Calm Before the Storm [lmr, sparrow, kt]

[Mara]

(((For now, this is just for lmr/Var…. but after we get a few posts in, I’ll probably ask for a couple of other Sith to join (and hopefully Jenno with Caleb)…
Also, sorry for the long post… only really the beg. and end concerns you. ;p
EDIT: Sparrow/Zarene and KT/Torran have joined. Slots full.)))


[…from Dissolve and Fade]

Dark clouds were gathering in the west, almost a companion to the one she imagined was hovering over her head. The yellow Twi’lek was sitting on a convenient boulder about a quarter klick from the main Temple building on Korriban. Her violet eyes gazed ahead, seeing but also not seeing. She sat, hunched over, her hands in her lap, her head taking turns looking down at them or up at the storm generating in the far distance. Clad in the black robes and hooded cloak she had begun wearing since being apprenticed, from the back no one would be able to tell the figure was Looma Isana. The only identifier would be the swirling imaginary cloud of darkness contaminating the Force around her. Any nearby Force user would be able to sense her presence even if not able to physically distinguish who was sitting there.

Ever since returning a couple days prior, Looma’s emotions had taken a sharp turn downward. The past month had been hard on her, kicking her back even farther than her real physical injury much earlier on Subterrel. In fact, she couldn’t help feeling that those events had led to her current circumstances. If not entirely consciously, then perhaps just involuntarily related. She had confronted her master for abandoning her after her injury, and he had proceeded to juke around the subject. When he had finally addressed the matter, it was quick, and he had gone immediately to teaching her some lessons. Though still left wanting of an explanation, Looma had gone with it, hungry to learn more. And then, just when she was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel of her new relationship with her master, he had dropped a proton torpedo on her. Shard was leaving her.

Almost since birth Looma had had to deal with abandonment issues and betrayal. The sudden departure of her master was just another one to add to the pile. When just a toddler, her older sister, her only friend, had been sold into slavery in order to pay for her brothers’ education. Before she herself was given over to the same fate, her parents had let the Jedi take her for training. She had been happy there, briefly, until a few years later the Jedi also gave up on her. Looma hadn’t liked their rules, had wanted to train when and how she wanted to. They had stamped her with the stigma of not enough potential and packed her off to the Agricorps. The Twi’lek had been abandoned yet again. And now, given a new chance at life with the Sith, with a master, that chance had disintegrated before it had had time to take root.

At first, she had held herself together. Her master had given her one last instruction before he left, and Looma had aimed to fulfill it. She wasn’t sure if it was just because she wanted to make her master proud, holding onto a thread of hope that everything was just a test. That if she did well he would return. Or maybe she just needed something to do to avoid ending up in the depressive state she currently found herself in. Whatever her reasons, after a few days of mourning her loss, she had poured herself into her last duty as student. She had called together the Dominion, delivering the news that Shard was gone, and the Dominion would be no more. Using her master’s comm ID, she had sent word to Korriban and to the Dark Lord. Looma had followed her master’s orders exactly and had felt briefly elated about such as she had made her preparations to leave Bastion and return to the Temple on Korriban.

She fingered the ruby pendant at her neck, thinking about it again. There had been one instruction that she hadn’t followed through on, but it wasn’t like her master was around to do anything about it. Looma had done all the important things, and she was free from him now. He wouldn’t have begrudged her a small token. Even though he had also given her his lightsabers, asked her to take care of them, not destroy them, she also had the pendant. Shard had met it only as proof that he was gone, and Looma had used it as such. But now she was rebelling, not wanting to destroy the beautiful piece. Not because she had hope her master would return now, but because it was something to remember him by, to remind her of the good and bad times they had had together. The jewel would stay on her.

But now that she was back on Korriban, no more master, no more responsibilities, she had fallen back into her depression that had briefly stuck her after Shard had left, before she had sucked it up and taken on her orders. Now there was no need to put up a false front for the Dominion Sith and soldiers. There was no one looking to her for information and explanations. She was back to where she had started: abandoned, betrayed, alone. It was almost like the last few months hadn’t happened, and she had never left Korriban, never had accepted the tutelage of a master. Looma had wandered the Temple, avoiding others. It wasn’t hard; most of the others felt her boiling emotions and gave her a wide berth. The news of Lord Memmon’s absence had spread throughout Korriban.

The only bright spot, the one strong cord holding her from completely breaking down, was Caleb. Though she hadn’t seen him in months, not since before he had gotten his own master and gone off, he was always there, hidden in the back of her mind and heart. At her darkest moments she would think of her, of their times together. Without him, Looma wasn’t sure what she would be doing now, or if she would even be alive. She missed him, surely, but the tiny bit of pride she had left and the thought of telling him about her loss kept her from contacting him. He would eventually return to the Temple, and she would see him then. Until then the thought of him would keep her from stepping off the edge that she had taken up residence on.

Unable to deal with the inside of the Temple, guilty Sith trying to console her in their awkward ways, offering to let her in on their lessons, Looma had gone outside. The desolate landscape somehow soothed her somewhat. It felt like it was her soul bared for the galaxy to see. And so she had wandered out, finally settling down to sit, staring off into space, alone. Her thoughts lingering on abandonment and betrayal by almost everyone in her life. She wasn’t overflowing with rage; that had already come and gone. Looma was actually strangely calm, just simmering with her feelings that were leaking into the Force around her. Bottled up, waiting for a release. Just like the storm clouds off in the west.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

A voice spoke up from behind Looma. It was silky and calmly melodious, but had a quiet steel to it. Its tone was one of relaxed confidence, and undoubtedly the speaker was feeling rather at ease. Confident even.

"There's a storm brewing and you're sitting right at the edge of a ravine. There's a little thing called 'erosion' that you might want to be mindful of. Some might say you're taking a foolish risk."

Varulla'aba stepped a little closer and leaned up against the side of the boulder, her green eyes trained on the horizon instead of the person sitting on the boulder. Yes, she did find weather a little interesting. And she wasn't especially worried about tumbling down into a ravine thanks to wet dirt. But it was the sort of thing she felt compelled to say.

"It's something I'm not especially worried about. The question is why you're sitting at the edge of a cliff."

