Post by Zail on Mar 13, 2012 20:31:16 GMT -5
Feel free to reply with thoughts, but this scene is self-contained.
*****
Darth Zail moved into the darkened apartment he owned on Dromund Kaas and closed the door behind himself. Engaging the lock he turned on the lights.
Not bland accommodations, but not extravagant either. Most of the small two-room unit was functional, though there were a handful of minor trophies from his travels arranged around the room. Above his large-screen display unit were pictures of his family – both parents, taken separately, and his two siblings. There was also a broken mask there, seared in half by a lightsaber.
Hanging neatly on display in one corner was an old Imperial Commander’s dress uniform.
Draping his robe over the back of a couch and dropping his armor into the vacant seat, Zail moved from this room into the bedroom area, moving to the bathroom. Running water he cupped some and splashed it on his face with a groan before looking into the mirror.
“You look tired, old man,” he said to himself before shutting down the water, toweling his face, and moving back to his favorite chair in front of the display.
“Looking tired and feeling tired are two separate things,” a disembodied voice called to him. His sister’s.
Looking in the direction he heard it he was astonished to see the spectral form of his sister, arrayed in her white lab coat and that slight smile she always seemed to have at the corner of her lips.
“Melanie? I didn’t think it possible for you to manifest yourself in this manner,” Zail’s voice was laced with disbelief. Am I going crazy?
“Armand, just because Cris and I weren’t trained Sith didn’t mean we weren’t Force Sensitive. We just hid it well enough not to be bothered by the Emperor’s decree. Something troubles you.”
Zail – Armand – sighed, resting his face in his hands. “It’s this damn war,” he said at length. His sister’s spirit sat on the couch next to him.
“Go on,” she said gently. It was the same voice she used to coax such things out of her older brother’s iron grip.
“I can’t help but feel like I’m being walked into a trap like a beast to slaughter,” he said in frustration, lifting his head to look at her. “I failed twice now. Will this be a third time? How many more near to me will suffer? I have doubts, Mel. In my abilities to protect the people and way of existence given what I let happen to you, and with who I can trust to fight with me when this battle begins.”
She smiled and pat his knee, “You can’t blame yourself for what happened to me. I was murdered, in a way so was Cris. You were several star systems away attending to your business. Besides,” she added, settling back. “I was a grown woman, not your little sister. I took care of myself for a long while.”
Armand settled back, resting his head against his hand as he leaned into the arm of the chair. “That isn’t very reassuring, sis. You’re dead. There’s no ‘taking care of yourself’ anymore. The bottom line is, my efforts failed to protect two nearest me. How the hell am I supposed to manage protecting twelve? These people expect me to make decisions that will either extend or curtail their lives. Many are Sith, they expect the brutal end, some – perhaps most – even plot against me in their downtime, but that doesn’t change my responsibilities.”
Mel frowned. “You do what you can and keep your eyes open. There must be a few you can fully trust and unburden on, aren’t there?”
Armand shot her a look.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said with a laugh, “Even Sith can trust when it suits them – some even show assumed ‘weakness.’ Especially you, I’ve seen it before. You’re very critical on your abilities when you do a perfectly decent job overall. I can only offer two bits of advice, Armand. Do what you do, and the Galaxy will right itself in the end.”
“And the second?”
“Let me go. You have nothing to prove, nothing to gain by continuing the hunt. I’m a liability to you,” her voice was pleading. “Not just with your focus on this effort, either.”
Armand let out a long sigh, “I like to think of it as a reminder of what not to do. I need this pain, Sis. I may even like it.”
His sister’s form rose and stood firm. “There is a time and a place for masochism. This isn’t it. Put your big boy pants on, put aside this doubt, and perform your duty. You’ve always been a creature of it.”
Her form dithered and faded to nothing, leaving Armand once again alone.
Several long minutes later Armand propped his feet up on the table, sitting in silence.
“Computer, lights off,” he ordered, sinking into the plush chair. Permitting his eyes to close, Armand hoped he would have at least dreamless sleep tonight.
*******
Hours later a hooded figure stood outside the door to Darth Zail’s apartment. Weaving a hand over the lock and applying a carefully balanced electrical charge to the door circuits, the door slid open. Quickly the man placed a resister on either side of the door’s locking mechanism to keep power from reaching it for a little while. Barring the idle tinkle of metal as his robes moved around his figure, the approach was entirely silent.
The door cast a thin beam of light into the chamber, falling on the propped up legs of the sleeping sith. The short, narrow shadow and hood stood still a long moment before easing the door closed again and let his amber eyes adjust to the near total darkness.
Walking quietly as possible on the carpet he approached, making sure his victim was still asleep. It was the same as it was the previous weeks – Zail was dead asleep, alone, and completely oblivious.
Injecting a sedative into the neck garnered a small “Mmm” and knitted brows from Zail before he relaxed into the deep sleep once more.
“You are a waste of existence, Sith. It will be my line that outlives yours,” he whispered.
Placing his hands on either side of Zail’s head, he channeled pure darkside energy and electricity into Zail’s skull, digging deeper to the tiny seed he planted weeks ago, and again giving it just what he needed to make it expand a little more.
The entire process was done in less than an hour, Zail’s body twitching and convulsing before returning to the steady and rhythmic rise and fall of his chest in sleep.
