What Is Owed

[Kiber Dorn]

Well, that was a bit much.

Although, given the new look he was sporting it only made sense that he had the personality to match. When he looked like a human, Cedric beat him up like a human and now that he looked like a mangled rancor's arse it was only appropriate that he behaved like one.

Not that he'd say as much, well, maybe.

Gangly legs flailing and back pressed against the wall he grasped in a futile manner at the invisible hand at his throat, an automatic reaction for when one was being mildly choked. It was rather thankful that the man didn't engage in the sin of pride much too often, otherwise he might have been fairly embarrassed that this was happening in front of the Host Lord.

“...h...hey….yo...ou….lo...ook….”

Great?

Ravishing?

Like a prolapsed dream cave?

Whether or not Kiber was cut off by mild choking, or actively stopped speaking by his own accord to prevent grievous bodily harm was neither here nor there (but it was probably the latter).

“….how….ya…..bee….een?”

---

[member="Cedric Dorn"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

It likely was not a surprise for Anja herself to be unfazed by this sudden act of violence towards her apprentice. Kiber Dorn had a habit of making enemies and when Anja had first encountered the brat she had damaged him severely. That was not why she did not intervene, however.

Kiber was the witch's apprentice and although it would seem more likely that she intervene and help him it was the opposite. Because he was learning under her he had to help himself more than anyone else in The Primeval, only if she ever felt his life itself was at stake would she offer her assistance... And even then, it wasn't entirely likely.

Anja had no words to offer, nothing to give, and she stood there watching her apprentice's throat be grasped by the hand of the stranger. Her eyes were just as pale as ever, a gaze neither sinister nor welcoming was given to the apprentice, she judged his strengths, weaknesses, merits, and faults. At one point in her mind she revisited his apprenticeship and the thought lingered still as she silently watched the event unfold. So far Kiber was acting just as he always had -- allowing the world to do as it pleased, hoping that it would simply move on and leave him be.

Only if he realized that things would never be well unless he claimed all the good things with his own strength. Just like this man who came before her.

[member="Cedric Dorn"] | [member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Kiber Dorn"]

If he had the lips to scowl, he would have. His hand tightened around his cousins throat, his body tensed. For a few seconds he considered snapping the mans neck, but he knew that ending the little family that he had left would not do well for their line. For a few seconds he waited, pondered on his next move.

“Cousin.” He labeled him once again, his voice filled with distaste. “You've moved up in the world I see.”

The last time they had met Kiber had been in a cesspit on Coruscant, Bastion was certainly better.

For a moment he remained silent, his distaste clear in his eyes. Cedric had thought his cousin learned his lesson by now, that he knew what he had done wrong and that he would have tried to make himself better. Yet he still appeared as a homeless man, even in a place like this. “Yet you still disappoint.”

His grip tightened again.

Kiber was a Dorn, he should have ruled this world, pressed it beneath his heel. Yet here he was, little better than a servant.

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Bad touch! Bad touch!

The invisible force around his throat grew tighter, restricting further breathing, as if having the lungs of a chain smoker wasn't enough of a struggle in day-to-day life.

“….s…..u….re….ha...ve….!”

It was unbelievable that Kiber was still capable of his common patter even in the face of Force-fuelled strangulation. Although really it was hard to catch out that half-sarcastic, half-chipper tone from the harsh croaking gasps that was the man's dialogue.

Lack of oxygen sent his head spinning further, seemingly worsening the symptoms of wicked purple pills. He thought he might have puked, a fist to the nose seemed better than being choked against the wall as a standard issue insult was thrown the man's way.

Disappointment, the new fragrance from Kiber Dorn.

Grip went further, his face red and his flailing legs ceasing to at least conserve some energy, nobody needs to be out of breath when they have little access to said breath in the first place, y'know?

“….th…..th….an….k...s…..m….um...”

---

[member="Cedric Dorn"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Kiber Dorn"] | [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

Cedric made a noise of disgust. If it hadn't been for the rebreather covering his face he very likely would have spat on his cousin. His grip tightened again, and he shifted, his palm wrenched to the side and with a tug of the force he threw Kiber towards the far wall.

Another pulse of rage flowed through him.

