Unity Among Shadows

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Within the Altar Chamber Pit, the members of the Mandragora chanted in unison as the captured foes were bound and silent enraptured by the Spell. Wether they could coherently deduce their predicament was affirmed by the tears which flowed from the eyes of at least half of those captured on the outer grounds, the younger more inexperienced ones. Those would be questioned last, for when they saw what would befall those is a most stronger mindset before them, surely they will crack and inform the Mandragora every detail desired.

The stone reverberated with chanting which sounded like a repetitive boom. It reminded Pom of an approaching storm, the distant thunder caused when the air swirls and descends before it reaches full fury.

A disturbance erupts in the chamber. Whispers of a sensation brought to them upon the wings of Mom. Pom felt it too, but ignored Mom’s tug to return to Vytal. Satisfied that others are responding, Pom trusts in [member="Vytal Noctura"]’s abilities to hold together during any situation. A gathering of men retreat from the chamber.

“What is going on?” Pom asked.

‘Oh nothing to worry about, just some disturbance about the hangar left to cleanse,’ they said.

The Warlocks Apparate away to gather around [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"] in the hangar, intent to lend assistance to Vytal in her ordeal, if necessary.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal felt utterly spent. Most Witches and Warlocks might call upon the spirits or the natural world to take the burden of power to spare them the exhaustion others like Sith or Jedi might suffer. Sadly, she did not have that luxury; nor had she the benefit of the Fates to form a circle to help bear the load. Even Pom or other Mandragora could work, though they might not be skilled in the art -- she hardly knew the skill set of either. Even dear Pom had been absent some time, and things may have changed since they last giggled about a fire.

So when Hevn began to shout -- to rave -- about the illusion of safety, delusions they told themselves, how he felt so slighted and put upon by Pom and herself, Vytal sighed. Then he cursed the Beyond; his words challenging the great spirits of the cosmos. A defiant metaphysical fist shaken. A gauntlet thrown. Boasting of how he brought low the most powerful in all of creation. That Hevn should reign supreme over them. Such vitriol. Such spite. The pale woman's eyelids fell over her eyes as the words washed over her.

Despite his cry for the Nightsister before him to look upon Hevn 'in full,' however, Vytal did not turn. Aside from the sigh and closing of her eyes, she had not moved at all. Her back was to him, and head turned a bit to the right to indicate her attention was with him regardless. In that moment, as the man ranted and fumed, Hevn's intended audience was in fact not even present. His words had reached her. They had reached through her. And she had only patiently awaited the man to pause for breath...

Slowly Vytal's right foot slid behind her left leg and the pale woman turned to face Hevn. As her face aligned with his own, Vytal's pale lids rose once more to reveal a burning sea of green.

Those that had come to help found themselves shunted to the hallway nearby -- the one Vytal herself had arrived through by closet-portal in fact -- rather than within the heart of the hanger where Hevn and Vytal stood. Surely they would be mildly confused at how inaccurate their spell had been, but it would not take more than a few seconds for them to determine why it had gone awry. There was no failure on their part. Something else had simply denied them the right to enter the field of metaphysical and philosophical battle they'd come to support the Nightsister on.

A sudden burst of pressure shot out from the Nightsister that stared into the monstrous man before her. Overhead green flame seemed to ravenously spread across the ceiling until it struck the walls. Soon the two firestorms collided and twisted about one another in a silent dance vying for domination. "Your hollow words say nothing I have not already heard countless times before," Vytal's voice declared in a lower tone than Hevn had ever heard before. Having listened to ever word, if Hevn attempted to move from where he'd taken root the woman before him would make sure magick would hold him fast until she said her peace. "You speak of illusions, ignoring those you dine on daily. There is no safety except that we provide for one another; for when you are in my presence you are far safer than alone in the cold, dark of space."

"I do not need to look around me to know the truth, Bedrovelse Hevn -- as you know your self. The truth is made clear to me all ready. You demand to be accepted, but refuse when it is offered. You seek knowledge, but refute an endless supply of it. You need release, but only strive to bask in the self-pity and hatred of the long and silent road. And now I will demonstrate the power of the divinity you hold in such low esteem. I will give you back the control you cherish and cannot see has been robbed of you." Vytal's right hand lifted before her, the tips of her fingers pointed at Hevn's chest. "Let us see whether Hate alone fuels you now." A low tremble had begun to vibrate throughout the hanger facility. When Vytal's fingers flew open there was a cloud, simultaneous clang of numerous metal parts being rising and falling as one, sharp jolt rippled outward; and in that moment a surge of magickal power shot through Hevn to tear the hooks free of his mind that had been planted there by the enemy. All around them the green flames green in intensity and volume. They rose over the red and crashed down upon them as tidal waves in the wake of a deep quake.

If the ensnaring rage trap left by the cultists was purged, so too would the consuming green flames go with it. The moment they departed, Vytal's form collapsed as a marionette's strings being severed. Not a sound fell from her lips, nor a movement made to catch herself. The pale Witch lay motionless on the floor with all the magick in the hanger washed away leaving only the background 'hum' of the Mandragora's own net of spells nearby.

