#i had it focused around the loop disintegrating because spoke was the one responsible for it in the first place

[pyrriax]

okay so maybe i WILL work on kosmon rediras again. maybe i'll rework the plot of the timeloop and play more into the horror of it

^ this song's lyrics have greatly influenced this.

[caffeinetheory]

Searching for a New Home [WIP?]

Hey y’all, this is very different from anything I’ve posted on my tumblr before but it has been sitting in my drafts for a while and maybe if i post what I have it’ll encourage me to write more.... dream smp style fantasy au that i have a lot planed for but who knows if I will ever finish at this rate

~~~~

if you are interested what i have is under the cut 

The sound of his own breathing was getting to him. Dream was wandering in a new land, he could sense the magic in the air, it wasn’t hostile--yet. The only sounds in the current meadow he stumbled upon was his own warm breath, a quiet river in the distance and buzzing of bees he couldn’t yet see. He was used to being alone but it still ate at him, having to hide his face, even if he was a lone made it worse.

The sun was high in the sky when Dream made it to the flowing river, the slashing of fish welcomed after so long. He checked around him many times before deeming it safe to move his mask to the side, not fully off because you can never be too careful in unknown lands. How had he even gotten there? Leaning back on his hands the blonde stared into the great expanse of sky above him like it would have the answers he wished for. It never did, but the sun on his face was more than enough. 

The sun was no longer high in the sky when Dream opened his eyes again, the only sounds being the running river by his feet. He took to rifling through his bag looking for a fishing rod and what he would need for a small campfire. It took him a minute but he found his trusty pole. Checking his surroundings one more time before taking off his mask and storing it safely in his bag, it was still empty; he had no worries of anyone seeing his face. 

Plonk, the bobber hitting the water made a satisfying sound as he threw his pole. In one hand he idly held it, with the other he flicked his wrist making a small campfire to cook his dinner. Right as he was about to say the incantation to light the fire a tug focused his attention back on to the river, he got a bite. It fought back for about a minute before Dream was able to win, yanking it out of the water and into his waiting hands. It was well worth the fight as one of the biggest cods landed in his gloved hands. He would have to dry his gloves but well worth it as the fish would be at least two meals, maybe even four if he smoked it right. 

The sky was a mix of orange and purple when the fish was almost done roasting over the fire, it smelled heavenly. While it was cooking Dream made sure to put up a small barrier and find his bed roll in his seemingly endless bag. It was probably really dumb but the sjy was beautiful here so he wanted to sleep inder the stars, not the canopy. 

The flaky fish melted in his mouth, he wanted to moan with how good it tasted. It was one of the best things he had ever eaten, maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all. Half the fish was gone before he stopped himself, he needed to save the rest for later. By the time he had preserved it the crescent moon was out, the fireflies were saying hello and the kindling was gone, long since offering heat of light. Dream stifled a yawn as he stretched, a good shut eye would do him some good. Before he curled up into his bedroll a smile on his face.

~~~

Incessant pounding on his barrier is what woke the sleeping blonde up. His arm currently covered his eyes as he groaned, the pundung seemed to hesitate for a moment before it picked up again, slightly slower. Dream was glad he made the spell that would become opaque once the sun rose, he rubbed some sleep from his eyes and looked for his mask and a pocket knife, you can never be too careful. 

“Hello?” the voice came through muffled and unsure, whoever was on the other side was persiant but shy? Was that the right word, Dream wasn’t sure but he made sure he had his bag and knife concealed before he dropped the only thing keeping him and this stranger apart.

~~~

It was early morning when Sapnap stumbled upon a greenish double by a river. That was certainly new, and new meant something interesting. 

He started by tapping the surface, it seemed to ripple where he touched but otherwise did not change… interesting indeed. Sapnap spent the next 15 minutes walking around the sizable bubble poking it in different spots to see if there would be any other reactions, spoiler alert there were none. He considered setting fire to the outside, a small flame coming to life on his fingertips before a that sounds suspiciously like a Siren he knew advised him against it.

He had nothing better to do with his day, thus began his constant pounding on the outside of the odd barrier like thing in the middle of this field by a river. This continued for at least 40 minutes, he was thinking of giving up when he heard what sounded like a groan? Was someone in there? Were they okay? Subpoena continued his pounding with more purpose.

Nothing had happened yet so he hesitated before pausing his punding to ask, ”hello, is anyone in there?” his voice was getting quieter feeling stpuid as he asked the question. Surely if someone was there he would have heard it right?

As Sapnap was going to start pounding again the barrier dropped and he was left staring at a white mask devoid of anything but a drawn smile. He dropped his hand awkwardly,”...uh hi?”

