Private Yeah, no, I'd rather not.

[Darth Nwul]

The shadows depened in the hallway, whispers of the past hanging in the air. The eyes of long dead ancients, darksiders of a long lost tradition watching the intruders passing by. Specters of evil waiting for a chance to strike. Runic language marked the walls, thousands of years of history waiting to be unlocked. A drop of water broke the eerie silence, only the low howl of an everpresent wind creating a white noise in the background. The solitary trio of intruders bypassed another pile of rubble. Two of them, young women wearing dark hoods over their pale skin. The third, leading them, scratched his mess of black hair and sniffed hard, barely paying any attention to the eerie ambiance.

"Typically gloomy," Wake grunted, glancing back at his two guardians. "How did you live like this before we met?"

"That man was committed to the lifestyle," Yjome said with a shrug, "It wasn't by choice, master,"

"Wish you'd stop calling me that," Wake said with a yawn, brushing off a web that clung to his arm.

"What else would we call you?" The more subdued Darya said, wringing her hands. "Father?"

"I wouldn't mind it," Wake said and snorted, "Me, a father, what a joke."

He laughed as they passed into the next room, his hands shoved into pockets. He squinted up at the walls, his cocky expression breaking into a wide, genuine smile. He broke into laughter, "Now this is what I'm talking about!" He laughed, admiring the rows of hexagonal shelves filled with scrolls. It was enough to bring a tear to his eye. He turned to the two rattataki and gestured around the room; "Secure the room and set up our campsite, I'll begin examining this trove."

They both bowed and hurried off. Wake, on the other hand, hesitated for only a moment. Glancing up at the corner of the room he locked eyes with a particularly aggressive spirit, his eyes glowed yellow and a cruel smile spread across his lips. He winked and resumed his work.

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

Other people might’ve balked at the idea of sleeping in a dark dank tomb, but not Miri. This place brought back fond memories of happier, simpler times. Even the howling wind was more of a comfort than a bother. Besides, she hadn’t been sleeping much as of late.

The voices, on the other hand, were not welcome. At first she thought she was hearing things, maybe finally going crazy. But no—those were real people she was hearing, not hallucinations. She wasn’t alone anymore.

Damn. Just when she was starting to enjoy the solitude.

Creeping closer to the tomb entrance, she listened.

"...Me, a father, what a joke."

Carefree laughter echoed through the stone halls. Miri chewed her lip. Vaguely she could sense three distinct presences in the first chamber.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!"

More laughter. Miri crept a little closer, removing one of her pistols from its holster.

"Secure the room and set up our campsite, I'll begin examining this trove."

Holding her breath, she waited, expecting one of his lackeys to come around the corner and spot her crouching there. But nobody came. The two presences vanished from her perception, leaving behind the man who had ordered them to go set up camp. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Miri backed up, finding a better hiding spot deeper in the corridors. She didn’t want to deal with these people (or anyone) right now. Until she knew more about what she was dealing with, she’d stick to the shadows.

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake whistled a chipper tune while he began perusing the selection of ancient texts. The force continued to have his back, it seemed, as he unrolled the first of many. Sith script, though the vocabulary was clunky. Probably taught as an academic tongue rather than a proper spoken language. He squinted at the words and smiled; "Darth Vastius, huh? Never heard of you my friend," He said and read along with the text. It appeared to be an account of the man's life. To Wake's surprise he found that the man was in fact a gammorean. Wake had never met a particularly astute gammorean, which now that he thought of it was a bit of a bias on his part. Just because he never met one didn't mean they didn't exist.

The text described a Sith Lord whom had embraced the dark side from early on, as old as sixteen. His master had observed him during his youth but had otherwise kept a distance, allowing life to provide him with its own struggles until the time was right to induct him into the order. Vastius had a talent for force manipulations of the self, providing himself with stupendous physical strength. He went on and on about the various enhancements he provided himself before eventually describing his attempt to corral an apprentice. Tragically his appearance made it difficult and his words fell on many deaf ears, instead, he let raw power do the talking.

