Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Mr Mand'alor

If anything Vesphira had a knack for getting into places she wasn't meant to be. Breaking into the home of Isley was no different. Sitting his his favorite chair and drinking his whiskey?That was just the kicker. She had disappeared from the face of the Earth, presumed dead to some save her daughter. It was no surprise when Isley found another source of warmth to keep his bed warm at night. He was what he was. He was always a loose swine, drifting from one pretty face to the next.

The one thing Vesphira could say, he did have taste she had seen a few of his picks. Had she not set her sights on him and decided he was the one for her then she may have dipped into the pool of pretty faces. Drifting into silence , she would lean back and enjoy the feel of the warmth of the whiskey sliding down her throat, she would wait, patiently polishing her blades that lay across her lap.

She knew his schedule quite well, his routines and his interesting little quirks. She was more annoyed that his home wasn't secure enough given the fact that her grandchild decided to reside with him. She and Mr Mand'alor would be having a talk about a few things, the first being Deneve's call to the darkness. The second being his crappy parenting skills. She had heard he had more kids and just scoffed upon learning the stories of each from Deneve on her trip. Though she wasn't surprised. Isley was who he was. Parental skills weren't his thing though she imagined he did try. If she knew anything about Isley, she knew his children were stubborn and most likely giving him a hard time. Something that amused her. Amused her greatly.


So here she was, slightly buzzed and polishing knives within the home of the man she might love. Not that she'd admit it. She was here waiting for him.


[member="Isley Verd"]
 
"AND THEN THIS MOTHERKARKER SAID, and I KARKING QUOTE 'I didn't desire Mand'alor! Like WHAT? Zef. ZEEEEF. I'm done man, I need a drink. No, scratch that, I need several drinks."

The events which had transpired on Mandalore were...well, they had left Isley with quite a bad taste in his mouth. His peers, the A'lore Council, were marred by a virus. Pride. While it had justiably come to be, it had left them cold to the notion of a new, Sole Ruler. And Isley? Well, he had made the decision to "kark them" and "keep on living." He did not take the mantle of Mand'alor for his own sake; in fact, he was getting too old for the poodoo. Hell, he could have cashed in all that money he had made over the years, found a nice pot to piss in, and said "kark you" to the Galaxy.

But no, he decided to get off his rather exquisite rear and do something about the sorry state of his people. Sue him.

Ranting and raving to his best friend, the infamous [member="Zef Halo"], Isley was almost too wrapped up in venting to notice that the door to his residence had been opened. Almost. "...I'm gonna call you back..." he said, instinct rearing its ugly head. His hand dipped to his utility belt, gripping firmly the hilt of the Darksaber. Cautious steps bore him inside...

Just what the Doctor Ordered.

"Vesi." he breathed, using her pet name.

"I don't suppose we could make like teens and kark, right? No? Okay."

The Hunter-turned-Slicer had an affinity for breaking, entering, and ruining one's alcohol stores. This was not the first, nor would it be the last, time that [member="Vesphira So'Kil"] intruded upon Isley's domicile. And frankly, he had come to terms with that quite a long time ago. And given how things had went one Mandalore, hers was a much better face to stare at than the A'lore.

"Standard question: Was it the booze or the beskar that brought you here?"
 
Oooh perfect he was angsty. She loved it when he was angsty. Placing the blades she had been polishing down upon the table next to her , she would then slowly uncross one leg from the other and then lean forward, a Cheshire Cat grin dancing across her features at his little display. This was gold. GOLD.

"Well, I had come here to have a discussion with you. But, that was gold. You're like a female throwing a fit.."


She was picking at him. Reaching down, she would pluck at a stray threat upon the pants she wore. Once more calculating hues slid to rest upon him, not before they did a very slow once over of his form. A very obvious once over. Appreciation danced within the depths of of those brilliant hues before she would pour him a glass and extend it to him.

"Down tiger. Need a drink?"


Rising she would move forward till she stood right in front of him and she would extend the cup to him, using her one hand to wrap his fingers about the glass. Now if Vesphira had been any other woman her next set of actions might of not occurred. Drawing her free hand back, it shot forward and would make contact with his face.

"You are are in deep poodoo Isley Verd. I should of know your pull to the dark side would result in Deneve and her kids being karked in the head like you."

