Wrapt in Obsidian

[NightSister]

By the time her attack struck home, he'd already taken heed of Doctor Ven and abandoned his own.

Oh.

That wasn't good.

That wasn't good at all.

If luck had allowed for just a few more seconds either way and her attack had managed to coincide with him - and that had been all it would've been, a few seconds difference - then she would've been doing the right thing. Sure, vengeance could be considered noble, she supposed, but it didn't count. Not, obviously, that getting her revenge wouldn't have been her primary concern anyway, but just a few seconds either way and she could've at least told herself that she was doing good as much as she was fulfilling her own quest for vengeance, and there would've been no cause to doubt her morality. Instead, even if she'd known exactly the extent of her target's evil, what Aria had actually done was attack somebody unprovoked. Successfully, too. What did that make her?

She couldn't even feel satisfied that her lightning bolt had hurt. In the few moments she had before 'Braxus' had recovered enough to counterattack, she could only realise what she'd ended up doing, questioning everything she'd left at the back of her mind. Aria had insisted upon her departure from the Jedi that she wasn't suddenly evil for having turned from the Light, that she could just as well do good as a neutral or darksided force-practitioner, that leaving an order that was toxic to her being didn't make her a bad person. Now she'd done something that was wrong; she'd never have done that were she still living on Voss. Laid out in the most black-and-white way possible, the Jedi codes she'd spent the last few months convinced held her back had been what kept her from doing evil.

Worse still - did it matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, her moral code was so totally unimportant that wasting time worrying about it seemed trivial at best, pathetic at worst. So what if she'd ended up doing something that was intrinsically wrong? The act itself might be evil, but she knew who she'd been targeting - well, sort of - and the intention, at least, had been acceptably righteous. But even that, was it really so important? Good and evil were nothing, meant nothing, until you gave them meaning. Who cared at the end of the day if Aria Vale was a good person or not? Who cared at the end of the day about Aria Vale at all? When she died, there might or might not be people whom it would affect, but she'd be far too dead to know or care. What mattered in Aria's life was Aria; who and what made Aria happy, who and what made Aria strong. If the odd evil act was what she wanted, then what difference did it make if she was a bad person for it?

She missed Silara. Hell, she was on the verge of missing Connor. She missed hearing all the right words, being told all the right things, having someone to run to. Not having to think for yourself, her wiser side translated. She shushed it, but of course it was true. It was comfortable that way - it was easy that way.

Until they were gone, of course. Connor had been a control freak in a fancy cloak, and Silara had been - she flinched inwardly just thinking the word - killed. She always made that one mistake, over and over; it'd doubtless get her killed someday if she didn't get her act together. So that was exactly what she had to do, one way or another, and -

Oh yes, and the rest of the world hadn't gone anywhere in the middle of that. In fact, the rest of the world was rapidly closing in - oh feth, the rest of the world included a Sith Lord hurling something that looked particularly destructive at her. Chit. Um. Shields! Yes, she could still do shields, couldn't she? Of course she could. Aria flung an arm up as if holding an actual shield, then willed the Force to be useful as something red and ominous flew into her. Was she still alive? Oh, she was. How lovely. Aria blinked and looked ahead; oh, chit. He was coming towards her with sabers - two sabers - the bastard, were those Silara's hilts? And her saber arm was all messed up! Chit, chit, chit. Why couldn't some nice, sane Sith Lord have picked a fight with Silara? Did those exist?

Alright, well, if she tried to block sabers with sabers she'd die for sure. Any chance of another one of those lightning bolt things? No? Feth. Shields again? Her shields weren't that strong. Force push? Maybe, but first, Aria had an even better option. Aria sprinted in the opposite direction, adrenaline fuelling her stamina for approximately three seconds before she collided with a wall of undead. Chit. Aria backed up. Alright, that approach didn't work - chit, he was right there. Okay. Now what? Oh, fire! Aria was good with fire.

