The Despondent One

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The Dominion had been declared, more or less, and would soon stand as a sovereign body within the Galactic Core. Things were looking up, well, as much as they could be given recent events. Mephirium sat in the center of his sparring chamber on Denon, the newly named capital of the Dominion. A small suite had been afforded to him upon arrival. Larger buildings were offered, but Mephirium was never one for ostentatious decor.

It was here that he regularly met with his more private constituents. Though he did not go to great lengths to hide his position as a Lord of the Sith, he was not overt about it either. As such, when he met with his fellow force sensitives, it was generally within the privacy of his own home.

Enma had been called, though her quarters were barely a house away. She and Gratua were growing to be the more constant apprentices, whereas the others hung on simply for the sake of it. Lines were being drawn, and Mephirium was content to watch from the sidelines.

Clad in a sleeveless hunting tunic and sweatpants, he ran a piece of cloth over a long metal rod sitting in his lap. The weapon would suit his needs for the evening.

[member="Enma Jayss"]

 

[Enma Jayss]

As available and responsive to her Master's call as always, the hybrid did not linger in her small, almost empty living area any longer than was necessary before heeding [member="Darth Mephirium"]'s call. Her body was covered in dark clothing, as it usually was, that she herself had altered to fit her comfort. Being an apprentice of a Dark Lord implied being ready to get on the move constantly. And even if her routines would have been more relaxed, she was not precisely one for fashion.

She opened the door to her Master's house, the world a net of Force connections in her eyes. She had grown increasingly skillful with this ability. She bowed her head once she had closed the door behind her and saw the unmistakable essence of Mephirium through her force-sighted eyes. The very same essence that had drew her to him in the first place. "You called, Master" Her voice was calm and respectful, unafraid and melodious. She did pay any particular attention to the weapon on her Master's lap and stood straight, her hands relaxedly holding each other behind her back, allowing the hilts of her lightsaber slightly shine with the lighting of the room.

 

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Enma was the antithesis to Mephirium. She was apathy and blind loyalty embodied in a sentient creature. He was ambition and betrayal made manifest. In the end, the two intertwined and made for a fitting pair, one that Mephirium's other apprentices no doubt resented. The Dark Lord paid such disdain no mind; if they wished for him to care about their opinion, then they would need to earn such patronage with service.

A single eye opened as Enma strode into the room. Her clothing looking more befitting of her position than her previous attire, yet she still carried herself like a servant. Mephirium suspected she might always do so, but it would be important to give her some form of structure to build a sense of basic individuality. He took her in for what she was; a beautiful, albiet deadly thing. Most ladies of the Sith tended to be so. It would not affect his treatment of her in the slightest.

"I did," he agreed, rising up to his feet. "And I see you've found some new toys," he mused, gesturing toward her lightsaber. "A dangerous weapon. One you should consider the consequences of using before you ever light the blade."

Rather than continue with his explanation, Mephirium went on. "It's time we tested your combat capabilities. Do you know how to wield that?"

[member="Enma Jayss"]

 

[Enma Jayss]

Enma lifted her left hand, taking the saber in it but without yet igniting its deadly light. She assessed the weapon as she had had many times. She considered her answer. Lightsabers were not common weapons. She had been taught in the use of them, it as soon as the second year of her life that the brothers and sisters that had not been born with a connection to the Force had perished. They clearly had a disadvantage against the others. So her late Masters saw fit that the remaining, Force-affiliated hybrids learn the basic ways of the more material weapon of the Force.

"I know how to wield it. I can improve." She answered with her usual calm yet reflexive tone. She knew she was not bad, she was actually somewhat skillful with the weapon but she also knew she was no where near being any more remarkable than others with it. She had expected for this moment to come. She was not nervous. Enma might not have been arrogant but she did trust her abilities. Insecurity led one nowhere.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

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"Yes, I believe you can," Mephirium agreed. His eyes fell to the weapon Enma carried. It was, as he expected, reflective of her character. Most weapons of this sort of make generally were. A lightsaber was something personal; it was as much a token of office as it was a weapon. His gaze traveled from the weapon to her sightless eyes, and he smiled.

"I once fancied myself a blademaster, you know," he chuckled, "When I was younger, I thought one whom mastered the blade mastered all. There was no on greater than the hero with the glowing sword. In the end, I turned out to be a rather mediocre duelist unless I was fighting for my life. Suffice to say, I most certainly was no blademaster."

He rumbled with quiet laughter at the memory. Ah, he'd been such a fool in his youth. So many lost opportunities given away to time, so many friends and family long since gone. He could not let Enma make his mistakes.

"Enma," he placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "There will come a time when you question your duties. It happens to all of us. Perhaps you'll find someone you love, or something you wish to quit fighting for. When that time comes, know that I will never be angered for your decision, nor that I will shun you if you leave my side."