~~~

Dream blinked at the person who had woken him up, no that the other could see. It took him a second to respond but he decided to just tilt his head at the other in question. Said person rubbed the back of his neck, it was clear he was nervous.

“You knew around here?” his voice was light and crisp, before Dream could even respond though he continued, “Well of course you are. I’ve never seen you before and I practically know this place like the back of my hand,” Dream loosened his grip on the knife and waved his hand at the person to stop the rambling.

“Yeah you could say that,” there was a smile in his voice as he saw them stumble over their words now that he had spoken. 

They blinked before holding out a hand, “Sapnap.”

Dream tentatively reached out and shook his hand, “Call me Dream.” The guy's hands were warm, very warm, he would have to keep note of that. 

Dream simply nodded at him and went to take his leave, the guy was clearly not going to hurt him. Sapnap didn’t leave though, he followed walking idley around him. Sometimes he was walking backwards in front of him, sometimes he was circling Dream and sometimes he would walk to his side but widely gesturing talking with his whole body. At first the constant talking was something Dream wanted to be mad at, but he found himself enjoying the other’s voice. The longer they stayed together the more he noticed about the slightly shorter man. Like the way he smelled of applewood and cinnamon, and the way he talked so casually to a stranger. 

It was close to noon when Sapnap finally asked him a real question that he couldn't just nod an answer to, “Where are you going?”

Dream paused, his humming stopped as he thought about it, “I’m not sure to be honest,” his response seemed to throw Sapnap for a loop as he nearly walked into a tree. 

Dream now had fully stopped walking a hand on his chin in thought, sure he was exploring but why? That was the question wasn’t it. Maybe he should find a place to live, would that be the right move. Making a home here? 

A hand waving in front of his face broke his thoughts, “You still there homie?” Sapnap stood in front of him with a look of concern on his face. He had stopped just in front of Dream leaning over slightly to make sure he was fine.

It brought a smile to his face, someone he barely knew was showing concern for him. It was an odd feeling he wasn't used to but one he quite liked if he was honest, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he waved his hand dismissively. 

