When contentment breeds destruction...[Reg]

[Kassandra Distorith]

Wraith Estate (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sandral_estate)
Dantooine



...crave my heart and its bleeding in your hand...
...I can't say no to you...

...shouldn't let you conquer me completely...

...now I...

...can't let go of this dream...



...I can't breathe...


It was fascinating, she noted with detachment, that in spite of the fear that had been howling from the young man's psyche, his blood...his blood still pulsed to the beat of the music. Her eyes blazed a sickened crimson, slender fingers caught up in silken curls as his head was held in an implacable grip. In her free hand, a delicate silver flechette, inscribed with words of dark power. Its tip traced the line of his jugular while she purred softly, long, gleaming white fangs glittering between blood-stained lips.

A whisper sounded behind her, causing her to jerk around reflexively, eyes wide, her silk gown rippling around her. Who would dare...no...no-one. There was no-one there. As there shouldn't be. Even Reginald wasn't allowed in her dungeon whilst she 'worked'...but still.

That faintest of whispers - stronger this time, almost audible words. A voice, feminine, teasing at the long edge of her memory. Taunting as recognition danced just out of reach, the crimson fled from her gaze, leaving Kassandra to look dazed and almost delirious with hunger. Blinking was a vain effort to clear her sight as her eyes clouded over, and the darkness took control.

Convent of the Four Winds, 32 years ago

"It has to be done this way, my child, the darkness already dwells within you. The pain will draw it out..." the words contrasted with the gentle, sweet voice of the blue-robed Sister standing over the tiny girl.

All of three years old, the frail child huddled in the corner, raven curls obscuring delicate features and bright blue eyes filled with fear. She shook her head, she didn't understand what the woman was saying. Where was her mother? Why was she left here with these strange women in blue robes? Why didn't they speak the same tongue her mother had taught her?

Gentle hands pulled her out of the corner, took the soft doll from her tiny hands, tugged the rough-spun shift over her head. It was cold, and dark, but when the first of the lashes fell, nothing but pain existed.

Her dress and doll were returned to her after they stopped, telling her she had done well. But it fell on deaf ears as it was all she could do to stand up as they gently dragged her down the hall. A tiny room was opened for her, barely large enough to contain the cot she was to sleep on, a single window high upon the wall. She abandoned the cot in favor of curling up in the corner, shuddering, her tears already spent. It wasn't long before the pain overwhelmed her and she passed out cold, face pressed against the cold stone.

An unearthly howl escaped her throat as the memory passed across her senses. Raw pain echoed in the small chamber even as the Force gathered around her and exploded outwards, blowing the reinforced duracrete door off of its hinges, and splattering her forgotten victim across the back wall.

Unable to escape its grip, Kassandra skittered backwards across the floor and curled herself into the corner, face pressed against the stone as it had been all those years ago, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She gasped, unable to breathe, but somehow managing to scream as the long-faded scars bubbled up to the surface of her skin and violently split open, sending blood and bits of skin and muscle flying.

[Reginald Nil’vak]

He enjoyed the calm moments, if they truly could be caused that, when his Mistress entertained guests in her dungeon. All her attention would be on those poor souls and he, well, he would be left to his own quiet meditations and attempted avoidance of the pale harpy that was the other apprentice. Sure there would be the occasional scream that was somehow escape from the lower levels, but otherwise it was just... quiet.

Not today.

A glass of the finest Tarul wine was perched in one hand as a datapad occupied the other... both were dropped carelessly the first time he heard the scream. It had been in his mind, stabbing like a heated dagger. It was far more compelling than the second moment when it was accompanied by what sounded like an explosion and tortured cries; Reginald had been on his feet for that one.

It was a strange sensation, the pain was palpable in the air as he hurried toward the dungeons, it often was, but this was different. This was coming from his Mistress... and he couldn't help but take pleasure in it. His enjoyment was overpowered by an unfortunate feeling of worry, though. The situation was too pressing to allow him to consider the implications of the opposing emotions.

