𝚅𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 ... @commandsfear (continued.)
Vader cared nothing for what she could achieve against him. No one could beat him, bar his own master. Training Trilla was going to help destroy that last bit of infallibility within him. In theory, at least.
She did not mask her feelings from him-- or he simply already knew what she thought. Vader knew he was a villain, knew that the Dark Side corrupted like a PLAGUE within his chest. It had taken Dooku, Ventress, Quinlan... And now him. Even know, he could only feel regret mixed with horror at what he had done to Padme-- at what it had resulted in.
Perhaps that was why he now searched. For his children. For Rex. For a love that no longer belonged to him. Within his chest, a heart he long thought dead ached with fervor. Never in his life had he expected one of the people whom Anakin Skywalker loved to be alive.
It should have been a gift. Yet, it didn’t feel like it.
He blocks her with ease, moving his arm up to send her back without the Force, but with the simple power of motion. She knows that she can’t beat him and she knows that he knows as well. This is hardly about showmanship nor skill-- it is about attrition. About how long Trilla can last.
Does she know he’s testing that? To see how long she can go before she gives up? Gives in? She had already given in to the Dark Side, would she give into FAILURE as well? If so, she was hardly a worthy apprentice. Giving up meant that the Emperor would... what? Win? He supposed that was the best thing to call it.
though it had come with pain and suffering, part of her believes that turning towards the dark side had been one of the easiest things in life. being taken on as a padawan had been harder, a young girl stumbling through desperate attempts to prove herself with clumsy attempts to make cere proud —— that had been a difficult feat. her mentor had been understanding of her failings, in ways she suspected others would not have, and yet trilla can still remember the weariness in the woman’s eyes at finding her tucked away in a corner of her room with a book in hand rather than a weapon.
and truly, it had been a blessing that the seeker had taken no role in the clone wars, for both of them had known trilla would never come close to becoming a legend. especially not like the broken one that stood before her now, who had made a mediocre padawan into a killing weapon. as if breaking someone so entirely was nothing. as easy as blood ran red in the wake of the empire’s creation.
yes, that part had been easy. it was nothing compared to the cool desperation that seemed to grow in her chest with every deflected blow, wanting… force, she wasn’t sure what she wanted from this. feet apart in a wide stance, the momentum of his shove throwing her for a second longer than she prefers. none of the anxious overthinking of her youth, hesitance burned away from her as she spins before slashing as quickly as she can. the other side of her saber flashes in her vision as it ignites in mid-air, pointed towards him; hoping he’s broken her enough to make something dangerous.
she would not yield. (NOT AGAIN.) not when every sharp breath in her lungs burned with an anger she was tired of carrying.
