Luke 22:48

[Ara Zambrano]

Location: Imperial Research Station Thanatos, Styx
Coordinates: 10, 0​

Abandoned.

Disquieting silence hung over the halls of the former Imperial Research Station, its halls haunted by memories and the remnants of those who had come at one time or another in search of Sith Secrets long scrubbed from the memory of the data cores and holocrons.

Ara Zambrano stood at one of the many viewports encasing the command center of the monolithic station, her helmet resting atop one of the dead monitors, this sector of the station’s vital systems restored to life at her deft hand. The easy movements of fingers across the touch pads, codes entered swiftly and surely brought the sleeping systems to roaring life, as if they had been waiting, waiting for the return of one of their own.

Canting her head to the side, the young Queen surveyed the gaseous planet far below, twin pinpricks of eyes staring from the shadows sending a shiver rolling over her spine. Small bumps raised by the eerie sensation of being watched washed over her skin beneath the layers of zeyd-cloth and amourweave, a slight variation of her old Ren armour that had been destroyed months before after the battle of Bespin. The heavy fabric of a cloak settled across her shoulder against the chill of the long-dead satellite, remnants of old Sith magic and alchemy adding to the uncomfortable environment.

Tearing her crimson gaze from the vast expanse of empty space that had captured her attention for some long moments, her eyes cast across the room around her, empty save for that disconcerting pressure between her shoulder blades. The skin between her brows pulled together in a frown as darkness was met with the hazy blur of near-blindness. Adding a touch of power to the mix, her mind following her eyes, the mental map revealing little more than her eyes did.

The flash of a familiar Force signature caught her attention shortly before the sharp sounds of footsteps alerted her to her expected companion, her lips curling up into a welcoming smile as his shadow fell across the threshold. Eyes narrowed in mirth as the purring voice added to the low hum of machinery and technology waking up from it’s long nap.

”Took you long enough, Brennan."

[member="Caehl Ren"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[WolfMortum]

​

​

The Hand of Sieger Ren​

​

His was a presence that came with no subtlety, his highly augmented body carrying his natural weight thrice over in metal reinforcement beneath that of his Armor; Caehl Ren for whom had discarded all notion of his previous life looking upon the back of the Queen of the Pacanth Expanse with no small hint of frustration within his voice that echoes across the seemingly dead station they had preyed upon.

"Your persistence to summon the ire of dead men fails to amuse me, Ara..."

His words echoed the halls sung upon a mechanical mono-tone; ever the embodiment of the Supreme Leaders vision for the First Order and the Knights of Ren, his lack of regard for his former life and the utmost denial of a sense of self outside of his over-zealous adherence to duty had become something of a sore point for [member="Ara Zambrano"], she of whom held his utmost loyalty and dear someone suggest any semblance of friendship between the two, forever failing to contest his steadfast desire to eradicate whatever came before his entrance into the Order of Ren.

Finding his reflection within the viewing platform for which his companion stared out into the abyss, Caehl Ren only saw the visage of his own staring back at him. Somewhere within the silent recess of his mind, a cold and disgusted shiver ran up what remained of his skeletal back bone. He gave no indication of such discomfort yet in his behavior, his lack of patience and desire to move forward with their mission would come with little surprise to she whom knew of his behaviors so well.

"Let us find this remnant of the Sith and be done with this Station".

The Station itself had been kind on the eyes during his approach, even against the modern technology of the First Order and his Furious Class Corvette, he had taken the time to admire what it could have been had it not been reportedly abandoned. The fact that Ara had expressed previous ownership and affiliation with the Sith Empire however had soured his impressions and moving away from the view of the world that it orbited, he took it upon himself to lead.

[member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Ara Zambrano]

A deep chuckle met his mechanical undertone, hers filled with mirth and playful warmth. The corners of her lips curled up in an amused smirk, raising one eyebrow as he approached.

”Then why do you rise to the occasion?“

Turning as he moved up beside her, Ara once again regarded the nebulous planet and expansive darkness beyond with thoughtful eyes. His impatience came as little surprise to the Master who was far used to his opinions of the Sith and everything they encompassed. Against all expectation, the boy had been willing to continue acting as her loyal companion both within her duties as a Ren and without, despite her ties to a prominent Sith bloodline.

All signs of amusement slowly melted from her face, leaving a contemplative and slightly serene expression in its place as her mind moved away from the easy banter that was her way to the task at hand. Her figure did not move as he turned away, attempting to take charge and move them further into the facility, his intent clear.

”Would it not be beneficial to know what it is you are searching for?”

A thread of admonishment belied the humor in her tone, her hands easily clasped behind her in a soldier’s rest, the prickling feeling of behind watched pushed aside and yet still raising the hairs at the base of her neck.

”This station was used for testing and research in the name of the Sith Empire, long before it fell and the One Sith rose from the ashes, destined to fall as well.”

A slight tug of her lips upward as she wondered if her thoughts, that the new Sith Empire would follow in their wake if they were not careful, were easily discernable in the pause that followed.

”There are rumors…” A light chuckle creeped in as the same words she’d spoken to [member="Darth Carnifex"] weeks ago were mirrored here, “”Rumors that amongst the death and abnormality the Sith wrought, they also found life. The power to cheat death. That is what we are here for.”

For the first time since she’d begun speaking, she let her gaze fall onto the form of Brennan Cabrol, a soft smile present, avarice shining in her eyes. Pausing the explore the extensive scars gracing the side of his face, she canted her head in thought, moving away from the viewport to run a finger over the smooth onyx dome of her helmet idly.

”If I said that I could offer you such a reprieve, not of death itself but of the death of your body, the scars you won, the pain wrought in service to the Supreme Leader, would you take it?”

Ara’s crimson gaze locked on his, her expression neutral and open, a sincere offer, no humor or teasing underscoring the words for the first time since they had made their acquaintance.

”Would you take the offer regardless of the cost?”

[member="Brennan Cabrol"]​

 

[WolfMortum]

The ability to cheat death itself...The Knight of Ren slowed to a gradual halt, not yet turning though his mind worked over the possibility and benefit of such an artifact. Unlike [member="Ara Zambrano"] however, his thoughts did not follow to either of them for such a promise but to that of Sieger Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order for whom had spoken and hinted of such a desire in the few past times he had graced his Order with his presence.

