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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 13, 2012 22:29:10 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 13, 2012 22:29:10 GMT -5
Adrenaline raced through Nieraan's blood as he continued to dash as fast as he could through from his mother. Every beat of his heart threatened to throw his chest open, but he kept running. He knew it wasn't the physical exertion alone that made that so; he was pushing hard, but he was conditioned for that. No, it was fear of what would happen if he couldn't get away from the woman riding at his heels.
A T-intersection lurked ahead. He'd have to choose a way to go. By this point he was far past knowing where he was actually going. Instinct and instinct alone drove his feet, and instinct didn't care where he landed so long as Kamirille wasn't there with him.
She was still there. Nieraan could feel her still trailing him. He could feel the Force scream in warning before a burst of power came roaring down the alley after him like a great wave forced through a canal. The Force was alive in him as well, though, again, he forced its strength to his legs and pushed himself out of the way. It was a close thing--so close that it sent the white sash that hung from his waist rippling around his legs. His feet found the ground again as a dumpster crashed into the wall ahead of him, and he kept running.
His mind raced as he neared the end of the alley way. Left or right? Only two options. But which. She'd expect either one.
No. An idea struck, as sudden as the summer rains of Ruusan. Up. The building ahead was short. One story at first, and then it went up further. Too tall for a normal being to mount quickly, but with the Force fueling his powerful body, Nieraan could make it in a leap.
He lowered his body slightly, preparing for the running leap. The Force whispered warnings again; his senses felt power stirring once more in his mother. It was too late to stop. He would have to beat her...
Now.
An explosion of Force-enhanced strength sent Nieraan bounding skyward. The sudden change of direction had his stomach dropping as he took to the air.
The Force swelled behind him. Another wave of energy was coming. He braced as best he could.
It caught him and threw him forward. He slammed into the wall with a yell, just below the roof. Desperately, he grabbed at the raised lip that ran along the roof's edge. His entire body hurt, but his ribs were afire with pain. It was hard to focus through the agony. His grip slipped, and threatened to fail.
Through it all, he found the wherewithal to pull himself up higher. He grabbed the ledge with his other hand and forced himself up and over the ledge with a single, mighty effort. And then...
Then he forced himself to run again. Clumsily... haltingly. Until he realized that all the buildings around this one little shop went up. High.
There's not a way..., he thought, falling to a knee. He clutched at his side with his empty hand, griping it against the pain. Kamirille before him, and walls of durasteel and concrete before him. Nowhere to go.
"No," he growled to himself. He forced himself back up to his feet, even as dizziness began to set in with the pain and made him falter and stumble. "I'm not.. Not like this."
Nieraan stumbled his way over to the side of a building and plunged his lightsaber into the duracrete. He'd cut his way through before he let that woman take him.
Anything was better than that.
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Feb 14, 2012 0:48:30 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Feb 14, 2012 0:48:30 GMT -5
Kamirille skidded to a halt as she watched her own flesh and blood vault up the side of the building, which was going to be his downfall. She knew this area better than he did, after all, she'd been living there a lot longer. He'd succeeded in trapping himself between a series of tall buildings flush with each other.
Which wasn't to say he'd simply leap back down into her waiting arms.
No, Nieraan was smarter than that. He might have been in flight mode, but he wasn't reacting on that basic a level. He'd probably try to cut his way through into a building. And from there he'd have a good chance of eluding her.
She was well-motivated to make the biggest leap she'd done in years, and she lowered herself into a crouch to prepare. Dark eyes closed, and then she shot off from the ground like an arrow off a bow, straight up into the air.
Luckily her command of the Force was excellent, and she streaked up over the ledge, thrusting herself forward and into a roll, a roll that led her to straighten up again, rising to her feet at the opposite end of the rooftop from Nieraan.
He was busy trying to cut a hole in the side of a building, as she'd predicted, and had apparently gone without hearing her arrival. He was perfect prey for her now. The chase was over and he didn't even know it.
Kamirille raised one hand and summoned the Force around her, gathering it to her in preparation for a telekinetic attack, one geared with precision.