In that moment those that had come to aid Vytal could reenter the hanger once more as no barrier barred their entry any longer.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]​

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Hevn was deaf to her words, and blind to her actions. Fire encompasses all. His brain was burning furiously under the power of the spell, forcing his power to grow. The darkness flooded his body and mind and would not release. A spider with hooks and jaws lodged into him, a web woven around his being that it was manipulating with tiny threads. His anger was abundant and in control of his entire being.

That was when he realized he couldn’t move. Some spell crafting of Vytal’s had pinned him in place, and his instincts were to struggle violently. The strength rising within him began to shake free, mobility coming to his trembling fists and feet, as she picked her hand up and pointed at him.

A green flash ripped through his body like a rail gun. The spider tormenting his mind is shot dead and splattered. It’s hooks release their grip on him and the webs fall away. His burning red aura is eclipsed by a furious green tornado, before plumes of blue weep from his collapsing form. Exhaustion seizes every muscle and his mind blanks with a blanket of black thrown over his face. His eyes close. He falls to his knees with a thud before lying on his side.

Alpha and Mad Claws are frantic. Rushing to his side and checking his vitals. The warlocks proceed into the hanger and explain everything. They were to move along while the warlocks picked up Hevn and Vytal. They would see to their medical care for the time being and ensure that the crew was kept informed of the ship and Hevn’s updates.

[member="Vytal Noctura"] [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The interrogation had just begun when Pom felt the disturbance in the Darkside power. She knew it for a Nightsister’s signature. Concern shrouded her countenance for she thought that surely [member="Vytal Noctura"] had put and end to [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]. It was best Pomsty did not witness it. Hevn got under Pom's skin; here she is thinking about him still, how futile now after all that has transpired.

A tap upon her shoulder and she turned to face one of the Warlocks come to claim her audience. She went with him to the lobby where men carried Vytal and Hevn towards the little room with a door. Pom rushed to Vytal to assess her. Pressing a palm upon her forehead she touched upon the consciousness of her sister. A sigh of relief broke over her being for Vytal’s lifeforce remains strong. “Replenishing Potions every 30 minutes until she awakens,” she instructed, trusting full well in the potency of the potions she had labored over personally. At the order, the men carried Vytal to her quarters. She will just love the attentiveness; yes? Pom would see to it that her sister received every luxury she could desire.

Hevn was presented to her next. Pom performed the same meld with his mind, and the state of his thoughts perplexed her. Within him something necessarily vibrant seemed utterly gone, like an aspect of life had been stripped of all participation and nothing stirred. She immediately sensed something terribly wrong.

She had him taken to the medical wards and assessed by the Magus, who deemed him in dire need of surgery. If Vytal truly had tried to kill him, surely she would be pissed that Pom would approve his revival! But the presence of Mom burst forth and reinforced the demand; for Hevn is a full member of the Mandragora now.

The interrogation in the pit was halted, and Hevn was lain upon the altar where the gathered coven worked their magick under the direction of the Nightmother who had been roused to oversee the ordeal.

***​

Time had passed where it was that while Hevn was recuperating, Pom repeatedly came to check on him as he lay in bed in his private quarters. She took care to assure that nothing created out of the Light ever touched him or even was brought to his quarters. She placed amulets and relics of the darkest nature around his room to assist in his healing.

After word reached her that Hevn had awoken, she did not return to see him, but she did follow his progress data. Part of his recovery was to assure that he still possessed the ability to feel emotion. That he is free to experiment as he wills in the privacy of his own quarters, Pom secretly arranged it that he was provided the means which could entice him, and if indulged, satisfy his recovery in full measure. From a Nightsister who honestly believes there is a potion for everything, she also believed that no man could ever resist indulging his lusts.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

It took far longer than Pom would have expected given her potioncraft to rouse Vytal to consciousness once more. In fact, at the start those tending the Nightsister had given her three potions in the first thirty minutes before they even suspected the potions were having any effect at all. After those fears had been allayed, however, they followed the instructions given to them. When those bright eyes slid open to stare up at the ceiling at long last, she was welcomed with smiles and relief, but felt none herself.

Half an hour later, after water and fruit to recover in body as much in spirit, Vytal stood before an open window. Her right forearm was pressed to the stonework along side the view over the castle grounds. Those tending her had gone; Vytal giving them light appreciation for their effort, but expressed fatigue in need of simple sleep to fully recover. In truth, she just wanted to be alone and not humoring strange faces and their welcoming disposition. Much as she sought a safe place for her and her own, what had transpired drew upon an old... necessity.

Vytal's eyes shifted down and to the side before they resumed gazing out over the green below. "I have no answers to give you," the words addressed to the spirit that now loitered in the same chamber as she. "If you are the Guardian, or a Guardian, of this place you will have to accept that; or cast me out."

"I hide nothing from Pom," the Nightsister soon hissed as her head snapped to the side.

