-lined hood of her heavy coat with both hands. Snow swirled around her, but then as quickly as the wind had come it passed. Relaxing her hold upon her hood she looked up, bright sapphire eyes scanning the area.

The park was deserted and covered in a thick blanket of snow. Under the pale light of the moon and the soft glow from the sparsely spaced lamps the area had an almost magical feel to it. Smiling to herself she walked further down the deserted path, pulling her thick gloves off as she walked. Placing her gloves into her pockets she rubbed her hands together for warmth, blowing warm air into them. Then as she pulled her hands away it was apparent that a small green flame was held within her cupped hands.

The light from the small flame was reflected in her gaze as she pulled her hands away from her face. Pulling her hands apart the vibrant green flames grew and danced across her hands, warming them. As she continued to walk she toyed with the fire in her hands, dancing about in the soft snow fall as she lost herself in the depths of the Force.
 
A P E X
Character
The will of the Force was as enigmatic as the depths of the Galaxy. For those tuned to its ebb and flow, and believed that it was a living entity, the Force acted as a guide and directed the lives of many. Amongst those countless souls was one characterized by arrogance and a desire to set the Galaxy on bended knee. He sought to sit upon the Throne of all and be hailed as Emperor...but in order to do that, he required power that was not yet his. As such, the "Heir" diligently followed the will of the Force, hoping to find the power he so desperately sought...and this day it directed him to a world graced by the season of winter. Corellia was quite...beautiful this time of year, and even for one hellbent on destruction, he could stop for a moment to appreciate the natural beauty that could be found in the world.

As he trudged along, covered in a fur-lined cloak that kept the icy winds from his face, Jacques Cavill made his way along a path that led to a small park. There was nothing special or out of the ordniary to be found here; only ice, snow, and deceased vegetation. However, the Force drew him here like a moth to a flame, and for reasons beyond him he felt as though he needed to be there. As such, he boldly strode forward with his boots crunching away upon the snow-covered pavement...until he felt it. The presence of the Force was here, stronger than that which he perpetually felt. A slight excitement caused his heart to drum away and he hastened his steps in the snow. Perhaps it was an artifact buried in the ice? Or maybe another like he who could show him power he never imagined?

Yet, as he rounded the corner and squinted through the blast of icy wind that greeted his face, he saw that it was a woman. She was seated upon a bench and cupped...literal fire between her palms. This was, undoubtedly, a manifestation of the Force; and it intrigued the Heir greatly. So adopting his trademark smile of warmth, Jacques confidently traversed the distance between them and stopped only a yard or so away. As polite as a noble, the Heir inclined his head in greeting and spoke in an accented voice. "Greetings miss," he began, standing tall once more, "if I am not intruding...might I join you? It is quite cold out, and that fire of yours looks mighty inviting." He paused, awaiting her response, and in the meantime continued to wear his trademark smile.

@[member="Anwen Talith"].
 

Anara Valnor

The Crimson Siren
Writer
She should have been paying attention to the tides of the Force, she should headed the nagging sensation in the back of her mind. Instead Anwen had been so fully engrossed in playing with the flames upon her fingertips that a man's voice startled her from her thoughts. She jumped slightly and the flames vanished, her bright sapphire orbs snapping upward to take in the man approaching her. "Uh..." she chewed her bottom lip as she looked down at her hands. After a moment she looked back up and found herself unable to return the man's smile, her aura pulsing outward as she took in his presence.

He is like me.

Smiling just a little more she nodded and rubbed her hands together, blowing into them once more and breathing life into vibrant green flames. The flames danced across her exposed flesh and licked at the thick material of her coat, but her clothes were unharmed by the flames. "Sure." Heat rolled off the green flames and she motioned for the man to join her even as she scooted over a bit upon the bench. She had not expected to see another soul in the park at this hour, but she was a little glad for the company.


@[member="Jacques Cavill"]
 
A P E X
Character
MESTARE CRYSTAL CHALLENGE: BEGIN

The young Heir chuckled,
when he witnessed her surprise;
yet she settled down.

The once alive fire,
had disappeared from her grasp;
and she slid over.

Jacques had room to sit,
and onto the bench he moved.
Then, he looked to her.

