Sith Spellweaver
Can you hear me?
The cry, which somehow climbed above the roar of the crashing waves, came with a twinge of something familiar and threatening. Vyle resisted the urge to reach out and touch the mind of the one who had spoken. Her Master's lessons, distant and yet prescient, taught her that being a Sith meant a healthy dose of paranoia was sometimes all that stood between success and the iron-wrought gates of death.
She sucked in a breath and imagined a flame a the center of herself, roaring and hot, shrinking until it was but a flicker. For now, she would proceed with caution, her ability to touch the Force hidden, until she had learned more about her unfortunate sea mate.
"I'm here," she cried, putting as much fear into her voice as she could muster. She paddled with one hand towards the voice, and cleaved to her scrap metal raft with the other. "Swim to me! You'll never make it in the water alone."
Now that the current had bobbed them closer, Vyle could see the one who had called out to her. Another woman, her dampened hair like rivulets of gold matted together into clumps by the raging salt water tempest around them. Vyle pushed her way through a spray of dark ocean water towards where the golden woman floated, raftless. How she had even made it this far was beyond the knowings of the Sith witch, though she suspected the twinge she had felt earlier played its part in the woman's survival.
She should leave the woman to drown; but curiosity had its claws in Vyle now. There was no harm in letting Fate pull their strings a little while longer.
"Here," she called out, and reached out with the one hand not clinging to the raft. "There's room enough for both of us. Grab hold!"
The cry, which somehow climbed above the roar of the crashing waves, came with a twinge of something familiar and threatening. Vyle resisted the urge to reach out and touch the mind of the one who had spoken. Her Master's lessons, distant and yet prescient, taught her that being a Sith meant a healthy dose of paranoia was sometimes all that stood between success and the iron-wrought gates of death.
She sucked in a breath and imagined a flame a the center of herself, roaring and hot, shrinking until it was but a flicker. For now, she would proceed with caution, her ability to touch the Force hidden, until she had learned more about her unfortunate sea mate.
"I'm here," she cried, putting as much fear into her voice as she could muster. She paddled with one hand towards the voice, and cleaved to her scrap metal raft with the other. "Swim to me! You'll never make it in the water alone."
Now that the current had bobbed them closer, Vyle could see the one who had called out to her. Another woman, her dampened hair like rivulets of gold matted together into clumps by the raging salt water tempest around them. Vyle pushed her way through a spray of dark ocean water towards where the golden woman floated, raftless. How she had even made it this far was beyond the knowings of the Sith witch, though she suspected the twinge she had felt earlier played its part in the woman's survival.
She should leave the woman to drown; but curiosity had its claws in Vyle now. There was no harm in letting Fate pull their strings a little while longer.
"Here," she called out, and reached out with the one hand not clinging to the raft. "There's room enough for both of us. Grab hold!"
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