[member="Isley Verd"]
 
"After the day I just had, I'm entitled to a little venting, thank you." he said, half-grinning.

She didn't answer the question directly, but then again she never answered questions directly. However. Sometimes what she didn't say spoke volumes. Only a blind man would miss the way she intentionally looked at him, and in Isley's book that meant a great big check mark in the "kark like rabbits" column.

"I could always use a drink."

Reaching out, the Mand'alor took the glass in hand...only to have the taste punched out his mouth. Reeling back, whisky splashed out and onto the floor – and honestly that ticked Isley off more than the attack. Vesi was always hands on. But this was Corellian Whisky. Do you know how hard it is to get Corellian anything after Akala beat the poodoo out of it? Very hard. We're talking getting the Republic to be competent hard.

"What was tha-"

The wrathful question began, but then Isley realized he deserved it. Vesphira had every reason to be cross, especially when it came to Deneve and Avaritia.

"To be fair, I've been doing my best not to expose them to that. I don't even have a Forge anymore."

And for the woman who knew him as an Alchemist first, that was kind of huge. Kinda.

[member="Vesphira So'Kil"]
 
"Do you expect differently ?You went to people that are dumber than a box of rocks Isley.."



Reaching up, she would rub her fingers over the place she had previously inflicted damage on before grasping his chin in her hand and turning his head both ways so that she might inspect him. Clicking her tongue, she would give a soft sigh before speaking once more.

"Fret not your best asset won't be damaged. If you bruise it will blend in with your skin tone.."



It was then that he mentioned not having a forge anymore and her brow rose slightly, just slightly. Stepping back , she would reach out and grab the bottle only to return to his side and shove it at him, her next words being processed carefully. She had come to pick a fight with him, hell putting her hands on him always made her feel good. Yet today she saw that perhaps he just needed an ear to hear him out.


"Sit down and tell little ol me your feelings.."

[member="Isley Verd"]
 
"Even still, I held out hope that maybe they would understand why I'm doing this." he replied, wincing as she inspected the site of her punch. "They're convinced that I'm out for glory and that no one is worthy of the title."

The edges of his lips twitched at her remark about his complexion. Typical Vesi.

"My feelings? Gods above, Vesi where do I start?"

Resigning himself to the seat formerly occupied by his "it's complicated", Isley leaned back and released a pent up sigh.

"It feels like I'm being torn apart."

"When Rave died - you remember Rave, right? When she died...I promised myself that I would honor the path she chose to walk towards the end. She changed. She stopped trying to push the limits of the Dark Side itself and began to look inward. She found Light. She found more than monsters and terrors of the Forge."

"And for so long, that was all I knew. But deep down, I knew it was wrong. For kark's sake, I'm a Mandalorian - we hate anything remotely close to the Darkness. Yet for years, I dabbled...heh, let's be honest here, I dove into the Darkness headfirst. And now? Now I've been trying so hard to try a different path - to be better, just like my Mentor."

"But everytime I go into Battle? The urge to let loose is there. And the inspiration keeps nagging. I've told myself that the Force is a Tool, my Knights were founded on that belief..."

"But dammit, I wonder if I believe it."

Booze? Booze. He took a swig of what remained of his beverage.

"Am I making sense?'

[member="Vesphira So'Kil"]
 
"They want someone they can control. You my darling. No one has ever really controlled you . Nor would you allow a council of blundering idiots to control you. You know deep in your heart what is right . Go for it. Don't let those fools get to you. They want you to doubt yourself and be ruled by emotions.."



When he moved to take a seat, she shadowed his movements, plopping down upon his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. Her hands found themselves at the base of his neck, kneading the pent up stress and tension she could feel rolling off him in waves.


"Isley..." She paused, she knew her next words could either break of make him. Chewing on her lips for a few moments whilst her fingers continued to work at the base of his neck.

"Every action has a consequence . You dabbled in something that had consequences. Yet you refuse to accept those consequences. You lock it away in the back of your mind.. Running from your actions. Until you accept every part of you then you won't be able to come to terms and find a solution to the damage that had been done.."

[member="Isley Verd"]
 
"You may have a point there."

Another sigh, another sip. There wasn't much more to be said regarding the United Clans at this point.