And then she unleashed it, a push geared to slam him face-first into the wall and into unconsciousness, from which she could do anything she wanted with him.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 23, 2012 18:25:05 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 23, 2012 18:25:05 GMT -5
"Come on, stupid thing. Cut faster!"
Nieraan pushed on his saber as hard as he good. His muscles went taught with the effort--beneath his clothing, veins bulged and spiderwebbed across his arms and shoulders more than usual as he strained to force his blade to cut more quickly through the wall that stood in his way. The problem was that lightsabers, as useful as they were, still had limitations. The wall was thicker than he'd expected, and it was taking time for his blade to melt its way through.
Under any other circumstances, there wouldn't be a need to worry. It would take less than a minute for Nieraan to carve a hole through which he could escape. But he didn't have a minute. Kamirille had been close behind him. He could still feel her presence, brining an icy cold in the Force that closed around him as she got closer and closer.
"Come on," he urged again, as if the weapon could hear him. He dropped his weight, set his legs and pushed up with all the force he could gather.
But it wasn't enough.
The Force stirred behind him. A breath of danger whispered into his ear. A finger of ice rolled down his spine.
She was there. Standing behind him like a wolf behind its prey. And like prey, Nieraan had run so desperately, so blindly, that he'd led himself into a trap of his own creating.
The Force flowed into her, taunting him. Why did she get to be so powerful? Why couldn't he catch up to her?
"No," he whispered. His lightsaber inched down the wall, toward freedom. It was too late.
There was nothing he could do.
The Force burst from his mother's hand. It came crashing onto Nieraan like an angry sea's wave. It enveloped him, forced him forward. Right into the wall. There was a flash of white and a blinding pain. He heard the metallic sound of his lightsaber bouncing on the ground and the world went dark.
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Feb 25, 2012 23:58:48 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Feb 25, 2012 23:58:48 GMT -5
(OOC: Trying to add her perceptions on the backstory, let me know if anything of mine is off to be changed)
In many ways, the work of a mother had been hard. Even that of one who could hardly be considered loving. Kamirille had invested time and energy with Nieraan, and she could remember it quite distinctly. The experience of giving birth had only been the beginning of the pain he'd caused her. But she'd been happy then. Her little gold-skinned bundle of joy, her husband on her arm. A bright light shining through the post-Jedi poverty. And from there everything had decayed.
Ared had been too idealistic, still the Jedi. He would have let them starve with dignity, but Kamirille was the fiery mother, the one who was determined to make the best for her child then. She pushed to take care of him, to ensure he had clothing, to ensure his stomach was full. She'd had a higher duty than ethics: the role of a parent. And her husband had met her loyalty with his own damned foolishness. One little joke and they'd had a fight. And then he'd done the one thing she couldn't bear. The one thing that solidified her in the Dark Side. He fought her, seized the advantage, took Nieraan, and ran.
He'd stolen her child.
What else had she had left but her anger, her hatred? The only thing she'd been living for was gone. It destroyed her, twisted her, and turned her into a mockery of her former self. It was thirteen years before she saw her son again. And then as the final insult, he hadn't even known who she was. Nieraan, stolen from her, raised to never know her, even fought against her. The child she gave birth to, the one she'd bent her principles for. He loved Ared, and not her.
In a rage she'd scarred his back, shocked him, and thrown him into the wall. At that moment she'd gained the conviction that if he wouldn't love her, he'd at least obey her. And that one day when the option came to choose between Ared and her, he would take her side.
And so began her twisted attempt at parenting, a Dark Jedi raising a child with the absence of love. She beat him when he tried to escape. When he defied her. Pain was the great teacher after all, and every single thing she did was for the purpose of making him stronger.
But he never loved her. And that was why she had no qualms beating him. Yes, he was an ungrateful little brat who'd cause her nothing like pain. She saw his father in him the whole time there, fighting her, denying her what she deserved as a parent.
Yet somehow, right now, as she stood over his limp body on a rooftop, she felt a twinge of maternal instinct on her. Never mind the scar on her stomach he'd left her, she genuinely felt a pang for what might have been. What still could be maybe.
She gathered his lightsabers and attached them to her belt, before bending down and picking Nieraan up, draping his limp form over her shoulder and leaping down from the rooftop, landing in a Force-enhanced crouch.