”If I said that I could offer you such a reprieve, not of death itself but of the death of your body, ​

the scars you won, the pain wrought in service to the Supreme Leader, would you take it?”​

​

There was something in Ara's tone that caused the Knight of Ren to slowly turn around and face her, his helm being removed of his head and taken under his left arm in the solitary and isolated confinement of the derelict space station, confidence in his visage that he believed only she would be privy to.

"Such a gift is not ours to abuse..." He would remind her, his words being offered bluntly and void of appeal in the suggested facade; "This artifact will be returned to Sieger Ren should it truly exist, for he has the only right to such a power...".

The Queen of Panatha seemed to be trying to tempt him, yet even for her, this didn't sit right with Caehl Ren; it was inconceivable that she should forget her place and her duty to the Order of Ren, to serve their overlord and bring his will into fruition for the betterment of Galactic Society.

"My body is reinforced iron, Ara..." He continued on to explain the benefits of such a state of being; "My strength is two-fold of any other human arrogant enough to stand against us; his bone, like clay within my grasp..." His left hand rose, fingers outstretched with a quiet and mechanical whine, the interior workings of his artificial arm playing puppet to its masters demand.

"Would I deprive the Supreme Leader of the Force that I have become ?" His words would trail for a moment, his brows furrowing, lines forming around his eyes, cracked and scarred tissue tightening against his jaw and facial structure as he looked back at her skeptically; "Would you....?".

[member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Ara Zambrano]

”Is it abuse to use an ability as it is intended?”

The simple rebuttal offered in response to his commentary, said in soft, quiet tones, the Master confident in its truth, a single eyebrow raised in question. A smirk graced her face as he suggested the item, nonexistent as it was, be returned to the Supreme Leader, her chin tilting upward in a slight nod of acknowledgement. Ara listened, quietly stoic while he spoke, demonstrating the mechanical workings of one of his replaced limbs, the whirls and clicks of the mechanism adding to the ambience of the station.

Waiting while he thought, his expression both concerned and yet, she sensed temptation within. In his pause and his mannerisms, there was a part of him that hesitated at her offer, that wanted to accept the simplicity of being whole again. Tilting her heads, loose curls cascading over one shoulder, she stepped forward, slowly starting to close the gap between them, a tendril of power rising at her call.

”Would I deprive the Supreme Leader of his mechanical monstrosities?” A sharp shake of the head and a barked laugh complemented the final word. ”Hardly. But that is what his ships and droids have to offer. His stalwart soldiers in battle, the Troopers so dedicated to his cause they know little more than the feel of a blaster in their grip. No, I would not seek to deprive him of his mechanical tools and toys…”

Trailing off as she stopped a few feet away but face-to-face with the scarred knight, her eyes once again assessing the damage to his visage, now exposed to her scrutiny.

”Nor would I seek to deprive him of a powerful Force User now crippled by the implants keeping him alive.”

The thread of power came as it was bid, wrapping itself around the boy’s throat and squeezing, enough to cut off the flow of air to his lungs for a short time. Crimson eyes met his in challenge as a second thread followed the first, wrapping around his robotic limbs, attempting to hold the Ren immobile.

”So much potential in you has been wasted, Brennan. Trapped in a shell of metal and technology, the Force no longer answering your call as it once has.” A guess as to the extent of the damage wrought by shattered nerves and twisted metal, the Queen searching for the cracks in his proud shell. ”Would you rob him of the chance to have his true soldier back? With the full strength of the Force at his disposal? Would you rob yourself of the chance to be whole?”

Stepping forward again, so close that fabric brushed against each other, breath mingling in the scant space between their bodies, dark eyes piercing into his. All she needed was his agreement, one small flash of acquiescence.

”If you are everything you can be, fight me off. Show me the strength of this mangled and twisted body. Is it enough?”

Where breath may have been a struggle to come by before, the grip around his throat tightened, constricting all airflow until he had but three choices: fight her off, pass out while trying, or recognize the failings of his current shell.

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Brennan Cabrol"]​

 

[WolfMortum]

Caehl Ren sneered back at [member="Ara Zambrano"] as he felt her aura build in the force and her grip coming to touch upon his throat; had he not known her better he would have thought this treason though between the two of them far worse had been dealt upon one another in their training and for the most part his confidence in her dark and twisted nature sought to justify the act with some sense and purpose in the end game whilst his breathing, difficult as it was had not yet been entirely cut off, her words still reaching him while he sought to intrude upon her presence the summoning of his own power that he might alleviate the threat on his composure.

The Queen of the Pacanth Expanse was not incorrect in his short comings where his cybernetic enhancements impacted and impeached upon his ability to wield the Force, that power which flowed through all living things stifled by the desecration to the natural body and unable to fuel the artificial limbs of his mechanical salvation following the incident upon Bespin and his survival of the Hilikan Facility. His price for a second breath of life had come at the expense of his potential empowerment within the Force and now facing against the prejudice of his companion, a Master of Ren, he found himself short handed and struggling to counter her argument.

”Nor would I seek to deprive him of a powerful Force User now crippled by the implants keeping him alive.”​

​

Ever since her return to the First Order, where he and her fellow Master and Commander of the Order, Decitus Ren had reunited Ara with her rightful place in the Galaxy, the Queen had always toyed with the idea of Caehl Ren's lack of genuine emotion and individuality. It was as if his stone-handed dedication to the Supreme Leader frustrated her, yet it was how he had come to dedicate his entire being to the First Order that she found sorely lacking, not his reasons as to why. Forsaking his former life, denying his acknowledgement of self and embracing his perceived lack of worth in the face of what he spoke of to be a God among men, Caehl Ren had made no small attempt to hide the fact that he had become a religious zealot with the image of Sieger Ren for his incentive, motive to fight back against the pathetic reach of the corrupt within the Galaxy seeking to deny their righteous fight for Order, yet more than this, his reason for being.

Her grip tightened, the force tensing the muscles within his throat and pressing down upon them in such pressure that his expression shifted and against his will to remain the vision of strength and dominance, his appearance changed in the struggle and pain to fight her hold over him. His body was locked, held in place by the Force that had wrapped around him like a vice for which he could not oppose. She had demonstrated her strengths during which they had trained. His was in his physical strength, his command of lesser powers while utilizing momentum and the use of a lightsaber where as Ara had in response to his offense, returned every time with a more powerful example of her dominion over the Force. They had both come to understand one another within and outside of the violence and excitement of their at times chaotic test of abilities and in their pursuit for personal strength that none might oppose them, she had learned well of his faults.

