What's Past is Prologue

[Razielle Alastor]

The fact that she was weathering the fury of Baska's storm, fighting it even, did not make it stop. It continued oppressing her, pushing against all of her shored up weak points. The ones that whispered that she was never strong enough, and then showed her all the ways she was deficient. Somewhere in all of the suffering, Razielle found clarity.. using the torments as lessons. If she could so easily envision all of these failures, then she could also envision the measures she would have to take to prevent them from destroying her life.

Connected to the other Sith in a unique way now, she could sense the truth of what she had only guessed at. This emotional wreckage was not just part of Baska, it was her core. It was exactly what made her the strong Sith she was. It was like gaining a glimpse of her soul for a moment, blinding in it's anguish. Razielle trembled with the raw sensation of it, but her own counter attack did not relent.

Since she had been a child there had been something.. dark and indulgent about her. The concept of taking a life had not bothered her before she had become a Sith, and certainly not now. She had been trained with a deadly weapon from childhood, yet out of necessity she had always been restrained in it's use. It had created a caged monster with a desire to spill blood, and she had indulged it, could indulge it, as she chose now. But it was not Baska's blood she was after today..

Sensing this raw point of loss in the other woman, that was where Razielle pressed now. The Dark Side pulsed with the emotions that had already been churned up, making Razielle seethe with the intensity of it as she went after the source of this suffering within Baska, digging... clawing...scratching into her mind with what was now a merciless need to succeed. Baska had provoked something quite dangerous, Anxia's relentless need to perfect an attack..

[Baska Tankreyd]

It had been a long time since Baska had felt such a raw and deep connection to another dark sider; and it was a testimony to the ways of the Darkness, as well as Razielle's growing strength. Baska's relentlessness meant for the other woman to break down barriers, cornering her like a most dangerous animal that would unravel. The blonde Master knew there was power in self control and patience, as a true predator knew; but if the predator didn't revel into its own madness and blood thirst, they lacked a foundational block of their identity, which in turn would limit their power.

She basked in how Razielle found her shattered core and used it against her, picking on exactly what she had told her to do earlier. For the shortest of instant it, it cut her deep enough to slightly alter the endless torture she was inflicting upon Razielle. It made Baska felt a deep sense of satisfaction; and she pushed harder against the Hapan royal. The beast was cornered, but not enough visibly. Razielle was opening herself to new depths with how she was now pressing all the devastation shards that composed Baska's soul deeper into the Master's psyche.

Baska had the intuition she was close to force Razielle to come even more undone. It was boiling beneath the surface, and she wanted whatever what clawing at the thin gate to burst open. She felt her prey come near, and she wanted to face it, experience its pure deadliness.

[Razielle Alastor]

However long the contest of mental endurance had lasted, Anxia had not moved. She had not retreated from the attack and did not do so now. Apart from the slow tightening of her hands at her sides, the perfect ovals of her fingernails digging into the meat of her palms as she fought back, she was deathly still. Her violet eyes remained fixed upon Baska's, though the heat of whatever ferocious new power that Baska had provoked in her seemed to be affecting even that part of her. The violet color, so synonymous with who she was, seemed to sizzle away in the flare of the Dark Side, turning her eyes into a molten silver. Above them, the Kamarian-crystal chandeliers that lined the stately hall rattled with the vibration of it, beginning to sway dangerously.

With the focus of a carnivorous thing that had caught the scent of blood, Razielle continued to press where she sensed she could do the most damage. It was worse than being tormented by Baska, what she found when she delved too deeply into that particular wound. It was masochism, putting herself into anguish deliberately.. The ornate sapphire and gold collar wrapped around the neck of the Queen Regent did not quite conceal what lay beneath, suspiciously symmetrical bruises, just upon the pulse of her carotid arteries. Evidence for anyone who cared to contemplate that indeed, the Tarix Protecteur and Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda had some proclivities... Only there was no pleasure to be found here, only pain.. She could not let it stop her, she was ready to push through the pain, if it meant victory..