From there on the street it was a simple matter to take him to the apartment that passed for home, place him onto the sofa, and wait for him to regain consciousness. And to watch him so still, as if he were asleep. She couldn't resist pulling an errant bang off his face, mixed emotions playing out on her face. Absence made the heart grow fonder, if the saying was true. And just maybe it was. It had been five years since she'd seen him, and she was wondering if trying to secure his cooperation was soft, and if it wouldn't have been better to simply run him through.
She'd try one more time anyway, to flash back to the day he'd been thirteen and learning who she was again. The chance for a willing partnership.
Kamirille closed her eyes and slipped into a quiet meditation as she waited, hoping her thoughts would become more clear.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 27, 2012 0:13:37 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 27, 2012 0:13:37 GMT -5
There wasn't any comfort to be found in the dark for Nieraan.
His mind drifted in some strange state, not sleeping, but too far removed from conscious thought to feel anything. Time vanished, as did the world around him, as his mother picked him up and carried him on her shoulders back to that old apartment.
Back to that old hell from which he'd fought so hard to escape.
His body moved limply as she dropped him onto the couch, and he just lay there. Quiet. Completely still, save the quiet rise and fall of his chest with his slow, steady breathing.
Time passed, as his mother settled down to wait, without giving him any sign of doing so. His body began to recover from his defeat, aided by the extraordinary healing rate that was his right by blood.
Still, he lay there, unaware and unfeeling. Unknowing of where he was.
Eventually, there was a change. He moved from merely unconscious to being rightly asleep, but the change was not a pleasant one.
For a long time, Kamirille had haunted his dreams. In his youth, she'd been a great beast, a massive obstacle that he could never overcome. As he grew older, and his plan for escape grew clearer in his mind, she changed to a shadowed figure, constantly dogging his steps and always a step ahead to ruin his plan.
Once he'd finally escaped, the dreams had changed. They became far less frequent as time went on, and she'd become beatable. Vulnerable. Mortal. Rare were the nights when he was a child again, lost and hopeless in the face of her fury, but they still came. He'd ran, she'd chase her. Sometimes he'd almost seem to get away, but the end was always the same. She'd catch him, and there was a spike of pain through his chest before he jolted awake, breathing heavily with his skin slick with cold sweat.
The dream came again as he slept there on the couch. He ran from her, and she chased. But Nieraan was no child this time. Now he was himself, strong in body and the Force, as skilled as any other Knight among the Sith, and more powerful than most.
But it didn't mean anything.
His efforts to delay her in the Force were turned away like dust on the wind. His lightsabers failed in his hand before he could even cross a blade with her. There was nothing to do but run.
He tried to hide--hide behind his accomplishments, his place in the Sith, even his newly given name, but nothing stopped her.
So he ran.
He ran, whimpering like a child in his dream as well as in that room, but he didn't care. All he had to do was get away. Leap one more wall, turn one more corner before she could see, but she was always there. But still he ran, until finally, he turned and she was there in front of him.
The ground beneath his feet turned to ice. He couldn't stop. She reached out for him, and he saw her sanguine blade ignite. She grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Pain erupted in his chest.
~~~~
Nieraan yelled as he jolted upright. His breathing came fast and hard as he looked around with frightened eyes. Immediately a hand went to his chest, slipped beneath the edge of his jacket and felt around through the fabric of his shirt.
No holes. No deformed skin from a burn. No cuts. Nothing. Nothing but the smooth, solid muscle that was always there.
Nieraan relaxed visibly and wiped his brow. Some of his hair clung damply to his forehead. It was just another dream. No injury. Nothing had happened. He was safe.
He turned his head and saw Kamirille.
He yelled again and jumped to his feet, standing in front of the couch. His body tensed and he prepared to fight. But... where were his lightsabers?
And what caused the vestigial pain that still lingered around his face and his wrist?
Memories returned abruptly. She'd found him in the alley. He'd fought her. She'd defeated him, just as she predicted. Nieraan's yellow eyes started to go wide. Fear gripped his heart. Does that mean?
"No..." he whispered. Fear grew to terror, and terror moved his foot back. The next followed and he fell back down onto the couch. He didn't care. "No, no, no, no. I can't be... You can't be..."
