pathtopain-a

[pathtopain-a]

[pathtopain-a]

Oh the difference pain makes.

[pathtopain-a]

She was never much of a duelist. Always a weak link in her training, as her master hadn't any human hands to grasp his own saber with. Relying on telekinesis and the warm nature of other masters to assist in training his padawan had left her.... Lacking in the department so to speak. The unruly plasma of her blade, however, was a true message sent of the fractured psyche of the once-Jedi. The other lunges with a ravenous intent, to eviscerate her with the torrential spinning of such a vile weapon. A weapon whose glow she could still see even through the numbing darkness of the helmet's shade.

Their blades only clash for the most fragmented of segments, but Syndra can already feel the shakiness in her hands, the tremble of the various pieces of her barely held together weapon. Flight, it was. Spinning with such speed and agility out of the way of the wayward frenzy, disengaging the blade so that she may focus her mind, and not damage herself in any process of defense.

"Stay away-- Stay. AWAY!" The voice is broken, uneven, not fearful in this moment. But a hateful wave after wave of painful hatred that burns in her core. Wrought by pain and agony, delivered by the sting of burning red lightning. Fists clench and the rocky ceiling above them begins to crumble, before starting to give way all its own-- It's only a breath of a moment before those sparking hands pull down their overhead, raining stone and mineral upon them both as the darkened armored shape turns tail to sprint along the durasteel ground--

Was it fate that the dark Jedi and the Inquisitor cross paths with one another? Wanda would like to think so, but the victor of this duel remained to be seen. They were evenly matched, and the former padawan was quite impressive in the comeback, to say the least.

Wanda walked toward Syndra, the steady red glow of the double-bladed lightsaber glowed ominously in comparison to the other woman's. She pressed the button in the center of the saber, which caused the blade to begin spinning. Wanda crouched slightly to help gain momentum before jumping up to sprint toward her opponent. "I wouldn't leave you alone until you're dead."

[pathtopain-a]

She envisions herself, in this moment, at a juncture. A split fork in her destined path. One bathed in a soothing hopeful blue, clear skies, the sense of return swells in her heart when she stares down it with those miserable red touched eyes. It almost sickens her to see, to after be drowning in darkness so long, swelling with distrust, to think there was some semblance of anything like that still out there in her name.

The other is a storming sea of feverish hatred. Cold red lightning striking across the surface of the uneven sloshing waters. It is hateful, miserable. Down this path lay nothing but pain, misery. Death. But? It is familiar. It is the devil she knows, and her fearful animalistic mind would rather endure the pain she had calloused herself too than bare the thought of attempting to brave something new and being hurt far worse.

Her form, lithe and thin, even with the bulky armor covering her every inch, remains unmoving. Hunched before him like some poor thing reduced to nothing but the primal instincts. Rooted in the very singular idea like that which they both knew. Survival. It was all there was to the galaxy. It was all the Force had made them endure, to test them.

She drags her finger along the dirt. Swirling little shapes into the earthen path, swaying her head idly about on her shoulders. Remaining some measure of ignorant to his presence as it lingered forward, as his hand outstretched for her to take. She does not see with her eyes, the helmet's lenses darken her gaze out entirely, blocking all light from entering and exiting, save for the gentle warm glow of her dark side touched eyes that glimmer just the most faint bit through.

"I sense uncertainty in you still." She lifts her head, but she doesn't look at him, no she's staring through him. Like he wasn't even there. Lingering on what the Force had to show her.

"Do you believe in your words?"

He can feel it now, so much was out there, people like him, so many like him. Who knew pain, sorrow and above all anger. For how things are and how they are still the same, despite the endless cycle of war that has crushed and killed everything that they know and love, he was tired of it all, tired of the pain he felt every single day within himself and how he wished, to reach out and claim more for himself.

“No matter the cost.” He finished the sentence for them and looked down, he wanted, to be stronger than he was, but this title of Ren, was fresh to him, how new it was to take over what has been within the galaxy for so very long, since the days of the empire, perhaps even before. Yet what had they done, what had they accomplished, what was the reason of this gathering of pained and torn people, but from what he can see.

They are nothing more than animals. Hardly mindless, but they are dangerous, brutal and cruel within there methods, but they lack purpose and they lack direction as well, they are going nowhere at all and they have been going nowhere for some time, as he breathed out and would reach out and offer his hand to them to take.

