Weak.

And weakness was something that she, as a warrioress, despised. She lifted her chin in defiance, spoke up in an even, if somewhat overly-loud, voice.

"The Dark Lord pretender once took Shayla to a hidden place on the world of the Sorcerers, a place which held secreted devices. It is believed that these devices might be beyond the reach of whatever foul thing it is that is blocking me from my powers, and that when we use them they might be restored to me again."

She paused again, shot a sideways glance away from Rykounagin, as if seeking someone... or something.

"Or to anybody else, for that matter," she finished defiantly, letting something of herself turn inward in expectation of what she felt might be suddenly erupting within her again, bracing herself for what might come.

[ 12-31-2009 08:17 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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"Pursuit of such technology is, I think, of the greatest importance. I would of course, second that only to our wedding." I smile and lean forward, planting a gentle kiss upon her lips.

"Do you not agree?" Even as the words slide from my lips, the simple idea blossoms in my mind from a simple concept to thoughts of what such a ceremony might entail.

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Again the voice crackled.

He paused, realizing that his voice had changed from the controlled deep drone that his uninvited guest had forced upon him back to his own human-like cadence. He cleared his throat.

“I am a pawn to no-one,” he said, trying to resume the deep voice. “You know what plan I speak of. To kill the Dark Lords and Lady and take the Sith in a new direction, but under the guidance of those who know best, not a pair of young, snot-nosed kids.”

Panthar nearly winced at his own words. But what could he do?

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If she rebelled, did she have enough of what Entaris had filled her with to stand up to this Dark, this strange yet somehow familiar voice which remained so obstinately silent within her for so long, letting her bewail her languished loss of powers all by herself, locked in her chambers of her own accord, letting her follow her own footsteps...

...only now to suddenly begin writhing within, seeking control? What was this, anyway?

"You are not Entaris," she whispered, unaware that she had spoken the words aloud. A very great part of her trembled at her own affrontery... then stiffened.

I am the daughter of Roan! she snarled. NO ONE COMMANDS ME!

Especially something so suddenly and so pitifully... weak.

"Our wedding day shall be cause for celebration!" she said, still speaking in a somewhat defiant tone but turning now to Rykounagin. She reached out, grasped him, stared up into his eyes.

If you leave me again, what then shall happen to me? I will be no longer of the Dark; I will be alone, and--

She snipped the thought in half, refusing to follow it to its logical conclusion. It was the first time such a thought had ever crossed her mind, the first time she had ever come remotely close to admitting in her own mortality. Despite the fact that it had been already taken from her...

Only to be given to her again.

By her Mother.

She blinked, shuddered away from that final admittance like a frightened colt, and suddenly threw herself against Rykounagin.

"Help me to understand," she half whimpered, closing her eyes against a reality which all of a sudden was far too big and dangerous for her to handle, in spite of all her hauteur, her pretentiousness, her blatant defiance of everything and anything that had nothing to do with herself. It was a strange epiphany, and for the first time in her life the young halfling found herself to be frightened to the core of her being.

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...she has the right to choose who she will to be with. Let the Sith decide for themselves who they want to rule them and lead them into glory."

She paused, her eyes slitting slightly as she was mentally reminded of something. "I think you've been in that Sith body so long you've forgotten that you--like myself--are not Sith at all. You were chosen to be a part of all this, as was I."

At least, for the time being... came a mental rejoinder.

[ 12-31-2009 08:55 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

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Inwardly, I shake the notion that something else could be at work here, and hold her close, her final words bringing to my senses something I would not have ever expected to hear from her. Fear.

From her I had seen fury, defiance, and perhaps once even doubt. Love, naturally, but fear? This was not something I would have ever expected of her.

But the name. That is what came back to bother me, even as I embraced her closely, laying there in the dim light of another passenger's chamber, the name echoing through my mind. Entaris? Who was this? And for that matter, what sort of person were they to my love? So many questions brought of such a small number of words.

"Of course..." I murmur, even as my fingers tangle through her fiery hair, pulling her close to my chest, breathing in that spiced yet somehow darker musk of her scent.

Such curiosities my life brought me.

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Then silence.

"I-- I... " she began, nipping herself off before she could actually stoop so low as to apologize. But, would wonders never cease, she did recognize the need Rykounagin held for--

For what?

For explanation concerning her rather strange behavior, most certainly.

Long she peered up into his face, taking strength from him, finding her own self and putting it back into place.

"You have questions, my love."

The statement carried the unspoken desire that he speak them; drawing in another breath, she readied herself to reply. And only then did she realize that one hold over her had vanished.

Only to be replaced by another.

[ 12-31-2009 09:27 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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“Shayla,” he said, quietly. “Of course I'm not Sith. But I am really attached to some people who are. Tell me, honestly, do you want to see Graysith dead? And Phalomir, too? Do you really? Because that's exactly what will happen if ShaRhylla becomes Dark Lady. That's what the Darkness wants, though.”

He then paused, his face turning very serious.

“Are you of the Darkness? What is truly in your heart, Shayla?”

