The Witching Hour ~ Ten Forward

[demontobeloved]

A calm and peaceful evening in Ten Forward, it was mostly busy, a buzz of low chatter amongst the patrons, people eating dinner, talking with friends, all around socialising… One might be forgiven for thinking that Q wasn’t a constant issue.

That is until, out of thin air, a tall man seems to… shimmer into visibility. The second he realises he’s not where he supposed to be, he frowns, tensing up, his right hand clenching into a fist as he scans the bar area.

“What the hell…?” He mutters to himself, knowing for a certain fact that the place they’d scryed wasn’t in a bar. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but there’s no demon here… No demons anywhere. No bounty hunters, no Source… It’s a bit unreal.

Narrowing his eyes, he looks around again, before raising his voice. “Phoebe?”

Phoebe walks into the bar minutes after Cole, and she is calling a guy’s name, but it certainly isn’t Cole’s. “Chris! Chris, where are you? I thought we were due a break after the Valkyries and everything….Woah.” Her tirade is cut short as she spots Cole.

The peaceful evening is definitely interrupted. “You.” Phoebe closes the distance towards him, and she’s aiming to land a kick on his jaw. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.” In fact he shouldn’t be anywhere. He is gone, out of her life. For good. Not standing there...looking for her.

Now Cole wasn’t expecting the kick for his jaw… Luckily, his reflexes as a half-demon were still pretty tight; he manages to catch her foot… Just like that time on the college campus. Back when he…

Nope. Not the time to think about that. He holds Phoebe’s foot right there.

“The hell are you talking about, I…” And he stops, frowning. “We were…” Something wasn’t right here.

Something really isn’t right. Phoebe is getting one too many emotions off him and she wishes it would go away. She freezes, with her foot in his hand. There is a second of dead silence as she remembers how to speak. “Let go of my foot Cole,” she says quietly. “What do you think we were doing?”

If this is some sort of new trick….

“Not until I’m certain you’re not going to try and kick me again.” He remarks, dourly. “And how do I know this isn’t a trick? The Source pulling the big guns out to try and find me? I’m not gonna tell you where we were going.”

“The Source?” Phoebe is looking at Cole, like he’s gone insane. “Have you banged your head?” The Source is long dead, and this is making his behaviour even more suspicious. She struggles and tries to pull her foot free herself. “This has absolutely nothing to do with the Source.”

“This has everything to do with the Source, and if you are who you say you are, you would know what I’m talking about.” He keeps ahold of her foot, before losing his grip as she twists free. He takes a few steps back, tensing up. “So, either tell me who you are, or what the hell’s going on here.”

((OOC: Cole and Phoebe are going to continue to argue, feel free to interject. If you want one or the other, specify, or we'll bounce around and threadjack each other. Specify if this isn't okay!))

Arrival - The Rising and the Fading of the Dark [OTA!]

[dark_lady_sariss]

She felt it, the last moment. The ending of her life. It was a terrible thing, an eternity in a flash. She'd never expected it to be that way. The cut of Katarn's lightsaber into her body, well. She hardly felt that at all. It was the knowing. That despite everything, she had failed. That despite all her power, she had been too weak. That she had killed the closest thing she would ever have to a friend.

Failure.

That was the worst of it, as the last glimpse of Ruusan faded away and the blackness encompassed all. She had failed her master. She had failed herself.

So when her eyes opened again, when the surge of adrenaline of a body still alive hit her, that sudden flush of sheer life ran headlong into the full, cold rage of the dark side. She lurched from - what was it, a deck? - falling backwards against a wall. Her cloak fell around her. She'd put it aside before the duel, hadn't she?

Then she felt it. The distant, fuzzy call of the dark side. It was...there, but...not. Further away. Distant. Hard to feel it as she once had. She breathed hard, looking around, her voice for a mere moment tremulous:

"..Yun? I..."

Then the anger came anew, marching back through her soul with the unstoppable power of an army. Her breathing calmed, with visible effort, and she pushed up from the wall, still shaky, but the blue eyes were cold. Colder than Hoth, colder than death.

She reached down to her waist, and the briefest look of relief flitted across her face as she found the metallic cylinder of her lightsaber. Good. Good. Then, she looked around, taking in her surroundings. If this was the afterlife, it was a decided disappointment. That, too, fueled her rage.

She straightened, proud and imperious. No, the dark side might be far, but it was there and she was alive. She would need to plan. If her master was not here, he would eventually find his way. And then, well. Then she could have everything in order for him. Whatever this was, wherever this was - she would not fail again.

People were going to die, even if it took time. Time to recover, time to plan. Time enough to kill all who stood in her way.