Private Stuck In The Middle With You

[Calyx Sundrift]

L E C T U R E -H A L L
P E L A G O N -S I T H -A C A DE M Y

They moved as one. A mass of sentients, draped in identical tunics so black that they seemed a mass of shadows gliding through the ancient halls.

It was not a march. No orderly column or synchronised cadence behind the overseer. But there was unity in their step that made it evident that this group belonged together. The cohort prowled. That was the only fitting word for it.

Their collective stride had the resemblance of a starving pack. They were a group that had lived together through hardship, fear, and violence.

On the surface, all of the meticulously selected cohorts of the Sith academy did. It took a trained eye to spot the turmoil within - to see who in the sea of black robes flocked together. Who drifted at the edges like wounded animals. Who walked shielded behind stronger peers, and who was already being isolated for slaughter.

Calyx saw all of it. He always did. Every transfer between academies reshuffled the hierarchy anew. Alliances dissolved. Feuds reignited. He knew that at least three of them wouldn’t survive Pelagon.

Every fourth month or so, their cohort cycled through to another academy. Thrantin first. Coruscant second. Thrantin again. A brief reprieve at Byss. Now, Pelagon.

It meant new rivalries. New corridors where acolytes got ‘lost’, and new sleeping quarters where throats were slit in the dark. The overseers expected it. Sometimes encouraged it, even. That was why transfers always came swollen with new recruits, or cohorts were merged when numbers were deemed too low.

Here, Calyx expected perhaps five unfamiliar faces, as remarkably few from his previous semester had died. A disappointment, depending on who one asked.

The true trick - every acolyte worth their saber knew this - was reaching the newcomers before someone else did. Alliances formed fastest before reputations spread. Before enemies could poison opinions. And Calyx, positioned neatly near the front of the moving pack, possessed the initiative.

The overseer halted before a towering stone archway carved with ancient Sith runes. Beyond it waited the lecture hall. He turned, fixing them with a menacing look. ”Your instructor is late, but you are permitted to enter. If any of you so much as consider violence, I will personally tear off your ears. Am I understood? ” The cohort droned an answer. ”Move. Find a desk. And do not dawdle. ” The mass of black robes spilled into the chamber. Calyx never slowed his pace.

The lecture hall opened wide before him. An immense annex of curved transparisteel fused seamlessly against the temple’s ancient stonework. Beyond the transparisteel stretched the crushing darkness of the deep ocean. Blue light filtered through the abyss in slow-moving waves, colliding strangely with the chamber’s artificial amber glow. Together they painted the room in shades of gold and cobalt, all attention drawn naturally toward the central speaking platform.

Calyx ignored it entirely.

His attention sought the newcomers instead. The fresh acolytes already stood awkwardly behind scattered desks, assigned seemingly at random. He noted two standing side by side and dismissed them immediately. New arrivals who clung together rarely survived their first month.

Instead, his gaze settled upon the solitary girl furthest from the entrance. Brown curls spilled past her shoulders in loose waves, framing a physique delicate enough to appear almost fragile beneath the academy robes.

Interesting

Calyx crossed the chamber without hesitation and claimed the unoccupied spot beside hers. “Welcome to our charming little coterie of murderers and Dark Side enthusiasts,” There was humor in his voice. “For both our sakes, I hope you learn quickly.” By choosing her table, he had already dragged her into conflicts she did not yet know existed. Several sets of eyes shifted subtly toward them across the room.

Calyx met most of them calmly.

So the lines are already being drawn, eh?

He leaned casually against the desk, folding his arms as his gaze swept the chamber once more. He scoffed quietly at a few seating choices nearby.

“Honestly, though- would a chair or two have bankrupted the Covenant?” Finally, he glanced toward her properly. “Name’s Calyx.” A faint smile swept over his features. “And apologies in advance.”

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU​

LOCATION — Pelagon, Sith Academy
TAGS — Calyx Sundrift

Black roses blooming on an endless field, their petals forming a veil to conceal all that lay beneath. . . There was only death and danger--a farewell of what may have once been deemed safe or peaceful even. A pledge for the future, a fate that could not be eluded no matter how much one tried. Yet among the canvas of black was a single white rose, untainted by the corruption that had consumed its peers, it was weakened but present.

In the gloom of her dreamscape, Isobel had sought to reach out toward it--to shield whatever pure remained on a planet so plagued by destruction. But its pristine petals withered with each step she drew nearer, with only its sepals and stem remaining the moment she shadowed over the flower. . . Lost to the darkness. . . No different than she, a mere victim of the ever-intensifying force of nature, or of destiny.

Pelagon was foreign to her, a world she had not once heard uttered before Lys had allowed her a place within the Covenant. Yet doubt lingered restlessly in the back of her mind--regarding the protection he promised, for her peers eyed her with the intensity of vultures circling wounded prey. . . Who was to say her fate would differ from the countless corpses carried from the academy with each rotation?

Her strategy for surviving was remaining a mere watcher while others sought out the conflict, if she was not participating--then why must they target her. Remaining hidden in plain sight was the most practical way for flora and fauna to endure troubling terrain or climates. Or at least,,, it would have been, had the dwindling light within her not cast an anomalous aura around her, unable to not be noticed by someone familiar with the art of force sense. . .

Whereas others had remained faithful the Academy Attire, Isobel had possibly broken a rule or two on the first eves of her arrival~ Stitching the insides of the robes with a regimen of flora; varying from the black roses that haunted her nightmares, nettles, black mulberries and a single white moonflower that was faintly visible when she walked. . . Dreaming of love, hopelessness, danger, an inferno of feelings haunted her very being while caged in the academy. But it was her choice, and thus it was her choice to endure these lessons like as her life depended on it.