He hesitated just for an instant at the bottom of the stairs, next to the broken door. He wasn't allowed in the dungeons, and had learned the lesson well. Another wave of detached agony reached him, slamming whatever sense of formality out of him and forced his feet to reach the floor.

The darkness was almost impossible to see through, it wasn't like a normal situation where it was caused by a simple absence of light, this was something far more real.

Despite the shadowed reality that was his Mistresses' lair, the Force guided him and Reginald found her curled in the corner. He crouched down, his fingertips steepleing and pressing against his lips as he watched her writhe for a second.

"Now then... surely there is no cause for this." He tested the air, seeing if it would even accept his words. Satisfied they would he continued, his voice softening. "It's just a vision, Kassandra. Let it pass. That moment had it's day, and you are stronger."

[Kassandra Distorith]

"If its just a vision, Reginald...then why am I bleeding from flesh that looks like so much freshly flayed meat?"

The Mistress breathed deep, the sweet copper tang of blood heavily scenting the air. Under normal circumstances, she'd have been reveling in it, but this...what had just...happened...hardly qualified as normal. Even for the unorthodox Sith Master that Kassandra was.

She tilted her head back, forcing her fangs to retract with considerable effort, while she gazed up at Reg with trails of blood emanating from her cerulean gaze. Fingers rose to wipe them away and stopped as they realized they were already occupied. Clutched in her hands, charred and still emanating the stench of smoke and death was a small cloth doll with a broken blue button for one eye.

Neither blinking nor shaking her head seemed to clear from her vision what her hands could feel. It was the doll she'd been left at the convent with, the one she'd burned in the fire when she'd destroyed much of the complex some twenty years prior. "No, I think this is somewhat more than a vision. I destroyed this twenty years ago...and yet...it is as if it were freshly plucked from the flames only now. Can you not smell the incense? The pain? The excruciatingly divine agony?"

She swore coarsely under her breath and closed her eyes as she moved, setting the doll down and bracing both hands on the floor. The pain alone was enough to drive her delirious, but entwined as it was with a memory so powerful, it drove the breath out of her with sheer sadistic pleasure. "And they thought they were driving the evil out of me..." she gasped, her tone caught between wonder and lust.

Long legs unfolded after several moments, her breath and pulse still rapid. In spite of the blood loss, her skin was flushed and a dark, unholy pleasure lit her gaze. She held her hands out to Reginald, bidding him silently to help her rise. As he did, Kassandra smiled and brought his hands to her lips, kissing the back of each with a faint purr.

[Reginald Nil’vak]

"Ah, but I never claimed that the vision was incapable of harming you, now did I?" He waited until his Mistress was fully to her feet before eying the doll on the floor. "Granted the toy is rather vexing. If we are capable of retrieving objects from our past through sheer memory... well that is rather new to me."

It was true all she asked, he could smell the smoke, the dying... and if it was coming from her past... well, it seemed her birth into the realm of Bogan had not been all so different than his own.

The sly grin he had been playing at slowly left his features as he once again could not help but be overcome by the nagging sense of worry. It wasn't entirely strange to see his Mistress in pain, but this was beyond the usual bumps, bruises, and small abrasions their lessons gave the both of them.

"We should get you upstairs and cleaned up. Maybe something to drink to clear your head?" He offered an arm to her and let the smile return. "If nothing else let us leave this place for a moment. Perhaps then you can begin to truly understand what has occurred here?"

[Kassandra Distorith]

"Ever the voice of reason, Reginald. I haven't the faintest idea what I would ever do without you."

A slender hand lifted, freeing itself from his grasp to brush along the side of his jaw in a loving gesture. Soon, a scrap of her torn silk gown joined her fingers, wiping away the streak of crimson in concession to his more fastidious nature. The Mistress accepted his proffered arm, letting him guide her around the rubble that her senses simply blocked out until she could make some sense of what had had happened.

She paused, for a brief moment, as they crossed the stone threshold. The stench had suddenly disappeared - the charred flesh, the oddly fragrant burning timber, and the dizzying incense. Peculiar.

