No matter where you go, I will find you
Aug. 22nd, 2021 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jadus posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
spiderparlourHe had seen the future, and its the inevitable diminution of the Sith. Could he change such a future? Perhaps. But it would break him to try, and he would not permit this. Remaining in the shadows too would be pointless. Instead, he would travel to a most secluded vault, hidden on a planet deep within the Stygian Caldera, the dense and treacherous nebula that had once protected the Sith Empire.
He left final gifts to his most faithful, and then sealed himself in, alone. His armor joined with the machines within. Cold, stinging fumes hissed into his mask, and every breath came slower. His heart beat twenty times in a minute.
Twelve.
Two.
None.
His mind persisted. It was almost free of his body, almost what it should be, but the cold still touched it as well, slowing his thoughts to the scale of decades. The galaxy seemed to roiled with life and pain and fear, shimmering with ceaseless change. At first, it was overwhelming.
But there were patterns. He could not yet describe their form nor predict their course. They were intriguing. And he had so much time to study them.
He was oblivious to the smaller, briefer things around him. He stared unblinking through three and a half thousand years. His presence in the Force seemed to almost have melded with the land itself, his presence had so thoroughly tainted it over the centuries. But he remained at its center, deathly still yet somehow living.
The vault was set deep into stable, solid bedrock. The water that had once dug these caverns ran dry millennia ago. Though creatures that could stand the Dark made their home here, they avoided the passage that led to him. He was aware of them much as he had felt the rest of the galaxy: in aggregate, a rustling of many limbs and lives in the darkness.
No one had found him since his servants had departed, and so undisturbed his meditation could persist for centuries more.
He left final gifts to his most faithful, and then sealed himself in, alone. His armor joined with the machines within. Cold, stinging fumes hissed into his mask, and every breath came slower. His heart beat twenty times in a minute.
Twelve.
Two.
None.
His mind persisted. It was almost free of his body, almost what it should be, but the cold still touched it as well, slowing his thoughts to the scale of decades. The galaxy seemed to roiled with life and pain and fear, shimmering with ceaseless change. At first, it was overwhelming.
But there were patterns. He could not yet describe their form nor predict their course. They were intriguing. And he had so much time to study them.
He was oblivious to the smaller, briefer things around him. He stared unblinking through three and a half thousand years. His presence in the Force seemed to almost have melded with the land itself, his presence had so thoroughly tainted it over the centuries. But he remained at its center, deathly still yet somehow living.
The vault was set deep into stable, solid bedrock. The water that had once dug these caverns ran dry millennia ago. Though creatures that could stand the Dark made their home here, they avoided the passage that led to him. He was aware of them much as he had felt the rest of the galaxy: in aggregate, a rustling of many limbs and lives in the darkness.
No one had found him since his servants had departed, and so undisturbed his meditation could persist for centuries more.
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Date: 2022-06-26 05:38 am (UTC)His body was so much younger than it looked, grown to mid-adolescence in only a third of the time, then metabolically controlled to age at the normal rate (roughly) of a human while he was decades older. There was a hiccup in the connection between flesh and spirit that most would never be able to name but many could feel. Something about the young man simply was off. And even if he held his own presence tightly coiled around him, it wasn't still. it shifted and changed, like a well-polished opal held before a lit candle, like the spinning arms of a galaxy, like chaotic movements of particles caught in opposing gales. Too much, he was too much, not any one mortal thing, but something far beyond it expressed in a form it was perhaps never meant to. And what he pushed out flowed like a threat of touch, light, gentle, not actually there, but oh it carried a heaviness of death and destruction. Slight warmth which threatened blistering strikes, slight coolness which threatened sucking cold. A being which had touched Light at it's most bright and which had seeped the deepest Darkness.
Nothing should have survived one, and yet he'd survived both - although it wasn't even clear if the energy itself, for it was clearly some mortal form, was of a gender. Only his physical form truly said that, and Anakin himself only really minded in the sense of it being familiar when he didn't have much of that. Once he might have cared more but really, did it matter to someone who had licked at a star's core?
"The Force called. I answered." His voice wasn't as dry. Perhaps just a note or two higher than the first time he'd been this age, vocal cords undamaged by years of Tattooine's heat and dust and constant dehydration. But it was softer too. Barest hint of words, augmented with the Force to carry rather than to be loud, precision control which seemed almost impossible before. It was meant as a courtesy rather than a kindness, if the being is unused to hearing a voice, that wasn't his problem. But if the being preferred not to hear a voice - well, there Anakin could match a preference.