The connection between them coiled tighter, pain and clarity mixing until Anxia was unsure which fears were her own anymore. The instinct to run to Beatrix was almost overwhelming.. and Baska did seem concerned with her pregnancy. The source of Baska's grief was becoming clearer in their shared misery, and Anxia used it.. viciously, pushing into that spot without finesse. More appropriate to liken it to the desperation of pushing her own thumbs into someone's soft eye sockets, terrible...but effective. She pushed... and pushed...at that vulnerable spot, using Baska's own creative flavor to do it..

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska's inner mind and unexpected connection to Razielle unveiled into an ice cold hell, full of painful memories, barren lands and corpses, the dark side coiling tighter in the unmistakable way only true Sith could revel in, and seek to conquer, moving in rhythm with the morbid consummation the abysses of the Force inflicted upon them. It didn't mean that her prey learning to be tormentor wasn't crystallizing perfectly before her still blue eyes. The silver hue burning through the amethyst eyes of the Hapan royal wasn't lost on her, even as both of them stood still, staring into each other's soul, tearing whole walls down, as much as the slowest nail ripping, revealing more pain and rage-filled coffins of yesterday and tomorrow.

She heard the rattling of the chandelier, but it didn't come close to compare to the nightmares pulsing anew in her body, tragic tremors of her past. She knew Anxia was in there. She felt i; and she was the flame to that moth. It was the driving force in her unending assault on Razielle's mind. There was an intimate understanding of the Sith life that bound them beyond their differences. This was a rarity in a galaxy, and this was why Baska thirsted after Anxia bursting the lat locks. It was why she was here, and she would see it through.

The moment all hell broke loose, she felt the tragedy pulverize her anew. It wasn't the physical pain that had bothered her as much as the loss of Denart, her mate, and Heyrina, their soon-to-be-born daughter.

Bright eyes turned to crimson as her deafening howl struck through the room, the ripple of her past bringing the chandelier to the ground. Mokosh unleashed, energy tendrils slithered around Anxia's neck, wrapping on the bruises an ornate collar failed to properly conceal from a predator's eye. She tossed her straight towards Salem, surely a surprising move given the dark specter the tall blonde had become.

Baska had retrieved just enough control to remember she would not harm Razielle's child, even in the deepest and most dangerous of pits.

The whole room still trembling, Baska's fiery eyes darted at Salem, her voice harsh but satisfied. "Your mate Anxia is stronger now."

[Salem Ave]

The ball of energy around Callidus’s first burst outward, a shell of translucent shadow enveloping both the Sith Lord and his apprentice as she collided bodily with him. He allowed himself to be staggered a step, to catch Anxia against his chest. Fragments of the shattered chandelier ricocheted against the protective bubble, the Force deflecting the shards of crystal and scattering them across the polished floor with hundreds of others, like constellations.

Someone outside the hall shouted something in Hapan, alarmed at the almighty crash and the wail of anguish that had torn through the lower levels of the fortress. Salem’s white eyes didn’t leave Baska, not for a second. Without looking, he cast a hand backwards, the Dark Side rolling from his claws. The fists hammering against the doors were suddenly subdued, silent.

[Razielle Alastor]

At the howl from Baska, Anxia's face lit up in a grin of pure malevolence. Now that she had succeeded, the last thing she wanted to do was stop. Mercy was not a sentiment that she suffered. The decision was not to be hers it seemed. At once, tendrils of the Dark Side constricted around her throat. Not the kind designed to choke her, so much as to ensnare her, lifting her by the neck right off her feet. At Anxia's sides, her hands unclenched. She had dug so deeply into her palms that she had torn open a recent wound that was still healing. Droplets of blood, as red as Baska's eyes, fell like raindrops from her hand as she was thrown backward, away from Baska, straight into her master. Naturally, Salem caught her against him, and then kept her there as the chandelier came down, Kamarian-crystal shards everywhere but where they stood.