The cream-colored Twi'lek idly ran her thumb over her index finger, feeling the tight black glove covering her hand flex with the movement. It was the sort of relaxed gesture she'd been careful to cultivate over years. One of confidence, and even of arrogance. Because so many of the Sith were arrogant, it made for perfect camouflage. Truthfully she wasn't confident at all. She was extremely uncertain.

She'd been certain she'd found the right master on a recent mission. They'd hit it off well, then nothing. He'd been absent so often. And it was gnawing at her mind. Did it reflect somehow on her? She wasn't sure. Her entire life had been a lengthy series of defeats and failures. And she'd always been taught it was her fault. As a Jedi nothing she'd done had been right. Everything had been a mistake, and her master was quick to remind her of it. And to remind her she was lucky just to be a Padawan when she could have been passed by so easily. He taught her she was ungrateful.

And as a slave she'd been convinced she did things wrong too. A part of her still felt she'd deserved the beatings. Part of her wanted to think that maybe if she'd done things right it would have been different. As absurd as it might have seemed to anyone else, she even blamed herself for being raped.

And now she was starting to blame herself for the rift forming between her and her master. And that left her with nothing to fall back on but arrogance. Needless to say, she wasn't good at making friends.

[Mara]

(((This post seemed a bit rough to me, so hopefully it makes at least some sense... ;p)))



Though lost in her thoughts, her mind understandably scattered and a bit unorganized, Looma was still locked into the Force. Even if she wasn’t actively raging as she sometimes was while walking through the Temple, her emotions in the Force a giant barrier against conversation, it was still around her. The Force was like a second cloak around her, spilling out like a four-sided cape. The yellow Twi’lek had felt the presence coming up behind her long before it had spoken. She had thought to jump up and frighten the other Sith away—for it only could be another Sith, here outside the Temple—but had decided against the action. The presence hadn’t seemed much stronger than her own, so it was likely not a master or one of the lords, but Looma felt the best course of action would be to remain still. Perhaps the being was just walking nearby and would soon pass into the distance.

She shut her eyes tight for a few moments when the being did not leave, but instead spoke to her—a female voice—and came closer. Looma wanted for all the world to just lash out with the Force to shut this Sith up; she wanted to be alone, not be disturbed. But if she was completely honest, she was just too lethargic from everything to attempt even a simple attack. She sighed softly to herself, the sound retained within her hood. Maybe if she just ignored this female Sith, she would just go away, so Looma let a bit more of her dark feelings out into the Force surrounding her, into the same area where this stranger was occupying now, so close to her. She hoped the other would just get the hint and leave. The Twi’lek had no inclination to be lectured on the properties of Korriban’s geology and whether what she was doing was smart.

Looma did find it slightly amusing, though, that this other had commented that she was being foolish for sitting on a large rock near a cliff. Amusing because right now Looma could care less about what she was doing, risk or not. Taking a tumble down into the canyon below would certainly not bother her. Her numb mind would then have a numb body to be its companion. She looked down from her gaze at the storm in the distance and towards the cavernous gap in front of her. It would be so easy to just… No, she couldn’t. No matter how depressed or betrayed she felt, Looma couldn’t leave Caleb like that. At least without seeing him once more. She sighed again to herself, this time out of relief, not of exacerbation as before.

But her new companion appeared to be entirely content to stand there next to her, and Looma knew she was probably stuck with her, at least for a while. She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to speak to this female. Hopefully she could get her to leave with a few spoken words, since she hadn’t take the hint of her earlier silence and her simmering Force presence. It was as if this other hadn’t yet heard the news of her master’s leaving along with the rumors that had gone alongside the truth. That he had left because she had disappointed him. That it had been her fault. That this was the reason she meandered around the Temple, unable to do anything, stuck in a depressive, sometimes angry, funk, followed by her imaginary dark cloud.

Looking back to the storm gathering at the horizon, she contemplated how to respond. The other had asked her a question, but the next question was whether Looma wanted to answer it and how. At least the stranger hadn’t continued on her little geological sermon and had turned instead to something a bit more...insightful Looma would probably call it if she had actually been in the mood to explain her actions. But whether she was in the mood or not, she would have to answer. Because if she didn’t, she could just feel that the other would just keep pestering her about geological dangers or worse.

Without moving her gaze, head still hidden within her cloak, only her yellow hands showing against the black folds of her lap, Looma bit out a sarcastic retort. “I’m waiting for my wings to grow so I can soar across. What else?” It was perhaps not the best way to start off a conversation, but the arrival of this female had meshed with her other emotions, making her a bit annoyed at having been disturbed. Politeness wasn’t on the forefront of her mind right now. Looma realized that such a response from her would just encourage this other female to continue on the conversation, not leave like she had wanted her to, but it was too late to take back the words. She would just have to suffer the consequences and try to fend off the unwanted companionship later.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

“I’m waiting for my wings to grow so I can soar across. What else?”

Var smirked. This one had a mouth, like her. That meant they'd either hit it off or hate each others' guts, there wasn't likely to be any middle ground. Of course, the cream-colored Twi'lek was horrible at making friends. Enemies were so much easier to make, and you weren't expected to trust them. That didn't bode well at all for her friendship endeavors. Not that she had any intention of trying hard. Friends were only useful as far as you could trust them. And you couldn't do that.

They'd betray you. All these years later, the day when her best friend had betrayed her amongst the Dark Jedi still stuck in her mind and left a sour taste in her throat. She wasn't over it. She'd never be over it.

She was bad with friends.

But still, there was no harm in trying to see if she couldn't hit it off. Allies never hurt, even if they were temporary and dispensable. And maybe she could learn something that would prove useful. Anything was possible, and she tried to keep her options open.

"You've certainly got a sharp tongue. I can appreciate that. It would take a loca koochoo to say you don't have spirit." Var perched on the boulder next to the other Sith, and held out her hand. "Varulla'aba. You can call me Var."

Her free hand repositioned her lekku, draping them over her front from where they'd fallen down her back. Almost as an afterthought, she added a quick disclaimer.

"You'll probably hate me. Most people do I think."

She sighed and leaned back onto the boulder, folding her arms and looking somewhat weary. As far as Sith went, she was one of the less cuddly specimens. She wasn't the most narcissistic of them, or the most explosively violent one. But as far as pure vitriol and bad temper went, she was well-gifted. She had a tendency to hurt the people who loved her especially. Which was half the reason she kept everyone at arm's length away from her.