Kassandra murmured with pain and allowed herself the gesture of resting her head on Reginald's shoulder when her vision wavered enough to threaten her balance. The tip of her tongue trailed along her lower lip, prodding the split that had begun to heal into reopening. The taste of blood, in spite of it being her own, was sharp and agonizingly sweet. It brought her enough back into her own mind that she was able to fully grasp the darkness and allow it to bolster her.

She sighed as he helped her into the master suite, leaving her side only when asked for a glass of wine. Stripping out of the remains of her gown, she let it drop to the floor and rose to stand in front of the mirror. Her gaze darkened at the sight of the old, reopened wounds, but turned crimson as she used the Force to knit them together once more. Only the welts on her back refused to be healed, remaining as prominent as if she'd just enjoyed the kiss of the whip.

Fingers piled her raven curls atop her head before she slid into the nearly scalding hot bath (http://i46.tinypic.com/65ub0g.jpg). It went a long way to undoing the tension of her muscles, and drew a long pleasured sigh past her lips. Eyes fell half closed as she leaned back, resting her head on a small rolled towel.

[Reginald Nil’vak]

Reginald was awed in the fact he was able to keep silent and not make some sort of comment about how, in her weakened state, it was possibly he who would have to learn to live without her. Just one quick movement... But no, now was not the time. He had far too much respect for his Mistress to take her out when she was not at her best, and there was still much, much more to learn. Not to mention she had done him the kindness of not leaving the blood smeared on his cheek. One act of courtesy did practically demand another.

He may even have one-upped her as he turned so that she could remove the tattered gown and examine her wounds in private. It was only at the sound of her sigh and the settling fully into her bath that he allowed himself to once again face her.

"Do you wish me to remain or shall I leave you to your thoughts? After all, I fear you weren't the only one to make a bit of a mess tonight and wine stains are terribly troubling to remove from carpet." As always there was the tiniest hinting of haughtiness in his words, as if Reginald were caught between mocking, making light of the situation, and a general concern for what he spoke of.

His eyes worked their way over her body, a simple glance that spoke nothing of his hatred and adoration for the woman, just mere appraisal. As he came to rest on her face, he still couldn't weasel himself away from the feelings that seeing the hints of distress etched there brought about.

Reginald managed to actually soften his tone for a moment, reflecting some of the genuine care he felt about her well-being. "If you bid me leave, I won't be far. You won't even have to shout and I'll be right back here. That is...again, if you wish to be alone."

[Kassandra Distorith]

Reginald's mind was ever a treasure-trove of delectable thoughts.

The Mistress did generally make it a point not to pry, but sometimes, the darling boy broadcast just a bit too loud. Especially in that moment, with her mind still tender and her own shields rubbed raw from what had happened.

A tender, tiny smile curled her blood-stained lips. Pleasure lit her half-lidded eyes, the tone of it caught somewhere between pride and desire. Kassandra had chosen very well with this one...very well indeed.

The fire dwelled within him, the desire to become something more. Something better, no...something greater. But it was tempered with respect, as it should be, she mused. She simply watched him for several silent moments, sipping from her wine. Steam rose in delicate orchid-scented whorls from the surface of her bath, soothing her as much with scent as with pure heat.

"Bid Ourania to see to the carpet. I would have more wine and your company, Reginald." Kassandra purred, setting her now empty glass aside as she stretched out her slender limbs.

Her back protested the movement, pain washing her gaze with a delicious crimson tint. With eyes slipping closed, the Mistress extended a delicate tendril of the Force to caress each open wound. Bidding it to knit itself cleanly closed, as her vanity would demand nothing less than flawless. It was proving difficult as it had before, but an outpouring of power from her now stable mind saw the task well underway.

She sighed with pleasure as she sat comfortably back once more, and opened her eyes. A shimmering Force-construct flitted about in the steam that rose from the water, its shape vaguely resembling that of a lantern bird. Perhaps, she mused, it was time for a new pet to add to her menagerie.