the Dark Matter

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Dathomir, not thought beautiful to any off lander, blissfully Pom Stych Tivé is none such being. The lair of the Nightsisters to boot, even less by sight, smell; a planet alive with intention of the living Force essence, herein the Darkside. But for the ones who make it what it is, or better yet accept it for what it is and thrive here, there is no place like home! Long basking in the dark forces, what testimony is there of anything else, anything better?

Pom Stych Tivé has been tempted by the emotions inclined among otherworldly sects. Her weakness has a name she rolls around on her tongue like the sweetest of wines, [member=Vereshin] Yorefei Sabek. The young Mistress, with her head clouded from wantonness and daydreaming took a stroll along the wood planks elevated above the marshlands. The multi-millennial aged mystical beast which dwells underneath her feet remembers the exact day not so long ago when a young Pom Stych Tivé came into her power and bested it; and it challenged her authority over it nevermore. Now there seems to be a new coming of age in her cards, love and all the unknowns which come with it hand in hand. The bed was made and they both laid in it.

It had been some time since she spent time with her lover on his homeworld. She had planned that he should be shown around her residence on Dathomir, but he had been called away on business with the Empire. Pom had a delightful and even slightly frightening secret to tell him, the result of their communion, which to this day she did not speak to anyone about even her mother. After her own awareness, Vereshin's ears ought be the very first gifted such news.

Images of what would evolve rushed through her mind today without relent. She could not concentrate on the magickal task set out before her coven. She removed herself, lest she ruin the entire spell. Apprehension, excitement, overcame her once again as it does every time she daydreams about Vereshin and their evolving relationship. Pom stopped walking once she only heard the chanting of the children in the city as mere chirps. She has no other experience with children than that of other people's. She is an only child and hasn't long not been one herself. Her mother knows something is afoot, but Pom only refers to it being due to butterflies over Vereshin which too are very real, in attempt to sway her mother's acceptance of her recent odd and quite skittish behavior.

She is so deeply serious about Vereshin in fact, that upon her return she immediately released her Nightbrother servants from her service, as they tend to be full service relationships. Of course, they were not pleased with being required they find themselves another benefactor and instructor. Some service oversteps boundaries of preordained relationships and young men become smitten, as were her students. Her beauty alone was all any of them desired to covet, yet they supplied much more than their gazes.



(POST 10) The sun kissed day fell into instant darkness as the wind picked up unleashing an impeding storm. Pom grabbed for her wide brim hat, which threatened to leave her head. Such sudden environmental developments are not uncommon on Dathomir especially while the coven is working. She resolved to return to her home and had just turned upon her heels to begin her return when she heard a familiar voice and therefore she spun around once more with a grand smile on her face. “Vereshin?” The thought of his unexpected presence excited her! She did not see him and took a few steps further along the path toward the origin of his voice. She came to a fork. “Where are you, Vereshin?” The increasing winds caused the murky waters of the swamp to lap over the planks of the wooden pier at her feet.

The necklace Vereshin had presented her as a token of his love and admiration began to fizzle and spark. The dark matter incased within seeped out appearing as smoke tendrils, and it created a vortex of its energy before her. The ornament, normally hung over her heart hung tight around her neck today on a short chain, causing her to struggle to breathe as it began to freeze where it rested against her very flesh. A black emptiness hung in mid air just a few feet away from her position, and it engulfed the light before her. She felt the force of the vortex attempting to encompass her body and tug her through it. To where unknown, which she feared greatly.

The Force it emanated felt dark and haughty, as did what lie on the other side of the tear in space. However, it beckoned her directly as if her familiar. Someone very powerful wants her present elsewhere. The drastic measures they took, she could not but fathom that such particular being actually wants her dead.

Pom tried to scream for help, but could not manage to mutter a sound. She struggled to hold fast her place along the pier as she gripped the railing with one hand and the necklace chain with her other. Her eyes began to bulge red with blood. She could not remove the precious orb and chain which dangled around her neck, now taught.