It was a conscious effort on Anxia's part to use that moment of chaos. With Salem's arm around her she chose wisdom over base instinct, effectively putting her monster to rest for now.

By the time the guards at the doors were moderated by the will of her master, some of the animus was fading from her eyes. Restoring her focus to their purpose, and acknowledging Baska's words with a single lowering of her dark head. Her eyes, amethyst once again, remained locked on Baska as well. The attacks had ended, but.. some part of that connection remained. It was not as before, when some dark fragment of their encounter had infected her psyche. It was more of a lingering sense of being entwined..and not in any sort of good way. All of Razielle's very worst fears were Baska's reality. It had made a bond where one should not exist, but she did not remark on it.

They had made a bit of a mess she noted, absently. An impudent smirk ticked at the corner of her mouth, but did not appear. It might have, had her spirit not felt lashed with misery just then.

[Baska Tankreyd]

The direct aftermath felt like profound dissociation to Baska. She was keenly aware of what happened in the room, and how Salem quieted whatever ruckus the destroyed chandelier had provoked. She watched the interaction between the two other Sith; just as she noted Razielle's eyes reverting to their natural amethyst hue, along with the nod to the statement she had made about Anxia's rising power. The blonde knew shards of glass and metal had cut into her own skin, nothing that would leave permanent traces, though she bore so many scars in her soul and under her garments that she may not care that much.

The tempest raging in her core was not abated though. The deep wound was opened anew; and basking into its tragedy was what had kept her alive for so long. It was why she stood today as a powerful Sith who had survived more than many mere mortals would succeed in sustaining. She knew too well what she had lost. She found disturbing solace into other aspects of her life; but truth was that all her losses could take a toll even on the most vicious predator, even on the proudest lone wolf. Nobody had ever come any close to claim Denart's place in her heart; and her barren womb was a painful reminder of the price she had paid.

She knew not how short or long she had stood there, a dark ghost whose flame got contained for public endeavors; but never extinguished.

Right then and there, she couldn't bear to stare at Salem and Razielle, at what they had. Her memories were threatening to rip her flesh and mind to shreds again; and she needed solitude.

"I will see you later," she said stoically, before leaving the chambers, head high but soul crushed.

[Salem Ave]

With Baska’s departure, the violence of the two women’s mental battle and the fall of the chandelier gave way to a weighty silence. Salem relaxed his hold on the Dark Side and the sphere of energy surrounding them ebbed away.
For a quiet moment, he looked towards the doors that Baska had departed through.

“You broke her,” Salem said, breaking the silence at last. There was no sadness or pity in his voice. Only a hint of... satisfaction, of pride. He turned his white gaze back to look down at Razielle.

”We could have destroyed her, then. You could have destroyed her.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Watching Baska depart brought Razielle no joy. There was a part of her that even felt compelled to follow, but she knew that sort of tactful retreat when she saw it. It was not from a place of weakness, but from the very source of Baska's strength. Only right now, that place was like an exposed nerve, raw and angry. She could understand the woman's need for solitude, she could still feel it.

It did not lessen the immediate wave of gratification that did wash through her at Salem's words, even with the surge of anguish that she had been engulfed in still receding. It had been a long time since Razielle had felt the rush that accompanied mastering a new skill, but rather than leaving her feeling satisfied she found herself hungry for more. While she bore no true malice toward Baska, the act itself had been more than satisfying. She would be a liar if she did not admit that causing that much pain to another had been something to savor. There had been a second there.. she had not wanted to stop. To keep on and completely shatter her opponent, whoever it had been.

"That.. would be an incredible waste.", she said, lifting her eyes to his. Razielle had not trusted herself to speak while Baska had still been there, knowing anything she had said would have come out as a snarl. Her growl had eased, along with her rage, but there was a husky tone to her voice from behind hurled across the room by her throat.

