The leaders of the Sepertists were dead, their bodies still warm in Mustafar's heat, even inside the building. Vader had been striding through doors, hunting to ensure no one had been missed. Privately, despite knowing it was impossible, the man was dead; he would have found a great deal of satisfaction had Clovis been there. He would have saved him for last, he thinks.
He found himself somewhere else after walking through a door to backtrack, unsure of what had happened or where he was. He'd paused just long enough to salvage various ropes, cords, and other things to craft a bag of sorts and ignored the other building to head for the hospital. On his way, he snatched what might be useful, but the aura around him was Dark, frigid cold, menacing. On the fringes of his awareness, he could sense something, someone, and Vader knew he knew who that person was and that he could easily know if he focused on it. But for the moment, he did not, even if he headed in that direction.
Just before he entered the hospital, something brushed against his right forearm, and unthinking, he reached across him to brush off the debris. Inside, his senses sharpened, his mouth twisted into a vicious grin as he made his way inside. Until turning a corner, it radically shifted.
He was on his knees. Why? He was supposed to be, but some part of his mind resisted it. Snarled at it. And a figure over there. His blue eyes focused on it, his mouth twitched, fighting on his face to stay submissive when he wanted to snarl and snap.
"Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you."
I'm not telling you anykriffingthing, he thought, shoulders tensing, fingers itching, one for his saber, one for power. He remembered the lightning that had shot from his hand inside the Jedi Temple, the effectiveness of it. The ease.
"You are not my master." It is almost, almost spit out, but he manages to choke it into a growl.
Re: Sheev Palpatine | Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
He found himself somewhere else after walking through a door to backtrack, unsure of what had happened or where he was. He'd paused just long enough to salvage various ropes, cords, and other things to craft a bag of sorts and ignored the other building to head for the hospital. On his way, he snatched what might be useful, but the aura around him was Dark, frigid cold, menacing. On the fringes of his awareness, he could sense something, someone, and Vader knew he knew who that person was and that he could easily know if he focused on it. But for the moment, he did not, even if he headed in that direction.
Just before he entered the hospital, something brushed against his right forearm, and unthinking, he reached across him to brush off the debris. Inside, his senses sharpened, his mouth twisted into a vicious grin as he made his way inside. Until turning a corner, it radically shifted.
s̷̖̮͓̩̞̼̻͇̝͓̪̑̃͒͒͆͗͛̈͐̆̈͑̕͘̚h̸͙͎͖̻̤̞̞̪̃͐̈́͌͆̋̈́́͂͊͘ỉ̶̖͉̭̞̠̐̐̌̽̋͌͜f̷̢̛̲̬̳̰͎̤̮͇̩͉̑́͌͌̀͒̓̇̈́̍̑̚͝t̴̥̝̻̮̦͔̭̟̓̊̄e̶̝̜͈̭̲͖̳̺̣̓͒̈́͊̂̑̑̚͝ͅd̴̺̲͖̥̦̘̗̮̝̲̀̈́̐́̋͆̊̿͛̚͝͠.̸̨͉͙̠̭̤̦̬̎́̔̏̒͝
He was on his knees. Why? He was supposed to be, but some part of his mind resisted it. Snarled at it. And a figure over there. His blue eyes focused on it, his mouth twitched, fighting on his face to stay submissive when he wanted to snarl and snap.
"Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you."
I'm not telling you anykriffingthing, he thought, shoulders tensing, fingers itching, one for his saber, one for power. He remembered the lightning that had shot from his hand inside the Jedi Temple, the effectiveness of it. The ease.
"You are not my master." It is almost, almost spit out, but he manages to choke it into a growl.