There were ultimately things that wake appreciated about the man and things he found dull. He rolled up the scroll and returned it before glancing at the hundreds of scrolls collecting dust in this solitary place. If that was just the first scroll-

Something in his perceptions shifted and he glanced to his right, the twins? No, not the twins. Someone else. Observing. Interesting. He could sense a wild strength in the force, unfocused and diluted by past teachings that failed to inspire. He cocked his head and looked back up at the wall, crossing his arms behind his back in the cassock like robes he wore. The high collar making him look almost like a priest.

"You can't read the scrolls from over there, my curious friend," Wake said casually, plucking another one out, "Don't be a stranger," He drawled, unrolling the scroll and reading its contents; "Ooh, a ritual!" He crowed delightedly.

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

Click.

“I’ve already read the scrolls.”

Miri stepped out of the shadows and into the light, pointing her pistol at the back of Wake’s head. “No sudden movements,” she warned.

Her cool and level tone was at odds with her disheveled appearance. The white tank top she wore was dirty and stained; one of the straps had fallen off her shoulder. There were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She was fighting to keep her hand steady as she aimed the gun at him.

“I was here first. Who are you?” she demanded, and it soon became apparent that she wasn’t looking for a name so much as an allegiance. “Alliance? Enclave? Private expedition?”

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

He couldn't tell immediately how far away she was, but there had to be some distance. Even so, he should have figured she'd pull something like that. Oh well, such was the way of things. If he died here, that was just nature running its course. Though he doubted the force would tolerate such a thing. His lip twitched and he raised both hands, staring forward at the scrolls. He took a deep breath of the air, tasting the spectrum of her emotions and feelings. Exhaustion, suspicion, determination, there was a strong will keeping such a weakened body standing.

He knew the twins would sense the danger soon and come to investigate, not that it mattered. He wondered what she was even doing in a place like this. She said she'd read the scrolls already, interesting. If she was an explorer and she was still here, did that mean there were more valuable treasures yet to be found? Nice. He didn't stay silent for very long, his rapid-fire thoughts only taking a few seconds.

"Should you be playing with something like that in your condition?" He asked jovially, "I'm afraid you might get yourself hurt."

He sighed when she pressed on, perhaps too tired to examine his clothing properly.

"None of the above, do I look Alliance to you? Come on, the color scheme is totally not my thing," He hesitated, "No, not entirely true, I wouldn't mind working a bit more blue into the wardrobe. What do you girls think?" He asked aloud, unpreterbed and ready to use the force to rip the weapon out of her hand if she so much as tugged on the trigger.

Nearby, his 'daughters' approached, both holding wicked-looking sith warblades and glowering with the hate reserved only for protecting kin. "Master may give lord Caedes a stroke if you do such a thing." Yjome said.

Wake laughed, "Can he even have a stroke?" He blinked and glanced over his shoulder, "Sorry about all the noise, I'm sure you had a grandiouse point to make, please, continue, you were threatening me?"

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

He raised his hands, turned around, and… oh no, he’s hot. Any man who can make a cassock-type garment look good deserves some credit, though her judgment might’ve been a bit compromised by exhaustion and emotional vulnerability. She couldn’t stand that smarmy smirk, though.

"Should you be playing with something like that in your condition? I'm afraid you might get yourself hurt."

Before she could retort, the two figures from earlier returned, now wielding big swords. She was outnumbered. Miri’s lips pulled back in a snarl, though she was more aggravated at her own lack of foresight than anything else. Damn.

“Senator Alicio Organa dresses just like you,” she replied, her tone more weary now. Of course she knew about the Organa’s notoriously dark and dreary dress sense; he was the political representative of her homeworld, after all. “But sure, I get it. You think you’re some kind of Sith.”