Still, defeat was not within his nature to admit. That former confidence in the likelihood that this might be one of her twisted games that she so often threw at him in promiscuous jest had now entirely subsided in the face of his vision distorting due to the lack of oxygen to his brain. His neural interface sought to work overtime, the artificial glow behind his left eye seeking to identify anything that might be within reach to oppose her, to some how use and yet to no avail, darkness slowly sunk in to his peripheral vision clouding his mind and slowing his cognitive process so much that his eyes would glaze in a sense of involuntary euphoria, for a moment finding some semblance of excitement in the complete and final termination of life served in such a disconnected and tormented state.

It was only now that his strength of pride finally waned, unable to oppose her any longer, his body caved; in her eventual lax of control the Knight of Ren would come crashing to the floor, robbed of his strength, he remained most begrudgingly within the extent of her mercy.

[member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Ara Zambrano]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztJirkY5AMw[/youtube]​

Expression hardening as he failed to fight her off, her grip on his throat never wavered. Crimson locked with his irises, blue and cybernetic, watching, waiting for his rebuttal, his denial…anything.

Stubborn boy.

Thunderous anger crossed her expression as his body gave out, the weight of his person held aloft by her power alone. The invisible fingers dissolved in an instant, allowing the cold shock of air to refill his lungs before he lost consciousness as well. A soft sigh crossed her lips as her left hand moved, reaching up to rest against to side of his face, the pads of her fingertips lightly tracing the spider web of scars dripping across his cheek and chin.

Scars similar to those Ara had seen before, on another whose service to the Supreme Leader and the Order were absolute, the Master she had once shared with [member="Brennan Cabrol"] . Would his answer to her question have been any different than the man in front of her? Lips pulled into a thin line in displeasure as she answered her own silent question, watching intently as awareness returned to the Knight with the flood of oxygen to his brain and lungs.

Once last brush of her thumb across his cheek as her hand came to rest below his jawline, fingers wrapping around his neck lightly, stepping against his frozen form.

”Your loyalty has bought you far more than this fate, Brennan. One day, you will thank me…”

Cold and devoid of any hesitation, her words punctuated the silence that had fallen, her lips pressing against his lightly, closing the distance between them.

Luke 22:48​

The tell-tale click of a saber coming free of its clip preceded the snap-hiss of a plasmatic blade roaring to life. As the fiery hue washed over the pair, Ara pulled away from the kiss, turning to whisper in his ear as her hold on the blade and his body tightened, a smooth motion sending the blade through armour and plating, sinew and bone.

”Now we are truly even.”

Her gaze cast across his face, watching with unyielding eyes as the fire of life drained from his body. The power holding him immobile slowly dissipated, released as her blade died, the mass of muscles and bones falling to the floor in a crumpled heap, broken and destroyed. Blood pounded through her veins, her heart hammering in her throat as the power of the death filled the air around them, her darkness screaming out to grab onto it, to claim it for her own. With great effort, she turned away from the corpse of her friend, a slight bow made to the figure lurking in the shadows.

”Let me know when it is done.”

Straightening, the Arch-Queen gathered her cloak and helmet, pausing once beside the Dark Lord of the Sith before she left, her words hanging between them.

[member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Where once there was shadow now resided two eyes peering through the darkness like pinpricks of brilliant fire, and the shadows seemed to convulse and part as their occupant discarded the shroud that had concealed him. A cloak of ruby hung from his muscular shoulders while silver and black armor hugged his titanic frame, every scrap of his existence exuding power and violence. Around his neck hung an amulet inlaid with a single Corusca gem that concealed what the shadows could not -- his typically overwhelming presence in the Force.

With a single hand he drew back the heavy cowl from his face, which had been painted to resemble a skull in preparation for the dark magicks he was preparing to invoke. He said no words to Ara as she passed him, only extending a curt nod as his eyes remained fixated on the body sprawled on the dirty steel floor.

Brennan's soul had attempted to depart its mortal coil once the final blow had been struck, but by the Dark Lord's malign powers it was rendered powerless and cocooned within the prison of flesh and bone.

Deaf, blind, and dumb.

Perhaps he would be aware of his predicament, perhaps he wouldn't. What would remain a certainty, however, is that Brennan's soul was currently incapable of passing on to the Netherworld of the Force and trapped in his own warm corpse.

The Dark Lord's right hand twitch and the body rose from the ground and began to levitate through the air until it neared a previously unseen doorway. It opened to reveal a room similar to the one they had previously occupied with several major differences. New technology had been placed all about the room, vital monitors, power generators, and most importantly; a cloning creche. Inside rested the body of Brennan Cabrol, thought not the one he was used to.

It was entirely new, skin smooth and unblemished, hair full, facial features untouched. An oxygen mask was affixed to the inert clone's face, cycling oxygen in and out of its unused lungs in preparation for the transfer.

Carnifex lowered Brennan's corpse onto the nearby operation table and prepared for the ritual. Though simplistic in visuals, the ritual of essence transfer was exceedingly taxing and required a great deal of concentration and energy to maintain and successfully execute. The Dark Lord centered his being, focusing on the wellspring of hate that boiled and seethed at his very core, reaching out with ethereal hands to grasp the trapped soul and unshackle it from its prison. He eased it from one vessel to another, anchoring the soul to the clone body with infusions of Dark Side energy that would permanently taint the body with the power of the Dark Side, acting like the mortar that held a stone building's individual bricks together.

It was done after that, and the Dark Lord's shoulders fell in visible exhaustion as a sigh of relief seeped out from between his lips. It was up to Ara to awake him, Carnifex could not be seen accompanying her when she did.

And thus he would take his leave, his task complete.

[member="Ara Zambrano"] | [member="Brennan Cabrol"]​

 

[WolfMortum]

As she released him, the heavily form of Caehl Ren would be carried unto the cold durasteel floor upon the weighted impact of metal and flesh, the air gradually returning to him that his consciousness might slowly return yet not fast enough to keep him from landing upon his back, his hazed vision looking up for what seemed like a life-long instant caught in a state lacking of malcontent. He simply lacked the presence in mind to seek to fight against [member="Ara Zambrano"]'s approach, awake and yet immobilized he felt her touch upon his lips, her words difficult of hearing though they registered almost as soon as the immediate pain that arced throughout his upper-body.