The Nabooan stood toward the back of the cavernous classroom, subconsciously picking at her nails as her gaze darted over the variety of students before her--all with ill intent etched upon their beings. From the way brows furrowed in concentration when watching their peers, to the poorly concealed shivs within their boots and sleeves.

This was more violent than any battlefield she had ever stepped upon. . . Which hadn't been many.

Her eyes widened instantly as someone appeared beside her; tall, human with muddy blonde hair, and a tone that proclaimed his experiences with these animals. "Oh- Hello," Her hand awkwardly came up and shaped an even worse wave. Before slowly dropping back onto her lap, continuing its assault upon her cuticles.

The woman's gaze wandered off, landing somewhere over his shoulder, staring mindlessly toward the door--praying for an escape that would not come. "I am certain the instructor will have plenty to teach us," her words trailed off, there was a hesitation within her still, a doubt that she refused to let blossom further into her core. "Our peers must think they know all the secrets of the galaxy with the way they have been acting. . ." The thought dragged itself from her lips before she could think twice about it.

Her tan skin appeared to lose its warmth for a glimpse, as her lips pursed in a clumsy fashion. The light-heartedness in his words lowered her guard once more, a familiar comfort in unfamiliar times. "Perhaps it would~ But rich people are often stingy," At least with their academies it appeared, for the palace on Zardossa seemed to be a clear counterpoint. . . A smile formed hesitantly onto her previously pursed lips. "Isobel, and you need not apologise, for whatever it is you may have done."

Too forgiving, too innocent, too untouched by the madness that had manifested within the minds of countless souls within this chamber.

Too weak.

​

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

L E C T U R E -H A L L
P E L A G O N -S I T H -A C A DE M Y

He had expected silence. Distance. A guarded glare, perhaps. Not an awkward wave and a self-conscious smile.

Calyx studied her openly, unconcerned whether she noticed.

She's too nice. That's a death sentence. And what's with the flower motif?

Only a handful of acolytes customized their robes. He had seen others tear ornaments from sleeves and collars purely to provoke a reaction. They were small humiliations meant to bait someone into making a mistake.

Yet she wore the white flower openly, almost proudly.

Somewhat cheerfully, she tried to make conversation. At the mention of the instructors, Calyx glanced over his shoulder toward the door. It was shut now.

Did she notice?

"Please, this is nothing. You should wait 'till lunch. That's when the real 'sages' dispense their wisdom." He murmured back.

Does she realize the instructor won't be coming?

Oh, the instructors would arrive eventually. But not until one of them was bleeding on the floor. Then they would stride in, ready to make an example out of the loser just to show the new recruits what punishment for disobedience was like.

A slow dread crept into his stomach.

Light, I've picked wrong, haven't I?

He'd picked her without a second thought. He always gravitated naturally to beautiful people. The ones who struck him like fragile paintings. Except, this was no place for such a person. She would be eaten by the pack before he'd gotten anything useful out of her.

"Don't forgive a man without knowing what he apologised for." Calyx laughed lightly, though guilt lingered behind his eyes. She was likable, and by merely speaking to her he had probably dragged her into three feuds and at least two murder plots already.

"So,” he continued. ”is this your first time in an Acolyte band?"

His gaze swept the room again. A few others had started tentative conversations of their own, though every smile looked strained.

“If it is, let me give you some quick pointers. Enough to get you through the day. After that…” He shrugged faintly. “You’re on your own.” That last part felt wrong to say. But attachments were liabilities in places like this.

“First rule- don’t trust anything anyone tells you. Assume everybody’s lying. Overseers included.” His eyes drifted briefly toward the flower stitched into her robes. “The overseers told you the instructor was running late, right? Truth is, he won’t show up until somebody gets hurt.” Calyx tilted his head slightly toward the ceiling. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re watching us right now.” Contempt washed over his features.

“And while you’re on Pelagon, you need to learn who to avoid and who to cling to.” Subtly, he gestured toward a pair of acolytes seated three desks to their right. “Guy on the left is Pergrin. Probably your best chance at surviving this place. He’s got connections everywhere. Kriff, even some overseers are in his pocket.” A crooked smile tugged at Calyx’s mouth. “Bonus points- he’s very easy to seduce.” he paused. “Well. Easy for girls.” His voice was laced with dry amusement. “I tried once, but apparently he’s not interested in broadening his horizons.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, mischief briefly surfacing in his eyes. “Stick with him and you’ll end up serving some Sith Lord before long. That’s about as close to success as most people here get.”

Then Calyx shifted his attention toward a table near the exit. “See the large one over there? He’s the Wook.” His tone flattened immediately. “Avoid him. He’s got a temper even by Wookiee standards. One bad look and he’ll tear your arms off just to hear the noise.”

Finally, he glanced back at her. “You keeping up?” A faint smirk appeared, though it never quite reached his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll make a scene later so people stop thinking you’re associated with me. That should improve your odds considerably.”

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU​

LOCATION — Pelagon, Sith Academy
TAGS — Calyx Sundrift

Truth was a vicious blade upon those unprepared for its effects, a tool to be woven into one's favour, or a chain destined to condemn one to the oblivion of the ocean's depths. The Light regarded truth as virtue, for there existed no ill-intent behind its usage. . . or at least, none endorsed by its masters. Truth was meant to guide, to heal, to preserve harmony amongst the violence of nature itself. The Dark, however, viewed truth as a weapon, for it was a storm that raged and consumed any unfortunate enough to stand in its path. Knowledge became power. . . A concept capable of altering the scales of success in a scheme, conflict or life itself.