The Sith Empire had been dead and buried for a while now, and the Maw which sought to be their heirs had also been vanquished. They were in peacetime. Right?

Or had she been hiding out here for even longer than she thought?

Still, a Sith was a Sith. She could feel the old rolling boil of hatred for their kind, though it was lacking in strength and focus due to her exhausted state.

"Sorry about all the noise, I'm sure you had a grandiose point to make, please, continue, you were threatening me?"

She was so tired. Some days, she just wanted to end it all. Her hand shook visibly, her resolve wavering, before she finally lowered the gun to her side, the barrel pointing down at the floor.

“No,” she said in a quiet, defeated voice. “Just take what you want and get out.”

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake turned around as she hesitated and cocked his head to the right when she mentioned an Organa. That family was still around? He whistled in surprise, he'd have to look that guy up when he had the chance, compare notes, though his fashion sense was probably ludicrously more expensive than his own. That said, the materials used in sith robes weren't easy to come by either. Wake's mind tried to wander off into thoughts of luxury items and custom made robes for wealthy patrons who wanted a taste of the sithy side. He drew his damaged mind back from its amused ramblings and locked it down.

Now wasn't the time.

He tasted her emotions, even more sharply than before. Distinct. Force sensitive then. His eyes twinkled when she dismissed his potential claim that he was a sith, he certianly was aware that he didn't compose himself like the rest of his broodish and gloomy bretheren. That was the point, though, wasn't it. He could feel the exhaustion give way to hatred as it boiled up when she thought of him briefly as a sith, but the feelings faded, unable to start that fire up again. There was no fuel there.

Repression, defeat, her emotions crippled by something in her past. She couldn't feel. His eyes narrowed, but there was something more there. He glanced to his daughters who lowered their weapons as the girl gave her quiet assent. His lips thinned; he didn't like something about her aura. He strode towards her and reached down to take the weapon from her hand, "I'll give this back later," He said quietly, "But I am not leaving for some time. I'm an academic after all," He said and pat her shoulder. Yjome came from behind and removed the other weapon and disarmed her.

"Now..." He trailed off, looking her in the eyes. "I'm starving! Let's eat! Darya dear, did you bring those spices that Darth Caedes recommended? I'm really looking forward to trying them, make sure to make a fourth serving!"

"Yes sir!" Darya said delightedly, eager to be done with the grim work of indimidation, and hurried off to the campsite. Yjome stalked away as well, glancing back at the newcomer with a glare before obediently going to the camp.

Wake turned to the newcomer and gave her an easy smile; "Your feelings color your thoughts, my curious friend, I've tasted your emotions, you've had a hard time," He crossed his arms behind his back; "I'll feed you and give you a space to rest, in return all I want are details about this tomb, after that we can go our separate ways, or..." He tapped his chin, "No, nevermind, your not healthy enough for that. Let's just eat," He urged her and made his way towards the camp with a spring in his step. Books and an interesting new person, and perhaps even more rare artifacts to find. What a wonderful trip!

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

She scowled bitterly when he approached and put out his hand to disarm her, but she didn’t have the will to fight back. He pulled her gun from her slackening grip, while his lackeys removed her other pistol from its holster, along with a couple of sharp objects she had tucked away.

He patted her shoulder, and she barely reacted. His eyes met hers, bloodshot and red-rimmed. She’d been crying recently. Now she stared back at him, trying and failing to muster up a defiant gaze, at least.

While he ordered his Rattataki handmaidens (or whatever they were to him. An exceptionally loyal crew? Concubines? Wives? Sisters? He didn’t look old enough to be their father.) to prepare food, Miri managed to smirk grimly. “No thank you. If I don’t know what’s in it, I will not eat it.” She’d heard stories of Sith who practiced cannibalism. She knew for a fact that a few had consumed whole planets.