Hers was a treason well executed, her blade had found one of the few vulnerabilities in his armor; a testament to her training against him these past few months. Ara had led him in upon an appealing lie and here he lay, his blood pooling slowly beneath him, staring back up at her in disbelief and anger. This was his reward for growing sentiment and trust in another; how could he understand her motives when he lay upon the cusp of death and saw only her betrayal.

”Now we are truly even”​

​

Revenge for his failings upon the world of Bespin, his blade had found its way through to her in the deceitful counter-attack of the Jedi they had engaged; now she had pierced his heart in the same manner that the had taken to her mid-section, only that this was a well constructed plot for vengeance that left his vision fading upon the realization that nothing had been what he had foolishly believed.

Had he been played...

​

​

Suspended within his own private purgatory unable to make sense of the darkness around him, what consciousness he could cling to still recognized himself as the embodiment of his final moments, yet the images that flowed around him carried the memories of his past; hatred and anger rolling over him for the vision of the once Jedi Enclave that had stood as his home as a child. In this vision, he the Knight of Ren watched as the youth around him for whom had once been his friends; were soon thrown into anarchy as the walls were breached and silhouettes of shadow Caehl Ren knew to be the One Sith that had invaded, sought to cut everyone of them down. It was the defining moment that bred him into what he had become, having something to treasure and then seeing it all ripped apart at such a vulnerable age, pegging him against both sides of the veil for which he refused alignment; a calling that made his service to the Knights of Ren and that of the Supreme Leader seem so pre-ordained, that these wounds be vindicated by the blood of both the Jedi too weak to stand on their own, and the Sith whom had taken everything from him...-Yet it all dispersed back into shadow, the vision around him dissipating and leaving him feeling void of anything much the same way his captivity to the Sith had rendered him.

The virtue of the Jedi had been a facade to overshadow and hide their weakness.

He found himself next within the Bastion of Ren for which before him stood his peers all fighting amongst themselves over their perceived self-righteous and greater dedications to their overlord, Sieger Ren. Each had looked to the figure head of the First Order as a God and yet had forsaken their peers in an attempt to better amend their own stature and significance before him. It had disgusted Caehl Ren to stand before such inadequacy among their own kind for whom were meant not to feel such individual worth and it had shaken his faith in that the Order of Ren's ability might not be as steadfast as he had believed. Only when the Supreme Leader himself had entered and reprimanded them all, had his peers and fellow Ren bowed their heads in mutual silence and remorse.

Among such abominable disregard for duty, ascension over the thralls of impudence demanded greater sacrifice.

The third and final vision of his past came as a far more recent revelation, that of which now felt to be a life time ago yet beyond his comprehension subdued by the veil between life and death, a mere hour had passed to which he lay upon a cold slab with the Dark Lord of the Sith, [member="Darth Carnifex"] stood looking down upon his corpse and readying the malign dark magicks of Sith Sorcery and sciences lost to only the most established of practitioners in their ways.

Ara Ren stood by his side, they looking out through the transparent panel of the Space-stations viewing platform overlooking the nearby world they orbited and the dark blanket of space dotted with the light of dying stars. She had spoken of prolonging death, the denial of what he had become for the potential rebirth into power. Her question posed to him still failed to make sense within his recollection of what had come to pass and yet somewhere beneath the venomous betrayel that he felt so surely of, there remained a lingering truth behind the lines that she had offered him. He had become less of what he should have been and in what was required of him to ascend the ranks and truly become an asset to the First Order, he had fallen short in his narrow sighted vision of what Sieger Ren demanded of them. His sacrifices had denied the path to power that could have been.

And so it would seem that his Death would bring about the hindsight to echo his flaws.

Finally he understood the answer to Ara Zambrano's question.

Too little too late.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Welcome back, Brennan.​

The room was washed in a hazy of orange and silver, reflections from the glass of the viewport and the rays of the sun arcing across the smooth curve of Styx far below. The bright light bounced off the metal and chrome angles, the long untouched private living chamber cold and uninviting to its current occupants.

One palm resting on the smooth glass of the large viewport, the feature her main purpose in choosing this particular space to occupy while the ceremony was completed, Ara Zambrano glanced back at the cloned body of [member="Brennan Cabrol"] with a slight cant of her head. The smooth curve of his face caught her gaze, a familiar bone structure peeking out from beneath skin that was now unblemished and whole. Her cursory examination, not the first the Master had done in the hours since [member="Darth Carnifex"] had taken his leave, shifting to encompass the entirety of the body resting on the small bunk, a blanket thrown over for his comfort and modesty more than hers.

The ritual had gone without issue, the Dark Lord of the Sith leaving the boy’s awakening to her discretion. The slab upon which his body had rested for the duration of the Essence Transfer was hardly suitable for his return to reality, and so she had moved him to the room prepared with a set of fresh clothing, tray of snacks and refreshments, and the Ren’s personal items. The broken and twisted body once known as Caehl Ren rested in the creche which once held his new form, preserved should he or the Order wish to salvage the now unnecessary cybernetic implants. All that was left was to rouse the man from his suspended animation.

Touching his mind with a simple application of the Force, she let the words slide through his consciousness, calling the Knight back to the realm of the living.

Leaning back against the edge of the viewport, her figure framed by the darkness of the universe and the contrasting sunrays, fiery crimson watched while he stirred, a small smirk curling one corner of her lips upward. The anger and betrayal in his expression at the last bespoke of the volatile confrontation to come.

 

[WolfMortum]

Awake.

His eyes opened with no moment of warning to prepare his new body for the shock of it's first conscious intake of air taken on its own without the aid of respiratory equipment or the tank for which had fueled the bodies constant conditioning, now suspended and reliant upon his retention of mortality.

In an instant the recollection of his past and the ether-real sense that he had concluded from the vision beyond the reach of life had disappeared, cast aside and lost to the annuls of his sub-conscious now to be revived of his own mind, his own perceptions and control of his physical form. A form that despite the strength he recalled holding and voicing to that of [member="Ara Zambrano"], seemed to have been lost completely.

Movement came to him, his body shifting against the bed bunk though it was marginal and his right hand took a great deal of effort to finally bring to raise in front of his light of sight, his head stationary and muscles unresponsive for the initial revival as his mind sought to re-adapt to the replacement of his former shell.