Faint now she stood hunched over, and the young witch pushed herself away from the rail lest she plummet into the swamp head first and drown. She fell upon her knees before sprawling over the planks. The vortex rained where it had originated, now slightly further from her reach. Millions of voices emitted from the generation and cried out at once voicing their anguish. The spirits which traversed from the origins of the vortex now gripped hold of her, held her bound where she lie as she began slipping away from consciousness. Whatever crime was committed against them, Pom Stych Tivé is not guilty. For reasons unknown to her, she mistook that these spirits did not entirely agree. However in hindsight, she might come to understand that they helped her.

Her anguish read upon her facial features. With the last shred of her ability, Pom fumbled with her shaw to withdraw a vial from her pocket. Normally she would be able to put her fingers directly upon the one she wanted, but not so now since her cloak is shifted about her form. She grasped quite a few and tugged them from their securing elastic bands. Dangling them before her eyes, she knew the one she needed by its unique color. Her hands trembled as she gripped and uncorked the stopper.

Pom felt Vereshin cradling her head…her savior. Exhausted, the witches arm collapsed by her side and she lay unconscious. The vial fell from her fingertips and rolled next to her head. Its bittersweet aroma seeped forth from its spilled contents and into her nostrils, providing her a bit of its preservation qualities.



The High Priestess surrounded by her coven, had been lost to the superficial physical world and taken up entirely to the metaphysical, abruptly stopped the ritual, as she felt something unwanted dare intercede with the spell casting of the Nightsisters. She connected herself with all that surrounded her people, and her land.

“Go now and find, Cylaeria! Quickly! I sense she is in great distress!”

It was not long before her unconscious body was discovered by the members of her coven. The vortex had closed before anyone had witnessed it, and the pendant she wore reacted strangely no more. Pom was levitated into the air and brought back to her Priestess. She needed healing about her neck as she suffered frostbite. Her body is ice cold, her lips blue and her breathing shallow.



“Warm her.” She tended Pom who had been laid to rest upon the altar. “What magick caused this lay beyond my scope of sight,” her Priestess lamented.

The Priestess raised a hand and set her palm firmly to Pomst's ice cold forehead and closed her eyes to witness the scene unfolding inside Pom's mind. She sought the replay of the attack made against Pom which brought her daughter to her knees. And she suddenly realized what Pom was surrendering her life for. The Priestess took hold of the pendant around Pom's neck and sighed, as she determined it harmless as to whatever power it possessed was thoroughly contained. How could she discover what merged with it to make it so volatile?

Her Priestess ran her hands over Pom's form and her realization caused her to instantly shed a tear. “Young Mistress, I am afraid its too late.” Trapped within her dream state, Pom heard the distant words of the clan elder resonate within her thoughts. She heard and she clung to her tender voice, such a prominent and respectable figure in her life always. The young witch vehemently detested every word which she was forced to reckon with. “Come back to us, my child.” The Priestess probing Pom’s mind, realized the truth that the father had not yet been told of the news. “He is en route to us. I sense it.”

 

[Vereshin]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PknEeI5YiBA​

​

Vereshin weighed on the disturbance rippling through the Force throughout the journey to Dathomir. Bothered deeply by vision he experienced inside the tomb of the forgotten Lords, he followed Pom's presence immediately and compounded spells along the trip. He discarded one equation after the next and diverted his gaze frequently towards the stars, anticipating the arrival of the vessel with building panic. One of the Sith guards knocked at his door and with a short nod of his head, informed Vereshin of their arrival. The Sith Sorcerer slipped on his coat, fastening the buttons over his scarf, on which an amethyst pin glistened.

In an unusual change of character, Vereshin left his notebook and pen on the desk and exited without them. He did not imagine he would need them or have any time to prepare while on the on world. He followed the guard and met the fresh air as the ramp descended onto the earth. Holding on the entrance of the holding door, his coat billowed in the wind as strode with haste down the ramp. The ripple in the Force grew stronger as he drew closer to Pom's coven. The sight of blood on a stone bridge caught his eye. He breathed deeply and swallowed a fearful gulp. Witches surrounded his form and guided him to the altar where his beloved lay.