All that work. All the pain and patience that'd finally gained him freedom, ruined. Because he'd been too stupid to ignore a rumor.
He looked at her, feeling again like that child. Helpless against her, no matter what he did. "Why couldn't you just die when I killed you?
"Why can't you just leave me alone?"
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Feb 27, 2012 1:21:27 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Feb 27, 2012 1:21:27 GMT -5
Kamirille remained stoically seated across from Nieraan, even as he bolted upright in panic. She watched him with dark eyes, scrutinizing his features and analyzing the look on them very carefully. Horror perhaps? Certainly he was in an awkward position. Defeated. Prisoner to his tormentor.
And it would be very hard to change his thoughts and opinions. He'd had a very long time to solidify his opinions, and Kamirille was hardly the silver-tongued woman, with a serious sarcastic and caustic streak that made communication a little... off.
Her son sank back down to the couch muttering before looking up at her, asking why she didn't die, why she couldn't just leave him alone. She answered in a rather snide fashion automatically heedless of her goal.
"Now, now, now! We wouldn't want little Nieraan to be an orphan, would we?" She replied. "All alone in the world with no flesh and blood to his name..."
The Firrerreo woman folded one leg over the other in her chair, tapping her fingers on a slender knee as she formulated her next words, reigning her sarcasm under control, trying to be genuine instead.
"If you must know, I arranged for you to come here because I wanted a fresh start, a partnership between us. It's why I didn't kill you in our fight, I want my son alive. Since you are a... captive audience... I will give you the full proposal, and you will listen to mother dearest.
I admit your progress has been impressive, and I saw the potential for a nice partnership. You, Nieraan, will be my eyes and ears inside the Sith Order. You will be a direct link to Korriban, and keep me fully apprised of the Order's activities, which I will use in my circles."
The woman chuckled as her finger traced the rim of a glass of water as she decided to go even more personal.
"You really are your mother's son. Even when your father took you away from me, he couldn't change what was in your heart. Yes, he poisoned you against me, and he robbed you from me. But he never took me away from you. In many ways you and I are the same, and I deeply regret how little you appreciated me. I had hoped that... corrective actions might have instilled you with a little respect for your mother, but I fear I was mistaken. But, there is always a time for fresh beginnings. So I propose to you a clean slate."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 28, 2012 1:07:45 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 28, 2012 1:07:45 GMT -5
Nieraan clenched his fists through his mother's snide remark, but he stayed where he was. Whether fear of knowing what would happen if he tried to fight her again held him in his seat or some morbid curiosity to see what she had to say, he couldn't tell, but he didn't move.
He listened, and he listened good. And he felt his hackles raising at what it was she was trying to say.
A fresh start? With her? After all the pain she'd caused him? After the near fifteen years of hell he'd been forced to live through, just so she could get her petty revenge on his father?
"No," he snarled, showing his canines that looked more like fangs. His had always been longer and sharper than usual, even for a Firerreo. Whether it come from mother or father, he didn't know.
"No," he said again in an angry growl. "Why the hell would I want to start over with you? You want a to have a clean slate, but the slate's too damn broken to be worth anything."
He stood up now, presence flaring as anger overtook the fear that kept him in his place. Sparks danced briefly, threateningly, between his fingers. "And for what? To be your little pawn again?" If he'd taken a moment step back, a moment to clear his head and think, he might have felt some worry at the knowledge that she knew he was part of the Sith. That was supposed to be his refuge, his place of safety while he made himself stronger so he wouldn't have to worry about people like her again.
Then again, she was supposed to be dead.
"No. No, mother," he went on, twisting the word venmously, "I'm not gonna be your little pet again. I got enough of doing things for you when I was a kid."
His hands tightened further into fists as he stood there, looking down at her. A quiet part of him told him to sit down. Let it go. Think his way through this; she was too powerful for him to take lightly, as their lopsided battle in the street had demonstrated.
He didn't listen. He was a free man. She'd see things weren't the same as before. He wasn't just gonna bow to her. Five years of freedom made it very hard to go back to being the meek quasi-slave he'd been.
Rather than backing down from her gaze or sitting down after he'd had his say, Nieraan decided to escalate.