What he saw didn't seem possible. The flesh of his hand, fingers all in tact and unblemished, no scarred flesh stretched across his fore-arm to cover the loss of muscle mass and deformation wrought against him through the fires of Bespin. His hand contained no cybernetic replacements where as he now had normal, natural fingers, his eyes trailing down them to follow the lines of his inner palm and soon find the sight of living veins beneath the skin of his wrist, all of which resembled the figure of perfection, one that did not belong to him.

"Wha..." He tried to question what it was that he was seeing, yet his voice came as both a struggle and a shock to him without the mechanical monotone of his former self. Lowering his hand some, his elbow returning to the bed, hand curling into a loose fist, his gaze slowly shifted, eyes searching the room in which he inhabited, more or less falling to the right that he might take in the far figure across the room from him.

Taking his time to form his word slowly, he found his voice through the imitation of his former self, speaking out loud enough for she to hear the confusion and aversion to his state of awakening in the way of demanding question; "What have you done...".

 

[Ara Zambrano]

The Arch-Queen watched in silence while he tossed and turned, acclimating himself to the reality of his new state of being. Hesitation and shock controlled his movements, the Knight’s gaze moving not to his surroundings, but to his hand and the intact flesh he found in place of cybernetics and cold metal. Her own eyes followed his along the curve of his arm, her ears picking up the subtle changes in sound that others might not recognize, the natural hiss of an intake of breath, the hammering of a heart beating on its own.

What was gloriously missing was the irregular sound of mechanical gears whirring and clicking, metal scrapping across solid surfaces instead of the soft brush of skin. The corners of her lips turned up in a slight smile in silent approval at the work her grandfather has accomplished in such a short period of time.

"Wha..."

The warbling word broke the stillness of the room as [member="Brennan Cabrol"] propped himself up on one arm, his reverie finally coming to an end as he searched for her familiar presence. Raising an eyebrow in response to his question, arms crossed lightly in front of her, Ara let his words hang in the air for a moment, one eyebrow raised in response.

”I made you whole again.”

Her voice was sure and confident, the words a slight twist of the truth, continuing to keep the Dark Lord’s involvement in the transfer to herself. The secrecy of the situation was partially for his own benefit, his disdain for those deemed Sith well known in her mind. Plausible deniability on [member="Darth Carnifex"]’s was the other. The favor he had done for her was not without cost on either of their parts, confidentiality going far ensuring no addition repercussions could be wrought against them.

Moving away from the viewport, she stepped into the shadowy gloom of the room, her hand idly running over the surfaces of the small dinette set nearest her, crimson irises trained on Brennan.

”I offered to give you back everything you had once lost, and I so I did.”

Threads of warmth belied the cold certainty of her tone, her expression hard behind the familiar kindness, any regret for the circumstances of their situation non-existent in both. Tilting her head to the side with a wicked smile, Ara paused, having bridged half the distance between them in a few soft steps. There was potential within him again, a bright nebula of power stirring in his core that had been muted for far too long, trapped as it was in a cage of phrik and cybernetics. Now he just needed to realize the gift he’d been given for himself.

But death and betrayal were not easily overcome, both lessons the Hapan was intimately familiar with.

 

[WolfMortum]

Though he had been robbed of his former body, he had retained the experiences and knowledge gained during that former life; enough to feel, think and act like his old self. Moving to push himself up, his legs shifting to touch down with the cold metal floor at the base of the bedding quarters, he leaned forward to press his elbows down into his knees, his hands up about his head, fingers trailing through his hair that had grown during the clone forms growth within the Cloning Creche.

His skin felt smooth, his hair still slick and damp from the body's removal of the great tank; it all seemed so foreign to him and yet baring the same ownership of self that his soul had clung to with his former form, his senses had already attuned themselves to this new physique, that which recognized the whole of his new self. He could feel his stomach as it tightened, no longer artificial and unyielding, hunger had returned though he would see such things mended some time later where his mind wasn't so alive with questions and engulfed within confusion and frustration for what she had done to him.

"You ran me through..." He remarked somewhat bluntly though his tone lacked any hostility that she might have expected from him. There was movement but it was not quick nor aggressive. Brennan rose from his bunk, reaching for the bed above to steady himself upon shaken footing, his legs really being used for the first time in their...Or his new life. His second coming, so to speak. At this point in time, he did not care for modesty, [member="Ara Zambrano"] had removed his freedom of choice and soon after his life, there were worse fates than she seeing him void of clothing, though that of which was his intention now.

Seeking out and pulling on the fresh attire that she had prepared for him, it wasn't difficult to presume where it had come from. They were an attire of his own, she clearly having taken them from his place on Panatha for which he had temporarily holed up while seeking to dedicate his days to her protection and strong-guard of the Throne. Everything was black. His Trousers and shirt for which was short sleeved, his boots capped of steel and laced half way up his shin, they were sturdy and fit for combat unlike the other thin material yet it was all for his comfort and reminder of a sense, something familiar to overshadow such a situation.

"I cannot decide whether I should thank you or kill you..." Brennan turned to look over to her, something about his tone lacked seriousness in the words only to be complimented by his lack of anger that should have been strewn across his face. "You are far more persistent and conniving than I gave you credit for..." He continued, the ease in which he voiced his thoughts coming somewhat more freely than in past times, as if her successful murder of him had in some twisted way made him feel more comfortable before her. The Freedom of life after death had it's ways of ridding one of their former petty grievances.

"Seeing as you have forced my hand, perhaps you would entertain my questions as to why and what you expect will follow from here...".

 

[Ara Zambrano]

"You ran me through..."

Where anger and heat, even skepticism were expected, only blunt neutrality rang in his words, the Master waited, expecting more to come. Instead he rose and moved to dress, Ara’s gaze staying on him for the entirety of the process, watching each minute movement, his nudity barely of interest to the Epicanthix. Her expression passive as she searched for signs of weakness in his limbs, shaking or twitches, assessing the strength and vitality in his new form, a soft smile growing as she was once again pleased with the outcome of her endeavor.

A raised brow met his glance as he turned, clad once again in his own clothes, a remnant of the Disciple of Ren she had met so long ago.

”I did what needed to be done, as I always have.”

Tilting her head as she took a moment to cast one more analyzing glance across his frame, she nodded in final satisfaction, turning away from the weight of his gaze. Moving past him, acutely aware of his eyes on her throughout, Ara made her way to a second pile of fabric and personal items, plucking one in particular from the top of the small heap.

