Collan's says are filled with training. Spending time in meditation with Ch'lana in the morning, and working with his sabre in the afternoon. It is hard, difficult work, but rewarding as well. At least it started out that way.
Collan has been growing increasingly uneasy. At first is was occasional flashes of anxiety. Then, he started seeing things - movement out of the corner of his eye. But when he would look, nothing would be there. By the end of the week, he's become fairly convinced that there was someone or something else on the ship with you. He can find no evidence for such a thing, but the feeling has become stronger and it is making his sleep restless. He jumps at minor ship noises and the like, and it is getting harder to cover. No one else seems to be having these reactions. Things have gotten worse though - he has started to hear whispers, barely audible. He can find no source, but they certainly seem auditory, not a mental thing. Investigation reveals nothing, but it is becoming maddening.
These feelings have been in the background, and with nothing firm to bring up, he's been timid about speaking about any of this. Not so much from a fear of anything, more a lack of ability to articulate what he has been feeling.
Overlayed on this, but somehow separate, is a feeling that Collan needs to be somewhere. The need has grown stronger as the days have gone by. It's not something he can explain, and he doesn't know where it might be that he needs to be, but the sense is growing stronger that he needs to be somewhere else, and it is not where the ship is currently headed.
A week after being on board, Collan resolves to speak to Ch'lana about what has been going on at their morning meditation session. He goes to bed that night, thinking about how to explain all this to Ch'lana.
He awakes in a cold sweat in the middle of his sleep cycle, heart racing and in a panic. Sweat covers his skin as he snaps wide awake in bed. He looks around frantically, but he cannot see what caused him to awaken. Collan takes a breath to try and calm himself, but as he does so, he clearly hears a voice.
"Collan..."
He does not remember that voice. Yet it is somehow familiar, and hearing it causes a renewed feeling of panic. That voice is terrifying, though not for any reason Collan could explain.
"Collan..."
It sounds like it is coming from outside the door to his stateroom.
[Actions?]
Collan closes his eyes and lets his anxiety and panic flow through him, not to subsume him but to let the Force wash it away. He didn't try to steel himself against it or force it away but rather let the fear pass through on its way; the Force and the place of calm were what Collan sought.
If there was an intruder, then Collan would need (possibly) to provide a defense, so he put on his weapons belt, including the training saber. It may not be necessary, but he needed to be ready to deal with hostilities. Standing up, Collan went to the door. He focused on his breathing technique, keeping a steady and even pace. The fear and anxiety were there, but so was the Force. He could feel its warm against his mind, calming him against the coldness of fear and the chills of anxiety.
"Who's there?" Collan called out as he approached the door.
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Collan tried to control his breathing, but he cannot seem to catch his breath and the attempt leaves him gasping. The voice calls out again, more urgently this time.
Getting to his feet, Collan straps on his weapon belt and moves barefoot and bare-chested to the door. He listens for a moment, gripped by a fear he cannot name. Pressing his ear to the door, there is nothing for a moment. Then, with an abruptness that startles him, he hears his name and it sounds like to came from immediately through the door panel.
With a trembling hand, he opens the door, stepping back and ready for anything.
Outside, the ship is lit for night cycle, with subdued lighting near the floor the only illumination. Hesitantly, struggling to calm himself, he peeks into the gangway. Nothing to the right. He looks left, and catches movement in the shadows. From that direction someone whispers.
"Collan..."
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Why was he feeling this way? Why couldn't he catch his breath and calm himself? What was going on here?
Agitation built inside Collan. This wasn't right. Something was clearly wrong. An unknown yet familiar voice. Collan knew he was panting; his eyes darted from side-to-side, looking for a threat that wasn't there...or invisible. A hand went to the blaster on his belt. Part of him knew that it was a useless gesture. Phantoms and ghosts lurked here now...not real threats.
This had to be some sort of Force-based apparition. The fear meant it was the Dark Side...or something of the Dark Side. An unknown yet familiar voice? His father? Demaia warned him that learning about the Force would call the man. But so soon? Were they that closely tied?
And why did Collan feel like they were going to the wrong place? Agitation and anxiety were not of the good side. So this had to the Dark Side...right? He asked himself with his heart racing and breathing quickened.
Collan crept towards the shadows...yeah...if panic was setting in like...it had to be an external manifestation...or rather Collan hoped he'd be able to control himself better. It wasn't like he'd not been in tense situations before. He knew what firefights felt like and to face a Dark Jedi. He'd had control then...was there something about learning the Force that opened his mind and body up? Make him lose control? Collan was strong in himself...that was how he'd escaped...his personal strength and the Force. Yet now, he couldn't stop...why couldn't he.