He spit at her. At her face. "That's what I think of your offer, mother."
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Feb 28, 2012 2:19:14 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Feb 28, 2012 2:19:14 GMT -5
Kamirille sat in utter silence as Nieraan talked, dark eyes never once breaking their gaze, even as she continued to trace the edger of her glass with a slender finger. She was, in her way, showing him respect. In her estimation, far more than he deserved. But she was looking to make a good impression this time around, and the extra effort was one of those things she was hoping would show.
She took a sip of her water and smiled thinly at what he'd just said. The slate was broken. How quaint.
Yes, their mother and child relationship was hardly a textbook ideal, but that didn't mean it was wholly dysfunctional. She wasn't particularly mad even, just amused. Her little pet Nieraan? Oh yes, she'd had no qualms about using him, but it had really been for his benefit too. He'd learned an incredible deal, and grown quite strong that way. In fact, he owed all his present strength to her. Yet he was so very ungrateful. And that was quite amusing.
She wore a thin smile on her face, right up until a glob of spit landed on it. And then her smile faded away. Her jaw tensed, and a hard look came onto a face. For a moment it seemed as though she'd backhand her son, or worse. But instead after a few long seconds she seized control of herself and wiped the saliva off with the back of her hand, rubbing it onto her pants leg.
She kept up the same almost-sweet tone when she spoke to him again, heedless of his outburst.
"My, aren't you the grateful one. I spare your life, I treat your wrist, and I even make an offer of peace. And you spit in your mother's face. How touching."
Kamirille set down her glass and unfolded her legs, leaning forward in the seat and fixing her intimidating gaze onto her only child. She prepared the brunt of her argument now, ready to unload on him.
"Now Nieraan, why don't you look at things from a different perspective? Who made you strong? Who taught you the key to power? Who brought you into this world? Was I harsh with you? At times, yes. But only because you fought me and acted out. When you were dutiful and obeyed me did I ever lay a finger on you? Look at it from my perspective, and you'll see I did more for you than you deserved. You and your father both turned your backs on me, left me behind. But I took on your training anyway. Because you were my son, and I felt a certain obligation to you. And now I come to you with open arms, ready to bring you back into my bosom."
The Firrerreo woman leaned back in her seat with the bulk of her argument finished and looked almost casually off to the side, avoiding eye contact with her son as she wielded the stick end of her proposal.
"I know how much this little Sith Order means to you. Your sanctuary, isn't it? Well, if you don't serve as my eyes and ears inside it, I'm afraid I may just have to come in and do that dirty work myself. And it would be so very embarrassing for your mother to follow you to work, where her talents would outshine yours, and where she'd soon be elevated to a position... over yours."
She looked back to him and smiled sardonically. "Yes, wouldn't that be a shame?"
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 29, 2012 20:13:32 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 29, 2012 20:13:32 GMT -5
There was a time, years ago, when the kind of outburst Nieraan had just displayed would've landed him in a world of pain. Thrown into a wall. Ravaged by lighting. Forced into a 'sparring' session that was little more than a thin excuse for his mother to beat him until he couldn't take any more while he vainly tried to defend himself.
When he saw Kamirille's expression change, her eyes hardening and jaw clenching just so, he remembered those days. He remembered the pain and frustration and the futility of trying to fight back. He braced himself, body tensing in preparation for whatever she'd do.
But she never did anything. Instead, she spoke.
"My, aren't you the grateful one. I spare your life, I treat your wrist, and I even make an offer of peace. And you spit in your mother's face. How touching."
Nieraan snorted. Loudly. "Try not to flatter yourself too much, Kamirille," he sneered. "It's not very ladylike."
She leaned forward in her seat, affixing her gaze solidly on him. He folded his arms across his chest and met her stare evenly. Let her think he would back down. He wasn't the frightened boy he used to be.
As Kamirille began to speak, Nieraan listened. She was trying to buy him with her words, he knew it. 'You're only strong because of me,' she might as well have said--did say, with more words. Nieraan wasn't a fool. He knew her training had pushed him far, likely farther than Ared would have. And now he was free, and he was strong. Stronger than almost all of the other Knights among the Sith's ranks.
Because of you. Don't think I'm stupid. I know.