”You may ask what you will, as you have always been welcome to. As for what I expect, I believe that goes along with your first statement.”

Another deep chuckle rolled across her lips as she turned back to him, the smooth metal hilt of his saber offered in her outstretched hand, her crimson gaze locking with his. All signs of humor or warmth had fled, utter seriousness shinning in her eyes and her posture as she returned his weapon to him.

”You are welcome to try, [member="Brennan Cabrol"] . While we remain here, removed from the holdings of the First Order, from the eyes of those above us, you may extract what vengeance you feel necessary. Strike out at me as best you can, against the one who rid you of choice and life. But be warned, I will give you this one chance, no more.”

Stepping forward again, she closed the gap between them once more, a small wicked smile turning up the corners of her mouth. The positioning eerily similar to that of a mere hours before, the moments before she turned her blade on him, intentional, seeking to push him to the limits of the neutrality he exhibited. If there was any anger within, she would pull it from him now. They would deal with the repercussions here amongst themselves alone.

”Ask. Act. Fight. Lash out. All are well within your rights. Here, in this abandoned place, we are Brennan and Ara, only. Once we depart, we will return to Master and Knight of Ren, I will once again be the Arch-Queen, and we will act accordingly. One chance.”

 

[WolfMortum]

Extending his right hand to take his lightsaber into grasp, Brennan's narrowed in defiance at the sight of the weapon and all that it represented. Something had changed in him, though he barely understood it himself, [member="Ara Zambrano"] had incidentally released him from the shallow fanaticism that had become his faith in the doctrine of [member="Sieger Ren"]; he had allowed himself to become consumed with the image of their leader. Order and duty was expected of the Knights of Ren, yet he had become obsessed to such a degree that he had forfeited the strength he had once been capable of in the pursuit of the strength of another. The Supreme Leader required such loyalties yet Ara had tried to warn him in the past that forsaking ones ability in the reverence of another is no way to live.

Moving to step on passed her, seeming to ignore her words entirely, he approached the lifeless husk that was the body he inhabited only hours prior. These implants and modifications fit to the pale flesh of his former self had crippled his potential within the Force, the surge of darkness that he now felt swelling around him in response to his frustration and anger over so many years wasting away in complacency where he should have been growing in strength and the absolution of power that would truly be fit for the First Order's service; not as a slave but as an individual spurred on by his freedom of choice and belief in who they were and what they represented for the future of the Galaxy as opposed to some ridiculous notion of fate, a future that he himself was the only one capable of bringing into fruition for himself.

"The corpse will come with me, there is much I can do with the technology within it..." He finally spoke up, his tone cold and dark yet too baring a presence of desire and emotions that rolled over him formerly void of what she would have witnessed before this event had been forced upon him. Turning back to cast his gaze upon her, he took a moment to glance about the room searching for any sign of security devices or recording equipment before focusing once more upon her and now with the knowledge that they were completely free of the First Order's ever watching eye, he spoke more plainly to the heart that beat within his chest, the truth for which was an extremely rare factor beyond harsh facts and stale lectures of his former convictions before now.

"Were you another, I would take pleasure in striking down for such an act forced upon me...." He began, the harsh tone that had been in his words softening in place for quiet and reluctant sentiment; his presence caked in the darkness that the Force pooled around, this new body being tested in probing the environment they shared, his senses expanding and retracting back to him slowly seeking to adapt to his new body. "You however...Have been the only one that I have allowed myself to trust beyond that of our duty and the expectations of the Order of Ren. For what happened on Bespin, you were owed vengeance. My lust for violence within the Hilikan Facility led to your defeat, manipulated by that foul Jedi woman....".

The neglect of his would be revenge would no doubt surprise her, though too would it echo the very changes within his mental psyche now without the workings of cerebral implants and such dire self hate and loathing over his former self. "The implant within the skull transmits straight to Dosuun, Decitus Ren will be are of all that I saw before you ended my life...-There will be questions and you will be interrogated unless we are able to remain in accordance with each other. We will present ourselves before her, together..." he expected that [member="Samka Derith"] would be beyond words for [member="Ara Zambrano"]'s actions; it was his belief however that if they were able to show the unity between them remained, and convince her of the strength that he could attain through this new body becoming a larger asset for the Order of Ren, then perhaps Ara's consequences would be mild and she retain her place within the Order ever still.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

A short and curt inclination of her head met his proclamation that he would claim his previous body, the Master’s lack of use for a broken and twisted shell meaning she had little interest in contesting his claim. She would just as easily have left it here to rot, the technology within meaning little to her, although she could see the merits in its reclamation.

”It is yours, of course.”

A surge in the force set her blood to singing while he moved past her, the Arch-Queen waiting for the first volley, for the tell-tale feeling of pressure around her throat or the snap-hiss of his blade coming to life. Tension hung heavy between them for a few long moments before he spoke again, his tone and words settling her teeth on edge with their lack of emotion. Again, that damnable stubbornness peaked through, her eyes rolling up in a visible show of disdain as he moved past. Turning to follow his path with her gaze as he wandered into the room, her own stoic expression broken up by the slightest bit of frustration shinning in the depths of her irises.

Dangerous. The lack of powerful emotion, of anger, betrayal, even distrust, was a dangerous precedent. Left to fester, they would only act as a roadblock in his path to power, as much as the metal cage his former body had been encased in.

”The repercussions are mine alone to face, I knew the risks when I made my decision.”

A small smirk turned up the corner of her mouth, her words final and sure, a decision to face the wrath of the Overlords on her own, unwavering. Her expression and tone brooked no argument, her attention turning away from the future and back to the task at hand.

”Were I another….”

Ara’s head tilted to the side, curls tumbling over her back and shoulder, frustration replaced by the fierce attention of a hunter, predatory gaze locked onto his form.

”Were I another, you would strike me down without a thought for murdering you in cold blood. For robbing you of choice…breath…life…you would raise arms against me. You would find pleasure in it. Why am I any different, Brennan?”

Each word was punctuated with a step forward, her own power growing to answer him, a menacing tone slipping into her voice, curiosity sparkling in her crimson irises. She would pull the emotion out of him, let him face the demons within and banish them before they could become another crutch on his path to power.

”I should be the one you want to strike down the most. Or have they truly broken you so far that you allow yourself to be used by those you trust the most, allow yourself to be wholly and utterly betrayed on the feigned notion of vengeance?”