“Alone, one cannot change anything, but with me, everything can be possible, with my knights, we will change this galaxy, for the better.”

[pathtopain-a]

I Will Not Be Taken by the Darkness.

[pathtopain-a]

@fallesto

“What do you believe in?” (Kylo)

She is like an animal. Thoughts so minimally complex consciously. While the inner workings of her mind wretched and pulled about like an abominable clock, working her powerful body into a time bomb as it was. Already whispering deceitful things of distrust on her unstable ear.

"I believe in survival." It was the singular thing that had driven her, had kept her alive. There was nothing else, anymore, was there? So far removed from all other beings, so broken by that which had given her power and the trauma that had cracked the glass the marbles rolled upon.

An animal. That's all she was anymore. A creature of necessity. Hunched like some primal thing, squat down close to the earth, to listen to the hum of life it gave off through its own connection to the force.

"And I believe those who don't survive are weak."

[pathtopain-a]

@arc-77

She senses the Dark Trooper before she sees him, his presence drifting on the wind like the smell of smoke from a distant grassfire. When she looks up, he is sitting on a ledge she swears was empty but a moment ago. "Hello, Syndra."

She can feel the stone of fear set itself in the deeper reaches of her throat. Caught unawares in a time when that meant death. If he wishes to endear himself to her in any way that does not spark the desire to kill, he's been doing a terrible job of it. The first indicator of such is the crimson lightning that arcs off her body. Burning and searing all it touches including the outer layer of her hastily crafted armor.

His presence is unwelcome here, the darkness within her already starts to sing. He will cut you down and kill you, like all that came before him he is nothing more than a monster of flesh. A creature of hate. Her grasp furls on her helmet, clenching tight enough to dent the durasteel. Her other hand clutching like a gundarkk onto her lightsaber. The crackling blade igniting, sending that flickering red flame of a blade to illuminate the darkness around here, harmonized with the matching colored electricity that danced around her again.

"LeaveLeaveLeave!" Her grasp trembles, her mind an uneven slurry of fearful thought, backing up onto her heel. A cornered animal of her own making once more.

[pathtopain-a]

She thinks about the sound of cheering she saw on the holos. As those who had once been her family were torn to shreds by his abominable lies, after they were needlessly massacred by those they had put their trust in. And the galaxy? Ate it up.

The memories weigh on her so heavily. Crushing down upon her. Furled fist bashes against the side of her helmet, growling in frustration. "Monster! He is, a monster. He does not deserve a voice."

PIECING TOGETHER THE IDENTITY OF THE MAN of whom Syndra spoke took LONGER than Shi’al is willing to admit — and the most REASONABLE conclusion that she is subsequently able to reach makes Shi’al’s entire body tense up with DEFENSIVE RIGHTEOUSNESS.

   Palpatine. Syndra is questioning her allegiance to Palpatine.

“If it is Emperor Palpatine of whom you speak, then I have no choice.” Shi’al’s response is as SHARP as a needle — almost too sharp for one whose loyalty to the empire is supposedly UNWAVERING. “He is my godfather; he is family.”

⊱ ⠀⠀ … ⠀ @pathtopain

[pathtopain-a]

She survived well enough on her own for as long as she had. Aid wasn't needed. It complicated everything, another life to look after beyond her own. Yeah. Complicated. Her head hangs off to one side. Sensing the presence of another being, another one of the bandits pretending to be dead. Beyond the one she blasted.

Until now it had been all fists and saber. But now? The sound of bones wrenching, snapping, rips through the air as the bandit is pulled along the dirt, and lifted out of his prone position. Gasping for air, struggling against the invisible grip squeezing every inch of his body like a vice.

"I agree... He has friends near by. He was confident in waiting until they showed up, shoot us in the back." Grip tightens, and it's almost rhythmic, the way every bone twists and snaps out of place. Lightning begins to jolt itself around her wrist, until she drops the freshly dead man cold, and starts rubbing at her armored forearm.