How fortunate that possibly the man she hated more than any other was right in front of her - how fortunate that she was so much better equipped now to draw from hatred. It took a single glance to his sabers - her sabers; he had no right to wield Darth Vitium's lightsabers - to remind herself just how strong that hatred was. Heat flared to life in her hand, orange and hissing, and a waving gesture loaded with the strength of telekinesis pushed it towards the enemy. That would work, right?

Chit.

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Korog Zordaal"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Jacob Crawford"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Despite her willingness to throw herself in to the fray, Matsu was eternally patient. Her life had proven that good things came to those who waited and thus she had taught herself control. Passion was the way of the Sith, and though she and her old Master disagreed on many things there was one lesson she’d never forgotten: wasting your passion on the wrong thing made you a volatile fool.

After all, wasn’t silence worse than anger sometimes?

Her pupils were blown wide as she bled on to the sand, feeling Irajah’s sorrow and apology like an inescapable wave larger than anything that washed up onto the black beach. Jacob’s apology was there too, but less...personal simply by virtue of his distance from the circle of people that had come to find purpose on Maena in some form or another. Despite the roiling of the amber around her pupils Matsu’s face was expressionless as if she hadn’t heard the doctor’s apology at all. She was looking right through her. I trusted you.

Oh gods...he’s going to kill her isn’t he?

“Yes,” she answered simply, knowing her Brother would not stop until Aria was pulp.

Her eyes shifted to Jacob when he explained himself though her head did not move. He sounded sincere, felt sincere. And she was intrigued by what she’d heard in his mind before she’d broken the connection. That something unprecedented was coiling in his mind was obvious but right then was not the moment to pry her way in and wrest the answers from his mind however much she wanted them. Sand blasted in to the air behind them as the duel truly picked up, the ground shaking as the Titan engaged.

They might call a ship or attempt to skirt around the engagement unfolding before them, either of which might be suicidal next to such a clash. And besides...Matsu wanted to see the ending. The shield would need to be strong. “Korog?” Matsu said quietly, motioning for him to join her.

Raising both hands, she concentrated as she created a shield within the Force, protecting herself and the three with her from whatever was about to unfold.

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Jacob Crawford"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Korog Zordaal"]​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​In the eyes of the Destroyer only the unforgiving cold of the void could be seen as he charged towards [member="Aria Vale"]. A juggernaut of destruction bringing the full power of the dark side down upon her, it was truly a terrifying sight.

​The fire.

​A radiant arc of orange flame blasted from the dark jedi towards the Sith Lord, a last futile attempt to down the monster before he was on her. The Sith Lord held his hand out channeling the force like a vacuum he absorbed the flame into the palm of his open hand, gathering the radiant ball of fire. Darth Prazutis fired the ball of flame back to her then while he chose to deactivate his hightsaber. He could've brought it down upon her but this was personal, he wanted to feel her flesh mashed and broken before his hands, he wanted to feel her crimson blood flow.

​She would pay.

​The undead lunged out from behind her by his dark command grabbing each of her arms in the grip of a dozen dead that pulled them back, just as the Destroyer neared. The Destroyer threw everything he had into massive haymakers, pouring everything the force and his body had into a massive punch. Again, again, and again he punches as he drew blood and pulverized flesh with all his titanic strength could muster. But that wasn't all. Quickly he wrapped Aria up and lifted her clear into the air, the undead releasing her from their grip as he brought her high, and with one loud roar brought her down. Darth Prazutis knelt down as she fell and he brought Aria crashing down on his knee, using everything in his power to snap her spinal cord, attempting to bend the woman around his knee with force until bone broke and shattered, before dropping her down on her back.

​The Dark Lord stepped overtop of her then bringing a titanic boot to shatter one of her legs, before holding his hands out to her. A thick black smog exploded from his hands and quickly moved to envelop Aria. She had dared strike him, so he would rip the life from her body, to heal himself.

​[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Jacob Crawford"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Korog Zordaal"]