Cylaeria appeared just like the vision had portrayed her. Her hair and garments splayed across the stone like a black, wilted flower. Vereshin stopped abruptly and parted his lips, only to close them upon the fast realization of what had happened. He saw the blood on her dress and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and swallowing his grief. Vereshin's feet moved beneath them and he motioned towards Pom, extending a hand brushing back the hair from her forehead. He gradually transferred the life energy he had gained during his trial into her vessel and revived her to coherence.

The Sith sorcerer knelt down on the earth and cradled Cylaeria's head, brushing back her hair and cupping her chin in his hand. He stroked her abdomen and muttered in fruitless silence. Tears formed in his eyes and ran down his gaunt cheeks as he struggled to comprehend an emotion which could not be described, only felt, loss. Vereshin had never experienced the breaking of an attachment, nor had ever attached himself to anybody to lose. He repressed his grief and tried to feel glad that at least his lady was still alive. He continued to imbue her form with more energy until her health was regained. Leaning over, he stroked her abdomen and stared into her black eyes.

"I am sorry, my darling." Vereshin uttered deeply. He knew the vision of the old physicist to be false. His lips trembled as he kissed Pom's forehead and stroked her cheek. Vereshin fell deeper into the Dark Side and channeled his grief. Energy emanated from his form and rippled through the atmosphere. The pendant around Pom's neck shattered beneath his involuntary release of telekinetic force. He had nothing more to say than sorry. He had failed to give Pom a family. At the very least, he could make sure that she kept her life.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

She just wanted to stay where she hid, but she hid inside her own mind. Here everything is going to be fine. The day started out with one welcome discovery and in a matter of hours it is torn apart.

‘No. No. That did not happen. Here is my son. He is sweet to me. He makes me laugh. My heart breaks when he cries. And I will kill anyone who commits him an injustice.’

Pom imagined his face, how he would look just like her beloved Vereshin. She beheld his image so vividly.

‘He likes to play. He treats animals with kindness. He is an exemplary student, a fine warlock. His grandfather loves him. My mother dotes on him. And when he grows older, he cares deeply for his mother, treats me with tenderness. A fine boy.’

Pom had it all planned out from the very moment she knew he existed.



The voice of her High Priestess is soothing in sound only. As for her words, Pom's head rejected them.

‘Just stop talking. You are the dream, a bad dream. Leave me, ill spirit. I will command you if you don't willingly comply. I will bind you in a most unpleasant manner. I swear it.’

Luckily her Priestess rendered a compassionate shoulder, as she stood hovering over the alter. She likes Cylaeria. Everyone likes Cylaeria. The young woman has potential.



As the young dark Sith approached, the sisters parted and bid him passage. They lent their healing energy to their afflicted sister. As [member=Vereshin] approached, Pom sensed him, and inside, her spirit broke all the more.

The fantasy she entertained within her thoughts did not waiver.

‘Here is our son now a man. He is a great warrior…’

The storm clouds overhead blackened. Pom stirred a magick unwittingly. While she upheld her fantasy, another aspect of her mind which understood the truth whispered curses and conjured a hex. Whoever gripped her through the force would suffer. She will see to it.

Vereshin knelt before the alter and her body involuntarily jolted. The burn around her neck nearly healed, just a hint of redness remained. Her Priestess erected an onslaught of protection spells, not having an inkling how or why whatever was cast over her daughter occurred. She would go to war over such an attack on one of her own.

The amulet expelling its energy at Vereshin's desire, and crushing under his mere thought, caused the coven’s healing spell to heighten due to its removal. Physical healing, Pom felt numb to it. The two realities within her mind were battling for control. Her black eyes merely stared ahead, their pain evident.

‘Everything is fine. The day is beautiful, just as it had started off.’