A warm smile came,
and settled on his features.
"My name's Jacques", he said.

A handshake was norm,
Yet the Heir withheld his grasp,
for fire was born.

The fire was green,
and it danced within her palms.
It shed light and warmth.

As such, Jacques slid close,
and reached out for the fire;
and heated his hands.

"That is quite the power,"
he said with the warmest smile,
as he warms his hands.

He was curious,
as to how she could wield fire,
and just had to ask.

"Please forgive me miss,
if I am being forward,
but please tell me this..."

"The fire you hold,
I am very curious,
how do you make it?"

Yet he caught himself,
and manners were paramount:
tact was important.

He lowered his head,
out of sheer respect and grace,
and apologized.

"Forgive my manners,
I have faltered greatly miss,
for in my surprise..."

"I have yet to ask,
something very important.
What might I call you?"

@[member="Anwen Talith"].
 

Anara Valnor

The Crimson Siren
Writer
"Anwen."

She could only smile as the flames danced about the exposed flesh of her hands, leaving her skin and clothes completely unharmed. "I'm still learning to wield it...I'm not entirely sure, its...just a feeling." She'd been staring at her hands all the while, but after a moment she looked up and met Jacques' gaze. "You are the first to ask such a thing..." She tilted her head to the side a bit and studied him, her bright gaze taking in his features.

He was so close to her, yet it meant nothing. He was near her for warmth and she thought no further on the subject as wiggled her fingers a bit. "I wasn't able to do this before...The flames simply came when I got overwhelmed."

@[member="Jacques Cavill"]
 
A P E X
Character
"Anwen, quite the beautiful name." came his simple response. He regarded her with his trademark smile of the utmost warmth, and chuckled ever so slightly when she explained how she came about the power of the flame. "You know, it's funny...One could almost say that the flames were magic." he said. And, while said in jest, there was a slight possibility that he was right. The nature of Sith Magic was such that one could very well manifest the abilities out of seemingly nowhere, but in truth that "nowhere" was actually the blood that ran hot through the lucky person's veins. Of course, he did not chew off her ear and bore her to tears with his lengthy thoughts, instead, he decided to demonstrate an ability of his own.

"I can only assume that these Flames are born of the Force," he began, extending his left hand. There was a slight...edge to his expression in that moment as his eyes left her and focused upon a fallen branch; an edge born of supreme focus. Then, he muttered a single word, "Odojinya", so quietly that it was barely a whisper. The Dark Side of the Force reacted to this combination of gesture and incantation, then conjured into being coils of lighteningesque energy. They spontaneously manifested about the branch, then in response to his balling his hand into a fist, they instantly constricted; thereby rending through the branch relentlessly.

"The Force is capable of many great things...and it seems that you and I are both blessed to wield it."

@[member="Anwen Talith"].
 

Anara Valnor

The Crimson Siren
Writer
With a smile she bowed her head in thanks as he praised her name, her bright eyes watching him closely. "Magic?" She hadn't thought of her abilities as such, but given her parentage it did make sense. From everything she had learned of Moridin he had never been skilled in the area of Sith Magic, but perhaps she could have been if he had never tampered with her physiology. Silently she watched, her aura flaring against the Darkside and her flames brightened for a moment.

"So it would seem."

With a faint smile upon her lips she looked to the flames dancing about her fingers, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that he could wield the Darkside. After a moment she rubbed her hands together, effectively snuffing out the flames as she relaxed back upon the bench. Her gaze met his once more and she shrugged, "my flames are born of the Force, I didn't know that before though..."

@[member="Jacques Cavill"]
 
A P E X
Character
"You should consider yourself blessed, Anwen," replied the young Heir, smiling with as much warmth as the flames which she formerly held, "for only the Force is capable of such a feat. To be anointed with its touch...well, that is cause for happiness in one's life." He opened his mouth to continue; his intent to attempt to...encourage her to follow him and to utilize her gift in ways that would assist in the accomplishment of his long-term goals. Yet before the first word could escape his lips, a wounded howl echoed across the snow. It was soft at first, almost indiscernable in comparison to the wintery wind. Yet, Jacques heard it loud and clear, and it was enough to quiet his ambitious train of thought.

"Hmm." he said, "Hear that?"

