Darren Onyx
Fallen
How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Nothing was making sense anymore. Nothing, I suppose, ever did.
Darren Onyx snapped out of his zombie like state of thought as a glass was placed on the table. He looked up to see a droid turn to return to the bar at the other side of the large cantina. The bar wasn't too busy, Darren was one of the regulars who came here to drink and forget. But he never does. As he brought the drink to his lips memories slowly filled his mind; memories of previous friends, foes, battles won and lost, and of his many mistakes.As he finished the drink he looked around to see if anyone was watching him. They weren't, they were too concerned, like he was, with their own privacy. He leaned forward in his seat and closed his eyes and began to meditate.
Anyone who knew him previously wouldn't even recognize him anymore. His slicked back blonde hair was now long and shaggy, graying whether from age or stress nobody could tell. His face had more scars then it ever had before and his cybernetic implants were showing; his metal chin, wires in his cheeks, plating on his forehead, and patches of metal as well as wires on his neck. If anyone could look past the scars and enhancements, they'd see a visibly tired and lonely face; a face he actively thinks nobody will ever care for again after all he's done.
His meditating just brought back more memories. As he opened his eyes he shook his head. Reaching into his dark robes he pulled out his old mask that belonged to his ancestor. He eyed it, studied it. He had dedicated so much time to so many failed rebellions and causes to try and rebuild the empire his ancestor created; to become the master of light and dark as he did and use it to gain the control of the galaxy. He placed it on the table and just stared at it. The shadow of Revan was always, from the beginning of his training as a Sith, hung over him. Even when he sought to make his own destiny and forge his own legacy, Revan called him back. The mask was always with Darren from the start, and he wore it through his toughest trials and triumphs.
He let out a long sigh, it sounded as if he had held it in for years and was just now letting it out. He eyed the mask, then the empty glass, and then the mask again. Slowly he reached over for the mask and smirked. "If the time comes," he spoke silently to it, "I will wear you again old friend... This time things are going to be different." He placed it in his robes and stood up. Throwing some credits down on the table he made his way out of the dimly lit bar and into the warm night of Tatooine where, he hoped, something would encourage him to either keep fighting or to keep waiting for death. He didn't know which was a worse fate.
[member="Ponyboy Reynolds"] // [member="Xzara Vox"] // [member="Seanna Vel"] // Open to anyone and everyone