Slowly Vytal turned to look out the window once more. "How is Hevn?" Before shooing the others out, she had learned the man hadn't fled the planet in a rage, but had collapsed alongside her. Had it been the trap he'd been snared in, or... what Vytal had done? Not that she could recall exactly what had transpired after a point. There had been certain pacts made, and there were costs to action or inaction regarding such a pact. Not the likes of which the religious Mandragora order had with spirits whose names the Nightsister did not know. Perhaps similar. Vytal hardly knew anything of that belief system.

A sharp laugh escaped black lips at the Spirit's words. "Am I someone he would wish to see again?" With a slight narrowing of the eyes, Vytal thought for a moment Pomsty might be a better visitor except for the way the two of them last saw one another. Well, it wouldn't be the first pair of lovers that started off hating one another only to later confess their attraction. If either of them could bare doing so.

"All passes into darkness." The pale woman turned away from the window to look back at the Great Spirit Pomsty favored. "But not all fades." With a heavy exhale of breath, the rest of her body followed suit in pivoting toward the doorway. "Let us see if we can find either."

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]​

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

How long had he been here? Staring with open eyes into the blackness of the room. The migraines still gripped him in constant cramping and hemorrhages. It was like claws kneading through the tissue in his brain and forcing it against his skull. There was nothing to do but quietly suffer. His throat was too dry from moaning and screaming to make any noise or offer the caretaker response of any kind. Every question that was asked of him caused a flare of agony to sweep across the interior of his skull. He couldn’t think, or react, only feel incessant pain. Exhaustion left his body virtually lifeless. The procedure had been grueling.

He could only briefly remember little snippets of it. Roaring with such force that the castle shook. The Nightmother standing over him shouting commands and muttering spells. That was all before he had to go under the knife. Once the spell had been removed from him, there was still the matter of the physical damage. They had to pry his metal skull apart to get at his brain, but the migraines far out matched the flesh wounds required for surgery.

Sleep was the only reprieve from absolute torment, and it was only achieved when his mind and body caved against the outstanding pain. For a normal human it would be enough to keep them down and out, possibly comatose, but Hevn had learned to focus, and do battle under such conditions as this. Pain simply was. Always. This may be an extreme of it, but not unfamiliar in any way to him. The slightest noise caused his eyes to open and body to flood with first fear of being attacked again, subdued by the immediate exhaustion of trying to use that wounded part of his mind.

Sometimes he caught the briefest glimpse of a form watching from the doorway, or troubling about him with things in the room. He had come to know the usuals, and finally identified the slender form as Pom eventually. She took great care, and time with him, almost affectionately guarding over him from a distance. When his mind was not assaulted by pins and needles his thoughts could scarcely remember little things about after his arrival. The honey on her lips...

The Light demanded penance for his sins. Why was she so keen on protecting him from a wrath he duly deserved. There was no pity even for himself in this position. It was simply life to him. A series of unfortunate and often painful events.

It wasn’t until after she placed her hand crafted totems that he began making any real gains as far as pain management, and with that came an end to the comfort of her visits. It was nice to see a familiar face amongst the strangers every now and then, even if the emotions attached swung from hostile paranoia to the simple longing for the evils one knows. He’d rather an enemy at his bedside than these faceless and nameless servants who inspired no feeling whatsoever.

He made no gains on recovering his feelings or thoughts. Everything they tried was an obvious and transparent experiment he did not appreciate participating in against his will. He could see why they may try to keep him far from negative thoughts, concerning the part of his brain that was abused by the enemy force. How could he indulge in his favorite liquor, his favorite smokes, when he had been used as weapon against the Mandragora? They even saw fit to hit him low. The twi’leks gave away their attempt to get him up to any physical tasks, and it was taken a step further when someone had divulged Hevn’s absolute litany of weaknesses against women. He was offered a brunette with long gorgeous curly hair, dressed in a vibrant and seductive red dress, carrying a pan of mind numbingly powerful brownies.

Still he refused. The company of simple, even if beautiful, women did not entice him. Not when there were two strong and reliable ladies on these grounds who had made every effort to save him. Who had pulled him from the brink of total possession and obliterated the hold their spell had on him. They were who he really wanted. There wasn’t a bust, a booty, or a vice he could think of that could replace a woman like that. He had thanks to give, and amends to make.

One day his strength had bolstered enough to stand and outright refuse their entry. “Please stop forcing them in here. They do not desire me, and their fear makes me sick.”

“Is there something else, Bedrovelse?”

“Someone. I request an audience with Mistress Pom, and Mistress Vytal. Together or separately, is acceptable, if they would indulge me. It is time. I am ready.” The thought of seeing either one dizzies him, and smacks him with a bout of nausea. He sits at a small table near his bedside, eager to stretch the aches from the metal grinding flesh and bone. He pours himself a cup of tea, taking only a sip to wet his lips before staring blankly at the twisting wisps of heat rising from the mug. He tries to clear his mind, and resist the urge to overthink. He would deal with this as best he could.

The cloaked man nods, and removes himself from the room.

