09-13-2016, 01:09 PM
Sweat beaded down the side of Marcus' face. He was flushed now, his skin hot. His eyes watered and he imagined he could hear the sizzling of the tears on his cheeks. Only imagination, of course. Ascendancy's screams filled the room.
Where was he? For a moment he felt lost, strength draining from him as lost the Force. The fog in his mind had thickened. He felt the floor beneath him, wood cool on his cheek. He clung to that feeling, so cool. Part of him wanted to just sleep, to let this heat wash over him. To let go and sink into oblivion.
He was scared. He was in that cage again, in the dark. It had been an accident. The milk covering the table, the soft white bread and baloney sandwich now mush. His eyes shot up to Mama Lawson at the ironing board, tired eyes drawn down. His 6 year old mouth drew down in fear and he started to cry. Pleading with her. Andre tried to explain but she slapped him and he hit the ground. She was so mad at the mess. At them.
"You don't know how hard I work to feed you boys! How hard this is!" she said with barely concealed anger and exhaustion. "No appreciation at all." The iron was in her hand and her hand shot out, nails like pincers in his arm to grab him and....
He whimpered at the memory, the searing heat. And then the cold cage, alone in the dark, the cool of the floor a relief to the throbbing pain he felt. The cool floor. So sweet he wanted to sink in and hide, to run away...
Malk growled from somewhere deep inside. The barely contained rage that always simmered below the surface exploded, seizing him. He felt energy suffuse him and he forced his thoughts clear. The scream of pure blinding rage filled his ears and he forced himself up, ignoring the burning of his skin.
Forced himself to think. That metal ball, blue arcing sparks on its surface. And I remembered. The food container with the metal handle in the microwave. He looked at Ascendancy, at the creature attacking him. He inhaled the Force, lord of it, master of if.
In that moment he saw without his eyes the desperate weaves of the Ascendancy, trying to fend off the creature. And in that moment the walls blew out. For a moment his vision cleared, and there! He could see them through the fog and the cloud and debris. People, recovering from the blast. One of them shouted at him, something in his hands.
The agony of the crackling of his skin tried to force its way into him, but Malik refused to feel it. He tried to stand but his legs would not obey. No!
He was Darth Malik. He would not kneel. He struggled upward even as he wove a blast of air at the man, another weave of air thick and dense.
Where was he? For a moment he felt lost, strength draining from him as lost the Force. The fog in his mind had thickened. He felt the floor beneath him, wood cool on his cheek. He clung to that feeling, so cool. Part of him wanted to just sleep, to let this heat wash over him. To let go and sink into oblivion.
He was scared. He was in that cage again, in the dark. It had been an accident. The milk covering the table, the soft white bread and baloney sandwich now mush. His eyes shot up to Mama Lawson at the ironing board, tired eyes drawn down. His 6 year old mouth drew down in fear and he started to cry. Pleading with her. Andre tried to explain but she slapped him and he hit the ground. She was so mad at the mess. At them.
"You don't know how hard I work to feed you boys! How hard this is!" she said with barely concealed anger and exhaustion. "No appreciation at all." The iron was in her hand and her hand shot out, nails like pincers in his arm to grab him and....
He whimpered at the memory, the searing heat. And then the cold cage, alone in the dark, the cool of the floor a relief to the throbbing pain he felt. The cool floor. So sweet he wanted to sink in and hide, to run away...
Malk growled from somewhere deep inside. The barely contained rage that always simmered below the surface exploded, seizing him. He felt energy suffuse him and he forced his thoughts clear. The scream of pure blinding rage filled his ears and he forced himself up, ignoring the burning of his skin.
Forced himself to think. That metal ball, blue arcing sparks on its surface. And I remembered. The food container with the metal handle in the microwave. He looked at Ascendancy, at the creature attacking him. He inhaled the Force, lord of it, master of if.
In that moment he saw without his eyes the desperate weaves of the Ascendancy, trying to fend off the creature. And in that moment the walls blew out. For a moment his vision cleared, and there! He could see them through the fog and the cloud and debris. People, recovering from the blast. One of them shouted at him, something in his hands.
The agony of the crackling of his skin tried to force its way into him, but Malik refused to feel it. He tried to stand but his legs would not obey. No!
He was Darth Malik. He would not kneel. He struggled upward even as he wove a blast of air at the man, another weave of air thick and dense.