Each push and prod searched for a crack in his armour, a sign of wrath tucked deep within. Coming to a rest in front of him, her circle complete, she waited again, words trying to break through his shell were her power had before. Something would succeed, somehow…she just needed the right leverage.

[member="Brennan Cabrol"]

 

[WolfMortum]

[member="Ara Zambrano"] circled around him, the Knight of Ren standing motionless, his eyes hazing over while he took in her words in the entirety of their meaning, not choosing to follow her with his gaze but rather feel the force as it flowed around her every movement. Once more, her tone changed and ran along that seductive edge, like a knife running against the skin so gently that it's blade might just be shy of slicing through, hers was a knife that sought to invoke his emotions, always seeking to chastise and invoke the depth of his emotions that he might show an ounce of individuality, proof that he was indeed capable of acting human.

On the outside, he remained calm and completely within control of himself, he had always maintained this visage of stability despite being anything but stable. Before where devoted himself to the utter denial of a life and state of being before the Ren, passing his past life and the memories associated with it off as weak and irrelevant to his service to the Supreme Leader; now his outlook on things had changed entirely, those memories truly encompassing another life whose failures and triumphs were a wealth of learning that he would not repeat his mistakes. The one crucial mistake in Ara's perception of his almost docile state of being, was that she still saw the representation of denial where as in truth, he was finally coming to accept everything for what it was, and learning better still to harness the control over his inner demons that their Master had once struggled to teach him during his apprenticeship under Talon Ren.

And so she would receive her wish, though not in the erratic and chaotic flare of rage that she hoped he would fly into.

His left hand struck out for her throat as she landed her final step back in front of him; within his grip he felt her jugular tighten, his hold upon her restricting her air flow as he turned and brought her back into the nearby wall of the room with a loud crash sending the nearby table and bloodied blades from the ritual sprawling across the floor, scattering with a loud clatter of small pieces of metal upon the stations polished surface. Stepping in towards her, his face showed no sign of anger, a great contrast to the violent position he had now put her in, his body stepping in to press close to hers, her feet lifting at the heels as he used the most of his strength to keep her just slightly elevated, not unable to reach the floor with her toes yet enough so to keep the control within his design, speaking to her in that same cold and sterile demeanor for which lacked any conviction beyond what his actions deemed aggressive.

"I do believe you held me in a similar position where you took my life, am I not correct?" He spoke quietly, his breath close enough to be felt upon her cheek, his face aligned against the left of hers that his words would reach her ears with ease while she would be gasping for breath where she willing to show such weakness before him; "You kissed me as your blade drove through my chest and my life slowly waned from that corpse behind us...-I wonder what your last dying breath would taste like upon my lips were I to break your neck right now and give you the satisfaction of your death you seem to so desperately crave..." He turned in, his lips finding hers and pressing himself against her, his hand around her throat tightening even more so in an attempt to inspire some kind of sound, anything if not to simply show the vibrancy of life she so liked to flourish before pulling away and literally dropping her in her place, allowing her lungs to fill once more.

Looking down at her, his eyes squinted at the sight of her discomfort, speaking with a fair bit more sincerity in his expression now as he wished her to truly understand the words to come, the explanation as to why her life was to be spared his vengeance. "We shared the same Master you and I, he failed the both of us and has fled the First Order without evidence of his deeds. I know not what become of him, my training was left incomplete. It wasn't until Bespin that I felt a connection to someone other than myself since my being taken under his tutelage. I sought to bring you back to the First Order not because I was ordered by [member="Samka Derith"] but because yours was a life worth more than my own and one that I helped to steal from Sieger Ren. Beyond this, the guilt was mine to behold and that ran deeper than the failure to secure the facility itself...Do not mistake my inaction for inability...".

 

[Ara Zambrano]

A grip around her throat…

The impact of Durasteel against her back…

The press of his body against hers, her own weight suspended by his grasp on her neck…

Each one a trigger to lash out, and yet, crimson eyes met his calmly. His voice whispered through her ears, devoid of emotion still, his actions speaking either of great restraint or a rise to the challenge she had presented him with, to prove that he was more than just a husk. Labored breathing hissed out between her lips, a result of the vice-like grip against her jugular, heartbeat racing as adrenaline flooded through her veins.

Power rose to her call, blood thrumming with the promise of violence and yet, the half-Epicanthix held it in check, allowing him a moment of dominance as he spoke. Words faded, her own dark chuckle adding to the mix, amused at his wonderings and the implication that she would allow him to best her so easily. Already, the press of an invisible hand settled between her skin and his, prepared to snap his fingers back at the first sign of increased pressure. While she might allow the Knight a chance at his own form of vengeance against her machinations, he would find the task far more difficult than he gave credit to.

Mouth parting to force a retort through constricted lungs, the sound cut off instead by lips meeting hers, surprise flashing across her face.

A gasp torn from her throat as his fingers tightened ever so slightly, the air that had been so difficult to come by in the seconds before, now completely severed…still, there was no tell-tale crunch of bone breaking, the darkness gathered yet unleashed.

Why….?

A question to encompass so many differing thoughts while they hung suspended in a momentary bubble of time and space, spots dancing on the edges of her vision, the velvet pressure of lips against her mouth, the hard, smooth planes of his new body pinning her in place. Heat rushed through her, mind searching for reason behind the action.

The reason behind her inaction.

His fingers wrapped dangerously around her esophagus, her own power coiled to tear them away, and yet she hesitated.

The press of his body, lips, and hand vanished unexpectedly, the Arch-Queen falling to the floor, knees hitting steel in a shock of pain. A wash of icy air filled her lungs as her gaze snapped up again, meeting his own as she regained her feet, mind whirling.

Tension stretched between them as he spoke again, her own thoughts turned inward, towards her indolence in the preceding moments, deep gulps of air taken to refill her lungs. Anxiety crept into her gut as she contemplated, a deep-seated fear stirring within, even as denial dominated her mind. Emotion leaked into his tone now, beseeching her understanding as he spoke of the difference between inability and inaction. Connection.

A thunderous expression crossed her face as Ara stepped forward, the throbbing pain of bruises that would form come morning, pulsing with every breath she took. The anger that rode behind the thoughts washed over her, a sway in her step as she moved, ever the predator. Anger was better than fear.

Anger was better than the absence of fear.