It was her own ease of mind. You couldn't fail your loved ones if you didn't have any of them.

[Mara]

Just as she had thought, her words had just encouraged her new companion further. In fact, the other seemed almost amused at Looma’s sarcastic remark. And that only caused the yellow Twi’lek’s mood to darken even farther, further poisoning the Force around her. She wasn’t here on this rock to provide entertainment to any random Sith wandering around outside the temple. Looma wanted to be alone. Her fingers curled into fists, squeezing, imagining the stranger’s neck in them. It would be just as easy to use the Force to bring reality to her thought, but right now she really just wanted to use her real hands to commit the deed. Sometimes the Force was just too impersonal.

It was a struggle for her to bury down those thoughts; she would accomplish nothing if she strangled this other Sith in cold blood, or at least attempted to. Looma still had no idea who this Sith was, besides the name the other had just spoken to her. There was no telling how powerful this Var actually was. Just because Looma did not feel the overwhelming power so inherent in the lords or the Dark Lord himself did not mean that this stranger was not to be trifled with. It was just as likely for this Var to win any battle between the two of them as it would be for Looma. No, even for a Sith, killing without no other reason than annoyance was rarely a justified occurrence.

With her dark feelings suppressed for the moment, Looma had time then to focus more on the newcomer, Var. The name she had given first had been a bit odd. Saying it over to herself in her head, the yellow Twi’lek tried to come to terms with it, distinguish perhaps a particular species. But nothing doing; all she knew for certain was that it was probably not a human name. It seemed familiar somehow, though she couldn’t quite place why.

Reluctantly, she decided she needed to actually use her eyes to view this stranger, instead of feeling her presence in the Force. Perhaps if Var saw the darkness behind her violet eyes, more straightforward than just her Force presence, she would leave. Looma lifted her head from staring at the storm gathering on the horizon and turned towards the other. And then everything popped into place in her mind. The name, the strange pronunciation, the sense of something known yet unknown. This Var was a Twi’lek, like herself, yet a paler, almost sickly color.

She ignored the proffered hand, instead lifting her own to pull down her hood, revealing her bright yellow skin, her own lekku laying over her shoulders, her worn headband decorated with Twi’leki runes, the tips covered with the matching leather caps. The gold necklace with the ruby pendant showed brightly against her black robes. Her deep purple eyes bored into Var’s, almost agreeing with her later statement that Looma would most likely hate her. Involuntarily, she moved slightly on the rock, further from Var, who had chosen to sit near her. Looma had come out here to be alone with her thoughts of darkness, but if she couldn’t achieve that, she certainly would avoid getting cuddly with this annoying Sith now of all times.

Her hands returned to her lap, lying benignly instead of curling back into fists. Now that she knew who her new companion was, Looma turned her gaze back towards the far distance and the dark clouds rising, matching the one she still felt looming in the Force above her. She wanted to bite back that, of course, she would hate her, probably did already, no future needed. But her glare and presence in the Force should be enough for Var to get the hint about that. Never mind that her current feelings towards the other Twi’lek were more influenced by her silence being interrupted than by anything specifically personal about Var.

Instead, Looma focused on her earlier words, when she had introduced herself. Never hurt to be polite back… in her own way. Hopefully she would finally find something to make Var leave her alone with her thoughts. She spoke softly but with a sharpness in her voice edged with the dark side of the Force. “Well, you can call me your worst nightmare.” After she had said it, Looma felt it sounded a little flat, but again, it was too late to take back her words. She realized she was slowly quickly losing her wits and her composure, and something needed to be done, before something went awry, before someone got hurt. How, though, she didn’t know yet.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

"My, my, my. Aren't you the little egotist? You think you're material from my nightmares?"

Var felt entitled to be arrogant. With a quip like that, and without an especially threatening aura, it was safe to say this other Twi'lek wasn't a huge threat to her. Also, she felt more than a little indignant. Her nightmares, when they came, were only personified in one person. Her owner.

Sometimes in especially dark nights she'd wrap herself in a blanket and sit in a corner with her back hugging the wall and try not to be frightened by visions of his face in her head. She'd clutch her lightsaber to her chest like a child with a stuffed animal, and her breath would come in quick and ragged spurts. It was a pathetic show of weakness and fear, one she always kept very private.

But no matter how she dealt with it, the scars on her back always reminded her of what he'd done to her. And she silently felt there was going to be another encounter in the future. It was what she was being pulled towards, she wasn't done with him yet.

And when she met him again, she was the one with the lightsaber. She was the one with the power. It was that desire, that lust for revenge, that made her work to better herself. It was her daydream, her distraction. Contemplating how she'd get to Tatooine, and then how she'd dispatch him. The cuts she'd make with her lightsaber, the way she'd use all the destructive abilities she'd learned...

That kept her going. And for another Twi'lek Initiate to calmly decree herself the subject of Var's nightmares? That didn't exactly win her over any.

"Let me tell you this, Pateesa, you have no idea what goes on in my head."

Var folded her arms and glowered. She could tell the other woman didn't want her there, both from the dark look on her face and the obvious emotion in her purple eyes. But if she had any expectation that Var would acquiesce just because she felt like it, or because they were the same species, then she was dead wrong.

The cream-colored Twi'lek Initiate made it very clear she had no intention of leaving and, in a show of that, she crossed her legs and stared ahead at the brewing stormclouds.

[Mara]

Looma suppressed a growl as Var responded to her answer about who she was. She had almost felt the response coming, almost since it had left her lips. But yet, it still angered her even further; her rage poured into the Force. The hands in her lap closed tightly into fists again, her knuckles showing a paler yellow against the bright pigment of the rest of her skin. She was reconsidering her decision to not strangle this Sith on sight. Despite any remorse she may feel afterwards, the current relief would be completely satisfying. It would be worth it, even if the Sith kicked her off of Korriban for doing so. And Looma knew Caleb would forgive her, would know she had been justifed in doing so. But no… she would remain still, only imagining the pain she would cause to this other Twi’lek.

Perhaps she really wasn’t nightmare material, not to this Sith, but Looma liked to believe that to some beings she could actually be fearsome. Of course, it would help if she had been still apprenticed to her old master, Shard. If he was around, this pale representation of a Twi’lek bully wouldn’t dare say the things she was saying to her. He would give this Var some real nightmares that would make any current ones she had look like peaceful daydreams. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t. And Looma was alone. Even solo, though, she felt she had enough training and power with the Force to be feared, make some beings think twice about facing her. Just not to this being. In her mind, she silently cursed her master for leaving her.