The cold wind against her cheek, and the uncomfortable slab of the alter on her cramping muscles, tugged her delusion back towards the unwanton reality.

‘The vortex was so very black and void of light.’ The unexplained tear in space appeared in her beautiful imagined future. She will never forget how dark it was, and the haughtiness which lay beyond it on the other side.

She felt the darkness emanating from within Vereshin and she drew upon it, lustfully. All at once without forewarning Pom sneered through newly fallen tears, and her eyes depicted a blazing wildness void of love. From her place just as she were lain upon the alter, she violently shrieked. It was an emission backed by a volatile energy, one backed by a sinister intent, the kind of force which conjures. Looking through Vereshin and anyone else who eyes were cast upon her, Pom reached out intentionally and she did what Nightsisters do best.

The Nightsisters fed off the ripe raw power which emanated from Pom and Vereshin, and they put it to good use. The High Priestess raised her staff and called upon the goddess Abeloth. She sought justice for her Cylaeria, Vereshin and their stolen child.

All around the city, the marsh alighted with an eerie, green, glowing mist, the unique lifeforce which makes Dathomir unholy.

 

[Vereshin]

As Pom jolted and whimpered beneath his touch, Vereshin began to chant under his breath. He uttered a deeply calming incantation in effort to subdue her distress. Reaching over, he held her waist and cradled her head in his hand. The energy emanating from both of them sent ripples through the water and trees. He stroked her hair and sung his words with a slight melody. His tears subsided and he focused all of his energy into calming his lover. Vereshin would not tell her directly that he knew the child would be sickly like him if he had been born.

"The Void is benign. There is no space or time. There is no noise. It is a peaceful plane." Vereshin spoke the final words in basic so that Pom could understand them. He reassured her that their child was in a better place than the wretched physical world. As he channeled his grief, he poured the Force into Pom and continued to heal her. A field of energy exploded from the gathering nightsisters and caused the sun to appear green. Vereshin devoured it and used the rising power to strengthen himself physically. Wrapping the Force around Pom, he levitated her off the altar and held her in his arms.

Vereshin carried Pom over the stone bridge and back to the ship. He determined that she receive adequate medical care. The nightsisters left him at the ramp and he became quickly exhausted and handed her to the waiting Sith guard. He felt ashamed that he could not carry her without the aid of the Force. They carried Pom to the medical bay where nurses and doctors quickly tended to her injuries and checked for infections. She was anesthetized and operated on. The doctors reassured Vereshin that she would awake in one piece. He left her bedside only to make her a cup of herbal tea, which he brought to the side table as the ship moved through the stars.

"Shh... I'm here now." He stroked her hair and cooed as she awoke. Steam rose from the herbal tea on the side table and he read the grief on her features. Despite his anxious disposition, Vereshin displayed remarkable internal strength and refused to dwell on his emotions. He needed to be her partner in their loss and remain balanced while Pom grieved. Sentences traveled through his head and none of them seemed appropriate. "You have to be strong." Vereshin said as he rubbed Pom's shoulder in a comforting gesture. A pause followed between them.

"Cylaeria, we are young. I am too distant and immersed in my work to raise a child at this point in time." Vereshin spoke as gently as he could, remaining with the innocence and inexperience of a child and not an adult who could adequately raise one. "Children are not important. We must have greater ambitions." His words were as honest as he could manage. He spoke like a true Sith. "I do feel our loss with you, but we simply cannot dwell on our emotions. They must be restrained and used efficiently." He tried desperately to convey the emotion so alien to him to Cylaeria. He loved their child and did not want him growing up without a father, or worse, be harmed by an enemy Sith.

