#hvbris

Arizona's desserts were a hard world to exist in, though few really could claim to have tamed it. The dust roads, clear skies, blazing sun and deserted surroundings devoid of even the whiff of cattle suggested it was not a place to be settled despite best efforts.

Ben was making his way back towards his camp for the night, believing his men would have found some means to entertain themselves in the town far over the ridge without his presence. Another few hours and the sun would be set and he expected a peaceful time to himself to sketch or consider the plans for the next heist.

Which caused him to stop his horse and look on ahead at what must have been some sort of bizarre trick of the light because he couldn't possibly be looking at a woman on the side of what was barely a road in the middle of nowhere, rather close to his very well hidden camp. A quick check around to make sure it wasn't some sort of trap and Ben had his horse trot towards her. No, that was a very real woman.

The rise and fall of his senators, kingdoms, republics was now nothing new to Romulus. His original chosen 100 families were long gone and their power and influence scattered into the mob that was Rome under Titus. Now there were huge arenas and Games to keep the masses entertained and their blood lust properly managed through the death of competitors either against each other or from the beasts of far off corners of his empire.

Romulus always cherished returning from distant front lines to his city, though each time he did something had changed. The Colosseum had been completed around a decade ago, he'd seen it and seen the games before, celebrating with his people in such a might of engineering, entertainment and the impressive capacity for the audience of the city. Now, however when he walked through the hypogeum tunnels into one of the gladiator compounds, a flash of almost white blonde hair caught his attention and he recognised her instantly despite her disguise. Lucretia Snow, daughter of shamed, shunned and later killed Claudius Snow. His gaze lingered perilously, as if it was the only thing in the room he could actually see.

She'd disguised herself as a man but he'd known her through her father, it had been years of course and the Snow family had fallen into disgrace and ruin since, which explained her being there, but he would have recognised her anywhere. Ignoring the salutes, hails and hurrying away of the other gladiators, he made an instant b-line for her. His commanding presence clearing a very easy path for him through the residents of the compound. They may have been fighters but he was a known and recognisable General and always walked about the city as if he owned the place.

"It's not that I have something to hide," argued Mina, sinking into her chair. She put her feet up on the table, glancing at Finney. "The problem's that you're never gonna believe me. No one does." She sulked, for good measure. But it was true. No one believed her. Not even her big sister. So why would Finney be any different?

The boy, in contrast to Mina, has his knees under his chin in the opposite of a relaxed position. He stares at her and blinks once, a slow blink like the neighborhood cats do. He has plenty to hide, after the basement. Maybe Mina's got something like that? Being open about it with no far of repercussions more extreme than getting laughed at must be nice. But he can't know for sure.

( endless ship edits 004 )

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 43

"Hm?"

Mycroft turned to look at Fish. They were at one of the numerous parties that occurred every year during the Hunger Games. and while they obviously hadn't attended together, they had found themselves in each other's vicinity. This wasn't unusual, of course. As big as these parties could be, there was only so much space at them. They were bound to bump into each other eventually.

This time, it seemed that Fish had sought him out with a question. Mycroft supposed he couldn't be too upset by that. At least there was a purpose to the question, and, considering that his husband wasn't there, he couldn't deny that it made sense for her to ask him. Plus, it wasn't like he could complain about being seen with her. Everybody knew he was married to Caesar, and therefore it was only common sense to assume that he knew Fish too.

Moving his gaze to where the girl was indicating, Mycroft saw who she was referring too. "Ah, I wouldn't think too much about her," he responded. "Her wife has a gambling problem. During your Games, she bet an impressive amount on you dying during the bloodbath. They were impressive odds, you see. Your lack of death, and thus subsequent win, has left them in debt - though, of course, they are trying to keep their financial situation from becoming public knowledge."

@hvbris

"I don't worry myself with the impressions of someone such as yourself." Harry said lowly, glaring at the other- the fact that she might be the only person in this entire school that came close to him in intellect was aggravating, he hadn't even wanted to come here- durmstrang would have made a much better school for what he was interested in.

"Do you always try to impose your inferior will on others?" Harry asked curiously, snorting. "What do you want Granger? Besides to annoy me with pointless questions?"

semi-plotted || @hvbris ( luke skywalker )

Bron'ig didn't care much for the Empire while it was reigning. Being in the Outer Rim, mostly trying to take down slave trades and pirate gangs, meant the inner politics of the Empire were beyond his interest.

He hated politics, at least that didn't change.

The Death Star was destroyed, Alderaan was destroyed, and Bron'ig moved on. That is, until he heard the name of the person apparently responsible for taking it down: Luke Skywalker.

The name had a fresh GRIEF and SORROW bursting forth in a way that he hadn't felt in decades. Pain blossomed into a persistent headache. The once beautiful balance he found with the dark side thrown off-kilter.

So he tracked him down.

It was actually a bit hard to find the Jedi at first. Skywalker seemed to be going around the galaxy, and Bron'ig seemed to constantly be one step behind. Until finally, he managed to track him down to an old planet that had a Jedi Temple on it.

He was careful to be dressed in his Mandalorian gear, his lightsaber tucked away, his Force presence dulled and dim. But Obi-Wan just had to know. It was eating away at him. Although now that he was on the backwater planet watching the man, he had second thoughts. What exactly would he say?

( Hello there! I used to teach your father; turns out I was a horrible teacher! )

But what of your mother? The thought of all those who had died from the rise of the Empire hurt. Bron'ig had convinced himself that he didn't care. Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead; why would he care about all those who had died?

But he did.

Pain burst behind his head again as the dark side came knocking. The control he had slipping as the tendrils in his chest grew, coiling out of him. He felt himself shaking, hands trembling as they clutched at his helmeted head. With a gasp, Bron'ig unclasped the helmet and ripped it off, grasping for air as he felt like he was suffocating.

The control he had on his Force presence was waning, the Dark side itching to make itself known.

( KILL HIM. )

( KILL HIM BEFORE HE HUNTS YOU DOWN FIRST )

The thoughts echoed in his head as he panted, now apparently on his knees on the forest floor. It felt like he couldn't breathe, like the air in his lungs was being sucked out through a straw as the cold of the dark filled the void, leaving him cold, cold, cold. Years of murders and despicable acts played behind his eyes, shoving their sorrow and pain into him as tears streamed down his face.

With a growl, Bron'ig pushed himself off the ground with a predatory gait to his step. In a desperate attempt, he grasped the dark side and reigned it in, pulling the tendrils under his skin, humming with power.