The wounded cry sounded across the snow and ice once more, this time louder. The young Heir could not help but rise from the bench and stride forth a few steps, before looking back at the woman. "Come, let's see what's causing this noise."

@[member="Anwen Talith"].
 

Anara Valnor

The Crimson Siren
Writer
She smiled softly at his words and warm nature, bright sapphire orbs holding his gaze. "I am thankful for my connection with the Force...I can't imagine being without it now that I truly know it." As Jacques heard the cry, Anwen felt it ripple through the Force. Something or someone was in distress. Brow furrowed and a frown upon her lips she stood with Jacques, her small stature making her look a child half his age when she stood beside him.

"Someone is hurting..."

Her voice was soft and worry laced her words, but with sure steps she moved toward the disturbance. Making a noticeable effort to not make a lot of noise while walking through the thick snow she stayed close to Jacques, unsure what they were walking into.

@[member="Jacques Cavill"]
 
A P E X
Character
It was through sheer instinct that the young Heir reached out with the Force, for the motion of his arm was one he had repeated several times before. His palm opened, his fingers spaced apart ever so slightly, and one of his twin lightsabers floated into his waiting grasp. Dubbed Vitiate, this particular curved saber was Jacques favorite of the two and was gripped confidently in his left hand as they strode through the snow. After a few moments of careful steps, a single bush separated the duo from the scene unfolding before their eyes. A business transaction was unfolding...and judging from the nature of it, the terms were far from legal.

There were two men, out of the eight gathered, who stood out. The first was a finely dressed individual who seemed to be a noble of sorts. The second was a run-of-the-mill thug...however he was quite taller than the rest. Between them laid several cages, with several exotic animals housed within. Vornskr, Monkey-Lizards, Akk Dogs, and much more were cooped inside cages much too large for them; and the haggling of prices was occurring. Putting the pieces together, the young Heir concluded that this was an illegal business deal for exotic creatures, and...while he had no personal reservations against such a thing...the concern plastered across Anwen's face spurned him into action...He did not know why, but he felt like...doing something moderately decent in response to her presence.

Snap. Hiss.

Vitiate's crimson blade surged into being and Jacques strode confidently forward, grabbing the attention of those present with the din of his lightsaber's ignition. He elevated the hilt to just before his brow, the traditional Makashi salute, but of course they were ignorant to the fact that he was preparing to kill every last one of them. "Gentlemen, this...exchange of yours cannot be anything close to legitimate. I could hear the anguished cries of these poor creatures from afar off. What do you say to releasing them and going home, hmm?"

Of course, thugs were thugs and blasters were drawn. Shots were fired, and through his skill in the saber the young Heir managed to deflect and reflect them harmlessly away with Vitiate. "Of course you'd choose the hard way." he murmured, then reached out to Anwen through the Force. His mental contact was as gentle as a caress and gave a single, stern order. "Stay in cover, I'll handle this."

@[member="Anwen Talith"].
 

Anara Valnor

The Crimson Siren
Writer
Anwen stopped short in the brush when Jacques entered her mind, ordering her to stay put. A frown found its way to her features as she watched the man disappear, arms wrapping around her petite form. She only stayed hidden for a few moments before she drew her own lightsaber, the brilliant blue blade springing to life as she exited the brush. Immediately she was spotted and shots flew in her direction.

Immersing herself in the Force her pristine aura thrummed and she shone as bright as any star. If she were capable of feeling anger or even moderate aggravation those emotions would be turned toward Jacques, but instead she chose to show him that she didn't need to hide. Anwen realized how she looked in all aspects, but she was not a helpless child. She was coming into her own and besides that, she was a Talith. Talith's did not run or hide from a fight; she would not site ildly by. Her skill was not on the same level as Jacques, but the shots she was did not deflect she dodged easily as speed was something that came naturally to the daughter of Moridin.

@[member="Jacques Cavill"]
 
A P E X
Character
Arrogance.