He yammered on about how he could sense her emotions and what a rough time she’d had. “You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered. His being able to read her so easily was a very bad sign, and she knew it, but she was too grouchy to care anymore. Instead, she tried to inflict psychic damage by imagining him in a humiliating position and then presenting it for him to “taste”.

“Not healthy enough for what?” she growled, with a grimacing smile. "Mmm, such a tempting offer. But why should I hand over ancient secrets to someone who probably kills people and subjugates planets in his spare time?"

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake walked alongside her as she smirked at him, his hands crossed in front in a reverent way. He snorted derisively at her reaction to his suggestion to eat. She'd probably heard stories about the strange and absurd things that fictional sith eat. He shrugged as if it didn't make a lick of difference to him. "Suit yourself, I'm just being neighborly, if you don't want it I'm not going to force you. You've got the freedom to do whatever you like," Wake said with a grunt.

Darya poked her head out of the large central tent they'd set up at the edge of the enormous library. Compression fabric was a wondrous technology, Wake mused as he stepped inside. There were two beds set off to the right and one bed on the left. There was also a meditation mat in the center of the room. Some portable cooking equipment had been set up and a ground nerf was already being prepared with the pungent and savory spices that Caedes had suggested for cooking in a dig site.

When she retaliated against his gentle probing he tasted the pettiness in her emotions. He wasn't reading her thoughts, only feeling her emotions in a more direct way, just as any jedi or sith would do towards one another but with much more clarity. Her petty display and focus drew his attention though, and he couldn't help but open up a little further to take a peak. When he percieved what she imagined, a dry snort and cough escaped his lips. He coughed again and laughed, "I like you!" He snickered.

He waved his hand at her first question; "I'm not going to discuss it, as I said, your mind and body wouldn't be able to handle it and I don't provide that treatment lightly," Wake just slightly over-explained, enough to provide a bit more insight. Instead he immediately moved on as if the point were settled, focusing on her second question; "Well, I haven't had the chance to subjugate any planets yet, it's on my list. Got one in particular I'm really quite taken with," Wake said thoughtfully.

"Killing people... I wouldn't call it a hobby, but well... shit happens when people don't like you, it's not like I go looking for trouble," he paused, "Wait does the Caldera count? Nah that was a military opp," He shook his head.

"Master, you volunteered for the Caldera," Yjome corrected him.

He nodded, "Right right, oh! It just ocurred to me, I'm being very rude," He turned and inclined his head and smiled at his 'guest'. "Wake Nayne," He said, dropping a noble corellian family surname, "Steward of the Dark Side, is what I like to call myself. Academic, explorer, lover of nature, and adoptive parent-now-apparently," he glanced at the other two, "And that's Darya and Yjome," He said with a grin and a dismissive tone.

Darya puffed up her cheeks "Sir! Don't be rude with a guest here!"

Yjome frowned at her, "So he can be rude when there isn't a guest?'

Wake burst into laughter and sat down at the small card table set up for meals. "Might as well get comfy, when they bicker they can go for a while," He said with not a hint of shame over the fact that he basically started the amusing exchange.

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

It was amazing how submissive and pliable she had become. He told her she didn’t have to eat or do anything she didn’t want to, yet she allowed herself to be guided to his tent—arguably just as dangerous a venture as accepting food from a stranger. Normally, she would’ve dug her heels in like a stubborn animal, not moving for hell or high water. Sure she was tired, hungry for something other than ration bars, heartbroken and in need of a shower, but that was no excuse. Right?

Face it, little lady. You’re broken. And now she had nothing to lose. Not even her pride.

The smell of food cooking hit her nose. “Is that nerf?” she asked, her voice achingly soft compared to her growling and muttering earlier. She cast a suspicious glance toward the two Rattataki women, then to the dish they were preparing. She was pretty sure it was nerf. Or maybe she just wanted it to be nerf very badly, so she would have an excuse to eat it.

"I like you!"

She gave him a fake smile.