[Salem Ave]

“Indeed.”

Without any outward sign of it, Salem drew his power inward, releasing the guards he had briefly held in a state of frozen obedience. The doors to the hall immediately flew open, with Chume’doro bearing rifles and polearms rushing in, their eyes alert to any threat. The captain at the head of the group looked to the Lord Protector, who stood with an arm around Razielle, and then to the chaos around them, with a lack of understanding.

“Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda is unharmed,” Salem said, seeing the hint of panic in the captain’s eyes. It would have been deeply shameful for her, he knew, to be known as the woman who had allowed the mother of ereneda to be crushed beneath a falling chandelier. It was the kind of oversight of duty that would have almost certainly forced the young captain to take her own life.

[Razielle Alastor]

When the Royal Guard did enter Razielle stayed as she was, tucked against Salem's side. The disarray of the formerly resplendent hall gave her her additional moments to refocus herself. Presently, she had no intention of letting him go. Too many dark thoughts still swirled through her mind, along with the knowledge of just what it would feel like to lose him. At least there was that, she thought. That was one fate at least that she would never know. Unseen, but deeply felt through her flesh, something dark coiled upward from her left hand, circulating throughout her being. If that day ever came.. she would not be left behind.

Salem's voice beneath her ear brought her eyes up to meet the captain's concerned ones. The woman probably assumed she was having an attack of the vapors from the stress of the chandelier falling.

Standing a bit taller, Razielle frowned. "It quite nearly injured our guest."

Displeasure was evident in her scratchy voice. "If she elects to stay after this, Lady Tankreyd will need rooms, and perhaps medical attention."

[Salem Ave]

With no more threat to royal life than the potential Razielle might stand on a fragment of crystal, the Chume’doro visibly relaxed. The captain began to pass orders among her subordinates: to fetch someone to clean up the mess, to find someone to see to the Ta’din Tankreyd. While the staff of the Reef Fortress moved efficiently about their business, Salem looked down at Raielle.

“Perhaps you’d like to rest, until our guest has recovered.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Beneath the surface of her white skin, Razielle's cells still pulsed with the enormity of what she had just done, unspent energy crawled inside of her. The execution of the thing had not left her weakened or physically unsteady, despite outward appearances. If anything, it had been invigorating. She was certainly not in need of rest, and yet..

"Yes. I am quite wearied by all of this." Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda agreed, even managing to sway just a little on her feet, lending authenticity to the words.

Razielle wisely kept her bleeding hand tucked behind her back, lest someone see her injury and elect to fuss over it. They would find the wound was not from a splinter of fallen crystal, but self-inflicted and she had no intention of explaining herself. Not now, not ever.

[Salem Ave]

They left the hall and were shadowed by the Chume’doro at a respectful distance until it became clear where the Lord Protector and Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda were going. The royal tower stood at the centre of the fortress and was accessible by only a single entryway, making it the most defensible portion of the entire structure. Even the most paranoid of the royal guards would feel confident waiting at the towers entrance, rather than following Razielle and her consort to the summit.

The uppermost room was a secure chamber for the Chume, though Beatrix was not present; she remained in the Fountain Palace, under the watchful eyes of Ta’din Terranova and Major Lecavalier.

“That was impressive,” Salem said, as he closed the door behind him. He turned to regard Razielle who was practically vibrating with energy.

“I wonder... if you could do the same to me.”

[Razielle Alastor]

"I know that I can."

No doubt about the outcome, should she attempt it, lingered in her voice. Only absolute certainty. Razielle could feel the change in herself. Baska had spoken true, she was stronger now, and she was not afraid to find out just how much stronger.

There were many variations to the smiles Razielle wore, this one was predatory. There were few things in her life that gave her as much pleasure as earning Salem's approval. She loved the accompanying rush that ran through her each and every time, never tiring of it. She loved him.. but if he wanted a demonstration, who was she to argue with Master Callidus..?

