Private Reawaken

[Oleander Webb]

Deep in space, in a ship no more familiar to him than a rental room, Death was in his quarters. It'd belonged to one of his victims mere rotations ago, the ill-fated pilot's name forgotten save for the note kept in the cockpit should the need for an assumed identity arise. The small room had been haphazardly decorated, the walls covered with various posters and reminders. A physical manifestation of a youth's hopes and aspirations, now collecting dust while Death meditated on the floor. It'd been a while since he'd taken to meditation such as this. Sure, he'd drifted in and out of a meditative state every now and then to preserve strength and keep his senses sharp as he waited for his next meal. But this was something different, pinpointed.

A cold hand reached out to rest on the metallic casing of a BB unit - Lars. How the droid had found him, Oleander wasn't entirely sure. The hunt had all but stripped him of his humanity, the ravenous shell of an Anzat nearly ripping the droid asunder when it'd interrupted his meal, continuously rolling into his leg. Yet an incessant nagging of familiarity had stayed his hand, as perplexing the concept of restraint was. The news the metallic fellow carried had been just as perplexing. The death of Lavria - that name was familiar...from an age that was gone and nearly forgotten. At one point, an ally, a confidant, maybe even a...a... The precise word had been lost to him.

He could still catch traces of her presence through the droid. Not quite the soup that made Oleander's nose twitch in anticipation, but not dissimilar. With that essence and the specifics of the droid's information, Death had formed a plan. He wasn't meant to interfere with the lives of mortals. More specifically, what came after. But sticking to what he was meant to do had caused this Death in the Flesh to lose everything. Just this once, he would deign to act against his purpose.

A soft beep roused him from meditation. The ship had arrived. Oleander rose to his feet, feeling the pops of his vertebrae as he stretched though they made not a sound. With a silent sigh, he strode to the cockpit to release the ship from autopilot and begin landing procedures. Lars was quick on his heels. The exact name of the world he landed on was something Oleander had paid no mind to, only that it housed what he needed: a door. With Lars directed to watch the ship, the Nightwalker parted in his standard leathers, his lightsaber at his side accompanied by three others. Lav's.

The Nether was an area Death itself was not unfamiliar with, even if this particular form had not traveled to often. It was an almost supernatural instinct that guided his boots. The Anzat hissed as he passed through the portal beyond, feeling a part of himself quiver as he passed the threshold. Nothing was without cost, even if he knew not what the price was. But that was a concern for another time for he had a singular purpose in mind. His hand drifted to the frankly ridiculous number of lightsabers, using them just as he'd previously used the droid.

Lavria...Lav...I know you're out here somewhere, but where?


Tag: Lavria Xedrim​

 

[Lavria Xedrim]

WAR
CHAOS | NETHERWORLD
TAG: Oleander Webb

KILL THE LIGHT​

Time didn't exist.

Days were weeks. Weeks were months. Months were years. Not that it mattered. There were no wars, no people that could become your enemy, no scrambling to survive. There was freedom in death.

The Dark Specter that was once known as Lavria Xedrim, Sith Apprentice to two master before reaching Knighthood and later one of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the Galaxy, wandered the Dark plains of Chaos where all Dark souls went. She cared nothing for the other souls that lurked in the shadows. The life she had lived once had removed every shred of fear a mortal should feel.

There were malignant spirits, of course. It wouldn't be the afterlife if there weren't. it had taken her some...time? If you could call it that, but it took a while since she had woken in her new form for her to learn to keep them at bay. The usual didn't work here. That was ages ago. Now, the Spectre of War held domain in a more pristine area on the plains.

And how well she guarded it.

The Red Avatar had just shut some minor spirits up inside a cage of Darkness upon a clearing with nothing else within reach, when a ripple ran across the plains. That only happened when a living mortal entered the realm of the dead. Golden orbs shone brightly from within the Dark cloud that surrounded the Spectre. That meant an intruder.

And then a voice carried on the wind toward her.

Lavria...Lav...I know you're out here somewhere, but where?​

​

The Herald of War hesitated. There was something familiar to that voice. From a life long since ended. Calling out a name that she once held. Curiosity won out over destruction and the being once known as Lavria moved toward it.

Finally she found him. A man who her live counterpart once considered an ally and friend. Now? She wasn't alive, was she. It didn't matter. She had her thriving realm here. Where she belonged.

She appeared in front of the one who she remembers as Oleander. Realising that he would not recognise her, the Spectre shifted into a more familiar yet still Dark transparent form.

"You should not be here Oleander. It is no place for the living."

 

[Oleander Webb]

The Nether was not a place of comfort for Death given form. The near overflowing well of soup of many of the living worlds had spoiled him. Here, where the well ran dry, the possibility of starvation was very real to the Anzat. It was a strange prospect, the irony of extinction not lost on him.

The crunch of his boots on the ground was nearly imperceptible, even to his trained and heightened senses. If what was left of his old counterpart was anything like memory suggested, she too found a home in the dark, so that is where he headed. The shadows did well to ward off curious spirits undeterred by Death's corporeal gait. One shadow, however, approached with intention. Just as Oleander raised a hand to meet the shade with his own, its form shifted.

"You should not be here Oleander. It is no place for the living."

The specter's words gave Death pause. Solitude had made his own name nearly a stranger in his ears. There was also the momentary contemplation as to whether the shade was truly the one he sought or another spirit's artifice. But the form was familiar and the voice was even more so.

"I am no more living than I am Death." An avatar rooted in pride could've argued for sovereignty over the plane. Instead, Oleander was crafted in his response. Fragments of memory, distant and clouded though they were, roles to the forefront of his mind, spurred on by that voice.

"Your time here started too early and I have need for you beyond. I've come to rectify Fate's mistake."

Tag: Lavria Xedrim​