Even so, she knew she could hold her own, at least for a little while, even if this Var was perhaps more powerful than she. Looma couldn’t feel an overwhelming presence in the Force from the other Twi’lek, nothing like the masters and lords, but there was something there, and it was hardly weak. But her connection to the Force was also hardly weak. She had her own strengths and weapons. Back on Subterrel she had held her own in a lightsaber duel with a Jedi. Albeit how briefly she had done so, it was still more than she thought she could have. No, neither of them were to be trifled with; as long as Var realized that, she might come away from this unhurt.

Var expanded on her words and folded her arms, moving to stare into the distant storm. She was putting out an obvious stance to infuriate Looma. It was like she was saying ‘I’m here to stay. What are you gonna do about it?’ And quite vexingly it was working, almost too well. Looma’s emotions were thrumming through her body to the same cadence that the blood was pounding in her ears. Her fists curled even tighter, her nails digging into the flesh, and she didn’t feel any of the pain. Even if she had, it would just serve to aid her anger. The Force around Looma was fairly crackling with her rage.

She jumped up from her perch on the rock and turned to face Var. Her hands itched to use telekinesis or to grab one of her lightsabers, but she didn’t move them. They hung at her sides like twin stones. Her violet eyes bored into the other’s green ones. Looma breathed deeply, trying to calm herself just enough to let a few words escape from her mouth. Finally she could bite out a response. “Then don’t you dare presume to know what is inside mine.” In a way, she was also responding to Var’s earlier inquiries, to everything that had started since the other Twi’lek had deemed to interrupt her, and not just the most recent remarks.

Finished, not able to say anything else, nor wanting to, Looma whirled around and walked a few paces away, staring off into the distance. Almost simultaneous with her movement, thunder rumbled loudly from the growing storm. Looma would have smiled at the timing, had she been in any mood to do so. All she could do was look at the ever-darkening clouds as they came ever closer to their position. No longer seated, the strengthening wind coming out over the cliff played with her cloak and robes, buffeting them around her.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

“Then don’t you dare presume to know what is inside mine.”

Var laughed. Out loud. This was really something. As far as retorts went, that rated as thoroughly weak

"You're joking right? I couldn't care less about what goes on in that brain of yours. Just do us all a favor and try not to make it so obvious. For example you want to kill me right now. Oh yes, I can tell that. I wasn't born yesterday you know. You want to watch the life drain from my eyes, but you're too weak to do it."

To accent the accusation, one cream-colored finger reached out and pointed at the other Twi'lek.

Var now felt the compulsive need to goad the woman out of her silence. Even a burst of rage would be better than this passive aggressive quiet and sullen demeanor. Her own cruel streak was showing up now, rearing its ugly head.

By no stretch was Var a good person. To be true, she had started as merely lonely, hurt, and afraid. But it had grown of its own accord, until the point where her darkness fueled her. It was a self-perpetuating crisis. She relied on darkness, which led her to stay on the dark path through her actions.

If only her Jedi master could have seen her now, how disappointed he would have been. And surprised. Surprised more by her progress in the ways of the Force, surprised she could learn more than he'd been able to teach. She'd learned to rely on her anger.

Anger that was brewing at the other woman's attitude. One was yellow, the other was a pale cream. But they were both Twi'lek, and they both had anger. And Var's anger had been stoked.

"Yes, you're weak. Chuba doompa, dopa-maskey kung, tah-koh tee womp rat e’nachu. Wallowing in your self-pity at the top of a cliff. Is life too hard for you? Are you feeling so small and insignificant? Well maybe its time for you to grow a backbone and stop being such a coward."

It was so easy to berate those emotions, because Var had them. There were moments when she felt small herself, when she felt none of it mattered. And she hated herself for it. Having the chance to scold someone else for her own flaws was strangely satisfying, a chance to channel her own self-hatred directly into someone else.

And she had to admit, she had the desire to get inside her mind and just hurt her. She wanted it badly. It was revenge for her own flaws, a
sacrificial lamb killed in her place. Her own soul was already broken, and all she wanted to do was spread that brokenness onto others.

"Why don't you just leap right off that cliff now if you're so weak. End it. Or are you too much of a coward for that way out?"

Another spot close to home. Var had considered suicide before. Once when she'd been a little girl on Tatooine, she'd even held the knife in her hand. But she'd been afraid, too afraid to do it. Life was all she had sometimes, and she couldn't bear to throw it away.

[Mara]

(((Sorry for the length!)))

She hadn’t thought that her anger could grow any more than it currently was, but she had been wrong. Looma hated that this Var was so cleanly picking her apart. It stung, and it burned. No matter how baseless or not her words were, they still hit Looma home. And it was getting increasingly more difficult for her to keep a hold on her temper. She tried pulling in deep, calming breaths, but they only came in short, ragged bursts. For the moment, the only thing keeping her from acting was keeping her eyes glued on the horizon and trying not to focus on Var continually berating her and calling her weak and cowardly.

And for a few moments, it worked. She watched the storm clouds as they marched closer to the Temple, the sky growing darker around them, the wind picking up. In some faraway, disconnected part of her brain she knew it was going to rain soon, and hard. Strange that she would think of rain, now of all times. It wasn’t like there had been any significant event in her past that had involved water rushing from the heavens. Looma had encountered very little in her recent history, little in her past on Ryloth. Maybe it was just her rage giving her the clarity to notice all the minute details around her, invoking a feeling of disembodiment that left her floating above the action, watching things from afar.

A particularly harsh gust of wind blew into her face, briefly making her involuntarily blink her eyes against the force. It brought her back to the present and Var’s words, which kept on coming. It she hadn’t been half-blinded by her rage, Looma would have realized that the other Twi’lek was merely now applying some verbal tactics against her, maybe even Dun Moch. Var didn’t just want Looma to hear the words. She wanted her to feel them and then react to them. This was no longer a simple conversation and argument. The repetition was now just a tool.