Within the Academy, this verity was indeed a blade, more than usable to cut down the opposition standing within the path toward success. Calyx's words echoed with a sincerity that lay no doubt to its claims. . . All of these stares, all of these alliances were destined to cull the weak--or to scheme against the powerful. Not even remaining in the shadows would shield her against its vicious consequences. "I see. . ." Drew itself from her lips, longing for the comfort of a home she could no longer revisit--of a warmth that lay out of reach for as long as was necessary.

"It is. . . I made a choice to come here. It-- ensured some things would play out better," Isobel said moreso under her breath, fears lingered within her mind, unspoken, unwilling. Glimpses of the future had drawn her into the hands of the Covenant, and it was not up to the Nabooan to question the Wills of the Force.

The ambiguity fortunately drew some manner of guidance from this rogue's lips, immediately drawing the colour from her skin at the notion of someone getting injured at the start of the lecture. What--How was she supposed to endure that on a daily basis? For these bloodhungry mutts to tear at each other as if they were not fed for days. "They better be watching. . ." She confessed softly, eyeing around for wherever their eyes may have deemed an appropriate place to lurk. "The Jedi Masters watched us yes, but... why must people hurt each other for a lecture to begin?" His little verbal handbook brought her naught more than more queries, and more doubt about the path she had chosen for herself.

Her brown eyes landed upon the man he had spoken of, and he looked every bit the monster she had expected; disorderly, mean-eyed, and with a wild mane of dark brown hair cascading down his shoulders. "I. . . will have to pass." Her mind betrayed her then, wandering back toward Lysander von Ascania and the (presumed) ease with which he had (often) made her heart flutter, and her face turn as red as a rose. There was no 'seduction' within those moments, nothing rehearsed nor deceitful. How could she possibly bring herself to mimic such affection now for 'personal gain'--especially for such a beast?

His words drew her attention toward the numerous other figures settled throughout the lecture hall; a Wookiee, two Twi'leks who had seemingly banded together, plenty of humans and near-humans. . . and a Chagrian who appeared fixated on etching figures into the side of his desk rather than participating in these acts of war. "And that?" Bel nodded toward the blue-skinned alien before her gaze settled upon Calyx once more.

A beat.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this merry. . . assortment. I take it you have spent quite the time among them. And survived." A sweet--charming--smile painted itself onto her face. "I am certain you hold more knowledge than you care to tell me." Her eyes twinkled with a glimmer that nigh on agreed to participate in this complicated 'game' of the Sith.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

L E C T U R E -H A L L
P E L A G O N -S I T H -A C A DE M Y

It paid off to listen closely. There was a lot she revealed with her remarks. First and foremost, she had once been a Jedi.That alone made Calyx instinctively sharpen his guard.

He had seen former Jedi pass through the academies before. They usually fell into two categories, broken idealists who died quickly, or zealots who embraced the Dark Side with such hysterical fervor that even the overseers found them unsettling. The truly dangerous ones, of course, were the latter.

But she did not strike him as mad. If anything, she seemed resigned. Like someone who had already accepted the shape of her own downfall and merely continued walking toward it because there was nowhere else left to go.

Ensured some things would play out better, huh.

His mind worked on that riddle.

What’s that supposed to mean? Blackmail? Some kind of plea deal?

It was possible, and not even remotely uncommon. The Sith liked useful prisoners almost as much as they liked creating new monsters.

“Hm?” He realized a beat too late that she had asked him something while his thoughts were still dissecting her cryptic murmurs. Once he caught on, Calyx gestured casually toward a blue-skinned Chagrian several rows away.“That’s Cele. Rumor says a Darth’s considering taking her as an apprentice.” A grin tugged at his mouth. “Terrible choice, if you ask me. Cele couldn’t tell the difference between a nerf and a bantha even if you showed them side by side.”

His gaze drifted back toward the girl beside him, only to discover her studying him in return. Calyx held her gaze without flinching. And in doing so, noticed the smile.

She had already seemingly deduced he spent most of his energy surviving the cohort itself rather than currying favor with overseers or Sith Lords. That observation alone meant she was far more perceptive than she initially appeared.

Which immediately raised a far less comfortable question.

What else have I accidentally told her already?

Still, her probing did not seem to dig for weaknesses, like he expected from most acolytes. There was curiosity in it. Amusement, even. Oddly enough, it reminded him of Ines. That was a realisation that haunted him more than he cared to admit.

For a moment, Calyx simply stared at her in silence, weighing possibilities behind narrowed eyes. Then, he said “Perhaps I do.” and pointed a finger toward her accusingly. “But you’re carrying your own collection of secrets too, flower girl.” His eyes darted toward the pale blossom woven into her robe. “That white flower, for starters. What’s the story there?”

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU​

LOCATION — Pelagon, Sith Academy
TAGS — Calyx Sundrift

Teachings of old lay forgotten like the sun vanishing behind the thick blanket of clouds. . . Etiquette instilled upon her innocent mind, to not speak ill of one's peers, to refuse mockery and cruel dishonesty, proper teachings in theory only to be as lost on reality as the one subjected to it. The smile on her lips brightened alongside a half-stifled chuckle at his remark, to be unable to tell a nerf and a bantha apart--ridiculous !