There was more than a little disgust towards his cousin, towards what he was doing for their families name. They were Dorns, they were better than this, better than petty servants, better than getting out of bed after the sun had already risen. He should have been like Cedric, he should have garnered power, gained strength, by now Kiber should have had Bastion underneath his rules.

“You disgust me.” Cedric said as he stalked towards his cousin. “Where is your ambition? You waste your strength, your potential. You're nothing, nobody. You are so much better than this. Better than her.”

His boot reached out and connected with his cousins ribs, his hand pointing towards the Host Lord to indicate exactly which her he was talking about.

 

[Boethiah]

"Enough." She took two small steps forward, her voice was not raised significantly but still loud enough to be heard.

Whatever point the stranger was trying to make it had been made, whether cousin was just an insult or true blood relations she did not care. He was talking about things that did not matter to her, things that did not matter to their objective, and by all accounts it only looked like a child's tantrum -- the way Kiber was tossed about. On the flip side she did not care too much about her apprentice's injuries, if he was alive then he was alive, he'd find a way to heal himself.

Anja changed the subject, "you're starting to make me lose interest." Two more steps were taken, "you came here for a world -- a mutual agreement; can you pay attention to such an important task or will there be more distractions?" She wasn't quipping, a legitimate question had been asked.

Why did I put any faith in him? She wasn't thinking about Cedric.

[member="Kiber Dorn"] | [member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Sweet baby Yoda, he almost thought his windpipe would be crushed then and there.

Thankfully that wasn't meant to be as he was launched across the room, landing in a crumpled heap of limbs with an audible smack. Thankfully he was a pretty crumpled man in the grand scheme of things and in time bruises would fade and this interaction would have just been another moment lost in time.

You disgust me.

Kept in his head this time, although he would have been mildly unintelligible given his harsh and heavy variety of haggered breathing. No, he kept his piece safely in the realm of the internal.

Ambition. Strength. Power. Who the kark cares!? There's no perspective here. Don't matter in the grand scheme of things, you lot can't escape mortality, you ain't above life. All that pain, fear and anger bollocks, that ain't living. You won't know that you ain't lived until you're almost dead. Then it's too late. Gonna be still clingin', hurtin' and I'm gonna be ready because I lived. I'm gonna be smilin'.

A hard boot him in the ribs interrupted the internal monologue, not really helping aid his current need to bring oxygen back into his system but Anja stepped in, bringing things back to...well...he wasn't really listening but presumably something grand.

I'm happy, hope you're happy too.

With a great amount of resilience (not surprisingly given how often the galaxy opted to get their kicks in) Kiber stood, holding his ribs and breathing heavily as if he had forgotten how to do it normally. Disregarding his inner-voice, the shaggy man opened his mouth to speak.

“...you...look...like...a...ninety...year...old...burn...victim...”

Real clever.

---

[member="Cedric Dorn"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Kiber Dorn"] | [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

“This is what progress looks like, Cousin.” Cedric scowled, or what was the equivalent of it.

His eyes turned colder, colder than they had been before. His hands seized, and his entire body seemed to flex. Anja had been forgotten. The mistress of this world, the Host Lord, the one who ruled this world. For Cedric she may as well not have existed, this was important, this was a family matter. This was about the legacy of the name Dorn, and the fact that his cousin was besmirching it. His scowl ran deep, to his very core.

Cedric's fingers twisted, then his hand shot out.

It was a quick, lightning fast punch to his cousin's gut. Not one born of the force, but gnarled and muscled flesh pressing into an already beaten person. His fist crashed into his cousin's stomach, bending him over so his other hand could grasp Kiber's hair and push him to the ground in one quick motion.

Cedric slammed his cousin face first into the ground, letting go and then kicking him.

Anger roared from him.

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Kiber definitely wasn't on board that train of thought. What? Progress equals hideousness? He'd never remembered Cedric's mother looking like a walking mass of mashed potatoes before. The man braced himself for further pain, never once seeming like he was going to fight back. Could it be? So lazy that he discarded his own self-preservation?

Fist to the gut, standard. Felt many of them before, from disgruntled Wookiee bouncers to deceptively strong women, not too keen on his chat-up lines. What was one more for the road?

