B E A C O N
[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yh-QaRMlNM[/media]
Silara smiled at what transpired, always so pleased with what [member="Enigma"] had to say, or what she did - though certain topics and actions were quite taboo for her, especially their romp in the night before. She certainly gave quite a pause as she thought of what to say, finally given the reigns back to patrol her thoughts, after being given quite the loaded question. Silara especially wanted to know more about her enigmatic friend and significant other, but she also wanted Circe to know more about herself as well. Her smile shrunk slightly, though not out of waning happiness; rather she was pleased beyond words, and her expression softened with her heart. Something changed in that moment, both for the better and worse. Silara was a fragile creature, the definition of a heart of glass, and so she began her tale, one which was full of adventure, sorrow, happiness, and death. Perhaps her decision to speak of herself was of luck to Miss Savan, but a glimpse through the veil of the force made her heart all the more brittle. As her expression softened, her eyes glistened in the low illumination and her body relaxed, Silara parted her lips soundlessly as she prepared to speak. "I wish to tell you everything of me, of my heartache, of my loneliness, but I'll settle for how I ended up with the Sith. 'Tis a long tale, and I hope it doesn't bore you, but I feel it is imperative that I share with you the first chapters of my life." Silara answered softly, her smile growing slightly. Leaning back, her hair at her shoulders as she relaxed against the pillow behind her, she let out a sigh, her eyes closing while she traveled back into the recesses of her memories.'This story is about a girl who lived with her parents in a rather humble home, on the outskirts of a small town. A family of three, and though they always had food, stayed warm in the winter, and had countless things to be thankful for, their home was a broken one. The father, a stern man with some Selphi heritage in him, was often away - his occupation that of a bounty hunter, killing for credits. The mother, a Vahla through and through, resented her child as the symbol of her age and weakness, seeing her family as what kept her anchored to a world in which the populace hated her rather than finding her people's forgotten world.
Our tale begins in the dead of night, on a world far removed from the galactic core, a world known as Sorrus; and our subject is a ten year old girl living in poverty and abused by her parents. Her name was Silara, child of Hans and Sasha Vantai. All her life she felt alone and even though for a while her mother never spoke ill of her, she could tell through some feeling in her gut that she was hated and never loved. For years she would do everything she could to stand out, to draw a positive reaction out of Sasha. After a while she came to realize that it was simply not going to be, and a resentment for her mother built up while she withdrew from being active with her family. Her father, the bounty hunter, began to come home earlier and earlier, each time more intoxicated than the night before, while her mother picked up on the distance her child had put between them and progressively treated her worse until it was a blatant mistreatment, abuse, and hate.
But that fateful night was the night to change everything, to set that miserable child on a path that none could have possibly foretold. It was her tenth birthday, yet amidst the thunder that rolled along outside and the patter of the droplets of rain that tapped against her window, Silara was left alone without supper while her father was away. In recent weeks she'd been treated absolutely cruelly, and it had begun to imprint on her heart and soul that life was simply horrid and cruel. But that night her mother had crossed the line - telling her that she simply was not hers, and never would be. Words a mother should never tell their child, words a child should never hear, those words stung like daggers, driving sharply into her heart like cold and rusted steel. It was now the dead of night, however, and some hours had passed to allow the hurt and confused child to gather her thoughts. She crept out from her room, heading down the hall to look at her mother's sleeping form, tears still wet on her cheeks from sobbing. She had once loved that woman, but now only contempt remained where affection once lay.
A tinge of anger, frustration, filled her head, and she wanted to throw something at the wench, but what she saw was much more .. final. Hanging beside her, on a peg mounted against the wall, was a blaster. A million thoughts raced through her mind and as she reached out to touch it, she felt a tug at her heartstrings. Something told her the feeling of rage was right, comforting even, and as her fingers curled around the grip of the gun and she pulled it away her heart raced. She could not comprehend what sort of exhilaration that she felt was, but as she pointed her weapon at her mother's back and smiled with her brow upturned, a tear escaping from the outside corner of her right eye, Silara only knew that the feeling felt good. Unbeknownst to the child, she had fallen where many others would have as well, her heart black as the darkness that her soul now tread in. She was steeped in the dark side of the force, and the moment her finger pulled the trigger and the bolt struck her mother and woke her in pain and delirium, the girl became aware that she was not alone - that she had never been alone. Right there beside her had been the inkling of despair, the darkness that surrounded her and filled her.
The force revealed itself to her on the stroke of midnight, on her tenth birthday, and after crawling over and onto her dying mother's screaming, hysterical, crippled form she embraced the woman with a twisted smile. As she squeezed with her arms, so did the force. It did not take much for the hag, as beautiful as she had been, to pop like a cherry, spraying the room and her child with her disgusting red hate. At almost the same time she heard a door slam, one down stairs, and she hurriedly ventured down to greet her father, too far gone from the scarring trauma she'd just inflicted upon herself to rationalize the issue with either her appearance or what she had done. Hans, though he was still drunk, knew full well what his daughter had done, having heard the screams of pain from outside as he made his way into the house. The sight of a smiling, demented, little demon of a daughter standing there at the foot of the stairs waiving to him, covered in his wife and her mother's blood was too much for him, and he had immediately removed his pistol and shot at her head, the instinctual nudge of the force against his hand all that saved the poor child's life. The return fire from a now enraged daughter, however, was not so forgiving. Guided by the force, the shot ran true, striking him at center mass. Once again she reached out, hurt, through the force, and again she hammered down like a hammer on hot iron against her father's squirming body. In her rage she not only crushed him, but the floorboards beneath where he had been before.
From that moment on Silara steadily grew more and more powerful, yet her heart never quite mended, and her twisted childhood left it fragile, perhaps in pieces even.'
She looked towards Circe, her eyes open again, with tears in her eyes. While she spoke, recalling each moment and setting with precise imagery, she had projected a telepathic display of memories to her friend. "Now... tell me about yourself." Silara said after a brief pause and a heavy sigh.