As much as her rage was clouding her thoughts, the meaning behind the words still leaked through, eerily similar. Looma was reminded then of her master Shard and reflexively uncurled a fist to reach up to grab the ruby hanging from her neck. The words were different, but the meaning was the same. He had accused her of being too quiet, too much within herself. Of being too afraid and yes, in a way, weak. Continually through their sparse lesson he had tried to draw her out, something that until then only Caleb had been able to do. And even then, Shard had only partially succeeded, and not until just before his departure. Her step forward that afternoon and evening had suddenly dropped her back a dozen paces. If she had ever come into her own that night, her master’s sudden leaving had destroyed any of that progress. Looma had slipped back into her shell. And now Var, not Shard, was beating on it.

Looma let go of the pendant and slowly turned around, her violet eyes moving away from the storm, which had almost engulfed them by now, and onto the pale Twi’lek. If only Var knew how much some of her words were ringing true. Along with her anger and depression at losing her master, wondering if it had been her fault in any way, she had at times felt small. Wondered if anyone would ever take a chance on her again and take up her lessons. She wandered the Temple in a daze most of the time, the other students and Sith giving her a wide berth. Most of them knew of her loss. Var obviously didn’t; otherwise, she wouldn’t be speaking as she was.

But as much as she might be feeling unwanted and all the conflicting emotions that went along with it, Looma knew she was not weak. Perhaps a little drawn into herself, not wanting to speak unless necessary. But weak? No. She drew her hands back into fists, the sudden calmness that had come over her while thinking of her master bringing her anger back to the forefront. It had been waiting for its cue backstage, and now was the time for it to be the star. Looma would let it loose, not only because Var was goading her to it, but also because she felt she had no other choice, other than to let her rage split her down the middle. She needed a release now. And she would be seeing Shard’s covered face as she attacked the Twi’lek.

Var wanted a reply; she could see it in the way she was standing there, looking at her. And Looma knew there were plenty of responses she could bite out. She wanted to blurt out that she had a reason for wallowing out here, depressed, by the cliff. Hadn’t she heard that her master, Lord Memnon himself, had deserted her? That it was only a reminder of her family gladly letting the Jedi take away the burden of their daughter, the Jedi giving up on her and sending her away? It had happened time and again. But Looma wouldn’t say a word; she would speak with the Force. She was through with tossing out lame retorts. They would only serve to fuel the other Twi’lek and harm herself.

Caleb was only being in the whole galaxy who hadn’t abandoned her. The only one who would be able to speak any sense to her, to hold her back. But he wasn’t here. Ironically, he, the weaker of the pair, had found a master and was off with her, training or partaking in missions. Looma was unchained, unhinged, unleashed. Everything she had ever learned would come to bear on Var, everything from the Jedi, from the Sith, even from Shard.

Her eyes only half saw Var as she turned her focus inward, drawing on all the Force that had gathered around her in her rage. Just as the dark clouds gathered around them, bringing the storm. There were a whole host of attacks she could use, but she decided on the one she had tried at her master that day on Bastion when she had confronted him. Looma raised her right fist, her violet eyes still glued simultaneously on Var and on the Force. Slowly, she uncurled the fingers, flexed them. She waited out a few beats and then struck. Quickly and with as much strength she could gather from the Force, she squeezed the fist shut, focusing on Var’s windpipe.

The storm broke with a crash of thunder, and the rain poured from the sky, almost instantly drenching them both. Strange shadows played over them as the darkness of the clouds turned the afternoon into night. Lightning flashed nearby, on the other side of the canyon. But none of this even registered to Looma as she kept her attention on shutting up the pale Twi’lek, for good.




(((Also... I figure after your post, it's time we let in the other Sith -- Zarene and Torran (sparrow and kt) So when I see your reply, I'll PM 'em... )))



EDITED: Minor continuity issue.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Var could feel the tightening sensation around her neck, and knew she was being choked through the Force. It was a first for her. Never before in all her years as a Jedi, then as a Dark Jedi, had she fallen victim to it. Of course that was largely because she avoided fighting other force users as much as possible. She preferred targets she had a better guarantee of beating.

She hadn't been expecting that. She had expected a response yes, but not an attack. She'd been pushing for an argument, for a verbal fight. Or maybe even for the other Twi'lek to start crying. She needed that conflict, she was in one of her worst moods, the mood where she wanted someone else to suffer the way she suffered. Or at least to have a yelling match. She needed some sort of confrontation. She'd just pushed too hard and gotten a physical one.

She gurgled out something that sounded angry, pulling up her left hand and focusing with everything she could muster on one thing: Force lightning. It was one of the things she could do quite well, it was simply a question of channeling enough of her mental venom and focusing. The former was definitely not a problem in this circumstance. The latter was considerably more challenging to do while choking.

When she combined it with pulling her lightsaber off her belt and activating it, the whole process was rather precarious. And then it struck her. She was overcomplicating it. She didn't have to use lightning at all; all she had to do was push the other woman to buy time to free her saber. That took a lot less focus.

She turned the motion of her left hand into a sharp push, directing all of her telekinetic ability behind it. Var was hoping it would knock the woman hard enough to force her grip to drop, or maybe even knock her over the canyon. But she doubted the second part greatly.

Her right hand darted to her saber and pulled it free from her belt, and her thumb found the ignition switch. The red blade shimmered into existence, ready to be used.

[kt]

What had started as a relaxing affair had now turned into an satisfactory annoyance. The lone kel dor had been a short distance away from the Sith Temple in quiet meditation when large storm clouds began racing towards him. "Greeaat..." With a heavy sigh, the assassin got up from his lotus position, gathered his lightsaber from the ground and latched it back onto his belt before making a slow trek back to the Temple.

He had been made an official Sith initiate some time ago now and since then, Torran had managed to busy himself with intense personal training, mostly due in part to the fact that he had yet to find a suitable teacher to educate him in the finer points of the dark side. So far he had done quite well on his own however. Considering the staggering amount of competition on the small, dusty planet, Torran was happy to not be dead already. His inner musings continued as each foot hit the barren ground, one after another until a disturbance in the force became all to apparent. Torran would normally continue on his way, figuring that it was probably just some hot headed neanderthal getting worked up over another equally stupid moron looking at him the wrong way or stealing his pudding or something.