[member="Vytal Noctura"] [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

“Really?! Well maybe you should do it then!” Pom screamed at Mom. She had been studying a book upon the desk at her place in the library before Mom started again with her bitching about Pom’s avoidance of [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]. “Oh you don’t have any arms. How is this my fault?!” The others of the Mandragora present snickered in amusement at watching Pom make what is typically a futile attempt within the Mandragora, to stand up to the most powerful force within its walls. “Oh, you gonna use him to set me straight; are you? That’s funny. Because he doesn’t even believe in you!”

Mom flung the books about the Library in a trail as she stormed out and away from Pom, which caused the Librarian spirit to jump to order them again. The stacks rattled, an often witnessed conniption of the librarian. Some of the residents gathered their books and moved to a section safer from the potential harm of being pummeled with falling books while others simply left altogether. Pom too slipped out at the start of the spirits plummeting mood.

Pom stopped reading into Hevn’s progress when details got personal. She respected his privacy in that sense. As far as she knew, he took his leisure with anything that moved. Now Mom was telling her to go visit him. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was no one’s play thing. In her feminist culture, she sets the date. No Great Spirit is going to change her.

It is probably best to get off Ryloth for a while, she determined. Without [member="Vytal Noctura"] at her side, she felt a bit out of sorts. She had not realized just how much she appreciated the resurfacing of her ties from Dathomir. No matter how much she just wanted to break away from her past, she could not blame anyone but the elders for the lies suffered her.

As she decided she would send word to have her ship prepared, whispers that her sister had been out and about the castle reached her ears. Pom felt her mood lighten immediately. She had been there to try and help Vytal pass the time, unless word was given that Vytal wanted solitude. Sometimes Pom just stopped to listen outside her door from inside the little room with a door, to learn if Vytal would grant any hint that she wanted company. But she honored Vytal’s request.

Learning her sister ventured out of her room meant all that was through! Pom races for the closet and demanded to go to wherever Vytal is now!

“You’re up!” She exclaimed throwing her arms around her sister. “I’ve missed you! How are you feeling now?”

When the Mage found the two together shortly after, and told them the Hevn wants to see them, after the whole ordeal with Mom earlier, suggesting Pom... why she paled and blushed at the same time! “Well you just send in Alpha and Mad Claw then!” she barked.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal turned when Pom's voice filled the corridor. She only had time enough to catch her Sister, their arms wrapped about one another. Admittedly, it was comforting to feel the embrace of another in this place. Waking to find herself alone, surrounded by strange faces of the Madragora had been unsettling. Ordinarily Vytal would have woke in the arms of her four Sisters that'd come to the stars with her -- the Fates of Midnight. Their faces would be easily recognized, and the wrath of their arms and their eyes would have assured her of the security of the surroundings; as well as the mental reassurance they were all alive and well. So, it was a welcome relief when Pomsty helped fill the void.

"I feel fine, Pom. It was only exhaustion." A smile spread upon Vytal's black lips as she pulled her head back to meet Pom's eyes. "Thank you."

it hadn't been merely exhaustion, but a full recovery she had made. The amount of time that had passed and potions used would have stood out from the norm.

"And as for your spirit..." The words trailed off and a knit brow met the approach of a mage seeking their attention.

Vytal's eyes regarded Pom from the side veiled by half-closed lids and dark eyelashes. One corner of her lips had been tugged out to the side as Pom indignantly claimed they could toss Hevn's own at him if he so desired company. By the Fanged God she'd only just set foot back into the corridors and all ready she was beset by this endless lover's quarrel. Whether Hevn felt the same sort of-- What was she thinking? A slow breath was drawn in as she recalled the way the man had behaved outside of the lounge. That brief moment before Pom had metaphorically torn the man's heart out.

"Do no such thing," Pom's Nightsister replied calmly before the man could scurry off to obey the loud commandment.

With Pom's hand in her own, Vytal turned to guide the feisty pale woman to one of her precious closets. "We cannot continue to avoid one another, Pom. And do not speak of having no care whether he stays or goes, and how glad you would to be rid of him. I'll not hear such transparent tales. We are not children before the fire back home, wide-eyed by the stories of playful crones." She stopped before commanding the door to take them to Hevn's chamber. "He shows promise. He has faults, but few of such power are wanting of those. And you have ensured he continues to draw breath," the pad of her thumb gently caressed the web of Pom's hand. "Let us hear him. Perhaps the first since the blinding spell was placed on him."

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]​

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

The door to his chambers opens, and he finds his wishes fulfilled. Together, as he predicted. The man rife with pride and anger was reduced to but a shadow of his introduction. The fire and ice in his eyes is dead and dulled into a sad grey of infinite weariness. His exhausted gaze tilts up with the slightest lift of his chin, and his body slumps slightly backwards to see them better.

Mistress Pom stood behind Mistress Vytal, and the two were clutching hands. Perhaps it was simply out of sisterly love, but his brain cramps with a wince on his face as his thoughts push for some alternative. It was more likely they needed the mutual support to come anywhere near his risen form. Out of caution, and not fear. His expression is a mix of exhaustion and pain, his face drained of any emotion or life save for discomfort.

“Welcome..” he croaks weakly. Trying to clear his throat does little, and so he sips the tea again attempting to wet his wind pipe. “Please spare me but a moment.” He gestures toward the opposite side of the table, and his long legs extend underneath to kick the chairs out enough for them to sit, before falling flat to the floor again.

