Private Lamb To Slaughter

[Caspian Dinn]

Jutrand
The Outer Rim
Srina Talon's Apartment
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"Stop squirmin'," the masked man hissed, as he pulled the boy by the scruff of his shirt through the apartment hallway. They had stepped out of the turbolift onto one of the higher stories that screamed luxury, heavy boots and softer shoes clacking against marble underfoot. Well, the hunter's boots clacked; Caspian's sort of just padded. Dragged at such a frantic haste, the poor boy was fighting just to keep up. His earlier attempts at fighting back had earned him a set of stun cuffs for his wrists, and the lower half of his face was covered with a durasteel mask that muzzled and silenced the boy's snapping teeth.​

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Caspian Dinn did not know quite how fortunate he was to be kept out of carbonite. There had been more than one incident since he'd been captured on Coruscant that had led the hunter to consider it, the boy was a feral little beast after all, but the thought of handing an Emperor his progeny in such a state stayed his hand. He quite liked living, after all.​

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Down below, for he was short even for his younger age, Caspian continued to fight. Tossing and turning and trying with all his might to break free. It had been impossible while in the bowels of the hunter's ship, locked away in a metal prison as he had been, but now? There had to be a way, and if there was he would find it.​

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The boy thrummed with rage, the air about him pulsing with unharnessed energy. He was ill-experienced, woefully untrained, yet there was raw power just waiting to be unleashed if he only learned how.​

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As they approached the large door at the end of the hallway, he found himself shoved to his knees. "Stay" the hunter hissed, which only goaded the boy into shoving his weight against the man's legs. It did little, save perhaps bruise Caspian's arm where it had struck the metal plating of the hunter's armour, and he earned a firm clip to the ear for his effort.​

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The hunter had already sent word ahead, promising he had something of interest to Darth Empyrean without ruining the surprise.​

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But just because he was expected did not necessarily mean he was welcome, and even a brazen hunter like Vexx Kordunn knew that.​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As though watched, a giant of a man in red armor stepped out of the door first, pike sparking on the floor. He had no facial features, no identity - all of him was entombed in sheer red plates, with almost the smallest slit for an eye hole. He looked down on them, firm, resolute, quiet. There was a moment of just study before motioned for them to enter. Inside was opulence.

The apartment was black marble and golden accents, from kitchen to balconey. The only other thing that wasn't covered in luxury was the wooden soil boxes a man in a floppy straw hat kneeled over. He had been gardening before this visit, and he did not ordain the need to stop just because. That was, at least, until he turned back to look at the two.​

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In the briefest, smallest moment he saw Caspian Dinn - he knew what surprise had been brought to him. His gaze turned a touch colder, and he wiped the dirt from his hands as he moved to stand and remove the straw hat he had on. The Emperor of the Sith strode forward with a finality befitting his station. He stopped only feet away from the two, but his gaze remained solely on the bounty hunter.​

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"And what is it you have thought to bring me?", he asked flatly. There was nothing there that would betray any kind of emotion - it was as if all the warmth, all the humanity had fled from the alabaster man in the briefest moment of their arrival. All that was left was the Dead God, waiting for an answer for the interruption.​

 

[Caspian Dinn]

As red-plate stepped forward, momentarily blocking the path ahead, the tiniest hint of a growl sounded from beneath the boy's durasteel muzzle. His ear was ringing, hot and angry where beskar gauntlet had struck once pale skin, and for a moment he thought that perhaps it was keeping him from hearing whatever was said between the pair above him.​

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Of course, nothing was missed. Nothing was said, not until Vexx grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and hauled him back up to his feet.​

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"Head bowed, eyes down" he demanded, gloved hand moving from nape to curl into the boys hair. Caspian was still refusing to come quietly, calmly, if anything he was upping his efforts to escape. A cornered animal looking for any way to avoid his fate.​

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The opulence reminded him of home, though black was white in the pristine Palaces of Adamanthea's domain. He had not seen such luxury since fleeing home in Beholder some weeks prior, and the way it juxtaposed with the rest of what he had witnessed made his stomach knot. He might not have known much about the Galaxy at large, but he knew enough to understand that such spoke of wealth... and wealth often meant power.​

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As they stopped before the white-haired man, Caspian was held in compliance by that steely first. Once more it was his knees that he was set to, held in such a way that made it impossible for him to really move. More growls rose from behind the mask, but Vexx ignored boy in favour of God.​

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"Blood" the Hunter stated, a knowing look in his eye, "of the one you call Son, Your Unholiness..."​

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Darth Empyrean ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean stared at the man for a few moments before breaking his gaze towards Caspian Dinn . He studied his features, the anger in his grandson's expression, the red irritation covering his face. Bruises. His gaze moved back to the bounty hunter and he smiled, ever so slightly.​

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"You may leave him to me. The guard outside will take you to your reward. Off with you.", he said with a motion. In that same instant, the guard from before entered and strode up to Vexx. He towered over him in stalwart silence, making clear that this wasn't a request. The man could stay, of course, but it would be the last thing he would ever do.​

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When the two exited, he reached into his pocket to pull out a small communicator. He spoke into it, quiet and carefully;​

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"There is a man coming to the sub-vaults. I want you to kill him - slowly. Make sure its understood what happens when one touches of my own kin."​

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The small device fell back into his pocket and he turned to face his grandson - all the violence drained from the Dead God, now only a man. He offered Caspian a hand, hoping to help him rise, if for no other reason than to study him himself.​

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"You look so much like your father...", he idled as he studied him.​

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"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Did he hurt you beyond bruises?"​