What caught his attention however was the fact that whoever was having a dispute, they had opted to settle it well outside of the temple, this fact alone proved worthy to pique his interest. In no time at all, Torran found himself standing behind a large boulder, the Force guiding his feet ever closer as the sound of a lightsaber igniting announced the start of a fight. With one fluid jump, the kel dor man landed gracefully upon the top of the boulder, giving him full view of two quite striking Twi Lek women, both of whom seemed to be agitated with the other. The older of the two, with skin the color of pale cream, held a lit saber, it's red hue glowed with a beauty that was both subtle and dangerous, the other had yet to answer the challenge.

Torran watched carefully, utilizing the Force to try and gauge which woman would come out on top. His own safety in all of this was irrelevant, from what he could tell, he would be able to deal with either one with relative ease. The young sith quickly abandoned any arrogance he had been entertaining, it was incredibly unwise to underestimate an opponent, this was something that was to be adhered to no matter what, whether he be a jedi or a sith.

[sparrow]

There were times when Zarene Yin liked to leave the bustle of the Sith Temple. She walked across the sandy surface of Korriban with her hunting rifle over one shoulder, and a bag of several dead shyracks over the other. Shyrack meat tended to be rather sinewy and altogether not very good, but her cat seemed to like it, and so Zarene would bring a few of the beasts back, and have them skinned and cut up into little pieces. Perhaps one of these days she would bring out a speeder bike so that she could kill and carry back one of those large wraids. Those actually had meat that was worth eating. It would be a nice diversion. She couldn't spend all her time training and planning missions after all.

Ominous gray clouds were forming overhead, signifying imminent rain, so she began heading back towards the Temple. About a quarter click away she was greeted up an unusual sight. She was a bit too far away to make out exactly who it was, but it appeared to be a pair of twi'lek females about to start a fight, with a male Kel Dor perched on a boulder nearby as if pretending to be the referee. Interesting.

[Mara]

(((Whoops… I had to edit my last post. But it’s no biggie. I just remembered that Looma had first tried it on Shard later on Bastion, not in the temple medcenter… So just an edit for continuity issues and my own peace of mind. ;p))).



Looma smiled wretchedly, a glimmer of her white teeth showing, as she felt the surprise flowing from the other Twi’lek at her move. Finally, she had done something unexpected, and it gave her grim satisfaction to strip the cockiness from Var, if even for a few moments. It felt good to let her anger loose fully like this. The rage inside of her that had been building for the past weeks was no longer contained. She no longer needed to hold it in. Var had given her the push to let it all go, to use the Twi’lek as a stand-in for Shard and everyone else who had caused her pain. And she wanted to deliver wound for wound.

She kept at it, squeezing and squeezing with the Force, hoping Var would tip her head back, and the rain would aid her in silencing her pale opponent, drowning her while standing up. Looma wanted to see the other struggle, claw at her neck for a release, but she wouldn’t let it come. Now that she had the confidence of her strength and the element of surprise, the yellow Twi’lek wanted to complete the strike. The thought that she would be killing another being never entered her mind. All she wanted was to finish what she had started and feel the elation of using the Force in this way.

Her grip flickered a bit, though, when she felt Var drawing on the Force, moving a hand up to perhaps attack, another towards her lightsaber. A flash of clarity came at her through the haze of her rage. Looma knew she wouldn’t stand a chance in a duel against the other Twi’lek, especially one who would be obviously angrier than before their little tussle had started. It would make the fight with the Jedi on Subterrel look like childs’ play. She had to keep Var from using the weapon. This had to stay a fight with Force abilities if she had any chance of coming out of this. Looma had been foolish to assume she could simply choke Var without any retaliation. Her anger had blinded her to her own overconfidence.

Eyes narrowing in hard, glassy amethysts, she tried to focus through her rage, trying to be more aware of her surroundings and not just the neck she held in her fist. But it was difficult, like trying to see through a dense fog. The adrenaline was pulling her away from any sensible thoughts. The only thing that held her complete attention at the moment was the Force she had surrounding the pale Twi’lek’s neck in a tightening noose. Any possible defensive moves or counterattacks were far away in her mind.

At the back of her vision she saw Var’s uplifted hand jerk towards her at the same time she felt danger through the Force. An invisible hand shoved into her chest, and, almost too late, she had to switch her attentions. Her grip on Var’s neck loosened then completely gave away as Looma used all her strength to propel against the Force coming at her. Boots scraping through the ground, she managed to somewhat keep her footing, but the momentum was too much, and she fell to her side, a few meters from the edge of the cliff.

Quickly, she untangled herself from her soaking wet robes and gained her feet again, pulling on the Force to stop her ragged breathing. Var had gone for her lightsaber, and the red blade was like a beacon in the darkness of the rainstorm around. Looma’s fear had come to be. Briefly her mind went to her own lightsaber but quickly dismissed it. Instead, she reached into her cloak, farther up and grasped the cloth bag given to her by her former master. Letting it settle in her left hand, she untied it and raised up her right hand again. But instead of turning it back into a fist, she spread the fingers wide and jerked them.

Suddenly, a swirl of dozens of metal shards flew from the bag, controlled through the Force, and on a collision course with Var. Looma aimed some for the Twi’lek’s head, some towards her torso, some towards her legs. Though the other could obviously bat them away with her lightsaber, the yellow Twi’lek knew that if she kept the metal pieces flying at erratic trajectories, Var would have some difficulty blocking them all. And the pouring rain might be Looma’s ally, if the drops reflected off the metal, almost doubling the size of the metallic storm.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Var stared at the other Twi'lek and silently wondered why she wasn't grabbing her lightsaber. This had quickly become a duel rather than the argument she'd expected, and she wanted it over with. And it always came down to lightsabers in the end.

Or so it had in Var's experience. It wasn't something that could be called either expansive or minimal. She'd been around the block more than a few times, but her actual combat experience was limited. First she'd been a Jedi, and she'd done a great deal of sparring, usually losing to her demanding master. Then she'd been a Dark Jedi, and there'd been more sparring. Again she'd lost often, but far less than she'd used to. By the time she'd left, she was winning a fair number of them, particular those with her own level of talent or experience. And of course she'd been able to soundly beat the youngest in the enclave. Now she'd left both of those behind and found herself to be a thoroughly average Sith, if a bit lacking in upper body strength. She was safely in the middle of the pack, only standing out on rare occasions thanks to her sharp edges and caustic attitude.