"I'm not going to discuss it, as I said, your mind and body wouldn't be able to handle it and I don't provide that treatment lightly."

“I’ve heard a lot of bad pickup lines, but what you just said is really something, sir.” Of course, she could guess at what he really meant. A duel to the death? Alchemical experimentation? Been there, done that. Torture? Training?

This exceptionally eccentric Sith kept running his mouth. Miri only half-listened, distracted by gnawing hunger as she watched the food cook.

"Right right, oh! It just occurred to me, I'm being very rude. Wake Nayne. Steward of the Dark Side, is what I like to call myself. Academic, explorer, lover of nature, and adoptive parent-now-apparently. And that's Darya and Yjome."

“Miri Nimdok,” she said, with no further introduction. She wasn’t a Jedi anymore. The war had ended, so she couldn’t be much of a mercenary. That left adventurer archaeologist, she supposed, but apart from making her way into the tomb, she hadn’t done much adventuring or archaeology lately either. So she was just Miri.

Her gaze drifted toward Darya and Yjome, his adoptive daughters, or so he claimed. “Are they twins?” she asked, back to being soft-spoken. Even her face had changed, her features no longer so hard and stony. “I have twins, too.”

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake watched her closely out of the corner of his eye. She was so raw, her emotions so bare but repressed. He had been struggling for a moment to find the correct word for it. Heartbreak, brokeness, they finally came to mind. His gaze cooled a little and he looked back at the twins as they set to work, arranging things and cooking. Darya glanced up at the woman with a unamused expression, the more mild of the twins was still a burgeoning young sith and didn't like the smell of this outsider.

"Of course it's nerf, what did you think we ate?" Darya quipped and spread some more spices onto the meal, humming to herself.

Wake slipped in next to her and peered at it, patting her shoulder before glancing up at the fake smile cast his way. His emerald green eyes gleamed at her comment about pick-up lines. "Trust me, if I was trying to pick you up, you'd know," He said without a hint of shame, chuckling he stood up straight and rolled his neck, "No. I have a talent for emotional healing, a mixture of ritual and training, I've been accused of being something of a therapist before, but it isn't easy to do and its hard on the body..." He trailed off and walked to one of the tables where he made a few quick notes on some flimsi.

Darya pulled the meat off the cooker and began carving it and setting it up with sides she warmed from cans. For a field meal, it was looking rather regal.

"Miri Nimdok, feel like I've heard that name before somewhere," Wake said thoughtfully, "Coruscant? No, hmm," He said without looking back at her from his notes, "Darth Vastius, what an incredible man. Such a shame we have no record of him, that'll be rectified. He deserves it."

"The trip's already a success," Yjome agreed, her father/master's search for lost sith knowledge had once again borne fruit. Yjome turned her expression sour and aimed it again at Miri, "We certainly aren't clones, if that's what you're suggesting..."

Wake frowned and put down his pen, he turned slowly, but for some reason the room dropped at least two or three degrees in temperature before he stopped. Yjome froze and looked his way as he crossed his arms with a look of disappointment on his face; "Yjome, mind your emotions, they color your interactions and create unnecessary discord. Discord is a tool, not a way of life," He warned.

The pale skinned girl nodded and stepped away, stting on her bed. She took a deep breath; "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. I face my passions. I am..." She began mumbling to herself, sounding like she was listing something off in silence.

Dayra looked her way and shook her head before handing a plate over to Miri. "You have twins too? Is it hard being away from them?"

Wake remained silent, watching Miri's interactions and tasting her emotions from his vantage point. His curiosity had increased steadily since their first interaction. There was more here, he just had to parse out what it was he was detecting and feeling. The force had brought this one to him for a reason.

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

"Of course it's nerf, what did you think we ate?"

“People,” she answered dryly.

Deflecting her comments, Wake explained that he had a talent for emotional healing. “I’ve never heard of a Sith having such a power,” Miri said. “It’s supposed to be extremely difficult to heal using the Dark Side.”