“I have not been myself since setting foot on Ryloth. The man you met is not me, but a pocket of my psyche in which their spell trapped me. It is still my responsibility. The blame is on me. To both of you, I am deeply sorry. For threatening this place of knowledge, for threatening both of you, and all you love. I....am sorry.” His eyes flicker with some shadow of his pride as he mentions taking responsibility, before fading back into a reclusive grey. There was nothing lower than being brought to apologies for Hevn, but his gratitude was over due.

He lifts the cup to his lips again, struggling to speak. “Mistress Vytal.” She was standing foremost towards him, bold and brazen as ever. He considers for a moment that this one probably didn’t require the hand holding quite so much as the other. They were so alike at heart, and so vastly different. Vytal still had faith, family, a home, a purpose. Hevn had every one of those things beaten or stripped from him throughout the course of time. He wondered how different they’d really be if she lost her Fates, her sister, or if her gods stopped needing her call. “You are strong. Thank you for breaking the possession of my being, and not being afraid.” The words sparks another flicker of life in his eyes and tone. His disdain for the pathetic creatures who tip toed on egg shells around him within the castle walls had grown burdensome. He admired her lack of such weakness. “As gratitude I should like to transfer a million credits to your account. They are yours to do with as you wish.” He nods softly, and keeps his head bowed and eyes closed for a moment of silence.

“Mistress Pom.” How delicately you’ve been juggling your care and loathing. How kind and gentle you’ve been to someone who brought harm into your home, and unto your sisters. How you can do so, when my cold heart knows only vengeance, is beyond my narrow minded ways to understand. His head rises as he sips again, focusing his vacant and deadened expression upon her. “Your strength is more subtle. You have shown me a kindness and care that I cannot ever replicate or repay, and I deserve far less than the mercy you offer. This attack was plotted, and tailored to my capabilities to conduit higher powers. Only your potions, only your totems, only your effort has been able to drag me from the precipice of hell. I would be lost without you.” Very strong choice of words for someone who had so plainly boasted of his power and durability. “Thank you for saving my wretched soul from a fate worse than death. Pain, madness, and blood...it is not a path I desire or cherish any longer. I offer you the same. A million credits to do with as you see fit as gratitude for my sanity. And, I extend to you an invitation.”

He nods towards Vytal, “Vytal and I share a...wavelength. I understand her foundations so to speak, but you.” He wanted to beam at her, or express some longing, but his face did not cooperate. “I would like to know better. I have struggled to speak your language, and I would be greatly humbled if you would accept a try at mine. A duel, along the lines of the one you asked about earlier. When I am well and ready for the challenge of course.”

He leans back, lost in a sort of dazed stare between the two of them. “I should not be a Mandragora, and I am prepared to accept the consequences of my actions. My gratitude stands, whatever the punishment.”

[member="Vytal Noctura"] [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

[member="Vytal Noctura"] was right about everything. Her attitude was always better than Pom's. The Nightsister knew it futile to fight with her sister about anything, because Vytal's perception on things was always a tad more keen than Pom's. She also had a kind streak far more developed than Pom's.

Pom approached [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]'s room as Vytal tugged her through the doorway. Pom stared at her feet at first, for she had taken care of Hevn and well…she saw things, a whole lot of something. She found it hard to even look towards his direction until he spoke first. Moving to sit across from him, did not help to break the ice. Pom blushed like a school girl. Instinctively she held her breath; lord only knows why she thought it might help her, or maybe she didn't. She just did it, because anything felt better than the lively feelings she was experiencing. Slowly her mouth dropped open as Hevn spoke. For a man is apologizing to the Nightsisters. It’s never been done before, anywhere, during any era of history.

When he was finished speaking and mentioned wanting a duel, Pom instinctively touched her hand to her jaw as she looked to Vytal, thinking, 'He wants to smack me around.'

Her gaze fell upon him. 'It must be the faults of the goddesses everywhere, why ever any man's eyes can beheld so utterly captivating.' Here Hevn sat. He was honest with them and contrite, while all she felt was jealousy for his past few weeks, and shame for her own lack of action. 'Mom has truly done it this time, just as she promised.'

"No," she said finally. Solemnly she continued, "You keep your money," for she had misjudged Hevn. "I would rather have judged you an absolute son of a queen before I first realized something was wrong. I failed you. It was terrible of me." Also, she didn’t want what she had done right to have been cheapened by money. "I did what I did for you because this is what I am." And again her gaze fell from him to her hands as she thought to herself, how 'there are a million other things I would love to share with you and yet I have no idea how this can be!'

 

[Vytal Noctura]

It wasn't that Vytal had no care what Pomsty felt, more that her Sister did not mince words. The other Fates had dabbled in various means of interaction or manipulation; whereas Vytal had been saddled with the task of ensuring their safety and dispensing retribution on deserving offworlders. At times it had even been necessary to admonish her dear Sisters despite how much it hurt to do so. As Dathomiri women they stood out in crowds so easily there was no room for error. One false step and they'd be someone or something's captive. Survival among the stars was just as harsh as Dathomir, but in ways foreign and at times incomprehensible.