But acknowledgement was not acceptance. Knowing something to be true didn't mean he had to accept her as the mother figure she wanted to see him as. That ship had sailed, and it had done so the day she stole him from his father; the same day he'd been brought to the edge of his life for defending the man who'd given him a good life.
The same day he'd been given the eleven scars that still crisscrossed his back today.
That ship has sailed, Kamirille. There's no way to start over. He made no effort to hide the disgust on his face when she spoke about bringing him back. The only possible chance for peace between them was for one--or both--of them to die.
Kamirille leaned back and broke her gaze from him. Nieraan's brow furrowed very slightly. Why break eye contact? Surely she wasn't backing down.
"I know how much this little Sith Order means to you."
If she hadn't had his attention fully before, she did now. Nieraan's arms fell to his side and his body progressively tightened as she continued to speak. His silver skin began to pale as worms of worry started to gnaw at his stomach.
"Yes," Kamirille finished, smiling crookedly at him, "wouldn't that be a shame?"
Rebellion faded from his face. Nieraan felt, all of a sudden, small and hopeless. Weak, compared to her.
The same as always.
A few moments passed and he just looked at her, at a loss for words. He could refuse her again, call her bluff, but if she followed through on her threat, where would he go. Stopping her would be difficult. Very difficult.
"Haven't you had enough from me?" he asked after a long while. The strength from earlier in his voice was gone; he was quiet, tired sounding now. "Can't you just leave me alone?"
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Mar 1, 2012 15:04:57 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Mar 1, 2012 15:04:57 GMT -5
A long moment of silence fell, and Kamirille knew she'd won. Her carrot had failed, but her stick was more than adequate leverage to force Nieraan into compliance. She took a sip of her water as she waited for the inevitable words of defeat. They would come, as surely as the sun would rise. And she'd be right there to hear them, like music to her ears.
Even if he didn't love her, forcing him to obey her gave her a certain satisfaction. Not the same thing she maternally craved, not the appreciation she would have liked to see, but something that was better than nothing. She'd been determined that if he wouldn't love her, he'd at least fear her. Of course that approach had made the concept of any better emotions between them a very slim hope. As Nieraan had said, the slate was broken.
Of course that was his father's fault.
Luckily he was dead.
Ever since her revenge had been quenched, Kamirille had been... less evil? By no stretch of the imagination was she a good person or a moral person, but it was all just business now more than a lifestyle. The body count was to keep food on the table and money in the account, not out of an inherent blood lust or desire to kill.
Her emotions were under the tightest control since her fall to the dark side. She was the master over them now, not a slave to her own passion. That was why she hadn't beaten Nieraan for his insubordination, she was so much better prepared for his foolishness.
The younger Firrerreo spoke almost childlike words, which was good to her mind. If he was transported back to those days it made him more malleable. She could still try molding him.
"Yes," She began. "Life isn't fair at all really."
Strictly speaking it wasn't an answer to either of his questions, but the tangent was about to become clear.
"If you think things have been much better for me than you, well then, you're grossly mistaken. I had to watch helplessly while my beloved son was stolen from my arms, and then find out years later that he'd been raised without so much as knowing my name, and to find he didn't love me... Then a few years later he tried to kill me, and very nearly succeeded.
The reason I called you back is simple. I want a nice clean start, and a proper working relationship between two allies. You in the Sith, and me in my little organization. You tell me what goes on there, and in turn I tell you whatever you need to know. Now is that really so bad?"
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Mar 3, 2012 1:48:39 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Mar 3, 2012 1:48:39 GMT -5
"Yes," mother said. "Life isn't fair at all really."
Nieraan looked away from his mother's eyes. The window was still there. The same window he'd often gazed out of as a youth, when he dreamed of running away.
If he thought hard enough, he could still feel the feeling of fresh bruises from her fists along his ribs, or the sting of welts from the bite of her saber. Perhaps it could have been something else. Maybe his body would have simply been sore from the brutal exercise regimen she put him through, or maybe it was something as simple as fear. Sorrow. Anguish in knowing that as long as she watched over him, escape was impossible.