She had no experience with this yellow Twi'lek whatsoever. Maybe she wasn't confident in her own saber abilities and wanted some alternative. Of course that was precisely Var's worry. She got a little nervous when people reached for things. If it was a blaster she wouldn't have worried, since she had quite decent Shien in her favor. But there were so many other troublesome things. Grenades, or even a thermal detonator. Of course there was a chance it was a suicidal bid...

As it happened, it was none of those things. Instead it was a cloth sack. What it contained remained a mystery until the other woman sent its contents flying towards the cream-colored Twi'lek Initiate.

In the very narrow amount of time Var had to gauge what it was, she managed to determine it was shards of metal. That was a mixed blessing. It was a blessing because she happened to be wearing rather capable Echani light armor to stop her flesh from being sliced open in a rather horrific manner. But the downside was quite obvious. She still had to work to protect her head, and there were an awful lot of those shards to deal with.

Of course she didn't have more than a split second to think about that point. Her full focus went to protecting her head, and the lekku attached to it. They were called 'brain tails' for a reason. Much of her physical and mental abilities were tied into them. It wasn't unheard of for Twi'leks to survive the loss of parts of them or even of one of them. But it changed a person. If she was hit there and she managed to avoid dying, Var would become a vastly different person.

Naturally her first priority was to swing them off her shoulders and over her back. That motion was swiftly followed by a rapid and calculated side to side motion of her lightsaber, batting away the bits of metal destined for her head. She managed to block those.

However she was far from unscathed. Her armor had taken the brunt of the assault. Some shards of metal were embedded in the fibers, and some had impacted off the armored plates. But a select few had poked through and made pricks into her skin. By far the largest bit of damage had been to her left hand. There was now a gash in her black leather glove, which had rapidly been stained crimson. The shard of metal itself was still wedged into the meat of her hand. The pain from it was throbbing and persistent, but Var wasn't about to give up and cry. Her eyes had involuntary started to tear, but she blinked them clear and focused past the discomfort.

And like the pain, Var was persistent as well. And she didn't take kindly to the injury. It had succeeded in making her mad, though she now had to gamble that she could best her opponent with the use of only one hand in saber combat. That might have been easy if Var had practiced Makashi. Only she didn't. Still, she had raw anger on her side now.

With a throaty growl, Var sprang forward, saber raised on high to crash down onto the other woman's neck, hopefully severing her head from her shoulders. Of course Var was under no illusion it would be that easy. No matter how feeble with a saber the other Twi'lek was, surely she could activate her own blade and avoid being decapitated. There was, after all, a great deal of incentive to act quickly and well.

At the very least, it let her regain the initiative, and she was in an excellent position to set the pace of the saber fight she'd initiated. She could win this one. She had to now that it had begun. It wasn't as if somehow there'd be magical intervention to stop it.

[kt]

What a shame. The conflict between these two women was exactly what Torran had thought it'd be, and what exactly was this fight? One word--well, many words really but the one that stood out best would be 'sloppy'. It was clear that neither initiate had very good control over their rage, it was wild, allowed to roam free. The older of the two had a small bit more control than the other but it still wasn't much. This lack of control lead to the younger woman to pull out a bag of what seemed to be bits of metal, much like shrapnel from a grenade, sending them flying towards her foe with the Force. Peculiar.

Torran very much looked forward to seeing how Varulla would react and sure enough, the Twi'lek used her lightsaber to save her from the brunt of the damage using the Shien style from the look of things. The kel dor sighed as the cream colored girl's rage spiked hard, growling loud enough to be heard even through the heavy rain and charging at Looma like a bull, her form really needed work and even before she could follow through with the swing, Torran could already tell it would be slow and predictable.

It was now that the kel dor chose to act, he had had enough. Quickly, Torran tapped into the Force, using it to weave around both of the twi'lek women and pull them away from each other. "Alright, this is painful to watch." With a small hop down from his boulder, Torran made his way in between the two girls. "What purpose does this serve, hm? Who can throw the biggest tantrum? Pathetic." If they were going to fight like children, then he would treat them as such.

[sparrow]

Under normal circumstances, Zarene probably would have simply sighed, shook her head, and continued her way towards the temple, leaving the trio to fight and get soaked in the rain. But a closer look made her reconsider. She could make out the participants from a distance. The taller twi'lek appeared to be Var. She had met her once before. The Kel Dor she didn't know, although she had little doubt that she could easily find his name once she returned to the temple if she felt inclined to do so. There weren't very many of his kind there.

She recognized the third though. Looma Isana. Zarene had actually been the one originally responsible for bring Looma to the Temple. It had been earlier in her own time as a Sith, one of her first missions. She hadn't seen Looma very much afterwards. She had heard that the twi'lek had someone fallen in with the Dominion. But the Dominion had since dissolved, their leader running away from his responsibilities once again. What had become of Looma since then? Zarene didn't know, and seeing her here, it bothered her a bit. In a strange way, she felt she owed a bit of a responsibility to the younger girl. So she stayed and watched.

[Mara]

The yellow Twi’lek’s heart swelled in elation as she saw her plan working. Of course, she had had no doubts that it would, but it was still nice to see it realized. Plus, Looma had never thought it would work quite this well. She thought she had felt more surprise emanating from Var at the nature of the attack—obviously she had been expecting a duel, lightsaber to lightsaber—but she couldn’t be sure. Keeping all the shards of metal in control took all of her focus with the Force, and she was aware of nothing else. She had to almost control each one individually to make sure they stayed erratic enough to allow them not to make easy targets for the pale Twi’lek’s red blade.

She watched as some of the shards got through Var’s defense. Most bounced off some kind of armor she had on, but a few even made it through that. Looma could see them shining dully through the rainstorm along the other Twi’lek’s body. Despite knowing that her opponent’s head would be the most vulnerable, Looma had spread out her attack. It would have been easier, she thought, if she had simply sent all the shards directly at the pale skin. Having picked various targets and locations, it kept Var deflecting and moving in different directions, and she hoped that a few would make it past and embed themselves in the soft lekku. The yellow Twi’lek knew all too well what that pain was like, and she knew she would pleasure in Var’s screams.