"Contain your grief, channel it and use it to make yourself stronger. That is the way of the Sith." Vereshin advised softly. The topic of children was not one he wanted to think about at least before marriage, preferring to approach the stepping stones of life at a gradual pace. He still had many things to do and many years to grow up himself. Leaning over, he handed Pom the cup of herbal tea and sighed heavily. "Pommy darling, do you mind if I smoke?" He craved a cigarette amidst the stress.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The Nightsisters shaped purpose to the raw energy surrounding them being emitted by the two lovers. Its what the coven does best. Their magick would be fashioned quicker tonight than most. The force flows very strongly from these two. The High Priestess surrendered to the will of Abeloth as she chanted and swayed before the alter. From the sacred pillar, fire ignited of most colorful flames, and spread across the alter among the herbs and the potions gathered thereupon, and the aroma it generated grew thick as the colorful smoke which encompassed the coven. The entire area became doused in a brilliant neon green sheen. It radiated from within Pom and violently projected outward through her scream. Vereshin however, appeared impenetrable to the glow of the mist, his being muted by sheer darkness. He stood out visually as simply being different.

The flames did not harm Pom nor [member=Vereshin]. It was not hot at all. The spirit energy the Nightsisters loosed enjoined with the air, the water, the dirt, and flames. Their incantation became unified as a singular voice. Pom exhausted her energy as she pushed with all her feeling to commune with her own anguish. It felt as if snipping the ties with a lifeforce other than among the physical realm, but with its etherial. The planet rumbled in its generation.

When she realized that Vereshin was cradling her, her essence broke in an entirely different fashion. Her strength for vengeance abandoned her, and the mere idea of his comfort trapped her to the point that she could not but experience it, experience him.

Two powerful and opposite emotions intertwined, destined upon snuffing one another out. Such development promotes post traumatic stress syndrome. Because of Vereshin’s presence comfort existed among the darkness.

Because of Vereshin's alignment, comfort generated out of darkness.

The only magnificent adaptations of such an oxymoron are:
Insanity
Death



Insanity must hast have won her over, because the next thing Pom knew is her coming to on Vereshin's ship. Death had already visited her earlier. She pondered if the vortex she saw was Death Himself. She actively wanted to understand it. She would see this image appear before her eyes throughout her lifetime henceforth, and each time her skin would crawl with gripping fear as her mind recalled her memory of it, reliving inside her mind that meeting it for the first time had cost her her first child.

Had Vereshin been speaking to her all this time? She suddenly became aware of his presence next to her as she rested upon a bed in his medical bay. She had unintentionally been staring into the bright lights which hung over her head, hoping her recollection of moments before were merely a dream. Pom caught the tail end of his declaration that he does not desire children. She knows him, and knows he is struggling to be delicate. His words disturbed her all the more evenso.

Children are a mother's responsibility. Some of it she wished he would not have admitted aloud. But, she accepted that he is also hurting, and she too, which indeed would cause her perception of what he spoke to be received twisted.

Pom has little experience with the ways among off-worlders. She spent her time, not wavering in her culture, and she saw that practically everyone she met would find themselves scratching their head at her behavior, her attire, her Craft. Her very perception of the universe limited to the understanding of her peopled how they taught. She wondered why Vereshin stole her away from her homeworld just then. To where is he planning to lead her? She could not help but think he held an unspoken belief that the ways of her people are insufficient. Nightsister rituals take time, over the instant results of the Sith, but they do indeed measure up. History has it that their magick sometimes surpasses that of Force users, but it cannot be denied that representation can play a factor. The mere visual presence of the Nightsisters has been known to stir fear which many warriors could not possibly anticipate, a practice also inclined to Sith Lords in their intimidating typically barbaric battle armor. Mostly her people do not mingle well with others, like oil and water. Instead her people are notorious for reputations for behaving worse than vampires. She doubted she would ever become worldly like he is, or accepted by others. She looked right through him as he seemed to plummet into his own despair, feeling utterly beside herself. He did not understand her ways.

Her tone flowed laden thick with her remorse. “I do want protégé. They are not unimportant to me.” She would not have her dreams squashed so quickly, especially since it was so freshly ripped from her, in a most malicious and mysterious manner. Nightsisters have lured and mesmerized men just to gain offspring. They are unscrupulous women. To them however, this way is merely their culture. Many do not keep meaningful attachment to men. Pom had latched onto Vereshin however, at first because he wanted to be near her. She found he soon captivated her heart, and she was hooked.