Fortunately Pom seemed to accept Vytal's comments and her 'request' they give Hevn a chance.

Though Hevn certainly hadn't seemed worthy given his actions. Was so being too kind? Twice under slightly different circumstances he might had slain her. It was a very poor start to any relationship. All the same, the man yet lived and Pom had an eye for him for reasons of her own choosing. His knowledge could be useful, and perhaps he might even teach Vytal of this Force -- the means of spells without ritual or spell casting. Though at times it seemed she managed something similar, there was a far greater breadth of power available than a few sporadic successes.

His condition was not the greatest, but it could hardly be much worse. Was he not already risen dead? She took a moment to glance at Pom before slowly moving toward the chair so kindly kicked out for their seating pleasure. As she did so, Vytal listened as Hevn fought to speak. Some statements were now as they had been before -- slightly kinder than the reality, but there existed no reason to correct him. One, for all Vytal cared for had yet to arrive on this world. Though had any harm befallen Pom, the Nightsister would have been an unconquerable tempest that would have followed Hevn to the ends of the galaxy.

She paused, hand on the chair as Hevn addressed her specifically.

The offer of a million credits was casually dropped into her lap for aiding in restoring his senses, and for not fearing his very presence. For the latter, Vytal could not impart the truth why it came so easily to do so. If pressed, however, she would use the rancor -- a beast many offworlders found a go-to formidable foe -- to explain her resolve. Dathomir did not tolerate the meek or easily frightened. As for the former, "I will accept your offer." Pom would soon decline her own, but that would not have Vytal second guess her decision. "Though my actions were not made expecting compensation, my Sisters and I can put such credits to good use." Dathomir could benefit from certain technology, and its purchase (or acquisition) and shipment was far from cheap.

As Hevn moved on to Pom, Vytal lowered herself into the seat across from the man and listened quietly as he extended a similar offer. And more.

With a discrete glance over at Pom, Vytal saw her Sister's reaction to the invitation. Pom could handle a duel. Little was known what had transpired since Pom's departure from Dathomir, so it was hard to say if she'd become more of a warrior or a fighter. Her disposition was more open and eager to embrace others, however. Vytal liked to think so was as welll, but her demeanor was perhaps a tad "intense" for some offworlders. If such people would just say what they meant there'd be less miscommunication.

"Did you damage Mandragora property? Did you steal Mandragora knowledge? Harm members of the Mandragora?" Vytal folded her hands together atop the table. "We can only accept you as Mandragora, if you are prepared to accept your place among us. A place to exchange knowledge, develop and experiment new techniques, and understand objects of power lost throughout the galaxy. It is a sanctuary. One whose fortifications can be bolstered to provide a safe haven from outsiders that are too eager to take what is not theirs, and what they cannot begin to understand." The pale woman leaned forward in her black outfit, her eyes fixed on Hevn. "We are a family, and we can forgive mistakes and even transgressions. If you learn from them, and let us."

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]​

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

He would have smiled, if he could, as they sat down to humor his call. Pom was shying from the opportunity to unleash upon him, and again he wondered why. There weren’t any punches left to pull, little one. Everything is on the table now. Vytal was of a more opportunistic mind at the nature of his offer. It was sad that Pom refused, because there was nothing in the galaxy he could offer her. Even if she did it, as Vytal had, simply because it was who they were, he could not. He was not of the same mind or heart as either. He was selfish, and certainly would not have done the same in their shoes then, or now.

“It pains me you cannot accept, Mistress Pom. Please, Vytal, you may have her share. I trust you will see them used well.” He blinks slowly, sipping the tea again. His eyelids were fighting to keep going. His body being pushed by his will to continue. Hevn reaches for Pom, although the effort looked a lot more like pushing his arm painfully across the table, with his fingers and palm open. A sadness in his eyes and in his frown precedes the words of comfort chosen. “You have not failed in either case, Mistress. I am a son of much worse. You cannot fail me for I have asked nothing, and you’ve given everything.”

As Vytal laid into him with the reality of the situation, miraculously a lack of charges against the Mandragora, his spacey stare shifts to her, and so too does the other hand extend, slowly and with difficulty across the table. “If you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, I would call you my Sisters. We can learn each other’s weaknesses, and strengths. We can make sure this never happens again.”

His offer to embrace is retracted in a violent bout of coughing that reels both hands to either side of his cranium. The pressure built up and began to throb painfully. He blinks tears from his eyes with a shuddering breath, grabbing on to the pain and using it.

Keep going Hevn....just a little further.

[member="Vytal Noctura"] [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Even though Vytal had only just walked among the Mandragora, she understood it’s spirit to be likened to Dathomir in some nostalgic way. Pom was pleased in what she spoke, for it meant Vytal would stay after all that had happened! There is nothing that two Nightsisters working together cannot accomplish. In reality Pom’s failure to Hevn was also to Vytal. Perhaps Pom will just have to evaluate her short fuse and learn to put up with a situation, instead of leaving it prematurely. Especially now that she has someone she cares about to protect here.

