Tear Down These Walls || CA Closed
As a Sith, one must accept certain teachings. One must accept that he has power. One must fuel that power with all he can. One must set his eyes on a goal and plough forward until he reaches it. One must struggle until his fingers bleed and he can no longer see through the tears in his eyes -- and then he must forget the pain and keep on moving.
And to some, that was quite a literal situation.
Darth Sion clutched the ground, his breathing ragged. Around him, stone and dirt were scattered -- parts of the thick wall which surrounded the massive city he had found himself in. Being unable to locate his lightsaber, he had taken to dismantling a solid concrete wall with his bare hands, desperation and rage fueling his work, his muscles tearing; his skin shuddering in atrocious agony, and still, through the pain, he worked. It was only with exhaustion after hours of maddening labor that he had collapsed, having worked remarkably deep into the wall with not a single hope of escape, even now.
“.................Do not stare at me with such judicious eyes, wretch.”
All that brought him back to reality was the presence of a stranger, a woman who had approached to find the Sith, his body a wreck, torn and scarred and serrated with the wounds of a thousand battles, the countless deaths he had experienced and not allowed to take him. His voice sounded the same -- as if someone had cut open his vocal cords and sewn them together haphazardly, an evil vibration in his words. Turning his head from his bowed position, Sion glared at the stranger with his lone good eye, the orb burning with hatred.
“.....The name of this city...it is the Hive, yes?”