He implied that he had heard of her. She said nothing, though her eyes darted vaguely when he mentioned Coruscant. If he had heard her name before, it would’ve most likely been in connection with that world, where she had resided with Kyell and the twins during her stint with the NJO.

The two Rattataki women didn’t seem to like her very much. One of them, Yjone, glared at her when she asked if they were twins. Wake got on her case about it, dropping the temperature of the tent by a few degrees. Miri wrapped her arms around herself to keep out the cold, staying quiet. She didn't care if they were rude or insulting, after all she hadn't exactly been all that kind to them.

"You have twins too? Is it hard being away from them?"

“Yes. But it is... necessary.” Miri took the plate from Dayra, sniffed the food, and finally tasted it. It was delicious. The last of her reluctance fell away, and she dug in with gusto.

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake chuckled at her response, it was a reasonable one. 'Healing' with the dark side was remarkably difficult. But what he was doing wasn't quite healing in the traditional sense. He didn't say much after that as he sat down to eat his own plate of food. He chewed the meat with gusto, a sparkle rising to his eyes at the delight that came from the flavor. He let out a groan of exhultation and offered Darya a grateful nod.

Darya was more interested in Miri, though, to his amusement; "Are they in a place that is safer than by your side?" She asked curiously, "That would make sense, yes," She nodded to herself as that was obviously the answer.

"Damn amazing as always, Darya!" He enthused, popping one of the vegetables into his mouth and chewing. He glanced towards Miri who was digging in with a similar gusto and shot an amused look at Darya who smiled contentedly, triumphant in her meal overcoming the barrier. Wake looked at Yjone and saw that she was done meditating on her feelings and how to use them more appropriately.

"Are you done, Yjone?" Wake asked.

She nodded, "I've reflected on the emotions I felt just now, Master. They are mine and I control them, I won't hide from them, nor will I repress them. This woman threatened you with a weapon and we are expected to feed her. I have strong misgivings about her presence, she reminds me of one of the Ashlan teachers as well, her aura puts me on edge," Yjone said flatly, not hiding her feelings. She directed an irate glance at Miri.

Wake nodded, "Use those feelings just like any other, they are your weapons, but do not be controlled by them. They're valid from your perspective, but trust me, Miri will do us no harm."

Yjone nodded and got to her feet, no longer a swirl of frustration, her emotions were honed and drawn in, like a bonfire in her chest that glowed and washed the room over with its heat. The dark side was strong in her. Wake was pleased with her growth. Darya's own power was nothing to scoff at, but she managed it in a different way to her hot-headed sister. Yjone stopped next to Miri and offered her a curt nod, meant to be polite, before grabbing her own meal now that she'd completed her punishment.

Wake popped another piece of nerf into his mouth and savored it, "Stars that's good! Damn that Caedes," Wake swore and barked out another laugh, carrying on as if he hadn't a care in the world. He intentionally gave Miri her space, barely questioning her, barely pressing, just letting her experience the atmosphere and relax. Like a serpent in the dark, he had plenty of time to wait before he bit down.

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

"Are they in a place that is safer than by your side?"

Before Darya had a chance to draw her own conclusions, Miri answered, “I’m not good enough to be their mother. They’re with their father, who is a better man than I deserve.”

Having uttered that ugly truth out loud, she went back to eating. Keeping her mouth full would stop any more words from tumbling out.

Yjone spoke her mind. Clearly she didn’t like that Miri was sitting in their tent and eating their food, but the comparison to an Ashlan was just too much. “Rest assured, I am not an Ashlan. Any resemblance to a teacher, living or dead, is purely coincidental.”

She might as well have not bothered, since Wake handled the situation well enough. His relationship with his “daughters” was certainly strange. More likely, they were his apprentices. Was this how Sith trained their acolytes—by treating them like unruly children?

Another mention of Caedes. “Who is Caedes?” Miri asked. “Is he here as well?”

