Private The Fire Still Burns

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace


Healing came slowly. Slower than he was used to. It was…

Frustrating…

He had not kept track of how long it had been since The Box, but the toll it took on his body would have broken many, yet even though some of his bones were broken he was never shattered, never broken.

His bandaged hand gripped the cover over his legs and waist as he laid in an upright position in his recovery bed. Medical equipment beside him beeped and hummed, keeping track of vitals.

Boy…do you wish to talk?...

Ignati's voice pierced the quiet of his room, in his head. A huff escaped him.

“There is nothing to talk about, Ignati.”

He took a sharp breath then exhaled with a grunt.

“I was not strong enough, but I will be, next time we, I see him.”

The day had come to a stilled quiet as the crimson sun bled through his windows, the curtains casting a ghostly shadow across his floor. They had finally removed the bandages from his shoulders after his injuries had mostly healed and his arms were deemed strong enough to hold themselves up.

His grip tightened over the rail of the medical bed, a quiet strain in the metal as his grip warped and crushed the metal.

Memories of the weeks he had spent in The Box surfaced then digressed. The pain of needles piercing his spine and injecting substances to suppress his abilities and cause hallucinations, his body had started to reject medical attention at first once his abilities started returning, a way of catching up to purge the body of any foreign poisons.

It had almost cost him his life

You need rest, son.

Ignati spoke softly to him, almost like he cared. Varin knew better.

His hand slowly pulled him up from the bed as his legs weakly held him up beside his bed, his body leaning onto his hand that rested on the wall.

“I can't rest. I would only get weaker.”

Varin slowly walked, his hand holding him steady on the wall before his foot barely caught the bed and a loud clatter ensued.

Varin found himself on the floor. His arms shaking as he tried to push himself up. Stitches over his sides reopened lightly oozing fresh spilt crimson.

That was when he felt a presence

Irina Jesart​

 

[Irina Jesart]

Irina always believed that when she made a pilgrimage to Korriban, it would be to the Valley of the Lords, to feel the energy and spirits of ancients Sith and to test herself in a way she had not yet done. Yet here she was, walking through crisp white corridors that smelt strongly of antiseptic and disinfectant. The Royal Medical Ward was never on her list of places to visit, but when she'd heard the Varin had been through an...ordeal, she felt the need to come and see him.

She shifted the heavy pack on her shoulder as she stepped in through his doorway in time to see him hit the floor. For a moment she didn't move, realising visiting him where he was, was visiting him in a vulnerable state and he might not take kindly to such an intrusion. Then she heaved a sigh. She was already here, there was no point walking away now. Irina moved forward, setting the pack on the foot of his bed before moving to his side.

Firm hands gripped him, and pulled him upwards without a word, guiding him back to the bed before she took a half a step back, her dark eyes studying for a moment before she spoke.

"When they told me that your healing was slow, I did not stop to think for a moment, that it was because you are behaving like a fool." She chastised, before gesturing to the bed. "Get in it and stay in it, before you make things worse for yourself."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace


His gaze tore to her as soon as her hands touched him, a scowl but no fight as he slowly picked himself back up with her help. He sat down on the edge of the bed, a slight wince as he stared at the floor for a moment.

His eyes then found the pack on the bed, tomes and books laid inside. He took a deep slow sigh.

“Thank you, for the assistance.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“This was my first attempt at getting up. I figured after so much rest I could at least take a step.”

A scoff left him.

“Pitiful.”

He slowly turned his body, a pop echoed from his shoulder as the joint resettled into place causing a grunt to leave his chest.

After a few breaths he had slowly turned his body to properly sit in the bed, his legs extended towards the end under the covers.

“You are a long way from Jutrand, what brings you to Korriban?”

He spoke quietly as if conserving some amount of energy, but remaining stubborn enough to still put effort into words.

“Obviously you are way too smart for Kor'ethyr. Perhaps a pilgrimage?”