 

[Caspian Dinn]

Vexx did not dally, eager for the reward he was due, and in the aftermath of his prompt removal Caspian found himself able to move once more. Fight still remained within him, sure, but as his gaze was held by the white-haired man he found himself stilled. His chest still rose and fell frantically, he still fought to breathe from behind the durasteel muzzle, but flighty instincts had turned to stand-your-ground resolve.​

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A slow blink followed the communicator talk, and Caspian's eyes lit up just enough to show he understood what was happening. There was satisfaction behind them, though the boy was a little miffed he wouldn't be partaking of the hunter himself.​

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When the hand came down he did not flinch but a growl resonated from deep within him, that brief sense of gratification replaced by long held resentment. Kin meant family, and to Caspian family was no better than the man being lured to his death down below. They had never done him any good, why now would it be different?​

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And yet, something about the way in which the white-haired man spoke was... disarming. It was true, if not for the wash of dark hair and fiery eyes Caspian was very much his Father's child, he had the freckles across his nose and cheeks, and the shape of his face was undeniably Arcturus.​

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With the muzzle still in place, Caspian could not respond in words. Instead he merely nodded once for all three. By this point he felt that initial reluctance ebbing away, and he took the offered hand to rise. Still wary, still frustrated, but ... curious. He had that look in his eye Arcturus always did when something intrigued him. Insatiable and longing.​

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Darth Empyrean ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean held a deft hand, and while the Force had long abandoned him, his knowledge about things did not. Two finger flicks and the durasteel muzzle came free. He caught it as it came loose, tossing it behind him onto the patio. He'd deal with it later - for now it wasn't important.​

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"Find a seat. Get comfortable." - not so much a command as a request.​

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The once Dead God moved towards the kitchen. He pulled a board already filled with snacks - dry sausage imported from abroad, fruits, vegetables, cheeses of various kinds. It was a luxurious meal, and it was nothing more than a passive snack for one of the most powerful people in the Galaxy. With one hand he held it, and the other he brought over a sealed bottle of water - carefully marked for its purity, certification seals, and a transparisteel container that made sure it could not be tampered with. It was... excesive for water, but it was what he had on hand.​

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He placed it before the boy before finding a seat himself in the living room - across from him, near a fireplace that sat unlit. He waited for Caspian Dinn to get comfortable, to indulge in the food and water, and he would make himself available to get more if it seemed he'd run out.​

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"You might not know of me - so I'll explain it simply. I am Rhysion Talon, your grandfather. Arcturus's father. The galaxy has called me by many names you may have heard - Darth Empyrean, Darth Maliphant, Sith Emperor, Dark Lord, Sith'ari, and the Dead God. To you, I am none of those things; I am simply Rhysion.", he offered - careful and low, as to show he was not posturing, only explaining.​

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"I'm sorry for what that hunter did. If I had known it were you he were taking, I'd of intervened long before this moment. Alas - my sight is restricted. For that, I apologize. Please, if you're willing, tell me about yourself."​

 

[Caspian Dinn]

With the muzzle done away with, Caspian took a second to wipe his lower face on the back of his sleeve. The air inside the durasteel had been sticky and gross, it left his skin uncomfortable. It also hid the trail of blood trickling from his nose; this too the boy wiped away, giving no thought to how it would stain his clothes.​

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He had primed himself for a fight, balled fists held tightly together where the stun cuffs kept them locked, but when the cuffs were done away with too, and the boy was freed from all bondage, that gusto fast faded.​

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Instead, Caspian just sort of blinked up at the white-haired man. He didn't say anything, though, and it wasn't long before he was wandering from the hallway into the living room, eyes darting this way and that as he waited for the trap to snap shut. He took it all in, the splendor, the opulence, feeling more at home than he had since leaving Zaathru.​

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This was the level of lavishness he had come to expect in life; the boy might not have had a loving, stable family, but their wealth and status had never been doubted, and even Caspian - poor, scapegoated Caspian - had benefited from it.​

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Finally, he settled into a plush seat, though not before he shrugged out of his now ragged overcoat which he folded and set aside on an easy to clean table. He would not have it said he made a mess of the place, he knew what happened to little boys who made messes on expensive furniture.​

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His legs swung a little, before he drew his feet to the underside of the armchair. His hands he folded in his lap, nails picking at skin as he idled there; eyes never ceased their scanning.​

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When food was placed before him, the boy was initially wary. He sniffed the air, looked the platter over, then glanced up at his host to ensure it was okay for him to touch it. Then, and only then, he dove in, his hunger was insatiable after his time in the hunter's care, his thirst even more so. He finished off the bottle of water before introductions had even been made, then focused on the cured meats.​

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"Rhysion?" the boy finally said, his voice was a little weak but it held an edge. He wasn't meek or afraid simply assessing the situation, and that frailty spoke more of his physiological state than his emotional one. It was clear he had been, and in truth was, a sickly child. That didn't seem to hold him back, though. "Am I supposed to call you Grandfather, then?"​

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The boy tipped up his chin just a tiny amount. "I am Caspian Harper Dinn," he stated, "Where I come from, I am also revered as a God... They call me Syöjä, and they fear my scorn. I was born dead, but not even the Netherworld could contain me." Having been raised to believe himself one God of Many, it did not even occur to him that others might find the notion laughable or a sign of waning sanity. Similarly, it made perfect sense to him that Rhysion had referred to himself as a Dead God, for his Father held the mantle of God of Death among their people.​

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Nothing to balk at in Caspian's mind.​

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Darth Empyrean ​