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake frowned at her self deprication, just how crushed was this woman that she had lost all hope and drive? Her force presence was crippled, diluted. He kept his mouth shut and looked towards the exit of the tent for a moment, sensing one of the specters outside. Curious little bugger. He bit into his meal as Miri defended herself against Yjone's thoughts. Wake chuckled a bit at the way she phrased it, wobbling his head to the left and right as he immitated something he'd heard at the beginning of a holovid.

"This holovid is a work of fiction, any resemblance to individuals, living or dead, is purely coincidental," Wake said in a playfully deep voice, he snorted and looked up at her, "Enjoy cinema do you?'

His expression grew complicated at her next question, "He is not here, no," Wake said, "A ranking Sith Lord like himself has better things to do, I imagine, a planetary system to manage," Wake drawled, "He is a mentor of sorts. Not my proper master, but he's given me insights," Wake explained before flicking his finger at the door and concentrating on it with the dark side. The jolly sith released a chilling dart so thick for a moment something black ripped through the air. There was a shriek and howl of pain that withered into silence.

"The specters here need to learn manners," Wake said evenly before brightening and turning on her with a happy smile, radiating umititgated pleasantness. There was no mask, he was truly feeling content. "Sorry about that, it was rude."

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

"Enjoy cinema do you?"

Miri just shrugged. She could tell that her self-deprecating remarks had left an impression, and she assumed his attempt at humor was an effort to dispel the negativity. She didn’t mean to cramp his style—he was a much more interesting Dark Sider than any she’d ever encountered before—but there was no outrunning her problems now.

He explained that Caedes was his mentor. “I wonder how many people he’s killed,” Miri mused aloud, more aware than ever before that she was in the company of Sith.

Weak as her connection was, she didn’t notice the specter outside the tent until Wake suddenly attacked it. Then she was on her feet, her plate knocked aside, fists clenched at her sides. For all her festering self-loathing and angst, it was clear she still wanted to live.

Once she realized it was only a dark spirit, and that Wake had already taken care of it, she sagged, her strength ebbing away. The plate lay overturned at her feet. She had already eaten the food upon it, so thankfully it didn’t make a mess. Picking it up, she set it down with a trembling hand. “I haven’t slept properly in a week,” she said. “I lay awake thinking all the time. It’s not the specters or the Force’s influence. It’s just me.” Glancing at Wake with haggard, sunken eyes, she added, "You want more than just information out of me, don't you?"

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake glanced back at the opening of the tent, not looking directly at her as he considered her thoughts about Caedes. His lip twitched, "I wonder how many bark rat are killed by nexu in their lifetimes," Wake mused in response, turning a suddenly cold gaze in her direction as she slowly picked up and replaced the plate, explaining her exhaustion. He nodded to her, "Yes, I know how tired you are. Your defenses aren't exactly up as much as you think they are," Wake said quietly.

He sighed, getting to his feet and crossed his arms behind his back, his usually jolly demeanor dropping for a moment. "I want to offer you treatment, believe it or not. I can sense the repression of the Jedi on you, your feelings crushed by them, unmanageable," He shook his head, "You left their order and didn't complete the training so your capacity to feel wasn't completely erased, leaving you even more vulnerable than when you went in. Something happened after that, or many somethings, a whole line of somethings that have stepped on your spirit over and over until there was naught but powder left."

Wake gestured to the bed opposite the girls, "I consider it one of my missions in life to undo that sort of damage. All thinking beings deserve to feel, what you do when you've recovered is entirely up to you. You seem to hold resentment against we sith and if you'd like to remain enemies, so be it, I honestly don't care," Wake said with a laugh and leaned back, lounging a little on his meditation pillow and letting his brutal honesty hang in the air.

Miri Nimdok

 

[Miri Nimdok]

I wonder how many Sith I’ve killed. I lost count a long time ago, she thought but did not say. The sentiment beyond the thought didn’t make her feel any better anyway.