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"Our love is one of a curious union. Our histories are somewhat shadowed by silence, and perhaps a... desire, not to dirty the course of the fairytale." I smile faintly, looking 'down' at her, though it's sideways in terms of reality (minus that there is no 'up' in space).

"But I respect that we've all secrets to keep, not only for ourselves, but for each others happiness." I run my fingers through her hair again. "So the questions that I have, I will not ask. The only one that I ask, I should hope to already know the answer."

I take a moment to breathe, then ask:

"Over all other things, will you faithfully love me as I shall you, beyond all other contestants for the affections of such a beautiful woman?"

The words might sound simplistically possessive in nature, but truly they call for more than simple married fealty.

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"Yes, yes," she breathed, twining her arms about his neck. "I pledge myself to you, and take you to me, for the rest of my-- for the rest of our lives."

With that she simply let herself fall, quite willingly fall away from the shackles of one particular imprisonment into that of another nature, one of silken bonds and golden restraints, one which filled her with an emotion she had never, ever felt before.

That being very true, and very soul-felt happiness.

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"I don't have to explain myself to you!" she hissed. "I am what I am, and nothing other than that," she continued a bit cryptically. For a long moment she let that fall into silence...

...and allowed her initial anger to abate somewhat. Only then, when she had regained full control and inscrutability, did she continue. "My feelings regarding Jharmeen should be clear," she stated then, intentionally using Graysith's true name. "But as for him," Shayla paused, pointing a long slender finger in Phalomir's direction. "You don't have any idea what he is going to do."

And that aside, some little voice whispered, Why would he stay behind and not have gone with his dearest love if she was as badly injured as he says she was...?

[ 12-31-2009 09:59 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

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(((OOC: ShaRhylla, Rykounagin, Phalomir, Shayla, and Panthar, all slip into Sweet Dreams are Made of This in the Jedi/Sith Forum, thank you.)))

[ 12-31-2009 10:03 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Rykounagin ]

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But then all fades into black. Perhaps it is my injuries, perhaps something else. I am helpless to discern the reason behind this quandary, but not helpless to act upon it now.

"My little friend, what has happened? You-- you were..." My brows come together in a bunch as I frown to remember, try to recall the last thing before... well, before now. I remember this one, coming all in a rush, in concern, trying to tell me something...

"What is wrong, my friend? What has happened?"

[ 03-30-2010 03:10 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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“Wakti say you awake,” came the voice of the elder Ewok from the left of the bed that held Aelvedaar. “You hurt, not move. Ewoks bring you to Eensha, tell of battle. Thing from sky make fire, kill many Ewoks. Him say Graks—no not Graks. Red man, Phally Meer, him taken by other red man and two hooman female. And hooman man. Red man hit Phally Meer, thing go back to sky.”

Wakti growled and made a cupped fist above his head with both hands together, then brought it down upon on an imaginary victim. He then spouted off a long string of guttural noises that made Eensha turn away.

“Wakti ready to fight,” Eensha said. “Wakti find red man. Him take you to place of sky-things. You make fly. But you rest now, you heal.”

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A slight trickle of warmth assails my back, and I shift to relieve pressure. It would appear the injury I have is bleeding again; wincing in spite of myself, I prop an elbow on the plantstuff and hold my head upright.

"Yes, my friend, I will go with you to the place of the sky things. I will find the red man, for he is not evil but friend to us. I fear he was taken against his will, for otherwise he would certainly have returned to retrieve me."

The effort to speak drains my strength and I straighten my arm against the bed. Cradling my cheek upon that outstretched limb I blink with effort to remain conscious, urgency to go after Phalomir now fighting against the equal urgency of healing myself, that when I do finally locate him and his possible captors I might be in better physical shape to do something to truly assist him.

[ 05-19-2010 02:26 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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Wakti made a few grunts, then pointed to the hut. Eensha shook her head and clicked again. Wakti again pointed to the hut and made very assertive words. Eensha sighed and Wakti ran into the hut.

“Watki bring thing,” she said. “Thing he bring from sky people. I tell Wakti long ago things from sky people all bad, no good for Ewoks. But Wakti bring to you, think you know how it not be bad. Would show to Phally Meer when lady fall but Watki no chance. Eensha think but not know, maybe can use for heal?”

With that, Watki came bounding out of the hut clutching a silver box in his furry hands. It was large enough to be awkward for him, but light enough so he did not struggle. He reached the Dark Lord and placed it on the ground before him.

It lay upside down, but in small stenciled print affixed to what would be near the top of the box was a label. It read “Bacta Kit Mark III – EXPERIMENTAL”.

Eensha cocked her head once more, waiting.

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That which some have come to think of as Which Was reared its wonderful one-ness back into the omnipotent non-ness of what it was/wasn't; cradled its quite unique non-ness into the accepting arms of the all-encompassing one-ness and let go a little, virtual smile. It took a look about its non-self, taking in the grandeur of ALL there was, the ALL of which some little portions of it were now being allowed to awaken to the fact that their gradually progressing perceptions of it were on the right track.