As the giggle faltered and her fingers slipped from her skin, a half-quiet mumble left her lips thoughtlessly; "Mayhaps the Darth simply wishes for a new test subject. . . choosing a weaker flower to uncover whether different. . . conditions may force it to bloom. Or evolve into something entirely different." The sweet, innocent spark in her depthless brown eyes sharpened imperceptibly, entirely aware of what she alluded to.

Once the snark lingered between the pair, Isobel felt overcome by a sharp and foreign frigidity; a heartless ache that figuratively tightened around her throat until she could no longer properly breathe. For what felt like an eternity, no words followed--no continuation nor pitiful attempt at defusal of what had been suggested. Then the realisation struck her akin to lightning striking metal. "That was. . . improper of me," departed her lips in faint apology, "The Game is already poisoning my thought." A poorly drawn shield to ward off against the arrows of suspicion or presumption.

A glimpse of hope weaved through the fog, a guiding light towards merrier moments, blissful thoughts. Was the embroidery truly a secret when she donned it 'openly'? "The Moon Flower holds a special place within my heart. One may proclaim it a weakness, but is the line between strong and weak not a fickle thing?" One of her brows raised marginally as she posed the question. "It sings a song of a different caliber, lost on the cacophony of war and destruction. . . Dreaming of lo--"

A thunderous clash of words drew all eyes within the lecture hall upon two aliens standing at the head of the class, relentlessly bickering over stolen wares, with the infrequent accusation of murder. . . From the venomous sting in their voices, to the ferocity with which they fought, it appeared more personal than they let on. A strife left untamed by the forces of the Sith, possibly even fueled by the absence of an overseer.

The earlier almost-comfort she had shown froze once more into a dooming worry--an urge to flee, a fear for certain death.

Then came the screech of a blade drawn, shadowed by the vile, heart-stopping, gurgle of its steel carving through the skin of its rival's throat. The sound alone forced Isobel's hand upward toward Calyx's sleeve, her fingers clutching it tightly enough to nigh on halt the flow of his blood. Her eyes snapped shut, unable to witness the violent pool of crimson blossoming around the fallen acolyte. No harmony could be found here, no chance at peace--how dare the Force set her upon a path so cruel, how dare love lead her to this merciless life. . ?

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

L E C T U R E -H A L L
P E L A G O N -S I T H -A C A DE M Y

Her laughter drew an answering smile from him before he could stop it. It was good to hear somebody laugh for once, in these halls. Even if it was done quietly. But her words afterward twisted his mouth into something more uncertain.

She's right. Probably.

It was hardly a secret that acolytes were sometimes valued for reasons beyond talent or apprenticeship. Certain Sith Lords had earned infamy for the appetites they indulged beneath the academy’s shadowed ceilings. And the cruelest truth of all was that no acolyte possessed the power to refuse.

"Improper?" Calyx gave a short, dry snort. "I'm afraid that was terribly realistic, flower girl." He added quietly.

He watched her expression dim slightly at the implication. A shadow crossing warm light. Yet the mention of the flower shifted her demeanor again, softening something behind her eyes with startling ease. And Calyx found himself staring at her with growing bewilderment.

Really… what is this girl doing among the Sith?

She did not fit here. Her warmth seemed genuine.

But the bliss was only temporary. He barely had time to untangle her mysteries before the atmosphere in the lecture hall shifted violently. Raised voices erupted near the central platform.

“Oh?” Calyx leaned forward with theatrical interest, propping his chin atop his fist as his attention was pulled toward the disturbance.

Instantly, the lazy humor drained from his posture.

Raegg and Intar? A dangerous glimmer shone in his eyes. Didn’t expect them to be first.

The confrontation escalated rapidly.

The venom they spouted became outright threats. Then a blade appeared in Raegg’s hand.

Calyx straightened immediately. Around the chamber, others reacted in kind. Pergrin hissed a warning beneath his breath. The Wook released a low, thunderous growl. Across the aisle, Cele’s hand disappeared into her cloak. Immediately and in one smooth motion, Calyx fished a sharpened strip of durasteel from inside his boot and concealed it against his forearm.

Raegg lunged forward. The blade plunged into Intar’s throat, and a wet choking sound tore through the lecture hall.

For half a heartbeat, silence followed. Then Intar collapsed, painting the dark floor in red.

Calyx’s eyes sharpened instantly.

That's the signal.

The overseers only punished initiators. Once the first strike had been made, the rules changed. Everything afterward was free game.

And throughout the chamber, acolytes began to move.

Calyx shifted his stance, attention locking onto Cele and an ash-gray Cathar acolyte named Koda, whose claws had already slid free.

Then he felt the tug at his sleeve. That panicked grasp. Calyx glanced back and felt his stomach sink.

The girl.

Shock had seized her.

And immediately, irrationally, guilt stabbed through him.

Blast it all.

Had he chosen anyone else to stand beside, he could have watched the bloodshed unfold with clean hands and slept soundly afterward. But this girl, this impossible, warm-hearted, flower-carrying disaster, kept clawing at the fragments of morality he had spent years trying to bury.

And protecting her? That changed everything. It tied her fate to his own. There would be no way to carefully set her up for greatness, nor orchestrating another's downfall at her expense...

Supporting her would ruin everything.

"Don't worry, I'm with you." he whispered reassuringly.

He'd bang his head against the wall later.

“Can you look menacing?” he asked quietly. He twirled the improvised blade once through his fingers with exaggerated flair. “Half of surviving this place is staring people down and making them question their choices.” A confident grin flashed briefly across his face as he held Cele's gaze. “Just imagine they smell terrible and hold that expression.”