Dream started to walk again but with more purpose, a startled Sapnap followed after a second and continued to fill the air with chatter. 

~~~

“Tell me more about yourself?” Sapnap had changed the topic yet again. Dream no longer minded though. No one had grown so much to him as this stranger- no he was definitely no longer a stranger.   

He found himself actually talking about himself, no lies or half truths. Dream hopped he wouldn’t regret this but something told him he wouldn’t. He started with some basics anyone could guess, then favorite colors and foods. The more he talked the more his companion leaned in his genuine interest clear as he eagerly nodded along and prompted questions. The more he talked the more Dream pervebarbly let down his hair and his hands began to join in his talking. His hands spoke almost as much as he did, it had been so long since he felt he could be this open. 

It was while he was talking about some ‘recent’ adventures that he split up, walking backwards to face Sapnap, hands moving to show the action he was talking about. Some fight in a dark cave, “my sword covered in the green fire chopped off the queen spider’s head and set the surroundings webs to flames lighting up the whole area! I could see all the bodies disintegrate as the one that had made them faded slowly,” his hands were high, his breath slightly ragged as he was moving so much when he realized he mentioned magic, but not any magic. His magic.

Oh gods oh no ohnonononono no no no not again he can’t have messed this up again, his thoughts were getting crowded as he was beginning to panic. One hand reached up to where his mouth would be but was blocked by his mask, he could feel his eyes growing wide. Not again, not when he had just made a friend. Dream was still walking backwards but couldn’t meet Sapnap’s eyes. A gasp made him jerk his head towards him. He was ready to defend himself with his other hand when chestnut eyes filled with excitement would have met his own. The mask still blocked the fear he held in his own eyes from being seen.

“Bro that’s so sick!” there was such passion in his companion’s eyes, like he had a fire of his own. 

Dream’s voice betrayed his utter shock as it mumbled out his disbelief. Sapnap didn’t seem to pick up on this distress and he grabbed the taller man’s hands and spun him around pure joy positively oozing out of his entire being. 

“You have fire too?!” it wasn’t said with an actuation, it was said in excitement. Dream could do nothing but blink behind his mask in confusion. Sapnap seemed to finally catch Dream’s lack of movement, “Are you okay buddy?”

////////////////////////

that’s all i have written so far for this work but i have more or less a lot of it planed out with most people to set up the over all au i have set up, maybe i bit off to much by trying to make one really long work but who knows

[calcinators-blog]

Two Irons (Part 7.)

Bending each finger across the bench that you sat upon, you knew dreams lacked acute sensation like that of the responses you had then, and so you couldn’t have simply imagined the moment happening. The surface of your seat, the interaction with an object in reality, only served as a reminder that you had been fully awake, even as you wished that you hadn’t been.

And if that hadn’t been eventful enough, for the Lieutenant Colonel to support FN-2187′s escape, it had happened so candidly in the disguised face of the infamous Commander of the First Order. You had expected that if you were to so much as blink, you would soon see Lieutenant Colonel Zack flat and lifeless on the floor. Instead, he continued to stand next to the bench in his wrinkle-free uniform, flushed with life with his outlawed words and thoughts.

The Lieutenant Colonel’s sentiment held accidental gravity. Compassion for the turncoat was incriminating enough. Information about the matter you had been contracted to supply all but jumped right into Matt’s lap without provocation. What concerned you most about what they admitted to, was how both Nines and the Lieutenant Colonel had made themselves into outlets; both corporeal and soft. They had become something to shake or tear, kill; “toys” for the hell-hound, who bore his teeth as his strong jaw snapped shut.

And even if you assumed prying further into either of their heads would be devoutly meaningless— To look for what? They were friends, that doesn’t explain anything!— Your sudden desperation became quickly fascinating to him, he who cocked his head in curiosity. Matt had caught the scent of something.

In all this, the Lieutenant Colonel took a seat at the bench beside Matt, who hardly flinched at proximity of his mark. Neither looked effected by the other. You looked at Nines and his flaring nostrils. Lids high over his nebulous eyes, alert and awake. Closing his mouth to chew, cheekbones tensing, he opened his mouth between bites to speak— though about what, you did not know and could not comprehend. It should have felt normal, and it would have if Matt had not been there. Danger prowled about the table, silently testing you and them.

Leave them out of this...

You slipped from his interest, momentarily; the one thought you had in privacy which had been meant for him was left to echo in your skull.

Matt leached what he could from both your familiars, as they ate and carried on, becoming intimately familiar with Nines and Zack by his heinous privilege of telepathic invasion. Their minds, exposed and laid bare, were exhibited for his private viewing. And he sifted through, ungraciously, as if a mundane task. Granted, if you invade enough minds, over time, it may feel like a trivial chore. You may become bored by the patterns imprinted in the subconscious; how everyone appears to have the same motivations, an identical web of fears, trauma, and pleasures. Our secrets, however...

Shuddering of his broad shoulders, restricted in the green-grey boiler suit, gave the impression that he could have been detaining a laugh. He had found something. Something of significance, something you had accidentally lead him to. He wouldn’t mention, sickly enjoying his game too much, but it was then when he had learned more about them than you could have ever anticipated knowing yourself.

