Hiiii! I'm the one who sent the behaviour revan ask (wonderfully written by the way)
You can ignore this if not
But, how do you think Revan would react to a completely willing darling? And a darling who isn't willing at all?
You can ask as many as you like darling!! I love answering them🥰🥰I'll try to make this one a bit more ethereal/aesthetic.
You blame the Jedi counsel for your master's fall to the dark side. You blame the Force, fate, the moon, the stars. You blame the galaxy and all its dichotomies. You blame anyone except the man himself
In your naive eyes, Revan can do no wrong.
You see him again tonight. In a backstreet away from the temples prying eyes. The immortal lights of Coruscant are your only witness as you break every rule engraved within your bones.
His looming figure is harrowing, terror and power draped in armor. You try to remind yourself to breathe, that he won't hurt you. You pray under your breath for this to be true.
Revan's presence is a weight reminding everyone of his place above them. He's a Sith now, he's free to flaunt the power he's always tamed.
His thumb pats your bottom lip. You taste lighting from his fingertips. Surges of rouge power, minuscule in their dosage, still overpower your feeble senses. As he pries down your bottom lip and tucks his thumb between your teeth demanding you suck. You comply, you've always complied.
"my apprentice" he whispers like an ineffable secret.
You feel the tendrils of his darkness beckoning you. Feel the way he pulls you into his world. His umbra. You go willing, promising to follow your master to the ends of the galaxy.
Overall Revan would be more gentle, more docile with a willing darling. Even patronizing at times. He'd see himself in the position to train you, to feed you his knowledge until you grow stronger. He likes to push your limits, to watch you squirm under him as he kisses down your neck. He'd take you everywhere with him and Malak. Show you everything. His darkness shields you from anything that could potentially hurt you until you morph into his perfect warrior.
There's a ghost that haunts you. Powerful and all-consuming. You blame the Darksiders he's been in contact with. From the planet-eating shadow to the traitorous companion. The Revan you once knew is dead, only a baleful husk remains. One who stalks the planets in search of false idolizes and empty ambitions.
Only the monster remains.
You feel his presence lingering inside you. A sharp diamond cut on frail cartilage. Somehow he follows you in every realm, every reality. He's built from barren crepuscules and fuliginous aspirations. All morphed to appear as a semi-human creature. His mask is trained on you. It takes every willpower to stand your ground.
Your fingers itch for your lightsaber, a feeble attempt at resistance. "You wish for a duel little one?" his voice is forbidding, taunting. You both know how this will end.
"I am not you. I am no traitor, no monster, no abomination." Embers from your heart drift into your mouth. You spit them at him hoping he'll burn.
Your words hold rage undefiting a Jedi. Your eyes mere slates of hatred.
As you've learned so very little tends to do.
"I never asked you to be." He's calm. Miserably so. You feel the force dragging you to his side. You scream as fingers wrap around your delicate throat. His frigid mask lowers to a puls point, mimicking a mock kiss.
Revan doesn't reward insubordination. Yet he tolerates your little rebellion for mere amusement. It gives him an excuse to play rough. To break you in the name of love and rebirth. He loves how sweet your screams sound when he drags the tip of his red lightsaber across the valley of your chest all the way to your squishy stomach. Love the scent of your flesh burning as you beg him to stop. Throwing promises of behaving so he'd just make the pain stop.
Oh, how you make his cold heart beat.
How he loves your sensation within his arms
Still, it's important to know that Revan is many things, many important things. Warrior, general, sith...You should be beyond grateful he's even permitted you into his life. Even graced you with his attention.
At best, he sees you as a defective acolyte at worst a pet. Somehow they mean the same thing. They mean you are his to use at his leisure. Not a person, not a sentient being, just a trophy fallen Jedi like to flaunt.
Your body is a crime scene. One where the murderer leaves bleeding love bites and open wounds. Revan writes love letters upon your skin and you wholly long to burn them. To burn yourself, an escape from the miserable reality he's forced you into.
