The Moon Of My Life [Kära Vi'dreya]

[Thyrian Hearthfire]

Bastion
Braxant Sector

The time had come for the Ashborn to do something he would never even consider, given different circumstances. But he had to see his master; being in her presence is the only thing keeping him at ease, her words soothing his weary spirit whenever she would speak. His arrival was unannounced, yet the few security forces stationed at the palace were more than aware of who he was as he traversed the stairs leading up to the main entrance, immidiately stepping aside where the titan walked, else risking to be trampled beneath his determined heels. Even something as simple as walking now proved difficult for Thyrian, his ashen body succumbing to the passage of time, it seemed. No, he was not sure how long he had left, having existed for over a decade in this decaying state, trapped within his entombing armour. It has served him well, at the very least, often times being what stood between him and an untimely end by another's hand, and he can't shake the feeling that it has aided him in staying in one piece this whole time. It was a... terrible priviledge, of sorts.

For 12 years he had served his mistress, his Queen; twelve years of mental torture by the hands of his raving inner self, intermixed with his master's calming presence and her schemes for the Empire, as well as for herself in general. Each passing day he felt himself becoming weaker, his body crumbling beneath him; he was not supposed to exist for this long, nobody would in his state. Had young Kära not rescued him back on Dromund Kaas, his body would have wasted away in but a month or two, yet his subjugation by her hand had managed to suppress it for far longer than his intended expectancy. The Ashborn was getting... old. He can no longer go without his suit, as his ashen corpse would fall apart. His flame is withering, only fueled by the lunatic nature of his other being, who he was more than reluctant to give in to, seeing as "he" was now able to command his body as well. He had done so before; both times resulting in harming that which he holds most dear. The first time was ten years ago, the second only a few weeks ago. Both occurrences had left him unwilling to live.

Wandering through the otherwise empty corridors leading to her office, Thyrian's pace diminished itself, and he felt the need to stop and pause for a moment. Leaning against the nearby wall, a menacing fit of coughing fell upon him, causing him to slump to the floor. He did not breathe air, yet he was forced to gasp for it in between coughs, almost as if asthmatic. Inside his mind the raving maniac laughed at him, scolding him for showing weakness. "I AM NOT YOUR PLAYTHING, LOWLIFE! LEAVE ME BE..." With that said, he slowly rose to his feet and resumed his journey to see his Queen with heavy steps. Once finding himself standing before her front door, a single heavy knock echoed throughout the room, and no doubt the room on the other side of the door as well. It was all he was able to muster, however, before again slumping to the floor, unable to get up on his own. "MY QUEEN... I HAVE SERVED YOU... AS BEST I CAN..." His words were weak and mumbled, but just as he was about to fall unconscious, the door swung open.

@[member="Kära Vi'dreya"]

 

[Lief]

She sensed him before she heard his knocking and words beyond the door; her Ashborn had come, but there was something wrong… Something didn’t quite seem right. With a very small frown the woman slipped from her chair and made her way across the humble chamber, the door activating and opening with her appearance there. Beside the door she saw him, slumped over yet still a giant to all degrees. Kneeling down she surveyed him for any physical harm, but finding none she realised that the fears she had held as a child, when she initially claimed him for her own, were showing true. His fire was dying again.


Last time it had been far more simple, she had forced him to feel again and through her aggressive stance had thenceforth formed a most loyal servant; yet she could not offer what she had back then. No, not offer. A small smile appeared upon her lips as she stood back up and stared down at him. “Get up” she commanded of him, knowing he would find it difficult to deny her even now. While she waited for him to comply she grasped the arm of a passing servant, well truth be told she was a slave, and pulled her close, her voice purring into the woman’s ear yet the words remaining out of earshot from the Ashborn.


“Bring me the prisoners”


Then she stepped back into the office, but only long enough to grasp her outer robes; it would be cold where they were headed. “You will come with me, Ashborn.” He was not given an option, as she made her way through the halls, insistent that he followed. His fire would be reignited, and she knew of a way to make it so.

@[member="Thyrian Ashborn"]

 

[Thyrian Hearthfire]

Quietly gazing up at his harsh mistress, his eyes gleaming a faint, yellow light behind the mask, the Ashborn lingered on the floor for a while, before the titan eventually forced his decaying self to move at her command. It was not a pretty sight, nor very imposing to behold; his legs kept giving way underneath his weight, throwing him off balance and forcing him back onto the ground several times. It was a pitiful show, one his master was sure to look down upon. Weakness was something she had always detested, and now her most trusted and dutiful servant displayed every sign of it. "I... LIVE... ONLY TO... SERVE YOU, MASTER..." He forced himself to speak, merely to acknowledge her presence and her command. Unable to focus properly, his limbs trembled uncontrollably, making walking incredibly difficult. Each step - much smaller in length than he's used to, yet still large compared a normal person - was unbearably painful. Resorting to support his weight against the wall as he moved behind his master, she easily managed to get ahead of him, as he stumbled forth as if blindfolded. Yet he did not object, refusing to state his state of decay from behind her back. As she got further away from him, however, his body crumbled once more, leaving him a pile on the cold floor. "MY QUEEN..." he mumbled forth, barely loud enough to reach his master's ear. "FORGIVE MY WEAKNESS..." His breaths were troubled, and even though he did not breathe air, he was still able to show fatigue and exhaustion. Just able to witness the silhouette of his Queen turning towards him in the distance, a long weary sigh escaped him as he shut his eyes, and with it one last sound: "KÄRA..."

@[member="Kära Vi'dreya"]

 

[Lief]

It would not do. She could not do as she had planned and so as quickly as she had asserted her command the woman called out “Halt, leave the prisoners. Bring me the Kamonians.” Her plans had to be accelerated if she had any hoped of keeping the Ashborn with her for longer than a week or so. It was time for preparations to be made. Running a hand up through her hair she called for two guards, who hastily approached. “Bring him to my personal chambers, immediately. And call for Doctor Tyvos and Desh.” In response she turned on her own heels, after one glance down at Thyrian, and began the ascent up to her room.

Shortly after the two doctors arrived, one a scientist and one a medic, and there she gestured them into seats while waiting for Thyrian to be brought up, the Kamonians arriving shortly after. “Doctor Tyvos, Desh” she said, inclining her head as the guards brought Thyrian in and settled him upon her bed. Then she turned to the Kamonians. “Take the samples you required, and hasten your research. I want this done soon.” With a wave of her hand she set them to work, before looking back to the pair. “Find a way to keep him going just a little while longer –“ she raised a hand to silence Desh “- I know this is outside of your area of expertise but there are others, alchemists, who can assist you. See that it is done, but call upon none that you do not trust. This is to remain private, off record. Do you understand?”

The two men required no convincing to remain quiet and nodded their heads, before Kära took one glance upon Thyrian. He had been with her through everything, it seemed wrong to be lacking the giant at her side. Stepping over to him she settled a hand upon his arm. You will rise again, Phoenix she murmured directly into his mind, despite its present unconscious state.

@[member="Thyrian Ashborn"]