Of course, it would have been a very different story if you had known.

Just next to you, Nines balancing a forkful of lukewarm soypro on his utensil as he served a beam at Lieutenant Colonel Zack, who uncapped a crimson thermajug. A light burst of steam billowed over his face. The comforting astringent aroma of caf drifted around, looping through the air. They both laughed, warmly and without moderation.

It all felt like they too, like the interstellar dust, were just beyond transparisteel which separated you from everything in the cosmos. It felt like Matt had built a partition by coming into your life, leaving you trapped on one side, looking into your old life, tapping uselessly on the pane.

With your rib cage tight around your lungs, Matt’s eyes looked down yours again. You both observed each other, he as much as you, while remaining unknown to the rest of the table. Under his unbroken stare did he assure himself that you understood how he relished your momentous discomfort. Detectable pulsations under his skin, both of the tension and lessening of the muscles that wove around his arms and neck, became swallowed by his otherwise tomb-like composure. Impossibly, he was lunacy and serenity all at once.

“Tell me,” his voice was low but not without saturation of aggression, "How well do you think you know them?" He was speaking directly to you, FN-2199 and the Lieutenant Colonel impervious to his sounds and expressions; both were absorbed in conversation with one another.

Your lips trembled, a blockade for your voice. The obvious disguise of the radar technician did nothing hide the presence of the Commander. Your head went into overdrive, scrambling to respond in some fashion.

I know they haven't done anything.

“Are you sure?” He broke eye-contact to look upon his hands, turning them over so his palms faced up. The veins in his wrists and forearms flared. Returning his gaze to witness the dilatation of your pupils in horror, his voice met you once more, “Perhaps they have... But they kept you out of it...”

Kept me out of what? Why?

His fingers twitched, followed by the corners of his mouth. Sudden resentment bunching within him, perhaps, in some way further annoyed by what he had seen. His eyes became far-away, speaking as if he was translating a text or trying to remember, "So you... so you wouldn’t get caught if it all fell apart... But, why you? Why should they care so much about you?"

It was then when your mind began to wander away from you and you felt his intrusion inside your skull. Pressure and static; he was searching for something again. You griped at the bench, your totem of reality— still awake, horrific.

Did you forget this is about FN-2187 and not them? They haven’t done anything but exist around you, that alone seems to be offensive enough.

But still he persisted only to speak in a soft, broken pattern as the pressure behind your forehead increased, "And they exist... only because... I’ve allowed it."

The ache again. The unbearable stimulus of your mind pulled apart by his hands had become the only sensation you could register. You would have said anything for it to stop— but as if on cue, your palm felt warm once more.

The pain— all pain— immediately disintegrated, leaving him with nothing, save for a bewildered stare from across the table. Feeling the courage to look, to gaze upon him in such a moment, there was an impression about him closely reminiscent of fear.

You were undecided if it was more terrifying to see him intoxicated by his own power or to see him look scared, even if it was vague and buried. Even so, you waited for his habitual rage to take him over but it never came. Somewhat miraculously.

As if their voices could finally reach you, breaching whatever wall Matt had built around you, FN-2199 pulled you back into the security of conversation. Electricity in his eyes, he almost chattered as he spoke, “Zack says they’ve seen FN-2187 and the droid.” Though it should have been obvious, you weren’t sure with what voice he was using, "He's still alive."

Staying mostly focused on Nines, with your eyes momentarily flickering over to Matt, you were shocked at how remarkable it was that none of your exchange had registered in the two. In your best ability to remain natural, all things considered, you spoke slowly in contrast to his buzzing, “I read that earlier.”

“Why didn’t you mention it?” Exposing more of his indecipherable emotion, Nines pulled poppy red strands of hair away from his face, hair that was perpetually disordered from his snug helmet. What little skin of his forearms exposed underneath the ivory exoskeleton of trooper’s armor had been raised in gooseflesh.

“Because we don't talk about him,” Almost irritated, you flipped from FN-2199 to Lieutenant Colonel Zack. Neither of their expressions bent into smiles anymore, neither seemed to be fully present. You pressed on, “I didn’t think you, or anyone, wanted to talk about him—“

“Well, we’re talking about him now, aren’t we?” You saw what would have been pain, if had not been for his eyes flickering away from you as he mumbled, “We haven’t talked about Slip either, but that doesn't mean we're not thinking about him...”

This isn’t you. You’re not like this.

A calm voice interjected, “FN-2199, I think we’ve said enough about it all.” Lieutenant Colonel Zack sheepishly looked to you, as if something had been revealed that shouldn’t have been mentioned at all. It was clear from his expression that he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but conciliatory all the same.

Who were these people before you now?

Each had acted erratically and awkwardly at the mention of FN-2187, a name that no one else had said since he freed the Resistance pilot. You expected his name to be spat on or ignored. You had not projected for both men before you to advertise their divided loyalty so plainly, let alone discuss it.

You were left to souse, the awkward extremes the table had revealed. Each person proving different versions from those who they had previously been. Thankfully, before another strange event occurred, the intercom urged you to away.

