L O S T
Coruscant.
Where he was born yet not where he was made. Did he chance a return to Thyferra? Kaine would know, he would only need look in the eyes of his botched experiment to realise he knew the truth. It had proven too much, to have the veil lifted from his eyes, the voice in his head screaming at him to kill the man, to ignore the words, to crush him. So much so that Cassus had fled, leaving the Cantina and stepping out into the noise polluted air of Coruscant's lower levels. Clad in his pilot suit, a military looking garb which was far too exposing of his position and Faction within the Galaxy as it brandished the Imperial Mark, he skulked through the shadows, ignoring the voice of Tracyn should he try to call after him.
What did he expect? He just told me I'm barely even a year old, that everything I know is a lie, everything false.
His anger flexed through the Force and when he came upon a dead end he smashed a Force-imbued fist into the duracrete wall. Taking a few steps back he prepared for a run up, exerting himself to leap from one wall to the other, the space between mere feet, slowly making his way up to the low-roof of a slums building. From there he could see the sky but not the stars - no, it was far too polluted a planet for stargazing - and allowed himself a moment to breathe. With his anger subsiding he could feel the taxing result the benefits of using the Force had upon him, he had overexerted his abilities in one short burst, with only his remaining anger left to fuel him.
I want them dead. I want them both dead, and the Jedi, and the Sith, all of them. They deserve no mercy.
From his high vantage point he watched as Republic Shuttles and air speeders zipped this way and that, the Galaxy oblivious to his silent plea. He had to find a way to increase his power, his threshold. His hand slipped up to the dual sabers upon the front of his open flight suit, beneath the outer Imperial Military Officers jumpsuit to the chest-belts beneath. The feel of the cold durasteel upon his trembling flesh helped to set his focus straight, and while the rage continued to bubble within he found himself capable of rational thought oncemore. He had to find a way to sort his mind, else Kaine would simply use him all the more... And he could not permit such.
@[member='Isley Verd']
Where he was born yet not where he was made. Did he chance a return to Thyferra? Kaine would know, he would only need look in the eyes of his botched experiment to realise he knew the truth. It had proven too much, to have the veil lifted from his eyes, the voice in his head screaming at him to kill the man, to ignore the words, to crush him. So much so that Cassus had fled, leaving the Cantina and stepping out into the noise polluted air of Coruscant's lower levels. Clad in his pilot suit, a military looking garb which was far too exposing of his position and Faction within the Galaxy as it brandished the Imperial Mark, he skulked through the shadows, ignoring the voice of Tracyn should he try to call after him.
What did he expect? He just told me I'm barely even a year old, that everything I know is a lie, everything false.
His anger flexed through the Force and when he came upon a dead end he smashed a Force-imbued fist into the duracrete wall. Taking a few steps back he prepared for a run up, exerting himself to leap from one wall to the other, the space between mere feet, slowly making his way up to the low-roof of a slums building. From there he could see the sky but not the stars - no, it was far too polluted a planet for stargazing - and allowed himself a moment to breathe. With his anger subsiding he could feel the taxing result the benefits of using the Force had upon him, he had overexerted his abilities in one short burst, with only his remaining anger left to fuel him.
I want them dead. I want them both dead, and the Jedi, and the Sith, all of them. They deserve no mercy.
From his high vantage point he watched as Republic Shuttles and air speeders zipped this way and that, the Galaxy oblivious to his silent plea. He had to find a way to increase his power, his threshold. His hand slipped up to the dual sabers upon the front of his open flight suit, beneath the outer Imperial Military Officers jumpsuit to the chest-belts beneath. The feel of the cold durasteel upon his trembling flesh helped to set his focus straight, and while the rage continued to bubble within he found himself capable of rational thought oncemore. He had to find a way to sort his mind, else Kaine would simply use him all the more... And he could not permit such.
@[member='Isley Verd']