TW: Self-harm
Jeset had found escape from the chains of the Empire, the chains of the Sith. But at a steep price. He had let fear drive him. Fear had driven him to be first to flee from the council hall where the Dark Lord of the Sith had called all those loyal to the Order. Fear had driven him to toss his saber to the side as the looming specter of death hung high above. Fear had driven him to slip in his panic, to divulge his name. Fear had driven him to the Omega station, to that blank room where he had divulged his secrets and gave another power over him.
Fear had driven him to trade one set of chains for another.
Fear was a weakness and weakness was to be purged.
In the solace of his ship, Jeset gathered the tools of his penance, the tools that his master had given him years ago upon his first failure. Aadya had been a harsh master, but in her harshness she had given Jeset the tools he needed to survive on his own. She had given him the tools he needed to grow stronger without her guidance. The tools he needed to overcome the weakness of his mind and mortal frame. Pain was a harsh master, but through pain, his weakness would be purged.
Jeset hesitated as he reached for his shirt. There was nothing holding him to this, no Aadya, no other acolytes who would witness if he were to just... not. The memory of searing pain, over and over flashed through his mind. Fear. Weakness. Thats all the thoughts were. Another temptation to stray from the path. It was now in this moment of isolation that it was most necessary. More fear, the fear of pain that tempted him to stray, if even just this once. And if once. Again. And again. Until he had strayed so far from the path that he could no longer call himself a Sith.
Jeset let his shirt drop to the floor.
Jeset had found escape from the chains of the Empire, the chains of the Sith. But at a steep price. He had let fear drive him. Fear had driven him to be first to flee from the council hall where the Dark Lord of the Sith had called all those loyal to the Order. Fear had driven him to toss his saber to the side as the looming specter of death hung high above. Fear had driven him to slip in his panic, to divulge his name. Fear had driven him to the Omega station, to that blank room where he had divulged his secrets and gave another power over him.
Fear had driven him to trade one set of chains for another.
Fear was a weakness and weakness was to be purged.
In the solace of his ship, Jeset gathered the tools of his penance, the tools that his master had given him years ago upon his first failure. Aadya had been a harsh master, but in her harshness she had given Jeset the tools he needed to survive on his own. She had given him the tools he needed to grow stronger without her guidance. The tools he needed to overcome the weakness of his mind and mortal frame. Pain was a harsh master, but through pain, his weakness would be purged.
Jeset hesitated as he reached for his shirt. There was nothing holding him to this, no Aadya, no other acolytes who would witness if he were to just... not. The memory of searing pain, over and over flashed through his mind. Fear. Weakness. Thats all the thoughts were. Another temptation to stray from the path. It was now in this moment of isolation that it was most necessary. More fear, the fear of pain that tempted him to stray, if even just this once. And if once. Again. And again. Until he had strayed so far from the path that he could no longer call himself a Sith.
Jeset let his shirt drop to the floor.