Without knowing who needed you, and for what, you could not have been more appreciative for the opportunity to leave. With Matt having retreated into himself, so missing were his standard homicidal vibrations. You felt secure in leaving, understanding that no one would be thrown across the room in the approximate time it would take to address the page.

Standing, you announced to the table, avoiding directly meeting anyone’s eye, “Maybe when I come back, we can continue not talking about all this.”

Passing herds of sentry droids, whizzing and chirping around your feet, you wove through the controlled chaos of the trenchant corridors. As your pace inspired deeper gasps for air, the far- flung odor of acid-sharp fuel burnt your nose; feeding time for the TIE fighters. Crossing more channels, the glossy halls masked the previous smells with disinfectants for the gleaming surfaces. Boots squeaked over the lustrous obsidian tiles and fabric rubbed against fabric as uniformed officers scuttled about, under the watchful gaze of their superiors.

Everything was still exceptionally ordinary everywhere you went. Unfamiliar stinging of resentment nestled behind your eyes, bloodshot and wide from stimulation of caffeine and the continuous sense of panic. You made eye contact with an officer, walking past you. Her face cemented, there had been no sign that she had even registered your gaze– nothing. No one knew that you felt the base caving in around you.

No one knew, and maybe worse yet, no one cared.

Your mind turned to the Lieutenant Colonel, guilty in caring for FN-2187 by wanting him to do what it was that he wanted versus what he was programmed to. Guilty, because now, the Commander was privy to the fact that Zack was deeply entrenched in a belief fraught with danger for any to have, but suicidal for a superior officer.

Fast approaching where you had been paged, a lone figure intercepted your path with a great gaberwool coat slung over their willowy shoulders, giving them a broader appearance. Closely circling the chamber, they had been padding over the stretch of the corridor with all the precision of a hungry vulture. You were light enough on your feet as you closed the gap to remain unnoticed but eventually became caught in their peripherals as they moved through their inevitable sequence.

Great. It’s you.

The General grimaced, his posture stiffening once realizing his company, “How nice of you to join me.” That voice– that patronizing tone one, aerating deep condemnation.

The depth of his annoyance was unjust for as far as you were concerned; you let his words fall behind you, faking a pleasant face. To your contrived display of affability, even going so far as to fake your way through the nuance of a smile, he turned his nose up.

Son of a bantha.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” though you weren’t. You stuttered through your enclosed frustration, smoothing your hands over your sides, “What can I assist you with, General?”

He had never directly approached you for anything– ever. This was logical when taking into account how low down the command chain you were in relation. In fact, it was more than startling to see that it was he, and not someone under his command, which had required your attendance. He was far too busy, too vital to Starkiller. Yet, there he was.

“You may assist me with an explanation...” he stretched each word out, resenting having to say anything at all, “...as to why we have evidence of you and the Commander.”

Krif.

A slight pause, as if he correctly inferred you would need a second to process what he had said. “I think it fitting that you explain yourself.”

But, you didn’t want to touch the subject. Not with anyone, especially him. Even as you were faced with the General’s knowledge, you knew you couldn’t have prevented any of it. You assumed that you had moved without being watched. It didn’t strike you as it happened, that you had been observed along the stretch from your office to the destination.

For someone claiming to be a technician, Matt was certainly lacking in fundamental reference of mechanical installations about the station.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You did your best to sell it in as few words as possible.

Bringing a sophisticated datapad to your attention, he showed you the condemning evidence. The holovid had clearly captured the very nature of how things panned out. You wanted to wince, having to witness for a second time, Kylo Ren unleashing a devastating attack.

Oh.

You murmured, without knowing how to proceed, “Yeah, that doesn’t look good...”

I’m dead. He’s going to find out.

“No, it doesn’t look good...” Dramatic in voice, facial expression still thin and cold, the General flinched as the surveillance loop had captured the beast’s flaring temper, defacing the sealed hatch. He pulled the device back and away from your eyes; you had both seen enough. “As General, I believe I have a right to know what is going on inside my base...”

You searched for believable excuses. You would have traded every light in the blanket of the star-sieged sky above if it meant avoiding being stuck in this position that you found yourself in. Everything you could come up with evoked the taste of a lie. He was an exceptionally sharp man, he would know.

As you contemplated, the General appraised your sleepless appearance. Snide, he spoke again before you had the chance, “Although, don’t feel inclined to be too descriptive with me.”

... Did he really just say that?

The insinuation was far beyond the discomforts of your company back in the employee common area; the table you couldn't wait to leave became the table you wished you were still confined to. You quickly decided that the General's mocking tone was comparable to the upper echelon of cruelty.

Your cheeks blistered all shades of pink and red with mortification of his contention. Words clumsily rushed from your throat in defense, “I don’t know what to tell you besides that’s not what happened.”

“Unlike the Commander, I am not able to see into your mind. However, and understand this, I can tell when I’m being lied to.”

Your handshake was more than enough physical contact. If he had asked, or cared, you could make a very long list about things that had more appeal than gratuitous “contact” with the Commander.