There was a time Man thought HE was the center of it all. In response to that silliness time was given; Man then thought his little celestial body was. Then his little stellar; oh, such wonderful beings those stellars. Perhaps one day their language would finally be deciphered by the other pieces at play.

He/she/it shook a figurative head, smiled more smugly at the Progression Of Things, which albeit slow was at least on an accurate track.

One day those little motes awoke to the fact that there was more, oh indeed quite more; their tunneled little view expanded its paradigms and took a leap of faith.

Stellars existed, vast quantities of them in wonderful pin-wheeling units. At first only each individual one was recognized by the motes inhabiting it, but slowly, bit by bit, in a manner yet evolving, each little bit grew cognizant of the fact that there were more, there were hundreds, millions, billions of those units, each in turn encompassing billions of stellar brothers.

That the stellars were the true Life of the Universe was not yet understood by the little motes dwelling in the All-ness; it was enough that they now looked out toward a universe with tiny eyes that were gradually opening in recognition of the fact that perhaps the better term was in fact Universes...

"Hey, unfair move! That's partiality!" The cry from him/her/itself came from behind him/her/itself.

That-Which-Was took up some stuff of what is, coalesed it into the brilliant ultraviolet-and-chrome Eyes of which he/she/it had become quite fond, and cast them behind his/her/itself.

A figurative sigh was heaved.

"We hoped we wouldn't have noticed..." it non-said, then muttered in further rejoinder, "But a fair move had been made."

Nothing back but a snort; he/she/it sighed, and then waved a figurative hand.

The fabric of Stuff which wove together existence of both forms, be it living or non, rippled, gathered into an immensely tiny little bunch, and exploded outward in the virtual equivalent of a Big Bang.

Here and there certain motes began waking up, some in surprise, some with regret, but one by one those certain few began to wake up as if from a deep slumber.

The Other still wasn't satisfied. "We're not just giving it away!" it protested, the non-words loud and born in total effrontery.

That-Which-Was merely snorted.

"Of course not. Balance must be maintained; it must always be maintained. We know that, and some of us still know it at different degrees, at different levels than others.

"We'll see now..."

The Other muttered beneath its non-breath. "We still think you're making up the Rules as you go along! But we'll wait.

"Now let us think..."

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I blink, thoroughly suprised and utterly overjoyed. To test, I cast a look toward the box, smile as at my quiet command the molecules of air against one side cluster, growing denser and denser until the touch of their concerted grouping pushes the box up on one end. Now it is perfectly aligned to my vision, laying on my side as I am; quickly I lift a calming hand to the little ones who scramble hurriedly backward at this unexpected happening.

"Have no fear, my friends. You are quite safe."

Another thought strikes me; this little time can be put to good use. Thus I now allow a grunt to escape my lips as apparently straining I reach out to the box. A nearby Ewok overcomes his trepidation and tiptoes forward, to nudge it more closely to me.

Inside, I find vials of a neon blue liquid. This, I presume, is the test bacta of which the label on the box proclaims; fighting the curl which comes to my lips, for clearly I am in no need of such artificialities, I grasp up a vial in one clawed hand, and pop it open. I am no fool, however; by using that which has miraculously returned to me I eliminate the liquid even as it apparently pours into my open mouth, even as those few droplets I apply to my side seem to dribble down to cover my wound. Another slight grunt for effect, a scrinching of my eyes, and I allow them to fly open. The relief I let fly from them is not feigned.

I sit upright, suddenly and wholly healed. Rising from the sickbed, I tower over the Ewoks, even stooped as I must for the dimensions of the dwelling into which I have been placed.

"I thank you, my friends. You have this day made a friend of my people. You need not be in fear of us; should you need us to assist you in turn, all you need do is merely think of it."

Now I allow the scope of my powers to present itself as, reaching out with one clawed hand to the tiny leader, I place it against the side of her face. At that touch an instant Link is created; indeed, she may not realize all I have just done, or what it is that she should do in the event such realization ever does come upon her. It matters not; should she be in straits too dire for her people to handle, I shall know of it, and shall hasten here to return that favor.

Nodding, I exit the hut, straighten and stretch. It is good to stand upright, to view the canopy over my head. The warmth of the air tickles my face; for a moment I wallow in this, aware of the small rustlings coming from behind as the Ewoks follow me outside. I remain silent but for a moment longer, then turn to the one going by the name Eensha.

"I must take your leave now, and seek my Brother," I explain with a wave toward the sky. "This is something I am quite able to accomplish now, thanks to you and the care you have given to me."

With that I bow my head to her, hold it there for a short while in respect to her and her people. Then with no further ado I straighten once more, and with that wonderful ability I have come to accept as True Strength in All That Is, I open a Portal to my Temple on Khar Delba, step inside, and in my wake let it snip back into the spacetime from whence it was created. For indeed, there is no better place from which to seek my fellow Dark Lord than from the well-stocked haven of my own Sanctum Sanctorum.

((OOC: Lord Aelvedaar finally returns to Another Shade of All in the "Sith/Jedi" forums, thank you.))

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