Hevn reached for her arm and she faced him again. Sweetness rolled off his lips. Gemini... “It’s all good now, Beastie,” she said, and slowly her smile blossomed.

If to be someone’s sister or brother means the same to him as it does to the Dathomiri, he would know how incredibly blessed and intimate the offer he uttered happens to be. She can only hope he understands; but if he does not, she is willing to teach him.

The resurfacing fit of pain she witnessed him suffer, caused Pom to rise and lean across the table towards him. She touched her palm to his forehead as she whispered words of an ancient spell. She glanced down into at his tea cup. “Who brought you tea? This is not the correct herbs for your condition. I can smell it. You’ve gone and constricted the blood vessels in your head.” She reached into her vest pocket for a potion and popped its cork. “Here. Down this.”

Pomsty is the Potions Master. When she came to the Mandragora she had gone through her entire stock and sought replenishing. She had no idea she would come here and learn to channel the present goddess’ power into it too. That was for the shamans. It was just easier for them to gather together and perform such rituals that this Dathomiri never had to conjure outside of her coven as a whole before. Perhaps through nonrecognition among her own elders, they had let her slip through the cracks and stifled her talent development. But here...

She never would have imagined so many forms of life out here. As Pom and Vytal helped Hevn again into his bed inside his frigid snowy room, she suddenly realized it’s ok to truly let go of the past. To press forward and stifle the whispers of all the pain that tries to get inside her head and limit her evolution. Maybe, just maybe she met [member="Vytal Noctura"] here, and [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"] to be pushed into the right direction.

Pom tenderly smiled down at Hevn as she pulled the fur pelt over his body. She bent over him and gave him a gentle peck upon his forehead. She did not run away from him like she had before. So much more of life, she realizes, is far more valuable than money. Pom felt serenity.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Two million credits? Vytal was not giddy as the monetary exchange was merely a means to an end for her and hers. They amassed credits only toward a future spend and not for their own sake as many offworlders seemed to enjoy. All the same, two million credits would be more than the Nightsisters had ever seen. Their meager criminal exploits had netted a fair amount, but it often was doled out or used for purpose with only slight overall gains. Perhaps these credits would allow them to downplay the criminal aspect, or at least worry less about it flourishing. The Sisters could enjoy the benefits of the Mandragora. They could broaden their knowledge of the world, less occupied by sheer necessity. Vytal only nodded at Hevn's offer.

A slight pinch in the order of one eye followed the ask to learn of one anothers' weaknesses (and strengths), but it quickly vanished. Vytal had her own demons to contend with. Hevn obviously hadn't meant to suggest they'd lower their defenses and bare everything all at once. It was not an opportunity to attack. Each of them knew things the other did not -- a weakness in ability or knowledge -- that could be overcome once identified and appropriate lessons taken. Such was the purpose of the Mandragora.

"We do accept, Brother. Know we do this as family, and as family we expect you to grow from your mistakes. To become a better person; not only in power, but quality." Vytal nodded once more and even managed a small smile. It would not do to come off as too mirthful; it was important the gravity of her words not be lost. Forgiveness was granted provided the one seeking it was true. That was a lesson for the future and, perhaps, that dark self within the man that had rallied against the two women so casually accepting the 'monster' in their midst.

Before they could make physical contact, however, Hevn withdrew in pain. Pom took over his care much like a protective Mother or lover would. Surely just a woman devoted to her craft. Vytal might think that of most if she hadn't witnessed more in the last day between the two. Not that anything had come of it. Yet.

"You would do well to continue resting," Vytal put to words what Pom had in action. "We could hardly let you practice magick when a stray gesture might collapse one of the towers." She did not smile, but her tone was not sharp nor firm. A small jest that Hevn certainly was in no condition to pilot any craft, or perform some great feat of magick this day. There was time to recover here. "I am sure there are those already working on improving the ground's defenses." Whether that was actually the case Pom only knew, as Vytal her just left her own room not long ago. Despite the words of the deWinter woman, however, Vytal did not expect the Nightmother to have ignore a breach of their security.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]​

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Vytal’s verbalization of their pact comes as a brief relief and distraction to his pain. Pom was upon him in a surge of sudden concern that he had not been graced with in weeks. The tea was taken and a potion was provided for him to swallow. As soon as it slides down his throat, his inside bind up and the tension in his head releases. A wave of relief and exhaustion fill the gaps his missing pain leaves.

He wondered how their definitions of such a relationship might pan out, and whose were more strict. Agreeing to such a thing with Hevn was no small weight on those who accepted. Many had tried, and only Alkor remained with the title of Brother. He would do essentially anything for the two women that they could ask within the vast realm of his power, and though he rarely invoked the reciprocation, demanded as much in turn. In fact the first moment the witches had ever seen him, was just after returning to Geonosis from his tour of vengeance. He had hunted every oath breaker tied to his name to total extinction. Changing factions, losing wars, making new friends and alliances, none of it severed you from the ties of Bedrovelse Hevn until he slashed them himself. They had agreed, possibly foolishly, so allow him to haunt them forever. Sister meant more than any significance the Nightsisters, Mandragora, Confederacy, or otherwise could place on it. They bound themselves to a verbal contract he would never release them from.

