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Aug 19, 2019 1:43 AM
The Originals raid a Sith base
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She rises smoothly, keeping her gaze lowered, and her hands behind her back.

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He walks towards her... and kneels at her feet, mimicking her stance from before.

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She jerks back slightly before freezing. Her breath catches in her throat and-

"...My Lord?" she asks, obviously confused. "I- I'm sorry, I don't understand."

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"I am nobody to you, as you are to me. We are but equals in this universe. But now... I am at your mercy. What would you have of me?"

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She's frozen, this isn't something she has any context for. She doesn't know the answer.

She stumbles backwards, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.

She doesn't know the answer.

(Is she breathing? She's not sure she's breathing.)

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He looks up at her.

"There is no right answer, little Sith. Everything you are, everything I am, is nothing compared to the vastness of the universe. Nobody can hurt you, not when you accept that. Not above, or nor below. We do not own you."

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"Liar," she hisses. She has always been owned, from her first memories as a slave, to the Sith finding her and taking her to Korriban, to the master who took her from there.

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"We have no right to you and do not want that right. Over anyone. We are our own Masters. Nobody else's. Not again, not ever."

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She curls in on herself, wrapping her hands into her hair and tugging, fire flickering over her skin. "I- That doesn't- I'm a- a tool, a weapon, those don't own themselves."

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"You are the tool and the weapon that you control. If anyone, anyone, tries to take that from you... you are not a tragic figure. You have the Power to stop them."

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She abruptly goes blank again, managing to fight her emotions back under her control. "How?" she asks, sharp and brittle. "There are people you cannot defeat."

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"There is defeat and then there is submission. We can be defeated, but we will never submit. Not while we still stand and live and breath."

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She looks down, considers.

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"Would you prefer me to fight you, my lord?" she asks, straight again, hand resting on her hip, flames coiling around her other fingers. "To burn you as I did your brother? It certainly seemed to get his attention."

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"Do you want to fight me, little Sith? I am at your mercy."

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"I doubt that," she drawls (she can feel his connection to the Force). "But I either fight, or get fucked, and you're apparently not interested in the latter. So surely the former must be what you're aiming for."

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"I'm not going to fuck you and I have no interest in fighting you. I want to know what you want. This is your show now, little Sith. What you say goes."

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"To survive," she says, because that's the only answer she has.

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"Then survive. This universe owes you nothing. Live and thrive and ascend. You have the right, the will, to forge your own path."

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She looks away, doesn't shake her head. Because while that is an adorable world view, she knows it's unlikely to work like that.

On the other hand. She flicks flames at the canvas. She needs to know what the boundary is here. Because there will be one.

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Kladeos watches it burn.

"Not my best work, I agree."

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She blinks, doesn't say 'You make no sense'.

"I don't know how to be what you want me to be," she says instead. And it is a request, but she doesn't know how to ask any more explicitly (isn't sure she's allowed to).

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"I want you to be strong. Do you want that too?"

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She considers briefly, then nods. "Strength is survival."

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Finally, he stands.

"Then you have a choice. You can leave us, find your own way in the galaxy. We can give you the resources we took from him. You could live a very comfortable life, away from all of this..."

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