Then his demeanor changed completely. Calyx stepped slightly in front of her. Not enough to appear protective, but enough to signal possession.

His gaze fell coldly upon Cele and Koda. “You both know how this ends,” he said evenly. “Cele. Koda.” His gaze shifted between them. “Best find different prey.”

Koda hesitated, but only slightly. Cele did not hesitate at all. The Chagrian lifted her blade and prepared to lunge-

“Enough.” The voice crashed through the lecture hall like a whip. Every acolyte froze instantly.

At the chamber entrance stood an elder instructor draped in blood-red robes. She was tall, pale, and gaunt. Calyx thought she might have been Nagai, though it was difficult to tell beneath the severe sharpness of her features.

The instructor’s gaze swept slowly across the gathered acolytes. “Were you not instructed to take your places?” Her voice was a low drawl. “Silently.”

No one answered.

“Were you not told to pacify yourselves?” She spoke the word with disgust. Then her eyes flicked briefly to Intar’s corpse.

She smiled ominously.

“Someone,” she murmured, “shall bear punishment for this.”

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU​

LOCATION — Pelagon, Sith Academy
TAGS — Calyx Sundrift

A thunderstorm after a warm day; bright flashes of lightning, endless rain, and winds fierce enough to tear one from their footing. It was most akin to the rampage summoned within the confines of the lecture hall, where blades readied and eyes searched ceaselessly for the next target to be executed--be they strong or meek. They all shared one important trait: they were deemed unworthy of the pursuit of becoming a true Sith. . . Or so it appeared. For what defined it? Was it to know which target was a liability, or was it to be capable of the murder? To feel no fear when the blood leaves a rival's body?

The art was an unfamiliar waltz, where one's steps failed to uphold the demanded rhythm, the elegance--or lack thereof--for a proper fulfillment of tthe duty. With her cowering deed, Isobel had already stumbled in the first turn of the waltz, leaving her on the backfoot for the remainder of this perilous dance between the blade and its destination.

The close proximity was enough to blind her senses to what lay near them, or merely. . . what dared approach the Acolytes, for she could see the blade in her mind's eye before it was even shown by the Cathar. A promise of future destruction if another soul would not intervene. With trembling hands, the noble gradually withdrew from the awkward position she had pursued mere moments past, clearing her throat as if that may wash away the feelings of discomfort the fear had instilled upon her.

An intimidating stare. It was a just demand, a move that neither called for violence or entirely avoided the encounter--a warning that may hopefully suffice for this glimpse. "As you say," Isobel mumbled, furrowing her brow, no more intimidating than a Tooka-kitten trying to hunt its first prey. The sight forced an amused huff from another acolyte on the sight, no doubt registering her to be as harmless as she was. Another failure. . . Another warning for a most tumultuous rest tonight, barricading her door as if it may possible hold back these murderous nexu.

The swift and knowledgeable nature of Calyx was a saving grace, along with the most tactically chosen arrival of the instructor. With robes as crimson as the blood shed upon the floor, and a gaze that immediately banished her frail attempt at intimidation. Comfort did not light up in her heart, as she took her place beside the blonde once more. "It was not my intention to, , ," Bel combatted the words, unable to pinpoint what the apology must broach--her clinging to his arm like a lifeline, or her failed attempt at a threat. . . or above all, allowing him to weaken himself by standing beside her.

"It-" No other word could be uttered as the red-edged yellow eyes of the instructor shot toward the noise coming from their table, forcing her head down and averting the Sith's terrifying gaze.

This Sith's presence thundered with the song of Bogan, a vile, deafening clamour that intimidated and weakened the resolve of the students. Some dared gaze at her, trying to not show fear--but all knew that this creature was not blind to the truth of the matter. . . But justice was not entirely the way of the Academy, that much she had been warned about. Whoever defied the elders, would answer for the committed crime.

Akin to a prison warden, the tall woman's stare investigated each and every presence within the Lecture Hall, gauging their interests, checking for defiance. . . weakness. Her Sith eyes echoed only of a deep-rooted hatred, for each and every one of these students, seeking to become great Sith, while they were barely capable of executing a proper murder.

The scowl on her lips intensified moderately as her gaze passed once more over the blonde Cadomai, the one who had been here before, and the foreign presence beside her. The one reeking of a Light that had not been extinguished. Hm. . .

A choice was to be made, but she refused to allow him to suffer for the inaction she had committed. A selflessness that was a virtue and a sin within the halls of the Sith Temple. Her gentle brown eyes locked with the elder instructor's once more, not moving away, as if the punishment had already been accepted. Reluctantly.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

L E C T U R E -H A L L
P E L A G O N -S I T H -A C A DE M Y

"I know it wasn't." He kept his voice low. His eyes never left the instructor. The gaunt woman was hunting for scapegoats - that much was certain.

Raegg was the obvious choice. The fool had drawn first blood before the lecturer's arrival. Yet Calyx doubted that only one would satisfy whatever appetite lurked behind those yellow eyes. The instructor's gaze swept across the room, then settled upon them.

For a single terrible moment, Calyx felt pinned in place. Hateful yellow met sky blue. The Sith found defiance there. His stubborn refusal to bend completely. Beside him, Isobel's pools of brown revealed something far more sensible - reluctant surrender.

Thin gray lips curved upward. The instructor smiled. Then she turned, her attention drifting onward.

A numbness spread through his body. It came with a slow, creeping chill.