He asked if he could smoke, as if it mattered. Pom held no desire to join the living. “Enjoy the physical world as you prefer,” she bid him. “I want to lose myself for a while.” At that, she beckoned the nearest crew member to procure her a drink stiffer than tea. She would toss it back with a potion from her stash, and leave no opportunity for revival till morning. Pom just lost someone in a passing moment, whom she was sure she would love as deeply as she loves Vereshin, maybe even learn that she is capable of loving even a little more.

 

[Vereshin]

Although Vereshin tried sincerely to comfort Cylaeria, he became increasingly frustrated as she clung to such a worthless aspiration. The terror and uncertainty of the past two days culminated and his remorse turned to anger. The stress of knowing the details of his future and consoling his grieving woman amounted, causing Vereshin to lash out. While she moped, he sighed deeply and reached for his cigarette case, flipped open the lid and plucked a white cylinder which he held between his teeth. Concealing the case, he snapped his fingers and created a lilac flame to ignite the end.

"No." He stated, preparing to deliver a response fueled by passion. As Pom reached for the potion, Vereshin snatched it away through the Force and demanded she pay attention, rather than abandon the issue at hand. "You listen to me." He pointed two fingers towards her face, the cigarette balanced between them. "Producing children is an outdated need which is no longer necessary in the present. The present is now and the past is gone. It is time to grow up." His tone remained soft and stern, resounding his point and articulating his feelings in the most diplomatic manner he could manage. He slid the potion into his pocket and refused to return it to Pom until she understood.

"Cylaeria, I love you, but I want you to seek goals which have worth. That is why I brought you to the Empire." Vereshin explained and raised the cigarette to his lips, blowing smoke in the opposite direction of Pom. His entire incentive culminated to erasing the past and discovering new things. "You are a sorceress and an arcane user, not an incubator." A slight hiss resounded on the final word. Vereshin repressed the urge to spit in disgust at the thought of mindless women desiring nothing more than a family. Such values were, for lack of any kind words, pathetic to him.

"Both of my parents were religious. My mother was a witch who could not read or write. I evolved and rose above them. I discarded my heritage completely for greater things." Swinging his hand holding the cigarette as he spoke, more passion flowed into Vereshin's plea. "You must do the same." His eyebrows furrowed in desperation as he watched Cylaeria, eager to bring out of her roots and into the modern galaxy. "Allow me to teach you, lend your skills to the Empire, come to university with me. The galaxy is far too fascinating to even contemplate having children." The grief Vereshin experienced subsided absolutely, only to be replaced by simple frustration.

"I want you to be my partner, not my wife." Placing the cigarette in his mouth, he reached forward and gripped her hands, stroking them with affection, in an expression of desperation.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

A plethora of negativity radiated from Pom as she listened to him speak.

‘We too are as oil and water then,’ the thought deeply saddened her. She did not want to be trapped onboard his ship at this moment. She wanted to be free of him to delve into her own misery as she wills.

Remorsefully, she realized a little more about the Sith. “Its a big galaxy out there, Vereshin. When your people conquer the last most distant system, and abolish all free thinking civilizations that have survived fine up until your subjugation, who then shall you devour, when by that time you will have already lost yourselves?” Pom believed in the plight of the Sith, how people need strong government. “The answer is apparent, that you come for me then. Isn't that it?” Her views on the Sith tarnished at that very moment.

He did not understand how much she needed to be alone to evaluate her innermost sacred thoughts. That he delved in his own relief and forbade her her own, Pom raised herself upon one elbow and curtly snatched the cigarette from his fingertips. “Why should I be the only one made to stew?” she snapped. Her potions were her life, like an addict, same as he to his nicotine and spice. To withhold them from her as he did caused her physical and psychological distress. He also continued to dump on her when she was already down as far as she thought she could get. Has she lost him? Is this development all too much for him, that he now wants his out?