Like weeks prior, the man slid out of the apartment as quietly as he entered, removing the resisters and letting the door lock itself without recording his entry.
*****
Darth Zail moved into the darkened apartment he owned on Dromund Kaas and closed the door behind himself. Engaging the lock he turned on the lights.
Not bland accommodations, but not extravagant either. Most of the small two-room unit was functional, though there were a handful of minor trophies from his travels arranged around the room. Above his large-screen display unit were pictures of his family – both parents, taken separately, and his two siblings. There was also a broken mask there, seared in half by a lightsaber.
Hanging neatly on display in one corner was an old Imperial Commander’s dress uniform.
Draping his robe over the back of a couch and dropping his armor into the vacant seat, Zail moved from this room into the bedroom area, moving to the bathroom. Running water he cupped some and splashed it on his face with a groan before looking into the mirror.
“You look tired, old man,” he said to himself before shutting down the water, toweling his face, and moving back to his favorite chair in front of the display.
“Looking tired and feeling tired are two separate things,” a disembodied voice called to him. His sister’s.
Looking in the direction he heard it he was astonished to see the spectral form of his sister, arrayed in her white lab coat and that slight smile she always seemed to have at the corner of her lips.
“Melanie? I didn’t think it possible for you to manifest yourself in this manner,” Zail’s voice was laced with disbelief. Am I going crazy?
“Armand, just because Cris and I weren’t trained Sith didn’t mean we weren’t Force Sensitive. We just hid it well enough not to be bothered by the Emperor’s decree. Something troubles you.”
Zail – Armand – sighed, resting his face in his hands. “It’s this damn war,” he said at length. His sister’s spirit sat on the couch next to him.
“Go on,” she said gently. It was the same voice she used to coax such things out of her older brother’s iron grip.
“I can’t help but feel like I’m being walked into a trap like a beast to slaughter,” he said in frustration, lifting his head to look at her. “I failed twice now. Will this be a third time? How many more near to me will suffer? I have doubts, Mel. In my abilities to protect the people and way of existence given what I let happen to you, and with who I can trust to fight with me when this battle begins.”
She smiled and pat his knee, “You can’t blame yourself for what happened to me. I was murdered, in a way so was Cris. You were several star systems away attending to your business. Besides,” she added, settling back. “I was a grown woman, not your little sister. I took care of myself for a long while.”
Armand settled back, resting his head against his hand as he leaned into the arm of the chair. “That isn’t very reassuring, sis. You’re dead. There’s no ‘taking care of yourself’ anymore. The bottom line is, my efforts failed to protect two nearest me. How the hell am I supposed to manage protecting twelve? These people expect me to make decisions that will either extend or curtail their lives. Many are Sith, they expect the brutal end, some – perhaps most – even plot against me in their downtime, but that doesn’t change my responsibilities.”
Mel frowned. “You do what you can and keep your eyes open. There must be a few you can fully trust and unburden on, aren’t there?”
Armand shot her a look.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said with a laugh, “Even Sith can trust when it suits them – some even show assumed ‘weakness.’ Especially you, I’ve seen it before. You’re very critical on your abilities when you do a perfectly decent job overall. I can only offer two bits of advice, Armand. Do what you do, and the Galaxy will right itself in the end.”
“And the second?”
“Let me go. You have nothing to prove, nothing to gain by continuing the hunt. I’m a liability to you,” her voice was pleading. “Not just with your focus on this effort, either.”
Armand let out a long sigh, “I like to think of it as a reminder of what not to do. I need this pain, Sis. I may even like it.”
His sister’s form rose and stood firm. “There is a time and a place for masochism. This isn’t it. Put your big boy pants on, put aside this doubt, and perform your duty. You’ve always been a creature of it.”
Her form dithered and faded to nothing, leaving Armand once again alone.
Several long minutes later Armand propped his feet up on the table, sitting in silence.
“Computer, lights off,” he ordered, sinking into the plush chair. Permitting his eyes to close, Armand hoped he would have at least dreamless sleep tonight.
*******
Hours later a hooded figure stood outside the door to Darth Zail’s apartment. Weaving a hand over the lock and applying a carefully balanced electrical charge to the door circuits, the door slid open. Quickly the man placed a resister on either side of the door’s locking mechanism to keep power from reaching it for a little while. Barring the idle tinkle of metal as his robes moved around his figure, the approach was entirely silent.
The door cast a thin beam of light into the chamber, falling on the propped up legs of the sleeping sith. The short, narrow shadow and hood stood still a long moment before easing the door closed again and let his amber eyes adjust to the near total darkness.
Walking quietly as possible on the carpet he approached, making sure his victim was still asleep. It was the same as it was the previous weeks – Zail was dead asleep, alone, and completely oblivious.
Injecting a sedative into the neck garnered a small “Mmm” and knitted brows from Zail before he relaxed into the deep sleep once more.
“You are a waste of existence, Sith. It will be my line that outlives yours,” he whispered.
Placing his hands on either side of Zail’s head, he channeled pure darkside energy and electricity into Zail’s skull, digging deeper to the tiny seed he planted weeks ago, and again giving it just what he needed to make it expand a little more.
The entire process was done in less than an hour, Zail’s body twitching and convulsing before returning to the steady and rhythmic rise and fall of his chest in sleep.
Like weeks prior, the man slid out of the apartment as quietly as he entered, removing the resisters and letting the door lock itself without recording his entry.