Being at the mercy of an overseer was inconvenient. Dangerous, certainly, but manageable. Overseers were petty creatures. Ambitious failures. The academy's lowest authority. They were almost as expendable as the acolytes they tormented. And if one stripped away titles and privileges, many of them were not particularly formidable. Calyx knew several within the cohort who stood a genuine chance of defeating their overseers in an honest fight.

But instructors? They were different. These were Sith Knights. Sometimes Lords. Individuals who had survived decades of the very environment currently trying to kill him. One did not overcome such a gap with strength. It took wit and obedience to survive them.

And right now, one of those predators had noticed him. No, noticed them. And somewhere behind those sinister eyes, the instructress was already arranging possibilities.

Crimson robes whispered softly across the stone floor as the instructress drifted toward the central dais. “I expected disobedience from you misbegotten creatures.” Her rasping voice cut through the chamber. “But to this extent?” A disappointed click of her tongue echoed. “Tsk.”

Near the front of the hall, Raegg collapsed to his knees. The anger that had fueled him moments earlier had evaporated entirely.“Great Mistress, I-”

The instructor raised one skeletal hand. Long nails stuck out, and jagged strands of blue-white lightning erupted from her fingertips.

Raegg's back arched, his body convulsing violently. His jaw snapped open in a soundless cry before the scream finally tore free in a noise that was not human. It echoed through the room, raw and animalistic. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. Calyx's stomach lurched. Beside them, someone gagged - but he wasn't entirely certain it hadn't been him.

The lightning continued, far longer than necessary. When she finally lowered her hand, the room bathed in silence once more.

What remained of Raegg slumped heavily onto the floor. Charred black and twisted beyond reason. Thin tendrils of smoke still curled lazily from the corpse. It was no longer recognisable as anything humanoid, let alone sentient.

Nobody dared move. Dared breathe.

Throughout the chamber, dozens of acolytes stood frozen in absolute silence, their eyes fixed upon the ruin that had once been one of their own. And upon the woman who had reduced him to it without so much as changing her expression.

Then she turned. Toward them.

“Ah, you sweet children.” The instructor's smile widened. It was not a pleasant thing to witness. “Did I spy you protecting her, boy?” Wicked delight gleamed within her yellow eyes, as though she had discovered an unexpected gift.

“No, no.” The soft reprimand was almost motherly. “We absolutely cannot have that.”

Then her attention shifted. Settling upon Isobel. “And you, my sweet?” The instructress tilted her head. “You allowed him?”

Only then did Calyx realize how close she had come. Dazed by Raegg's execution, he had somehow failed to notice her crossing the chamber. The revelation hit him all at once - she stood only a pace from their desk. Close enough that he could see the fine creases in her gray skin.

Far too close.

“Ah...” She studied Isobel's face thoughtfully. “But yours is a face of innocence.” A bony finger lifted, tracing the air near her cheek without quite touching it. “I understand now, child.” The smile sharpened. “You simply do not know our ways yet.” Her eyes flicked sideways toward Calyx and the warmth vanished instantly. “While he knew better.”

Before either acolyte could react, she moved. Gliding around the desk to remove the final barrier between them. A thin arm emerged from loose folds of fabric and settled around Isobel's shoulders.

The gesture appeared affectionate. Calyx felt his stomach twist.

“He shall be punished, I think.” The instructor's voice became almost conversational. “And you must, of course, learn our ways.” One hand disappeared into her robes. When it emerged, it carried a slender black hilt.

Calyx's sucked in a breath. Her lightsaber. The chamber seemed to grow even colder. Every acolyte watched now.

“Tell me, girl...” The instructor extended the weapon toward Isobel. “What shall we take from him?” Her yellow eyes glittered with wicked glee. “The eyes that watched over you?” The hilt tilted slightly. “The hands extended in protection... Nay, the hands that held you back?” Even breathing felt dangerous. “Or perhaps...” The instructor leaned closer. “The ears that listened so patiently to your sweet little insecurities?”

Calyx did not move.

He knew what this was. The punishment had never been intended for him. It was for Isobel. To teach her that compassion was weakness. Protection was weakness. And weakness deserved punishment.

“It is entirely up to you.” The instructor held the lightsaber more firmly into Isobel's reach.

“Decide.” The demand was final.

And suddenly every eye in the lecture hall rested upon Isobel.

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU​

LOCATION — Pelagon, Sith Academy
TAGS — Calyx Sundrift

Whereas the thunderstorm emitted loud warnings of events far away, its lightning was no longer a distant prospect, landing with deafening cries upon the frail body of the Acolyte as he tried to shield himself from the ceaseless agony. Pleas of mercy echoed throughout the hall with a frightening clamour, forcing all its witnesses to freeze up, to not move a muscle in their bodies. For who knew who may be the next to be awarded such a merciless demise?

Her eyes did not withdraw from the strands of blueish lightning connecting with her peer, there was no fear in them, no sorrow, no anger. . . Naught. Naught more than the void, for she had grown detached, unable to bear witness to such horror and unable to have it resting upon her conscience. A husk standing beside Calyx as the blade of cruelty was slowly drifting toward them. . .

The smell of smoke filled the layered lecture hall, stinging one's eyes in an attempt to fracture their shield--their composure. Then followed the towering figure of the Nagai instructor, the sound of her calm and heavy breath snapped her back into reality. Diverting her eyes from the pile of charred bone and skin toward her blonde acquaintance, the boy she had doomed with her weakness.