A slight smirk on his face, he had not lost his slight sense of sarcastic humor.

Irina Jesart​

 

[Irina Jesart]

Irina watched him with an impassive face, her mask always so carefully held in place. The flicker of a frown passed across her expression at his words. She had asked about the details of his ordeal, though her status as Gerwald’s apprentice would have given her access to any reports. It was his story to share, if he wanted to share it. What she did know was that his injuries had been extensive, so why would he call himself pitiful?

“Letting your body recover does not make you weak, Varin. It makes you smart. Pushing yourself before you are ready will cause more issues for you down the line.”

She moved to the foot of the bed as he settled himself back into it, moving the pack to the edge make room for his long legs, before settling her hands on top of the footboard.

Rin shook her head gently in answer to his question “I am not ready for my pilgrimage.” Some might argue that she was, but in her heart she did not feel ready to face the haunted valley. “I came to see you.”

Her feet shifted slightly under her, as she realised how that might be interpreted. “I was on my way to Kaas when I’d heard you’d been injured, it is not so hard to make a detour to see how you were. And bring you something that might help occupy your mind.” She nodded towards the books.

“Varin,” she began hesitantly, “You do not have to answer, but I would be denying my curiosity if I did not ask.” She paused searching his expression before continuing “What happened?”

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace


A disapproving scoff left chest after she mentioned the possibility of future issues if he did not rest properly. He knew the thought process behind it, and it sounded reasonable, but to him sitting and wasting was no way for recovery.

“No one is ever ready to face their first pilgrimage. I still have yet to face mine, but you detoured just to see…me?”

He knew what she meant by that, she was concerned for him that much he could see, and from the evidence he had witnessed with her relationship with Aerik, he knew she meant strictly platonic.

He saw the shift in her feet and a soft chuckle left him.

“Don't worry, I know what you mean. I'm thankful you came by.”

When she said his name his gaze flicked over to her, the tone of it was different from before. Hesitant, as if she were debating on if she should ask.

Then her question hit him like a bucket of ice water. His fingers that were once folding a piece of the covers over him fell still, his eyes stared to the wall, past the wall. The temperature of the room had changed to him, he could feel the frigid air of his cell around him, the chains that bound his arms to the sides while the sockets in his shoulders screamed in pain from dislocation.

He blinked after a quiet moment, snapping back to the reality of his recovery room.

“I was held for what I believe was…a few weeks. I was not fed, only given vitamin supplements to keep me just barely alive. Same with hydration."

He cleared his throat as a dryness started to develop.

“They were all through careful injections along my spine. They could choose when I “fed” and when I starved. I was suppressed from the force, blinded and muzzled."

His fingers gently tapped on the fabric.

“I refused to kneel to the captor, the man who killed my family and robbed me of my home. He ripped my arms from their sockets, bound them in chains so that my body weight was held by my arms alone.”

A deep breath was inhaled before he slowly let it back out.

“Then there was the cold. Minus temperatures, cold enough that water froze and clung to every surface. After the freezing burns there was just…numbness.”

His fists clenched as the fabric strained in his grasp.

“He made me see things, Irina. Something he injected me with. It…”

He took a shaking breath that rattled his chest.

“I saw my mother, and my sister. They…”

His gaze flicked over to her, a deep seeded rage that was present within the tightening and clenching of his jaw.

“They hated me.”

Irina Jesart​

 

[Irina Jesart]

Irina listened without interrupting his tale of torture, her jaw tightening memory flickering in her own mind, of being unmade and remade over and over again. The memory wasn't hers, but Gerwald's, thrust upon her because she dared to ask. It was the only thing she knew that was any kind of similar to the suffering Varin had endured. There was one thing she did understand on her own.

She moved from the foot of the bed, coming to stand beside him. She had burned the man who had killed her parents, relished in his screams and the destruction of his home. She had no idea how many of his family had died in that fire, nor did she care. But he had not been powerful, nor capable of harming her himself. The man who had taken and tortured Varin though? He knew what he was doing.