"If you think things have been much better for me than you, well then, you're grossly mistaken. I had to watch helplessly while my beloved son was stolen from my arms, and then find out years later that he'd been raised without so much as knowing my name, and to find he didn't love me... Then a few years later he tried to kill me, and very nearly succeeded."
But he'd broken away from her. He'd beaten her in battle and gained his freedom on a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
And yet here he was, looking out at the same old, run-down plaza through that same old, dusty window.
Nieraan looked blankly back at his mother, gaze distant. Hard as he tried, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so defeated. Not even being surprised by Renata's abilities had the same effect.
Why couldn't he ever win with her?
"The reason I called you back is simple. I want a nice clean start, and a proper working relationship between two allies. You in the Sith, and me in my little organization. You tell me what goes on there, and in turn I tell you whatever you need to know. Now is that really so bad?"
Is it really so bad? he asked himself.
Kamirille's arrangement was better than the years he'd spent living with her. He'd still be independent, free to do as he wished... But she'd have a hold on him, and no matter how distant it was, he didn't like it.
What will keep her from trying to tighten her grip on me later?
No, the truth was, Nieraan was too conditioned to be comfortable with any kind of relationship with Kamirille. Unfortunately, she wasn't leaving him any room to maneuver.
"Yes," he said quietly. He looked down at her again, still not quite meeting her gaze. "It is."
With a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes and shook his head. "You couldn't just die in that alley... That's what you were supposed to do." His eyes opened again, yellow irises dull in the soft light. "Father did tell me about you. He told me about when he loved you, but I don't see how anyone could ever love... you."
Maybe there was something he could do. A thought blossomed in his mind, and he was careful to try to keep his emotions in check; he wasn't the only one in the family skilled at reading emotions through the Force.
Nieraan could agree here. He could take her terms and go. And then he could be free again. Away from her touch, so far away she could never find him. And then he'd think of a way to kill her. Train. It was apparent he still wasn't strong enough to do it now.
"Can I just go?" He asked, feeling for all the world like a child again. "If I agree, will you just leave me alone?" There were too many memories in the old apartment, and he wanted to be gone as soon as possible. But would she be so kind? She'd never been kind to him a day in his life.
I was so stupid to come back here...
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last online Apr 19, 2013 18:45:53 GMT -5
Master
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Mar 3, 2012 2:30:48 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Mar 3, 2012 2:30:48 GMT -5
Nieraan spoke, and magically he seemed to pluck the exact wrong words out of his mind, speaking them in a tone that didn't help at all.
"Father did tell me about you. He told me about when he loved you, but I don't see how anyone could ever love... you."
Kamirille rocketed to her feet and backhanded Nieraan across the face in one smooth and brutal movement. The crack of her hand on his face was like that of a whip. But apart from that, she was silent. Her body language and her face spoke enough.
Her dark eyes were blazing like a fire out of control, and her entire body was stiff. She was livid with anger, and her skin was a distinct silver color, even more so than usual. Proof of more than just her corruption: proof of her fury.
Immediately she lashed out verbally as well.
"Don't you dare presume to talk to me like that ever again. You know nothing of what Ared and I had."
Kamirille spun on her heel and glowered, staring out the window with her back to Nieraan. Anything to avoid looking at the impudent whelp. He had the gall to speak that way to her. It was enough to make her wish she'd ended his worthless existence previously, and it was tempting to chalk him up to a loss and kill him here and now, starting fresh with someone else.
And the content of his words had hit agonizingly close to her heart, striking a gap in her hardness and her cruelty. In her own way she'd always loved Ared, fool that he was. And he'd felt the same way. Killing him had been necessary, but not easy. And right up until the very end love had been mingled with rage and bitterness.
As he spoke again, she turned to look at him, control once more established on her features. She was back to the more collected person she'd evolved into, the flash of her previous hot-tempered self cooling off again.
"Leave you alone?" Kamirille laughed. It was hardly a merry sound, despite having a ringing and bell-like quality to it. Possibly because it had been decades since the Firrerreo woman had laughed at something in good spirits, something that was unambiguously funny. Now she was laughing at her son's discomfort. Mocking him in revenge.
"Oh no, I'm never going to leave you alone. I'll be following you even more closely now. You won't be able to visit Dreshdae without me knowing. You'll answer my every call. You will crawl at my feet and obey my every command, you will show me the respect I deserve from you. And if you don't, I will march in to that Academy and rip away everything you hold dear."