Back onto the ground it was, face slightly aching from the manner in which it kissed the floor. He thanked those purple pills internally, for without them there would have probably been a lot more sensation. It was peculiar, there was no sense of fear from the Kiber. Before he had entered the room there was but now, in the heat of the moment it was gone.

Rolling onto his back with the kick he looked up at his cousin, revealing a small cut upon his forehead that bled profusely (but a superficial wound, of course). With his head still spinning the moment came, almost in slow motion as lips separated into a slick, cocky smile, a glinting of a silver tooth directed at Cedric.

“I...think….you're….just…..jealous….that….I'm….more...handsome….than….you.”

---

[member="Cedric Dorn"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Kiber Dorn"] | [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

Cedric scowled. He had long ago lost his vanity, long ago forgotten what it meant to be handsome of even barely good looking. The truth was that it hadn't mattered. The force had given him strength, power, ability beyond all measure. It no longer mattered if he looked good,all that mattered was the fact that he could snap his cousins neck with a flick of his wrist.

Parricide was not in the cards today, however.

Instead he would show his cousin what he could do if he focused a bit more on his training, and less upon his appearance. The Sith Lord raised himself up, his hand shifting and beginning to glow and burn a bright red, black waves of something pouring from his palm.

“Not for long.” His palm reached over Kiber's face, hovering there. “Cousin.”

The wave sprung from his hand, a deep pulsing hatred that some would recognize as the spikes of hate Sith Sorcerers could form. Deep blinding bolts of searing hate, the Darkside born into pieces that would see Kiber's skin sizzle and burn.

 

[Boethiah]

"I said enough." She moved forward towards the Sith Lord.

Anja's patience was growing thin, "I do not care what blood runs through his veins, he is mine." She wasn't really defending her apprentice so much as the property he was to her -- he was someone she was training whether or not an agreement existed and so long as he breathed he remained her property, not one to be spoiled by an outsider.

Still her patience wasn't being deteriorated by Cedric alone, displayed anger was directed towards Kiber. "You're pathetic," the poisonous words were turned against her apprentice who had done nothing less than stain everything she had hoped for him to become.

His life was losing its value in her bitter eyes.

[member="Cedric Dorn"] | [member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

There was a time and a place to stop insulting horribly disfigured relatives, and that time for Kiber Dorn had been about five minutes ago. It was always about five minutes ago. He had a mouth that was too confident to be backed up by the rest of him, a fatal flaw and the deserved reason behind his crooked nose.

The hand was poised over his face.

“...h-hey….now...”

Too late.

Visage erupted into agony, his vision being engulfed by scorching black and red. Naturally, of course, he screamed those harsh screams that break voices and twist off into a nature more animal than human. Every nerve, every pore upon his face was aflame and thankfully such pain inhibited his brain from worrying what had happened to his face.

It wasn't a conventional burn, no. It was if hatred had stripped away his pigmentation and replaced it with naught but corruption. Black. It covered his entire head, creeping down his neck and spreading out upon his shoulders before his Master had decided to step in upon the situation.

He rolled away, still squealing, still shouting, his hands rushing up to clutch at his face, as if his hands could repair any of the damage inflicted.

What had he done?!

---

[member="Cedric Dorn"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Kiber Dorn"] | [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

His hand folded closed.

Almost immediately the reddish black smoke faded, the burning would stop, and the hatred that simmered around Cedric would slowly boil to a finish. He stood, looking down at his screaming cousin. His face twitched, a smile perhaps, or another frown.

“Pain, Cousin.” Cedric said, still ignoring the Host Lord as if he would have stopped all on his own. “It will teach you to be strong.”

It had certainly done so for himself, was doing so now.

His fingers flexed one more time, palm folding open, then closing, then folding open again. His hand returned to his side, black scorch marks carved deep into the muscle, slowly fading away back into the bright red. His bright yellow eyes looked to the Host Lord, then back to his cousin. His rebreather sounded once through the air, then with the heavy thud of a boot Cedric turned away.

“We shall call upon you soon.” Those last words were spoken with those echoed voices once again, the resounding thunder booming through the room as Cedric left.