Carefully, she set her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. "Do you know who he is? Why he wanted to hurt you?"

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber


Her hand placed over his, a squeeze before she asked her questions. Two very distinct and important questions.

Varin did not look at her, his eyes stayed straight as his jaw tightened.

“He calls himself Allan Alhune.”

The name came out quieter, as if his voice struggled to speak it. As if he were some boogeyman or a nightmare legend. Though this was the second time he had seen him and the first time he had heard his name, let alone spoke it.

“That is all I know about him.”

He coughed slightly to clear his chest before he continued, his throat all of a sudden coarse and dry.

“I don't know why he didn't just kill me. So I doubt it's for my throne. He killed everyone else in my home but not me.”

His gaze sharpened while he thought.

“Possibly for the cause of my runes?”

He paused.

“Other than that I am unsure.”

He leaned forward over the bed to reach for one of the books, the back of his medical cloth opening to reveal several puncture wounds from medical needles running all the way up and down the sides of his spine.

Irina Jesart​

 

[Irina Jesart]

Allan Alhune.

Irina committed the name to memory. Her position gave her access to resources in the Sith Order that others did not have, using them for personal matters might earn a raised eyebrow from her Master, but she felt compelled to help Varin. Not just because of their kinship where fire was concerned, but because she understood what it was to lose your family.

And what it meant to have revenge.

She didn't press for more information, it was clear he didn't have it. A name was enough to start digging with. As he leaned forward and the back of his gown slipped, Irina caught a glimpse of the puncture wounds that framed his spine before averting her eyes out of respect, surprised at the quiet rage that heated her chest.

Rin moved, pulling the pack higher up the bed making it easier for him to reach.

"I brought everything I could find on forgotten languages, as well as a solid tome on High Sith itself." She lifted her eyes to his face. "I remember you had an interest in translating your runes, and I was going to offer assistance before Aerik interrupted our session. I had thought it might provide a nice distraction while you recovered but.."

She paused, eyes flicking to the runes that were exposed before continuing.

"If you are right, that it is something in your runes he is after, then translating them might be your best shot at finding answers."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber



The bag slid closer to him allowing his fingers to clutch one of the bound covers. He did not interrupt as she spoke, only listened before he pulled one of the tomes closer to him and cracked it open, skimming some of the pages.

His voice was quiet as he responded.

“Thank you, Irina. The libraries in Kor'ethyr are quite strict on their rules for certain languages. The ones I have access to are not adequate enough.”

He looked back over to her.

“My mother taught me High Sith when I was young. Taught me how to write, how to read, how to garden.”

A small chuckle left him.

“Even how to cook.”

A small smile touched his lips before his gaze fell back to the pages. The different symbols seeming to call for his attention as he multitasked between listening to her and browsing.

Irina Jesart​

 

[Irina Jesart]

The way he spoke about his mother struck something in Rin, a quiet envy that he had been lucky enough to have that time with his mother. The most she could recall of her own was the way Irina had always sat in her lap when she'd read to her, and the way her smile used to light up something in her father.

Her gaze dropped to the books.

"My mother died when I was young. My father was...inconsistent after she passed. Most of my tutoring came from a man who turned out was responsible for both their deaths."

Something dark flickered across her expression as the memory of his screams as she burned him alive played in her mind. "He was the first man I burned alive."

Quiet fell between them, the weight of her words darkening the small moment of joy that Varin had had about his mother. "Sorry." she said after a moment, shaking the memories away and grabbing a datapad from the pile.

"Do you object to me copying down the runes as the are on your skin? It will make it easier for us to look between them."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber


Varin's fingers quietly tapped on the book's cover after she spoke.

Would she have been luckier than him to have not really known her family as well? Or is that the mercy?

He let out a slow breath as the thought came and passed. Something he decided to keep to himself, thoughts like that you never bring up to anyone who had lost people. Especially if they had grown close.