“Out of curiosity,” you took a gentle pause before advancing, “Why is this important to you?” A polite version of the alternative: What the brix is wrong with you?

The illustrious plumage belonging to General Hux had been momentously ruffled; he strained to keep his features from displaying anything other than disapproval. “The First Order cares deeply for all suspicious activity concerning minor or major officials...”

But in him saying so, even he had been aware of the sudden flux of desperation in his tone. He plucked the next moment, raising his chin up to appear taller. Then, clearing his throat, he became suddenly fascinated with the cuffs of his military jacket. “We will be watching.”

Great. More eyes on me.

He secured his proud mane before retreating, giving you one small look as he did so. You waited until he disappeared around the opposite corner of the hallway before your thoughts shifted, bypassing the prior indiscretion.

It was hardly a second or two before you were jolted back into full awareness of your surroundings, realizing you had not been alone. Matt had been behind you, soundless and separated by mere paces. None of the signs of his presence overtaking the hallway as they had done previously. The version of fear you identified in him before hadn’t diminished either— amplified, if anything.

Worse still, above the idea that he had been there for the entire conversation, for all the painfully humiliating allegations you both shared from General Hux and all of your internalized responses, was that he had to have followed you after you left. That he had masterfully hunted you, without alerting you of his presence. You only know I’m there when I want you to. He could be lurking around around any corner and you would not know it.

It wasn’t until you had exhausted that thought had you noticed his eyes were uncharacteristically frantic. His right palm rose as his voice, still low and mostly controlled, began to break, “You feel this too.”

Parting your lips, no sound came out. You could feel your tongue and throat, hyper-aware of all your bodily movements, of your lungs pausing and micro-quivers.

Yes.

You knew what he meant. You were only surprised that it wasn’t something you had experienced in isolation. He was also affected, in some way.

He stepped forward towards you, where you instinctively stepped back. His movements were sharper and faster than your own, allowing his face to flit before you. Flecked with distinguishing freckles and marks all across the bridge of his nose, you could make out at proximity how they stretched and finely reached over his temples and cheeks. He would have had such kind features, had they not been constantly locked with tension. Maybe a lifetime ago, he was gentle. Maybe.

But how time had played with him, forcing him to become a twig snapping at the slightest movement— and so much less human all over again. His nose twitched at your thoughts, a subtle tic. Twitching, continuing along his jaw. Ash in his eyes, lost in rapture.

He moved closer again, yet still without touching any part of you if it were even possible. You could feel warmth swirling around him as he spoke; not friendliness, more like smoke, miserable and ominous. “It follows me.”

Before you now, he was bare in disastrous flesh and blood and bone. His chest heaved, up and down, breaking his concentration only to examine his hand under the light hanging above him. He spoke again, washed with further frustration, “I should be stronger now, able to resist the pull... And yet...”

Growling, aching. Unbroken eye-contact returned to you, daring you to look away.

You attempted to have a voice again, profoundly stuttering, words hanging to your teeth, “What are you talking about—“

Louder, almost shouting, pulling back from you by a step, “What have you done to me?”

I don’t know!

I just, don’t know...

He looked disgusted, pulling back further, as if you should have had answers. You were reminded of his spontaneous combustion; the clang of his hand as it smashed into thick durasteel, the depressions along the surface...

By the time he spoke again, you were dizzy. His voice was nauseating. Pointing a finger, as if to mark your third eye, you could feel him pin you to the spot. You knew he was using the last of his restraint to keep his voice entirely level, sound pulled from his evil throat. “I’ll show you what you’ve done.”

Don’t. Please.

You felt severed from your body, while he in contrast, he only grew in height.

“I will show you. I want you to see.” He was wild-eyed, pupils expanding and swallowing his irises. Howling, fully devoured by madness, “I have power, I have control. You have nothing."

He lied to himself. While he had admittedly a great deal of power, he had little control over it. And you knew it each time he opened his mouth.

His arms remained limp at his sides, in stark contrast to the veins running over his skin, fully inflamed. He held his voice steady for a final time, snapping with animus, "You will bow to me, not burn me. ”

Walls crumbled. The floor gave away.

Primal, instinctual rage filled the gap between where you stood. Tugging at the hilt of his saber, secured within his technician’s disguise, the unstable blade shot forward with diseased enthusiasm. Hissing and spitting, sparks jumping along the surface, contained within the plasma in waves along the cutting red edge. Crackling filled your ears, that of an inferno, as all of space and time bent away from his body.

You shut your eyes. You couldn’t watch.

This is how it ends.

And it could have been. Instead— he tore away from you and the corridor that bent around you. You heard as he moved, the dragging of the serrated end behind him and how it had caused a terrible discharge of spark in indiscriminate directions. One you had been able to open your eyes, your vision was filled with a slow, flickering down the passage, as he moved father and farther away. The shriek of his weapon, as it carved and cut, grew softer but no less menacing.

Your fragile heart seized as you held your hand to your chest, feeling your turbulent blood and valves snapping as they shut.

By some miracle, you had survived.