Known as a trait that many in the Galaxy found as deplorable, when exhibited by the young Heir it served a finite purpose. For him, arrogance was more than simply assuming that he was above other beings for arbitrary reasons. No, this was his trigger. It was an instant source of negativity from which he could draw strength to form Sorcery through the Dark Side. As such, the instant the blaster bolts began to reflect off of his crimson blade, his psyche began to fill with thoughts dripping with arrogance. 'They dare,' he growled mentally, effortlessly knocking away bolt after bolt with relative ease, 'attack me!? I am Jacques Cavill, son of the Crusher of Coruscant and the Sith Empress?! They should tremble before me, and yet they DARE fire their weapons. For this, they shall die!'

The negativity flowed forth like a mighty tide, so much so that any being sensitive to the Force would have felt...an aura of black erupt about Jacques' form. This aura, of course, was unseen by the naked eye and could only be felt; for he radiated pure hatred, anger, and other emotions that characterized the corruptive side of the Force. When he finally emptied his mind of "self" and allowed his psyche to be filled to the brim with this negativity, he reached out and spoke a single word in a language long lost to the known Galaxy. "Dwomutsiqsa." he said, and in response to incantation, energies surged forth from his right hand which had extended in his concentration. Their manifestation was swift, as quick as the blinking of an eye, and their appearance was that of a billowing cloud of purple haze.

The cloud leapt forth from his hand and burrowed itself into the snow, before expanding and shooting upwards. The display was unlike anything that the thugs had ever seen, for as the spell worked, their onslaught came to a close. The cloud expanded quickly, only taking seconds to finalize its form; coming to a halt as a "corridor" of darkness. From these black depths did a single, smoky form emerge, and once into the light of day, the corridor extinguished into nothing. The being was tall, looming at over seven feet in height, and was composed entirely of crimson smoke. Its appearance was, initially, that of a horned, muscular humanoid...but it quickly shifted depending upon the eyes who looked upon it. Jacques, being the summoner of the Smoke Demon, saw only its true form however.

The Smoke Demon, thriving upon the emotions so prevalent within the hearts of men, appeared as the worst fear of those surrounding it. To one, he appeared as a deceased enemy returned for vengeance. To another, he appeared as a multitude of serpents intermingled with arachnids and other nasty creatures. Each form was grotesque in one way or another, and each form caused fear to grip the men who had dared fire upon the young Heir. Of course, in order to maintain this summoning, and control over the Demon, Jacques did not afford himself any satisfaction; for concentration was of the utmost importance. "Kill them all." he ordered in perfect Sith, to which the Smoke Demon replied with a grunt. It surged forth and assaulted the "noble" who was purchasing the creatures in the first place, knocking him to the ground with minimal effort before capitalizing on his first victim.

It cloaked its form about the fallen man, forming a hazy shell about his body...and then quite literally vaporized the man.

Panic rippled through the thugs. Some fired blasters as the Demon, others, namely the thug leading the exchange, grabbed some of the cages and ran off. In the end, the only ones left after the initial vaporization were those stupid enough to fire upon the Smoke Demon, and a single cage containing a pair of pups. "Finish them." came the cold, unrelenting order of Jacques...and once reformed into its main appearance, the Smoke Demon could not help but oblige the will of its Master. It surged forth and began its assault upon the remaining enemies, taking great pleasure in beating them around with its claws first. As this occurred, the young Heir, drunk with power, turned his attention to the woman who was supposed to be hiding. Her disobedience fueled a pang of annoyance, which only served to augment the strength of the Spell.

"Did I not tell you to stay hidden?"

@[member="Anwen Talith"].
 

Anara Valnor

The Crimson Siren
Writer
Bright blue eyes watched in a mixture of wonder and uncertainty as Jacques took care of the thugs. His methods were dark and went against everything she rightly stood for, but she did nothing to stand against him. The only response she gave to his actions was one she could not control as her bright aura flared against the Darkness flowing from him. After a moment she turned her eyes to him, disengaging her lightsaber as she did so.

For a moment she just stared at him until finally rolling her eyes and slipping her lightsaber beneath her coat once more. "I don't recall you being the boss of me." She smiled and folded her arms beneath her chest, daring him to do something about her insolence. As a Talith she did not take to being ordered around well, it was in her blood to never be a servant to another.

"Why...did you kill them? There were other ways..." She spoke as though she hadn't just rebuked him for thinking to order her about.

@[member="Jacques Cavill"]
 
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