There was also a gift to give the pair once the time was right. Instructions for resurrecting Hevn from the reaches of the afterlife should he be banished or destroyed by his enemies. He was careful with whom to bestow such information with, as it came to a great price to him. The ritual required his undying fealty to whoever successfully summoned him. He wouldn’t offer such a thing to just anyone, when he could manipulate those capable from beyond the grave to evade such things. The measure was meant to be taken in a time of need, and not just to keep him breathing as a pet.

At their attempt, some small fraction of concern issues for the two trying to move his dead weight back to the bed. Much to his surprise their tiny, stringy witch bodies offer more strength than anticipated. With perhaps a rather pathetic effort on his part he collapses onto the bed in a heap. His flickering eyelids lock onto Vytal for a moment as he snorts in reply to her jest. Both of them had nearly brought catastrophe to the castle without either one actually getting serious. He felt content that they would be somewhere on the grounds to make sure a second strike did not quickly follow the first and finish him off. Although they ought to consider themselves lucky his first request was not for them to guard his very door and erase the need for strangers and variables.

He was in no state for much of anything at all. Of a stronger mind Hevn might have challenged Vytal to a demonstration of destruction just to prove he was no pushover even in a state of complete and utter misery. No intent to win, just a warning that even on his back with his eyes glazed over and muscles spent that he could drop the sky on anything foolish enough to provoke him. There would be time for that though, when he was better. His pride too requires rest, and he was certain the witches could use some reprieve of it as well.

Pom gently presses her lips to his forehead and a waterfall of euphoria bleeds through his brain, over his face, and down his body. True peace visibly releases the tensity plaguing his entire form. The lightest sigh escapes him as his eyes open to look at her. How she did what she did to him was a mystery. It was as though her form vibrates on the same level as his, and no defense he could conjure could resist the feeling she blossomed in him. He did not know why her touch felt like an orchestra of bliss, why her lips and her words rang like music, or why her care was so very effective on him. She seemed to easily navigate the ice and stone packed into every crack in his being. She knew how to slither past every aspect of his guarded self.

Underneath the fur pelt he weasels free of the robe he donned if only to be presentable to the witches. It slides underneath the pelt to fall from the side of the bed. “Rest I shall. Do visit if the whim strikes you. I won’t be strong enough to bite for some time yet.” He chuckles weakly at his own joke, sitting up a little to wash it down with water. He slides back into the fur letting it wrap around the hybrid of skin, synth skin, and metal. It’s soft embrace closes around the hard man and soothes him.

Before Pom can escape him, his hands close around the one she used to tuck him in. He barely summons a whisper as the potions effects wipe away the pain, which had been motivating his efforts to remain lucid, “Mistress....my.....invitation....?” A sigh closes his eyes. His ears are still waiting for the reply, and his hands still grasp hers with the strength that he is still there with her.

What humor would befall the witches as his last organized thought remained on battle, of all the stupid things he could possibly be hung up on.


[member="Vytal Noctura"][member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom’s past incarnation knew the bounds of family so well that it had even followed her into this reincarnation. Pomsty thought she understood it too, until the moment she decided that the worst treatment that could nullify any pact once revered valuable, is if one lies. And then there was the failed test of Shaidin, who likely put the ghost of his wife from her pastlife to rest, when he determined not to retrieve Pom or contact her. How quickly his reach faded as Pomsty built her new life.

Mainly what kept her interested is all the strange nuances that different individuals brought to her, and how they struggled to comprehend their connections as much as she did. They clashed repeatedly, and yet not so offensively that their affliction terminated ties. Curiosity by far, held her interest moreso than to soothe pride. To just be around people who do the same, while the rest of the galaxy pummels one another to death, seems a rare gem, a blessing from beyond.

Pomsty gaze down upon Hevn as he rambled nonsense. She thought surely everything he spoke of earlier had to be a testament to his delirium. Surely he hasn’t two million in savings to toss to two witches he hardly knows. She hopes [member="Vytal Noctura"] would not hold it against him when he does not produce his offer!

As [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"] grabbed hold of her arm and spoke of his invitation, again her cheeks flushed with passion. What a strange request he muttered, but she remembered what he said when she had asked him about Alkor. Although she doesn’t exactly understand the true nature behind his request, she wants to appease him so he will let sleep overtake him without resistance. Pomsty pat his hand and confirmed that she shall grant him anything he desires of her.

As he drifted off she draped his robe over his bedpost. Pom would see him again, and she would be free to learn something about herself in getting to know him. For one thing, it rings true that wether a woman loves or hates a man, still he remains a mystery above all else. Any man can be a Gemini, but some are either too boring, too kind, or too much an ass to shift personalities in public. The promise of waffles and ice cream gets things done. And, male or female dentists are equally sadists.

All in all, this start has been more than first imagined. The Mandragora has gained blessings in its unifying of these very different and very vibrant shadows.

Until Yet Another Amazing Day...​