She flinched lightly when her talon neared her cheek, barely grazing the surface of her tan skin. Her thought was consumed by millions of words, of pleas to punish her and not the one beside her. . . But it was not the way of life here, for that would be mercy and there would be none within the nest of the Sith.

"No. . ." Escaped her, no louder than a breath, her lips only parting a fraction. It immediately earned the attention of the instructor, as her nail pinched her skin once--before continuing with her demands, with her 'lesson'.

The feel of the woman's firm arm around her shoulder forced her heart to rush in panic, every thought, every emotion was now under a magnifying glass, clear toward the instructor as she felt a presence press against the edges of her mind--her thought shield was no match for the probing and immediately relinquished. A sardonic smile finding the grey lips of the Instructor, accompanied by a single breathy "Good."

Her gaze darted toward Calyx as a lightsaber was thrust into her trembling hand. It nearly slipped from her grasp before her fingers tightened around it as though it were the last thing tethering her to survival.

Isobel stood frozen, her thoughts racing through every possible outcome. For the briefest of moments they settled upon striking down the instructor herself. "No, my sweet, you can try it." The motherly amusement sparked off each word. "But you and I both know you are too cowardly for it. Too obsessed with your tales of fate. Too obsessed with your love."

For a moment, disgust washed across the woman's features before composure settled over them once again.

"Act then, will it be the arm you held whilst cowering in fear? Tssk-"

The crimson blade appeared as her thumb brushed over the activation stud, the void settling over her eyes once more. . . Her mind, her soul withdrew while there was only the body acting out its will.

Tears ran down her cheeks as the blade lifted, softened words hung in the space between them, repeated like a mantra over and over again: I am sorry.

The instructor's hand remained on her arm akin to a shackle, ensuring Bel would not forfeit this attempt or withdraw too soon.

Once lifted toward Calyx's right eye, the lightsaber made contact with his cornea and slowly dug deeper. . . Her fingers twitched agitatedly, yet the Nagai's grip held firm around her. There was no pulling away. No mercy to be found in this hesitation. Only the sickening certainty that she had become the hand delivering the wound.

She prayed. To Ashla. To fate. To anything that might listen.

After a moment, the blade withdrew into its emitter. Isobel's eyes drew shut, desperately wishing for some fragment of comfort, some reassurance that this had been the correct choice. . .

Anything at all.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

L E C T U R E -H A L L
P E L A G O N -S I T H -A C A DE M Y

Shock seized him completely. Fear swallowed him whole, tearing at his soul and dragging it down into the darkness beneath the stone floor.

There's no way out.

His gaze flicked between Isobel's tear-streaked face and the instructor's predatory leer as the realization settled over him. It came with cold certainty, and once it did, he could no longer look away from the woman.

The Dark Side beckoned with sweet, seductive whispers. He seized it. Treacherous molten fury flooded his veins, and the memory of those ecstatic yellow eyes fueled his resolve in the endless battle for control.

I will kill you. Mark my words.

But not now. Now, he had to endure.

He fought the Dark Side's currents as they urged him to revel in his rage, to surrender himself to vengeance, until emotion became a distant thing.
Coldly, he watched the crimson blade ignite.

Then it came for him.

Apology was written across Isobel's face. Calyx inclined his head, almost imperceptibly, to give a faint nod. He understood. She was as much a hostage of the Sith as he was.

Then his vision exploded red. Agony engulfed him. A searing pain set his skull ablaze, fiercer than any torment the Force had ever inflicted. The torrent of the Dark Side recoiled, then crashed back into him with renewed force.

Calyx staggered. One hand shot out to brace against the desk, but it wasn't enough. He collapsed with a howl - every instinct screamed at him to clutch his face, but he fought the reflex. Touching the wound would only make it worse.

"Excellent!" She pinched Isobel's shoulders. "Oh, well done, my precious child." Leaning close to her ear, the instructress whispered, "There's a future for you yet." Then strode forward and tore the saber from Isobel's grasp.

"You." Her voice darkened. "Get up." With a sharp gesture, she hauled him upright in the freezing grip of the Dark Side.

Calyx's breath hitched.

"I hope you've learned from your weakness, now that you bear a lasting reminder of its consequences." She tapped the skin beneath the wound. Pain flared through his face, and he cried out again. "Collapse again, and I shall take the other eye."

She stepped past him and released her hold. Calyx caught himself on the edge of the desk, drawing on the Dark Side simply to remain standing. He was panting, sweating, and had turned white as bone. Yet he fought to stay conscious, his gaze tracking the crimson-robed woman as she returned to the dais.

"How exciting disobedient pups can be, no?" She smiled to herself before turning to the silent acolytes. "Now let us commence the lesson. You have been sorted into pairs. If any of you wish to switch, now is the time." She made a point of looking at the two of them. "If not, come forward. I shall hand each pair their assignment."

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU​

LOCATION — Pelagon, Sith Academy
TAGS — Calyx Sundrift

Gratitude, a vile utterance of 'gratitude' filled her ears with their damnable hymn. To speak as though this was a step forward, to view it a blessing and not a sin. . . Isobel's hand had maimed another, defiled them, scarred them for life! Must one regard it to be a mercy, a strength to be able to do this to one another without batting an eye? Was her heart going to be shattered while here, plunged into the void as many had before her?

Be not so cruel upon me. Murmured in the hollow of her mind, close enough to a prayer. . . to Ashla, her Lady who had abandoned her so cruelly in her recent months. Whose light no longer blessed her, cast her into the eternal darkness without so much as a merciful farewell.

