Emryc had taken a ‘leave of absence’ from his duties for his ‘health’. No one batted an eye because he left his very capable Executive Council in charge. Even so, he couldn’t exactly venture off back to that village when he had been blind. He was still reachable by comms when ISC contacted him. He ignored his Sith duties entirely for a few weeks, no doubt expecting some griping from Renfry. He had a million missed calls and he ignored them all unless they came from a specific ISC aide that had been instructed to bring critical escalations to him.
The half Sephi wasn’t the type to externally throw a fit or lash out when he was in pain. This was a pain he didn’t know how to cope with, and it was territory he never ventured into. He heard Morgan’s sing song voice wherever he went. He smelled the citrus and spice everywhere. He saw the golden eyes whenever he closed his own. He felt the soft brush of fangs across his skin. It was all the ghost of a touch, vivid enough to feel as if it were there, only for reality to kick him in the guts over and over again till he wanted to vomit.
Emryc didn’t shed tears, but he felt torn open all the same. He felt layers of himself peel away, he attempted to piece them back, only for them to peel back away again. It felt like knives scraping into his psyche, digging open the raw wound he tried so desperately to close. It was a wound that bled profusely no matter how much he tried to pretend it wasn’t there.
The half Sephi avoided all public contact. He was holed up in an apartment he sometimes used as a business stop as President. Except instead of his suits, he was adorned in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants and glasses framing silver eyes streaked with yellow. He lounged lazily on a sofa as he had for days. He had a bowl of crispy, oily snacks on his stomach. He didn’t even care that he got grease on his fingers as he popped them in his mouth. His hair was disheveled and slightly long, he had a short beard from lack of maintenance, and bags under his eyes from not sleeping. He hadn’t trained a single day since arriving here, and he even skipped a few showers before finally at least doing that again.
Emryc’s comlink was dead in the other room as he licked the grease off his fingers, an action he normally found beyond disgusting and wouldn’t be caught dead doing. He vacantly stared at the Holo that was showing old reruns of Huttball games he had seen a thousand times.
The apartment was full of leftover takeout boxes and half full glasses of water, a crazy 180 from his insanely neatfreak habits. The room was a mess with clothes strewn all over and unhealthy snack boxes stashed everywhere. This was a routine he had been repeating for days on end - plopping down on the sofa, eating snacks, watching the reruns, falling asleep there and repeating the next day. He expected exactly the same today as well.
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