The words seemingly came from nowhere, but they had to be said. With a sigh of content, his hold on her shoulder slackened.

"Now, show me how well you swing your glow-stick!"

[member="Enma Jayss"]

 

[Enma Jayss]

A warm smile spread the lips of the Hybrid as her Master shared with her a memory of his past. She had shared a very similar illusion in her childhood, one that had bore her her very first scar. And just like her Master, it was not until she realized the danger of her situation that she had found it in her will to overpower her opponent. After that incident, which now she remembered with the same expression in her face as the one you would give a child when it had done something silly, she had taken to her current ways. A path more thoughtful than brutal.

Her smile slowly vanished from her face at the next comment of her Master. She felt touched by it but she also felt hurt. She would follow him until the day he died, she died or the day he ordered her to leave. She knew that if the case was the latter, something inside her would be broken beyond repair. And the thought that her Master would considered her capable of willingly turning her back on him stirred that very same broken thing deep within her, that had always seemed to live there. Of course, the Hybrid was deafening herself to the reality of the Sith's words. She did not want to acknowledge that those occurrences were indeed possible and beyond her control. But even then, she was sure of her determination to follow her Lord. "I shall never walk away from you Master. That will be the day either you or I depart from the world of the living. And I am aware of the meaning of my words and of what I am refusing by choosing this path for myself. I have nothing better to offer than my loyalty. I would loose myself if I refused it." She responded.

After her words she felt calmness wash over her again. And she proceeded to unbuckle both of her lightsabers. One of her creators had instructed her in the most basic aspects Jar'Kai. As was to be expected, after the very first years of the tournament the remaining Hybrids were the ones that had been gifted with a strong connection to the Force. As a result, her creators saw fit to instruct them in the ways of the Force and of light-saber wielding. However, she had been one of the very few to choose double-wielding. She ignited the blades and took a defensive pose.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

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"Then I cannot fault you. Choosing to stay by my side is a choice all the same," Mephirium relented. If she truly desired to remain with him, if it was what would bring her some sense of accomplishment, then so be it. That was her choice, and he was in no place to berate her for it.

The training room was spacious but confining all the same. The walls were covered with a paper-like material decorated with artistic works of great battles long since passed. Thin light passed through the flimsi material and bathed the room itself in a warm, albiet weak golden glow. It almost made Cyril's complexion begin to look healthy, but one could not simply hide the paleness of his skin so easily.

A hand fell to the cylinder at his hip. In one quick motion, the weapon traveled from his belt into his hands, and ignited in a harsh crimson light. Mephirium admired the blade for a moment, still not accustomed to the red sheen of it, and frowned.

"Enough philosophy," he said, "Come at me with everything you have, Enma. I can't adequately teach you unless I'm fighting for my life." The blade shifted forward into a defensive guard. "Begin."

[member="Enma Jayss"]

 

[Enma Jayss]

Enma closed her eyes for the shortest of seconds and what seemed like an invocation of calmness in the outside was the unleashing of the tidal waves of her inside. The dark, strong fluidity of something that she could not yet wield in its whole power, she barely scrapped the surface of its extents. It moved through her like a crushing mass of water, like the obsidian waters of the lake she had met Mephirium in, bathing the insides of her soul and her mind in an empowering essence. Then she opened her eyes. Eyes no longer dead grey but bright red, deep red. The Force now flowed trough her body.

The Hybrid then ran, her speed amazingly enhanced, towards her Master. Both sabers ignited, she jabbed at [member="Darth Mephirium"]'s chest. Enma had been trained as a chain attacker. The strength of her armored combat abilities were taking her opponents down in short, amazingly brutal sprees of attacks. A rain of attacks. She was taught to defend herself more with rolls, dodges and deviations rather than with actual blockage and defense stands. In other words, Enma was quick. Swiftness described her very well.

 

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In the past, when he had two arms, Cyril had fought with a similar method. He had fancied himself a master of Jar'kai, though he understood his perceived mastery to be hubris now. When Silara had taken that arm, she had ruined his way of making war. The then-Jedi Knight had been forced to adapt to dealing with an arm that would never be quite as quick as the flesh and bone.

As a trade-off, his strength had increased exponentially. While he was no means slow, he would have trouble keeping up with the quicker combatants. When his strikes hit, however, it generally ended the contest. His lightsaber hastened to meet her twin blades, catching and twisting with each clash of the weapons. He held it close to his body, minimizing the lengths at which he would have to stretch his arms to repel the weapon. The effect helped him retain a bit more stamina than he would have otherwise, but Enma's strikes still hammered him.

"Good," he complemented, his words strained from the strikes. "Now, let's see if you can pierce my defense."

[member="Enma Jayss"]