A longing existed to flee, to abandon the field of battle before it had even delivered its first clash. Her hands reached out to grip the wood of the table, whilst her eyes press shut, seeking for the light in the impossible darkness and finding only. . . a pulsing reddening behind her eyes. A thrum in her heart that loudened with each thought that formed in her mind--begging to be heard, begging her to obey its vile will.

The Force lashed out before her body had given its command, wrapping around the Instructor's lightsaber before drawing it to the Acolyte's hand. Fury clouded her vision as her eyes remained sealed, and her body moved akin to a puppet on strings. . . dangling to some choreography she had never known to exist. The crimson blade drew forth from the emitter and, with an overhead slash, neared the tall Nagai.

A bemused chuckle drew from her lips as a shield of telekinesis kept the blade at a distance. "The pup has a bite after all," The Sith's voice almost... rejoiced at the sight and she clapped her hands excitedly. "But so terribly afraid to watch what she is doing." The woman's expression contorted in a sickening delight at Isobel's conflict, and Calyx's agony.

Her talon pointed toward the blonde, who barely remained on his feet after the fiasco. "He must be thinking a hundred ways to kill me. . . or you," A breathy noise left her, whilst her control over the Force remained pristine, keeping the Nabooan exactly where she was standing--and keeping the blade from moving an inch.

Her Sith eyes drew toward the trembling lad by the desk: "Do you not feel this fury run through your veins begging for revenge? " The Nagai said pointedly toward Calyx. "She made the choice, she wielded the blade. . . The little flower that feigns innocence now. I read her thoughts as she relished harming you."

The wicked accusation broke through the cecity, as her eyes snapped open again. "LIAR!" The blade twitched once in her hands as her mindscape was filled with sweetened fantasies of cutting down this horrid woman. The Light had faltered, and in turn came the Dark.

Bloom exchanged for Rot. . .

Vines, meant to keep the oxygen within the chambers, slithered toward the Instructor, before settling around her arms--abruptly enough to not be perceived by precognition. The barrier dropped for but a glimpse as the crimson blade grazed the woman's intricate red sleeve and arm, before it was (inevitably) repelled. . .

SMACK! Isobel felt an agonising slap on the face push her back, sharp nails running through the first layer of her tan skin. "Petulant little bi-" The vines released their grip on the Nagai and crawled back to their pots, all the while the Acolyte had made contact with the ground, the lightsaber clattering next to Calyx's boot.

"Kriff. . ." Was all that left her lips as the fury within faded.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

L E C T U R E -H A L L
P E L A G O N -S I T H -A C A DE M Y

His head throbbed. Calyx tried to focus, but everything came as if seen through water. Black specks crowded the right edge of his vision, and he had to squint against a lightsaber's glare that seemed ten times brighter than it should.

A lightsaber's...

In the swirling stormclouds of the dark side, he found a sliver of clarity. But he couldn't make sense of it.

Why was that lightsaber still-

When he looked, it wasn't the gaunt Sith holding it. It was Isobel, swelling with the fury of the dark side herself.

Even listening was a monumental task through the pain. But he could make out the voices.

"He must be thinking a hundred ways to kill me... or you."

His stomach knotted. Because she was right.

He would never admit it to Isobel. But it was the very reason he'd chosen her. She'd seemed easily manipulated. A friendship that could be built, or rather feigned, with little effort. And then she'd be his shield. When the cohort eventually moved against him, they'd come for her first. He'd have played the grieving, vengeful companion well enough, but lost nothing of true importance. He wouldn't have to suffer mutilation. Nor would be disappearing in the night. All by just throwing a dull girl to the wolves. A price he could forget within the week.

The thought turned his stomach now. He'd been ready to plot the end of something innocent and fragile just to buy himself one more night of sleep in hell.

"She made the choice, she wielded the blade... The little flower that feigns innocence now. I read her thoughts as she relished harming you."

She should. He winced, bracing himself, gathering what strength remained to try standing. I deserve it.

"LIAR!"

A jolt tore through the Force, caught even by his dulled senses. It moved too fast for anyone to react. Bent the world in a way he'd never seen before.

Calyx gasped. She's controlling the vines?!

His eye widened as the red blade inched closer to their oppressor. Isobel had a genuine shot at bringing this Sith Lord down.

But she'd do so here. Now.

The other acolytes stirred around him, arriving at the same conclusion.

Then the Sith Lord lashed out. The saber clattered to the ground, within his reach.

If he could summon the strength, he could kill her. It would be vengeance.

But...

Not like this. Not together, depleted, surrounded. Maybe they'd bring her down. And then the cohort would tear them apart for disobedience, just to save their own hides. And if not them, the overseers would finish it.

The Sith Lord needed to die. Just not in any version of this moment.

Fool. He thought to himself. You should've seen this coming!

He let the dark side fill him. The storm of fire and lightning poured into coiled muscles. Calyx snatched the lightsaber and drove a telekinetic burst outward. But not at the Lord, he did so at Isobel.

He aimed to push her hard against the wall, then burst forward, and closed the distance on the last cinders of his power. Hoping she was thrown off enough, he planted the extinguished saber against her abdomen. Finger resting over the ignition.

His other hand caught a fistful of her hair, using his height to keep her off-balance, pinned on her toes.

"Play along," he hissed. "She'll pay for this. Trust me! But not now." His voice wavered. So did his legs. He watched her through what remained of his ruined sight. Hard as he could make it. "I have her, my Lady."

Everything hinged on one uncertain read. That the Sith Lord found Isobel an interesting enough plaything to let this slide.

Isobel Serraris