Her anger transformed to fear when she was made to tremble where she rested. ‘I am most cursed!’ The black vortex she witnessed over the lake on Dathomir formed once again before her vision, here on Vereshin's vessel. 'For whom has it come now?' Pom paled all the more and she felt weakness tugging her down as her body sought relief. Terror gripped her heart and she thought for sure he will be taken from her as well, snatched up into the dark abyss.

“A life essence very real and dear to me was just torn from my womb, please let me alone. I am not myself. I cannot reply to you justly.” She remained honest. He should probably be grateful for this gesture. She could have run with her feelings of anger and lash out, end it all for him so that he won't feel guilt. She may have done it too, had the vortex not appeared again, reminding her how much his loss would hurt her all the more. “Be it as you wish,” she said aloud in frustration, only not to Vereshin; she spoke to the vortex as it completely stole her concentration as she stared at it momentarily, as it hung before her in midair. 'If I should die, then let it be so!' The indiscernible anomaly had tried to claim her before! In a matter of a mere minute it suddenly vanished entirely, once again.

He spoke of love and it felt hollow to Pom, another result of her inner turmoil. She is mature enough to realize her state of mind, and resist reacting negatively any further. Pom’s head filed with a weariness that consumed her expression. She slowly reached out towards him and as a gesture of apology gently replaced his spice stick between his wanting lips. She felt alone, her reflection lost within his dark eyes.

Pom managed a subtle smile, and spoke to him softly, “Vereshin, I know I love you. So much by way of passion comes hand in hand with that. Please don't give me reason to fight with you now. We can come to terms after I am revitalized.”

There is so much to address regarding what he said to her. Pom knows people grieve in different ways, and that men not of her culture are inclined to order women around. She just hopes that [member=Vereshin] is grieving, and did not truly mean all the things that he said he desires.

 

[Vereshin]

"It's a big galaxy..." Pom lamented about the Sith and their conquest for galactic domination, something which Vereshin detached himself from. As she had yet to learn, he was not like the usual Sith. With a heavy sigh, he accepted that she was in despair. Although he tried, he simply failed to find the appropriate words to lift her mood and decided to wait until morning to formulate an apology. Her mention of the galaxy and it's size caused him to chuckle slightly, as though the bounds of the galaxy encompassed the Universe entirely.

"No it isn't." Vereshin responded, his chuckle ending with a coy smile and a resounding tone. "The galaxy is a fraction of reality. Beyond these stars exist other galaxies, other worlds, other beings. The Universe is finite, it has a beginning. We shall experience or ignore it as we wish." As Vereshin spoke, he paid little heed to Pom plucking the cigarette from his lips. As she placed it back, he received the apology in her eyes and raised his hand to meet hers. He slid the other into his coat pocket and received her potion, which he placed in her hand and wrapped her fingers over the vial. "Dream about that." With a caress of her hand, Vereshin reached forward to stroke Pom's hair as she added the potion to her tea.

The sorcerer waited until Cylaeria fell asleep, before turning out the lights and exiting to retreat to his chambers and refresh. He sat at his desk and selected a large sheet of graph paper, on which he began to compound the spell to imbue a locket for Pom. The mechanics of the female mind remained a mystery to him and while Vereshin did not understand any ills he had caused, he endeavored to make things up to his lady the following morning. He sipped a cup of cold tea left over from the previous day and joined the dark geometry shaping the spell with which to imbue Pom's new necklace.

While he worked, Vereshin thought deeply on the topic at hand. Had he been so cold towards Pom? He had been so lost in his own ambition he had forgotten the one trace of humanity and comfort he had left in the galaxy. She was the being keeping him from losing himself to darkness completely. In order to keep her in his life, Vereshin would simply have to sacrifice some of his own wants. The extent of committal was alien to him and remained a challenge he had yet to defeat.

​

/end thread​

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]