“No, I don't object to you copying the runes. Feel free to drawing them or tracing if you wish.”

He was silent for another moment, before a burning question urged him to ask.

“Those who were able to avenge their dead, they always remember the name of the one who did the killing.”

He gently set the book down.

“They had become so obsessed with their killer that they forget their parent's names.”

He looked her in the eyes.

“What were your parent's names?”

He paused again as the question hung in the air above them.

“I had forgotten my father's face. Now all I see is that helm he would wear. The armor he donned.”

Irina Jesart​

 

[Irina Jesart]

For a moment, Irina didn't answer. Her fathers death was a fresh now as it was when it happened five years ago, when she had been pulled from her lessons for the day to be informed not of his passing, but of how the patriachy of Eliad would take everything from her.

"My father," she began slowly "was Jacob Jesart. He died five years ago."

She moved, angling herself so she could get a view of the markings on his back, carefully moving the gown to reveal them before she began copying them.

"My mother was Meliandre Jesart. She died when I was young."

She paused, a frown creasing her forehead. "I remember almost nothing of her, except the way the room used to react to her, like they were basking in sunlight." the frown faded, a sad smile forming on her lips before she shook her head, her attention moving back to the datapad.

"I have nothing to remember them by, I burned everything on Eliad. It was not a life I wanted to return to."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin did not interrupt, allowing her to speak in the detail she wished of her parents. He could feel the slip of the gown down his shoulder, revealing more pattern. Down to his lower ribs however was a new mark that was not there before.

Like a spilled blot of ink in water, the black pattern seemed to seep into his veins, a small scar the size of a small needle could just barely be seen.

Varin winced slightly as he positioned himself so she could get a better angle.

When she finished speaking he did not respond for a moment, letting the words hang into the air. Testing their weight.

Finally when he did speak his voice was lower.

“My condolences.”

He paused for another moment, debating whether to stay on subject or not.

“My mother was…similar.”

His hands gently picked up the book he held before as she traced the symbols, his eyes glancing each page as he looked at the runes on his forearms.

“Don't you…still think about them?”

He caught himself asking before he could stop it, a small sight leaving him.

Irina Jesart​

 

[Irina Jesart]

Irina sighed, looking up from the datapad.

"Sometimes." she admitted "There might be a moment that reminds me of them, but if truth be told, I think of them less as time goes on. Not because I do not care, but because my focus is on what lies ahead, not what I have left behind."

She paused, the datapad resting on the beds edge. "We honour their memory more by becoming everything they could not be and more." She was certain the only reason Varin was dwelling on such things was because he was idle, and because his experience tied directly to them.

Rin moved again, focusing on her work once more.

"What do you remember of your parents?"

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

He did not interject with her reasons, they were hers not his. In truth Varin wished he could do the same that she does, let the thought of them fade. Move on in a way. When she sat the datapad down she said something that made him stop, made him think.

Honor their memory for what they could not become.

He looked down at the tome for a while longer after she asked her question. What did he remember?

He stayed in place so she could retain her advantage on inspecting and copying the runes, daring not to move so she could continue her job with ease. A small breath escaped him.

“My father…He was ruthless. He was cruel, and he did not hold back. But…He always put the kingdom first. Our people loved him as a King because he was fair in his judgement. He was cruel because history dictated that he be so. I remember his teachings of strength. But I can’t see his face. Every time he removes his helm all I can see is shadows in my memory.”

He slowly flipped a page, the sound of the paper rustling in the room before it quietly halted.

“My mother though…She…”

He took a deep breath, a slight tremor shaking his chest.

“She taught me about life, how to garden, to take care of things and they will care for you. It’s funny when I describe her, she..she sounds so pure, so full of light. But in reality she was one of our deadliest shield maidens. But she cared for me and she cared for Nier deeply as a mother should.”

A small chuckle left him.

“Unfortunately I mainly took after my father.”

Irina Jesart​