Surveying the scene herself, eyes scanning for any last traces of movement or breath in the downed bandits, she crosses her arms. "Fine, circumstantial allies with a mutual interest in survival?" She offers as an alternative, just because her planet was destroyed does not mean her diplomacy training vanished.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees a bandit's twitching hand grasping for a blaster a couple feet away from him. She goes over and unceremoniously picks up the blaster and shots him in the head with it, making good and sure he's dead. She glances over at her unsteady ally. "Either way, we should get moving,"

[pathtopain-a]

So I think this is the last time I'll be bringing it up at all, I feel like a fucking parasite tbh

I'm officially on my friend's lease, we'll be roommates and I can move out of this place and actually have somewhere to go

But I've still not had any of the dozens of places I've applied to get back to me in a positive way yet

so any help is v much appreciated one thousand percent.

cashapp: $shifterfree venmo: @Charles-Goodwin-61 paypal: @shifterfree

[pathtopain-a]

modified me pinned image

[pathtopain-a]

@playedbetter

"Nice work back there, you and I are turning out to be quite the team aren't we?" (Komand'r!)

Fingers idly flex around the hilt of her saber. Trusting in the force that she was holding onto it as she thought she was. Eyes frantically dart from one body, to the next. It felt like every day even the Outer Rim territories grew dangerous to inhabit. Lips purse behind the cold features that masked her own, shaking her head.

"No-- No teams." It was safer that way, no matter how strong they seemed in numbers, the ever growing Empire would always be more.

[pathtopain-a]

Days.

For days she had been locked in that pile, her petite form buried beneath the body of her dead master. Blasted by bolts until he couldn't stand anymore. Dying putting his life before hers. As always he had. His insectoid body had been too heavy to shove off of her, baring down his whole weight on her. Pinning her in place, while simultaneously keeping her safe from the prying eyes of the miserably corrupted clones-- Or whatever it had been that happened.

Already had Syndra been scraped by the doubt and fear the Dark Side had to offer. Succumbing to fear, doubt, and in all other manners of the corruption in uneven but surefire ways. Now? Without the direction of her master, it had been like being tossed into a black sea. Weighed down by the insurmountable bricks of her own failings. Dragged into suffocating abyssal doubt.

Her robes were practically tatters, still marred with both of their blood, still hanging heavy with the scorch marks of their battalions onslaught. It had happened so suddenly that she hadn't even had the time to react. Now? All that she had wanted had been to bury her master. To give him rest.

And again they had come to finish what they had started. Rational thought had not touched her mind since feeling the burn of a blaster bolt in her sternum. Her eyes, as they were now were sunken from no sleep. Tinged already by the darkness, her pale blue eyes are wide. Pupils blown outward in darkened fear. Standing over his master, she tries to keep them from his body, and as they come down by the swing of another's blade, she still holds firm in her stance.

Her grip remains white knuckle around the hilt of her lightsaber. The blue blade casting its glow against her wild features. Teeth are ground tight, face a bestial snarl. Face smattered with cuts and heavy bruises, her heavy breath heaving her chest. She is a child who has seen the worst of the war in but a few days, after committing herself only to providing aid to those who'd needed it.

The other woman speaks, and she doesn't flinch, staring through her, feeling the tendrils of the darkness worm their way against her psyche, but knowing nothing more than the brutal emotion of the reaction.

She looks ready to strike, even against the woman who had saved her. Everyone was an enemy, there were no friends, not after the betrayal.

"Killed-- Master--" Gaze flicks to her feet and the body between them, if only for a brief second. "Tried to kill..." She feels all the pain in her body in that moment. The aching misery of every wound that adrenaline had carried her through the infliction of.

(Closed started for @pathtopain)

Nil-Rae had never really considered herself 'close' to the Jedi tied to the Temple on Coruscant. Despite her parentage, her history with their ilk had only ever been rocky at best and actively antagonistic at worst. But when the Clone Wars had begun and the Separatists had tried their hand at isolating Felucia from the rest of the Galaxy, she'd found herself grateful for the assistance the Jedi had provided to her people, both in terms of extending protection and the supplies they'd deliver in times of crisis. Today, on a seemingly random day in the middle of the cycle, had been one such day and, at first, it had seemed to be no different than any other.