Desperation drove her onward as he finished speaking, pulling his face back to hers and locking them in an embrace once again. She could turn this moment away from the meaning behind his words, fight against the thoughts that scared her more than his threats or his grip had. Thoughts and emotions that stemmed from within.

”Is that what you want to taste, my death?”

This time it was her lips that met his, cutting off any reply he might give, fire burning through her.

[member="Brennan Cabrol"]

 

[WolfMortum]

His touch upon her lips had been an imitation of her previous actions taken against him and guided by a wealth of passion he didn't truly have a controlling grasp upon, the confusion and lack of self restraint was all foreign to the Knight of Ren who had formerly been devoted so fanatically towards the Order of Ren that he had chosen to forgo all ownership of self and pursuits for individuality; it was [member="Ara Zambrano"] whom had always sought to combat his disregard of self, her moments of promiscuous approach and attempts to appeal to his sentient desires often deflected by his cold and emotionless exterior; yet his mind was renewed in that he had a natural body reborn of purity and strength in the Force, his cerebellum lacking the damage that had been wrought upon him during the incursion on Bespin and more in touch with himself now than he had ever allowed himself to be before hand, his connection with Sarathiel well beyond the limits of duty and service to the Ren now but personally attached to the point of prioritizing her before all others. It was for this reason that he couldn't bring himself to harm her despite the trust that she had broken in running him through with her blade. A loyalty there for her that in a sense mimicked the fanaticism he had carried for Sieger Ren; only this was something else...Brennan Cabrol knew now the words to do this revelation justice.

Her proximity was exhilarating, adrenaline flowing through him with a rush of yearning that could only compare to the rush that he received in the heat of combat, the passion invoked by Sarathiel however was something else, lacking hostility and rife with lust and want for dominion over, to claim and to make his, to envelope within his presence and dominate everything that stood before them if only she remained his. Were it fleeting or were these emotions real, long lasting or even realistic, he could not tell. The experience was such a far cry from any personal interactions held with those within the First Order, dating as far back to his time upon the world of Svivren, to trust and feel for another life, it was a vulnerability that he would never have allowed in the past...-Yet he had been freed of his past life and born anew by her hand, in an image that resembled the visage of natural power he should have maintained through out his life, before the treachery and immolation cast against him by the Jedi of the Galactic Alliance.

Feeling her lips meeting and caressing his own, Brennan found it difficult to know whether he wanted to allow himself to be consumed in her manipulation and control or to fight against her and take charge over her actions, her body and her life. This benign combination of violence, aggression and twisted passion, the internal battle being waged within to simply allow himself this pleasure. He found his hand around her throat easing, yet not being removed from her body but taking her by the shoulder and stepping in to once again pin her back against the wall. It was not forceful yet his desire for her was as evident as the contact and touch of their bodies against one another. In the silence and isolation of the Installation she had brought him too, there were no limits, no holds barred nor obligations or security measures restricting them from falling victim into their desires.

The Dark-side of the Force pooled to their almost feral instincts, their emotions no longer behind restrained nor hindered by outside interference nor duty, Brennan Cabrol's presence within the Force against his awareness of such, had grown tremendously within the lust and willingness to allow himself to be led by his human desires, there were no snide remarks nor retorts laced with sarcasm that Ara would receive as was often the case; instead the pair of them would find themselves engulfed in the heat of the moment, taking in by unresolved feelings strengthened by the torments they had survived and surpassed alongside each other for all the hardships and obstacles faced in their past.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bLdDPIa6G8[/youtube]​

She half expected him to pull away, to rebuke her teasing words and her advance, to play off the casual seduction as he always had, the return to that cool stoicism that was so damnably frustrating. The grip she maintained on the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers, relaxed as the warmth of his palm against her shoulder pushed her away, her back coming to rest once again against the smooth metal of the wall. Where the Arch-Queen expected to feel emptiness and the sharp bite of cold air, there was instead the press of his body against hers, surprise and the electric thrill of lust zipping through her as he deepened the kiss.

Fingers curling into the still damp curls at the nape of his neck, her eyes closed as power swirled around them, bloodlust and ardor mixing flowing from one to the other until they burned from within with the strength of the other’s desire. Death surrounded them, the power of his life taken at her hand, a dark, siren call in the absence of any other sentient life save theirs. Pulling the Darkness deep within her core, lips curled up into a soft smile against his embrace, losing herself to the moment of shared passion.

All thoughts fled save the touch of his skin against hers, rationality replaced with hunger as they fell together, fear and repercussions fading into the background as that final distance was bridged between them. Here amongst the wreckage of the Sith Empire, for a few fleeting moments, they existed, not as a Queen and her loyal servant, not as a Knight and Master of Ren, but as Aa Zambrano and [member="Brennan Cabrol"] . The last hesitation between them burned away with a touch, a final nail sealing her within a coffin of her own making.

Trust.

One hand curled in the cream sheet wrapped around her naked form, holding its folds against her chest, crimson eyes cast out once again at the ethereal blues and violets of the planet far below, the bright rays of Styx’s secondary sun soothing compared to the harsh ambers from earlier. As before, the Master stood framed in the light of the viewport, the vast emptiness of space opening before her, the sleeping frame of her friend, and now lover, still resting against the back of the bunk of the chamber, hushed breaths breaking through the stillness of the abandoned station. The scene a mirror of before, shadows cast in different hues, and yet trapped in the same tranquility of before, now born of revival instead of death.

Doubt plagued her thoughts, a dark expression narrowing her eyes as the half-Epicanthix caught the shadowy reflection of her visage in the iridescent glass, fiery orbs burning back onto herself, accusation and assessment shining within. Threads of fear once again curled in her gut, pulsing with a dark sense of foreboding, clashing dramatically with the satisfied warmth that settled through the rest of her body. A whisper of admonishment washed across her mind, the feeble, broken trust of a child pulled to the foreground of her ruminations, even in such a moment of satisfied calm.

The minute changes in breathing patterns broke through her reverie, augmented hearing ensuring that even such subtle changes did not pass unnoticed by the young Zambrano. Lips curling up in a wicked smile as she turned, the skin of her exposed shoulder resting against the cool glass of the window, volatile emotions once more repressed as her gaze found the now open eyes of the Knight of Ren.

”Welcome back, Brennan.”

A honeyed purr, filled with warmth and an undercurrent of dark humor as she mimicked her own words from before, watching with sadist amusement for his reaction.