But the conversation about him? That had just begun. The mere suggestion to "accept" the anathema was...deplorable. It had taken his body for a joyride. It had made him stand idly by and watch, powerless, as his world was dominated by the Will of another. To accept that?

"You know I can't do that, Vesi."

"Metus. Even now I feel him stirring, waiting for any sign of weakness. There is no accepting something born to control. This isn't like coming to terms with one's feminine side - this is an actual virus locked away."

His eyes drifted to the Ring upon his finger - the Ring of Umber.

[member="Vesphira So'Kil"]
 
"How does ones body build up an immunity to a virus love?"


Reaching out, she would grasp the bottle of Whiskey and bring it to her mouth, taking a long drawn out swig she knew would irk Isley.

Setting the bottle back down, she would level brilliant hues upon him, her lips parting so hat her tongue might dance forth and moisten her lips before she would once more begin speaking, this time flicking the side of his head.

"I have witnessed every side of you Isley. You viewing your dark half as such is what makes him want to take over. If you were locked away and constantly viewed as nuisance and threat then you would react the exact same way. The side of you can't control is doing what it was created for.. You've never tried to accept it. Furthermore, When that side has been in control has it ever hurt anyone you cared about or has it done what you would do.."

Taking his face between her hands , she would pull him in close until his face was a mere breaths space away from hers.

"Trust me. I've never given shoddy advice or steered you wrong.."

[member="Isley Verd"]
 
"Technically, you inject yourself with dead virus cells and hope for the best — but I don't think you want me going to Sith graveyards with a syringe, do you?"

The witty remark was a stark contrast to how the Mandalorian was feeling. Vesphira...she meant well, gods above she did — but Isley sincerely doubted that she knew the half of it. Metus was a demon devised by the Dark Lord of the Sith himself: a spirit tasked only with the complete and utter subjugation of Isley. To accept Metus meant to accept the will of the Dark Lord...as his own. Shaking his head, the Mandalorian continued.

"You don't understand. Metus was born to subjugate me — to bring my abilities under the control of the Dark Lord. His election to act in a manner that I would is most likely the side effect of being cooped up in my head so long. He is not apart of me – he is something to be cut off and abandoned if I could. All he exists to accomplish is destroying my free will and replacing it with that of the Dark Lord."

And lo was his silence broken. From the depths of his prison did a wail reverberate through the Force. Anguish poured out from the prison – a pain so immense that even the most basic of sensitives could feel.

My Father...My God and King...is silent. Where once his voice spoke, there is quiet. His vision is now blind – his Empire crumbles! What point is there in supplanting your Will? What point is there to me?

And having heard this, Isley was left in shock.

[member="Vesphira So'Kil"]
 
She would actually frown before her hand shot out and smacked him upside the head roughly. "Open your eyes you bumbling idiot.. Forget what you think is right and wrong. Look deeper than that Isley!"

Her anger reached its boiling point before she flinched back at the anguish before her hand shot out to touch each of his temples, attempting to pour comfort into the imprisoned other half of the man she loved.

Turning angry hues upon him, she would begin speaking softly, her left hand moving to grasp his shoulder , her fingers digging in painfully.

"Isley Verd. I love you. But it pains me when you do things such as this.."

[member="Isley Verd"]
 
"Ow."

"Ow."

As Vesphira voiced her discontent, with words and literal smacking upside the head, Isley averted his gaze. She just wasn't getting it — and honestly, he sincerely doubted that she ever would. What's more, the outburst of the anathema had...taken the Mand'alor by surprise. Isley had heard the rumors, as had anyone with a basic HoloNet connection, regarding the Dark Lord's demise; but never did he imagine that they were true. Well, in truth, he didn't put too much thought on the matter. But Metus did. Apparently the Dark Lord was all he had in the Galaxy, and with his demise only anguish was left.

Supposedly.

"Gods dammit Vesi." he growled, prying her angry little fingers off of his shoulder. "Even if the Dark Lord is dead, even if his entire reason for existing is gone, that still change what he is. He's a monster, born to control. And without a leash, there's no telling what sort of havoc he could cause."

If not for me, Ginnie would be dead.

"If not for you, many things would be different."

[member="Vesphira So'Kil"]
 

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