The silver-skinned Ferrerreo woman glowered, arms folded across her breast, staring at her offspring with a gaze that lacked maternal warmth.
The most frustrating aspect was that she'd tried. She'd made a genuine effort to be a warmer and kinder person to him, to show greater courtesy. Her efforts had gone wasted and fallen on deaf ears. He had no interest in changing what existed between them, and time had not healed all wounds.
"Get out of my sight, before I change my mind," She added. "And expect to be contacted when you return to Korriban. Your lightsabers are on the table in the entry."
Kamirille padded over to the window and peered out it once more, sighing deeply. One thing was certain: going home hadn't worked out nearly as well for either of them as either had expected.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
6,347 posts
1,102 likes
Friendly neighborhood CEO
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last online Jan 12, 2024 11:24:20 GMT -5
Administrator
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Mar 3, 2012 12:40:25 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Mar 3, 2012 12:40:25 GMT -5
Kamirille surged to her feet. Even though he'd just fought her, Nieraan was astounded by how fast she could be when she wanted to. Before he could react, her hand slammed into the side of his face. He grunted loudly from the impact and stumbled back so that he was forced to fall back down onto the couch behind him. He tasted copper.
Rage swelled through him. His muscles coiled as he prepared to jump up to his feet and show her he wouldn't take that, but then he saw her.
Her skin was fully silver, even more than his was. It was the eyes, though, that stopped him. She was furious. Yes, he'd gone for blood with his insult, and he'd found it, but now the results terrified him.
"Please mom, no," his own voice from years gone by echoed in his mind. He couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen. "Please, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"
Then he heard his screams as she began to beat him.
"Don't you dare presume to talk to me like that ever again. You know nothing of what Ared and I had."
The voice of his mother brought him back to the present. In his desperation, he'd found a way to get back at her. There was a way to hurt her, but he knew it was dangerous. He knew hurting her, could very well end with her hurting him, but with his disadvantage against her so severe, he was thankful for anything he could claw for.
She turned away from him and stalked over to the window, still radiating fury. Nieraan wiped some of the blood from his broken lip.
"Oh no, I'm never going to leave you alone. I'll be following you even more closely now. You won't be able to visit Dreshdae without me knowing. You'll answer my every call. You will crawl at my feet and obey my every command, you will show me the respect I deserve from you. And if you don't, I will march in to that Academy and rip away everything you hold dear."
A knot started to grow in the core of his stomach, and he felt like he was wilting under the heat of her gaze. That's not what I agreed to...
What could he do, though?
The weak were prey to the strong, as he often said these days. Except it was never supposed to be this way. He was supposed to be the strong one. Yet here he was, with the tables turned on him. Kamirille was strong. Maddeningly so. For all his strength, Nieraan still paled in comparison to her.
He didn't have any options. He'd fight her again, inevitable--probably many times, until one of them finally died. But unless he pushed him hard, they'd end as they always had: with him lying at her feet. Broken. Tired. Defeated.
"Get out of my sight, before I change my mind. And expect to be contacted when you return to Korriban. Your lightsabers are on the table in the entry."
Nieraan looked at his mother was she turned her back to him again. So that was that. He was free to go, but he wasn't free. As long as Kamirille breathed, he could never be free.
He did as he was told, retrieved his trio of lightsabers, and paused near the doorway. Sighing, he looked back at her, still peering out that window.
She was the reason he had so much of what he did. She'd given him the skills he had with a blade. His prowess in the Force was because of her tutelage. Even his sculpted body was a result of the work she'd put him through, and he resembled her more than he ever had his father.
Kamirille was the reason he was strong. Nieraan knew it, and he hated her more for it.
One day, he would find a way to kill her. With his own strength, and his own abilities. He'd thought that day had come, but he was wrong. Very, very wrong. Until it did, she had a hold on him, and he feared it would only tighten.
Still, he would fight. Even with her commands to keep in touch, he'd fight. Somehow.
He needed time to think. So he turned around and left, eager to get off the planet and never come back.
Somehow, though, he knew he'd return again. One way or another.
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