Wake’s assessment of her was pretty accurate, but Miri didn’t like assumptions being made about her by relative strangers. She looked him in the face, glaring at his bright eyes and healthy, dewy complexion, hating him for his audacity. “You don’t know me,” she spat. “The Jedi tried to help me. I wasn’t strong enough in the Force to become one of them. I couldn’t even follow their damned Code. That’s on me, not them.”

If he was seeking to turn her against the Jedi, it wouldn’t be so easy. Her father had been a Jedi. Kyell was a Jedi. She had spent her youth around Jedi Knights.

Yet her failure to measure up and fit in with them had taken its toll, turning her into the wreck she was now. The prodigal daughter, afraid to return home and face the disappointment of being found wanting.

“The Sith put me on this path,” she rambled. “They gave me the power of the Force. They hounded me like dogs, and I had to defend myself. The first time I ever killed, it was the Sith who had come to kidnap me. I was only a child, barely six years old, and I ripped them apart!”

Sweat had begun to bead on her brow, her eyes wide and feverish. “You think you can ‘treat’ me… Can you get rid of this curse your brethren put on me? Can you change me, make me good? Change my heart?...”

She started to take a step back, stumbled and collapsed on the floor of the tent.

Darth Nwul​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Wake felt the anger and hate budding inside of her, so there were still some emotions there. An opening. That was good. The first step was to get her to feel something again. Something beyond the crushing void that had been weighing down inside of her chest for stars knew how long. He didn't so much as blink as she glared at him and bit out her retort. He nodded, no, he didn't know her. He only knew what he knew based on observation. He couldn't read minds, but he could make educated guesses based on the emotions he felt from others.

She went on about how the sith had put her down this path. How they had hounded her. He nodded still, a creature chased and forced to defend itself kills its pursuers. Nothing wrong with that. It's the way of nature, the natural order of things. She was stronger than them, so she survived. He calmly regarded her, the emotions on her building and wafting through the chamber, riling up the sith spirits outside. Wake reached out with the force and gave them a very firm warning. Do not interrupt or I will make your eternal torment seem like a spring day before I devour you.

He still didn't move as she became feverish, her eyes wild, she was sicker than he thought. He glanced at Yjome who sighed and made her way over to the large medkit that they'd brought with them while Miri continued to rant.

Thump!

She hit the ground and Wake looked back at her. He got slowly to his feet and stepped towards her, he reached out with the force and touched her mind. He let her feel what he felt in the moment. Simpathy, pity, sadness, resignation, frustration, and patience. He gave her a taste of the spectrum of his aura before slowly kneeling down next to her and smiling. "I never once said I would make you 'good', Miri Nimdok, I said I would treat you. What you do with a freed heart and open mind is entirely your business," He said and stroked her hair before getting to his feet.

"Make sure she's comfortable and recovers quickly," Wake ordered as he stepped over the broken girl as if she were a corpse, "When she has recovered she can make her decision," He stopped and looked back at her, "Whether or not she wishes to be reborn, or remain a broken, pathetic husk," He said with mild disdain and turned away to walk out and meet the horde of angry specters, "True misery is a hell of our own creation, only the self can find the door out..."

 

[Miri Nimdok]

She didn’t know how long she slept. Her dreams were strange. She saw visions of what was, what is, and what had not yet come to pass. Her father, now long dead; her mother, in prison for murder; her brother, riding with a crew of pirates. Kyell. He seemed confused and sad…

The fever broke, and finally she awoke. She was lying on one of the cots in the tent. Her throat felt impossibly dry and thirsty. Sweat from her sickness clung to her skin; if she had needed a shower before she passed out, now she couldn’t bear to go any longer without one.

Sitting up, she looked around, dark eyes alert and searching for signs of company. No doubt the Sith were still here—she was in their tent, after all.

Darth Nwul​