Walking backward into the room, she inclined her dark head in the direction of the bed, sultry grin still in place. There was no reason that she could determine why Salem could not be physically comfortable at least. That was not where she went right away though, first she made a stop off at a tall chest of drawers, retrieving a length of silk to bind around her hand until the bleeding stopped.

[Salem Ave]

“I’ve always admired your... confidence,” Salem said, offering Razielle an arch smile as he walked to the bed. They were fortunate that within the confines of the royal tower, there was no gigantic chandelier to shatter. The worst they might do would be splinter some no doubt priceless furniture. The room had been designed to keep threats out, but it would do just as well to keep in whatever came next.

[Razielle Alastor]

"Mmm, was that what it was then?" Razielle remarked, almost casually, while slowly wrapping the white silk around, and around her hand, until red ceased to show through. "My confidence..?"

With a nip of her teeth, she tore the end of the silk making a weak spot, then ripped it down the middle. With a bit of direction from the curiously composed Sith, the ends tied themselves neatly as she walked forward. Showy displays of how she could wield the Force were not counted among Razielle's habits. It simply seemed expedient and so she had done it. If she could assemble a lightsaber, she could certainly tie a sturdy knot.

With Baska, she had known where to hit the hardest. For her, it had been grief. The woman had practically shown her, and shown her how to wield it, and so she had. It would be different, Razielle realized, each time she did this. Each person she did this to. It would be personal. As she had seen with Baska, it was not impossible to become a lost in another's suffering.

Stopping at the end of the bed just before her master, Razielle waited, her fingertips already wiggling in anticipation.

[Salem Ave]

She was smiling at him, a familiar sort of smile. The kind that was designed to provoke him, the kind that had provoked him more than once in the past. Salem reclined in the royal bed, resting his head on a plump pillow and closing his white eyes, having none of the appearance of a man who was about to be attacked. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“Where is the gap in my defences? What suffering will you exploit?”

[Razielle Alastor]

Despite her scratchy throat, Razielle manage a small chuckle at that. "Maybe, darling... it's not about a weakness in your defenses." He would find out.

Following Salem backward onto the mattress, Razielle felt just the tiniest bit of remorse. It was true, she had chosen to be bound, body and soul, to someone most people would accuse of being completely apathetic. She might even have agreed with them once upon a time, but no more. She knew better. She had spent more than a decade preparing for just this sort of opportunity. Getting underneath of Salem's skin, dragging out responses he would rather keep buried. That was what she did! She was the violet crash of lightning that briefly lit up every dark corner of him. Salem could provide the growl of thunder if he liked, but it would not stop her.

Still smiling down at his closed eyes, Razielle kissed her fingers before walking them up his chest. She did not need to touch him to do this, she wanted to. Pale white fingers circled around his throat, but not to squeeze.. she just held him there as she began as Baska had, experimentally at first, finding what would work best. She had plenty of ideas for her dearly beloved. She needed no conjured wraith to scare him with, that was his domain. She knew him. What he had achieved. What he still wanted. Those were fine places to start pulling threads, tearing things apart..

[Salem Ave]

As Razielle’s hand settled over his throat, Salem did not move, only exhaled slowly. It was not her fingers constricting around his neck that posed an imminent threat, rather the touch of her mind against his. He felt it, the first brush of her consciousness through the telepathic bridge created by the Force. On their return journey from Rattatak, Salem had wrestled with the aftermath of Baska splintering Razielle’s thoughts. What he had felt in her mind had been chaotic, like a wild and wounded animal. Now, there was no chaos. Only a slow, almost serpentine feeling, creeping towards and through him. A familiar sensation that said: you know me, I am not dangerous. Let me coil myself around and inside of you. Rather than trying to put a mental block between his thoughts and Razielle, he allowed the connection between the two of them to become stronger.