Until, that is, the sound of blaster fire erupted over the hill and red blaster bolts came ripping across the jungle from one of the neighboring villages. Something wicked and vile tore at Nil-Rae's chest, something that reminded her entirely too much of days spent trapped in a dark haze of hatred and anger, and she found herself standing still as stone. Instinctively, she reached out with the Force, trying to find the source of the darkness but finding only pain and fear everywhere she touched. Without thinking, she ran into the small structure she called home, grabbed her lightsaber, and fled across the village to one of their neighbors, desperate to find out what was happening.

She'd expected to find Separatist droids ambushing the relief aid sent by the Republic. Instead, she saw a handful of Clone troopers inching their way towards a petrified young blonde girl who stood in a defensive stance over a cloaked figure lying prone on the jungle floor. Villagers cried out in concern, uncertain what to do as the Republic troops turned on the Jedi seemingly without warning or cause. Extending her consciousness out towards the Force, she called upon it to aid her forward momentum and pushed herself into a dead run. Mere seconds before the Clones opened fire on the girl, Nil-Rae slid into a halt between them, lightsaber in hand and ignited. She swung wildly in an arc to the right, deflecting blaster bolts as they came screaming towards her.

The fight was over in a matter of seconds. Taken by surprise by the sudden arrival of an unexpected Force-user, the Clones turned their attentions from the girl to Nil-Rae but not in time to stop the deft swing of her laser sword. Without pause, she cut two of the troopers down and whirled on her feet, crouching to swing at the midsection of another. From the ground she deflected blaster bolts back at the remaining two, sending the red energy through one's helmet and the other's chest plate.

Heavy breaths rose her chest and shoulders with each exchange and as the last trooper fell to the ground, she disengaged her lightsaber blade and turned to the girl at her back.

"Are you hurt? What happened? Why did those men attack you?"

[pathtopain-a]

I'm honestly still constantly worried about people's feelings towards Ayina and Syndra

like with every reply

[pathtopain-a]

Master…

                                I’m scared…

[pathtopain-a]

He speaks and again she listens. Listens to the way he soars through his own emotions, something the Dark Side wasted no time in twisting away at. Being here, because he so selfishly felt guilt. Seeing her he clearly wanted only to alleviate his own sense of misery. nothing to do with helping her or making her feel any sense of warmth. The self fulfilling prophecy of the Dark Side, in some ways. Her doubt drives a wedge between those who would care, the wedge pushes them away, affirming the doubts she had had.

But it is a sense of self awareness she does not have. Not when all that had ever been on her mind since being through into a body pile was surviving. Were she any more a collected being, was her sense of consciousness anywhere other than having given in to the vile touch of the Dark Side, she may have continued to accept the gifts with any sort of hesitance. But as she was? Long and far gone, buried beneath basic needs and wants. Seeing him turn his back on her is only affirmation of the vitriol whispered in her ear.

'You aren't broken. You've had your eyes open by the Dark Side.'

"Stop hunting me. You can't fix me. I'm not broken."

But it's spoken so flatly, with such a cold flat indifference. That it's evident that she does not believe it in its entirety. Though, in her mind, she did not need the help of anyone if she was. Powerful as she was? She could fix herself.

His arms raise to shield his face, flinching at the flying debris, and indignation flashes across his eyes before he snaps them shut, slowly lowering his arms again. Fool. He'd gotten carried away, taken this too far too fast. She doesn't care about any of that, her concerns are far more simple and base.

"I am here because... I feel compelled to be."

She is right. Pity. Guilt. Respect. Fascination. Other emotions he cannot disentangle and put names to. He sees himself wrapping his arms around her. In life. In death. He does not want to know what that means for his motives.

"I see your armor, your power. I see your despair. And deep part of me wants to alleviate it."

But what he feels most all now are her barbs digging into his skin, her words clawing at him, and it makes him wish to flee, to escape from this growing shame he feels. The tight walls of the rocky crevice have suddenly begun to make him feel claustrophobic. Fordo shakes his head and slides his helmet back on, crawling back towards the entrance.

"This is a fool's errand."

He does not stop to look back, leaving all his gifts behind, most of them still sealed. If she continued to feed off the living force, it might be enough to last her weeks. There's no sign of any tech amongst the items, no tracking devices. He'll find her again regardless, if and when the time comes.

"Goodbye, Syndra."

The Dark Trooper trods off into the moonlit wilderness.

[pathtopain-a]

reply with ur meme tag or hmu for plotties