"i woke up hurting, though i can't quite say why."
— woke up hurting//frightened rabbit
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He's Force-sensitive.
Kark.
He's Force-sensitive and he's just learned it from a Sith, of all people. A Darksider. Warning him of the dangers he now faces at the revelation and his subsequent acknowledgement (albeit with a hint of denial, still) of the new reality he now must live with.
Arctus' throat seizes, closing up and making him struggle to get air into his lungs. It feels as if a pair of cold hands have found their way around his neck to strangle him gleefully while Coven's words play in his mind on repeat. Like a broken holorecord.
The Force sticks to you heavily Arctus.
The Force echoes like a beacon around you, my friend, drawing forces such as I towards you.
You thrum with the cloying scent of the Darkside, Arctus.
There are things far more dangerous than myself who would love to find one such as you.
Grabbing another bottle, the smuggler's hands shake as he tries to pull the cap off. The bottle slips from his grasp. He tries to catch it, but the force of his grip is too tight that he ends up crushing the glass in his hand. The sharp edges slice his palm, blood mixing with alcohol as they flow down, down, down...
He can't breathe. His palm is sliced open, he needs to stop the bleeding, kriff the wound will not kill him but it hurts, it hurts, and yet it feels so good he needs more–
Not upon yourself.
Hazel grey eyes widen at the voice that isn't his own. Arctus straightens on his seat, looking around in search of the speaker despite knowing full well that he's alone in his ship. He's still in the spaceport on Corellia, recently returned to the Cyar'ika after visiting his family. After the encounter with Coven. After visiting another bar to drown himself in alcohol to somehow forget what he's just learned about himself and beating himself up for not asking Mum if Dad's really his father and not the wandering space monk the gossipmongers have been talking about – the Jedi he must have inherited this karking Force from–
Other people might be happy about the revelation, but Arctus isn't one of them. Confirming that he's Force-sensitive only mean two things: One, he's not Dad's son. Two, the beatings and harsh words he's received as a child have been justified. No married man in his right mind wants to find out that his wife's carrying the child of another man, right?
Kriffing stars above, he's thirty-two already, he shouldn't be affected by dramatic shit like this anymore. He just needs to man up, accept things for what they are, and move on like what he's learned is nothing–
(But Arctus is still that hurting little kid who just wants even a morsel of Dad's love because he loves his old man, he really does, despite the beatings and the insults he's received and Dad walking out of their lives and never returning–)
With an enraged scream, Arctus curls in on himself, hands covering his ears as laughter – malicious, dark, and evil – fills his head with a defeaning din.
—
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