So far, though, Looma saw that her opponent’s head was as of yet untouched; the only shards getting past her defense all hitting lower down and not directly against skin. Any advantage she had gained in the surprise attack was slowly leaking away, and because of that, Looma’s anger was not at all subsiding. She wanted to wound, to hurt, and she had only succeeded into turning Var into an odd pincushion. Of course, a few had penetrated soft spots in the armor, as she noticed earlier, but those were just small pricks, nothing major. Taking a stronger hold on her remaining shards, she swirled them again, aiming for the other Twi’lek’s head. Through her deep concentration, Var’s pain from the cut in her hand didn’t reach Looma through the Force and went unnoticed.

Looma didn’t get very far in her secondary attack against the pale Twi’lek’s head, though, because the being in question decided then to take matters into her own hands. While all of Looma’s focus was still on directing the shards of metal, the other charged at her without regard for any remaining flying pieces of metal. She saw the movement with her eyes first, having stretched herself so far in the Force that her danger sense was almost mute. Involuntarily she took a couple steps back before her brain finally grasped the present situation, hurrying to get the rest of her body up to speed.

As the red blade came towards her, the metal shards dropped to the wet ground, and Looma redirected her presence in the Force. Back to defense, not offense. Scrambling, she reached inside her soaking, dripping robe, not realizing until it was lit that she had grabbed the wrong hilt. Shard’s yellow blade sprang to life in front of her, not the red one she had been used to handling. The balance was unfamiliar, and the lightsaber wobbled a bit in her hand until she raised her other to hold it double-handed. She pressed it out in front of her, catching Var’s blade on the yellow one just in time. The crossed blades were just inches from her face and neck.

Pulling on the Force, she tried to push Var and her lightsaber away, but there was no going. It was taking all her strength just to keep the blades from moving closer to her own delicate skin. The force of Var’s attack was almost bending her backward, but Looma was holding her ground, her boots pressed into the ground. She just hoped a foot wouldn’t slip on a wet rock. The movement would give her a chance to fall away from the red weapon, but it wouldn’t last for long. Of course, she wouldn’t last very long in her current situation with her adrenaline running out, her wind coming to her with shorter breaths. Eventually the stalemate would break, and Looma knew she’d be on the losing side.

All this happened in mere seconds, and just moments after the blades crossed, they were torn apart. And this time Looma really did fall to the dirt, the force of the move catching her off guard. Seeing that Var was similarly affected, she knew it couldn’t have been her opponent. It made no sense to push away your opponent before the killing blow. For the time being, Looma could only be thankful and deactivated the yellow lightsaber in her hand, not wanting to look at it any longer, and took a deep, calming breath.

It was then that she caught the hint of a voice coming from off to the side, and her yellow head snapped around just in time to see a Kel Dor coming their way. He berated them, asking them why they were fighting. Looma could do nothing but stare, caught speechless for the moment. All she could do was pick herself up off the ground and re-gather her strength and presence in the Force, putting herself back together, as it were. For the moment her anger had subsiding, pooling in the back of her mind, but her presence still shone brightly after all the exertion from the fight. It was then, with her awareness now more spread out, that she noticed a fourth being, a familiar one. She glanced over at where Zarene was standing before looking back at the Kel Dor. He was currently the more immediate threat, if there was one at all.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Var could feel the victory looming, her one arm was bolstered by the Force, and with it she was inexorably pushing the yellow blade of her enemy back towards her slender yellow neck. She redoubled her efforts at that sight, with a single purpose in mind. She wanted more than anything right now to drive that yellow blade back on itself and into the soft throat of the other Twi'lek. She wondered what sound her gaping wound would make...

It would be a delight to find out.

Var no longer took the same pleasure in suffering she once had, relying more on general apathy. But the dark and sadistic streak in her always emerged with the worst her temper had to offer. This other woman had attacked her, spurned her nicest behavior, and now had drawn blood from her. She wanted to turn the tables, to shed her blood for what she'd done. And the beauty of it was that they were Sith. This was part of the territory, if a few weak ones died all the better. It was a system where only the strong survived. And as long as Var wasn't the weakest one, she could endure. She could outlast. The way she always had.

Victory was in her grasp when she suddenly felt it yanked from her. She was pried away by an invisible grip and thrown to the ground. That was enough to make her sharply exhale between gritted teeth as she looked around for the one who'd taken her away from her prize. She'd been so close, and some presumptuous fool had come between her and her goal. Whoever that was she wanted to die a slow and painful death.

The pale Twi'lek Initiate spotted him quickly. A Kel Dor.

"Alright, this is painful to watch."

A smarmy Kel Dor.

"What purpose does this serve, hm? Who can throw the biggest tantrum? Pathetic."

Var hated him already, and the vicious glare she sent his way proved it. Her green eyes were on fire, and if looks could kill then the Kel Dor would be gutted like a fish and lying in a bloody pool on the ground.

"Echuta stoopa, don't you know better than to stick your ugly face where it isn't welcome? Mind your own business and go away and let us finish this," Var snapped angrily, holding her saber in her non-injured hand.

[kt]

Anger bubbled closer to the surface now as Var's insult mixed with his own self loathing at reaching such an irritable state in the first place. The urge to tap into the Force and send the older twi'lek reeling off the side of the cliff was quite tantalizing but the thought was quickly banished, there would be no point. A deep breath was inhaled and then slowly exhaled before he responded, his voice but a whisper, carrying venom in each word.

"If you weren't so very beneath me, I would snap you in half. Luckily, you pose no real threat to me and therefore, are not worth the time." With an air of finality, Torran brushed past Var, using the Force to nudge her out of his way just a bit, taking a few steps before turning his head.

"Enjoy your squabble, children." With that said, the Kel-Dor made a slow, steady trek back to the Temple. Hopefully he'd get some piece of mind once he was in the confines of his own room. Today was shaping up to be a bad one...

(Torran exit)

[sparrow]

Zarene watched curiously as the Kel Dor at first attempted to mock the situation in a smarmy manner, but then quickly pansied out and left. She sighed as he ran off, making a little mental note of his behavior in her head.

She wished to speak with Looma, and she didn't want to do that while Var was throwing a tantrum in the background. Zarene stepped forward, held out her right hand, giving her fingers a little flourish. The little metal shards that had fallen to the ground rose up one by one, until they hung suspended in the air, perfectly still. She flipped her hand around, palm up. The shards were quickly draw to her, assembling themselves into four little circles that orbited around her hand.

"Stand down. Both of you," she said softly. Her gaze shifted towards Looma. "I had been hoping to find you at the Temple earlier. We should talk."