The Hunger [Open]

[Nagri Vitali]

If there was one thing Nagri was grateful for, it was that the Sith Homeworld was full of people who knew how to keep their distance. In the great library there was not a sound to be heard beyond the wistful breeze that blew through the empty space. Korriban was a planet of barren, mountainous terrain that was harsh to those daring to live in it. Indeed, the wind reeked of death. The planet was hostile to its inhabitants, yet the Sith Order decided quickly that this was to be their home. When she had first come to the planet she had been unsure what to make of it, but now that she had been here for a while she had come to realize that it was not coincidence that she had come here - it had been fate. The Force had guided her in the direction of those who thought like her - those who understood the One Truth. Prey and predator.

Reading through the books in the library taught her much. The Sith Empire was not new. It was old. Ancient. The Sith Order that had come into being not two years ago was only the most recent incarnation of the Sith. There was still much she did not know, but she understood one thing: The Sith were survivors. She was never destined to be a Jedi. No, her destiny lay with the Sith. The Dark Side. She recalled her time on Coruscant - the time just before she'd been betrayed. They said she was heading down a path of evil. What naivety. In time, she told herself, they would soon learn of their foolishness. She would see to it herself when she had mastered the ways of the Sith. They would regret not slaying her. Their weakness would inevitably become her strength when she devoured them whole. After all - in this world, the weak served as food for the strong.

But a growling in her stomach reminded her - the weak served as food for the strong, but going too long without food also made one weak. Nagri had been spending a lot of time in the library - so long that she had more than likely skipped a meal. Her stomach groaned again as she let out a sigh, setting her texts down. Pushing the chair out from behind her, she rose to a standing state and began to turn. It was about time she left the library and sought out some form of sustenance. Stepping away from the desk she walked down the library - her cloak fluttering as her shoes clacked against the floor. There was an echo of footsteps as she approached the door before passing through, heading down the corridor.

Where was the nearest kitchen, anyway? Nagri spent so much time reading and training that she often neglected to remember the other important facilities on Korriban. Walking down a hall her eyes scanned the corridors as she pieced together a map of the facility in her head. The nearest kitchens couldn't have been too far. She knew they were somewhere relatively close by. Stepping around another corner the Mirialan kept her gaze straight ahead. How humiliating it was to lose track of such a simple thing as her own hunger. She allowed herself to grow too comfortable. Once she was done eating, she would make sure not to make the same mistake again. As she mentally chastised herself however, she failed to take into account that coming from just around the corner were another set of footsteps that were slowly getting closer...

[Rugs]

Torrance was a slave to his own emotions.

The youth was a jumbled of scattered thoughts, his steps still hurried as he sought a quiet place to calm his nerves. His olive-skinned face was still flushed with vigor from his recent bout in the sparring yards, his long black hair was a jumbled mess. His light brown tunic stuck with sweat to his body in places and his dark brown pants were dirty in places from fighting in the desert sand.

He still clutched his weapon, a long-handled lightsaber, in his right hand like a safety line as he hurried down the hall, fleeing the demons in his own mind that threatened to overwhelm him.

I don't mean to, he told himself for the what must have been the eight-thousandth time since that fateful day. It was an accident.

He saw a flash of green in his mind's eye as he tumbled down a hill. He could feel his boots sliding across the slick grass as his hand clawed desperately into damp earth to arrest his motion.

Please.

The steady, cascading creak of an ancient tree's branch tearing apart from his own power. A spray of blood against the midday sky.

I swear I never meant to...

Even now, three years later, the soul-wrenching sound of his love's final scream nearly sent Torrance into a frenzy of grief and panic. He leaned heavily against the sandstone wall for a moment before he kept on.

This shouldn't have been happening. He'd won the spar. Decisively so. But the way he'd done it, the way he'd gone sliding through the sand and ripped a rock from the sandy earth and sent it slamming into his opponent's head. The blood arcing through the air...

Something had triggered the reaction, had brought the memories he normally kept sealed behind mental lock and key screaming to the surface. And so he had to flee.

To his own room. To a quiet place. To anywhere, as long as it was to safety.

So concerned was he with this that he didn't notice the other Sith until he passed the corner and ran right into them. He stumbled back, muscles tensing as he barely kept himself from igniting his blade from the shock of it all.

Torrance forced himself to breath and focus on the present. The person was a Mirialan, from the green skin. Female, taller than him - though most people were, for that matter. He didn't recognize her, and he suspected she didn't recognize him.

He breatded in. Then out. The world slowed and voice from days gone by quieted in his mind, leaving only the sound of his own pounding heartbeat behind.

Torrance suddenly felt rather foolish, and quite tired.

"I'm uh...," he muttered, looking down at the ground. "Sorry, wasn't really paying attention."