All this went through his mind as he crept down the corridor, towards the shadows.
"Who's...who's there?" he asked, his voice on the edge of breaking, which irritated him. And that only made things worse.
Calm down, Collan. Easy. This is in your head. Demaia was able to get inside pretty easily too. She was light and this is shadow. he repeated internally.
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Collan follows the whispers down the corridor until he stands before another stateroom. In trying to fight the rising tide of panic, he's lost track of exactly where he is in the ship, but for now his attention is focused on the doorway before him.
Standing before the door, the voice calls to him again, louder this time and more insistent. It's clearly not in his mind - he hears the sound with his ears.
A trembling hand reaches out and opens the door. Sweat slicks his palms. The hairs on Collan's head rise.
The door slides open to reveal a tall figure, dressed in a red outfit with a black and red cape over the shoulders. The figure wears a full helmet with a mask. A black cylinder hangs from the figure's belt on either side.
"At last, I have found you," says a synthesized voice.
Slowly, hands reach up to the mask. There is a click as it opens, and the hands slowly pull it away.
Collan's heart almost stops.
The face is pale - almost grey - and shot through with black veins. The eyes are bloodshot, and the mouth is twisted into a cruel grin. But Colland instantly recognizes the face of his father.
Panic freezes Collan in place - he can barely breathe.
"Without that witch to hide you, it was a simple matter to track you down, my son. I have been hunting you since you first looked up our family name on Karvis. My brother tried to keep us apart, but it was inevitable we would be together again. Now you will join me and fulfill your destiny."
His voice is calm, but more terrifying for it.
Slowly, the figure offers a hand to Collan.
"Join me, son."
Mentally, Collan is trying to gain control of his body, but to no avail. His trembling is to bad he fears his knees will give out, and he gasps for air, unable to catch his breath. It takes Collan a few moments, and a couple of swallows, but he manages to find his voice, shaky though it is.
[Actions?]
Your arms and legs are effectively frozen by panic, though you feel a strong urge to take the offered hand.
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Collan could steel himself with anger and hate. He knew it. And that was a path. He could summon the bitterness and revulsion at everything his father's actions had caused. That could save him, but then he would give up everything he had been...
There was a part of Collan that recognized his father was influencing through the Dark Side...or trying to (and doing a very good job of it...unfortunately).
Find the calm place. Find the calm place. Find the calm. Panic was nearly overwhelming. It was too soon. He needed to be...stronger...have more control.
Collan swallowed and let the fear flow. It was worse than the escape. Act anyways. Judge your actions based on the calmness even if you can't there yourself. Don't blame...anger won't really help. He's hoping to get you mad or at least to be driven by fear.
"No," Collan barely managed through the fear, "And if you cared...really cared...you'd not have gotten in my head in the first place."
He had a question...but knew the answer already. So he asked a different one.
"What even makes you think I'd want to?" It was hard to keep himself in check. How much was Inigo's influence and how much was Collan?
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There is a low, mocking laugh. "What makes you think 'want' has anything to do with it? You will be mine, Collan. It is your destiny. I will never stop coming for you. I. Will. Never. Stop."
He pauses a moment, a sickening smile on is face. "Cease this pointless struggle. You cannot fight your fate. If I must take you by force, you know - you know - what will happen to those who get in my way..."
[Actions?]
Arms and legs still paralyzed. Heart still racing, and you're feeling dizzy.
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Collan's breathing and heartrate were through the roof. He knew he was hyperventilating; he felt the dizziness.
"What...I want...means nothing..." Collan breathed, his head swimming furiously. Fear filled him. His muscles were locked but Collan's mind swayed. Seeing was becoming harder.
"I have...chosen...I serve the Force...that is...my destiny, father," Collan's voice lost its quaver. For all the fear and panic, Collan felt a wellspring of determination, "You can only...take my body...not my spirit. I will not serve evil...or the Dark Side...father. Greed. Jealousy. Hate. I've...seen what it does...how it hurts people," Collan felt a rush...blood pounded in his ears...his breath came faster and faster. Panic? Fear? Exhilaration? It was hard to tell. Except...he would never give in to his base feelings. He knew he was being manipulated...someone was trying to control him. It occurred that the only one who ever called Demaia a witch was Ch'lana...
"I give myself...to the Force...father...if my father you are. I know...I am being...manipulated...somehow...I can tell...I will not break for you..."
"You can choose...to let go too...if you are brave enough...to face yourself...if you are my father...you can let go of the hatred...the desire to...control...be free..."
Collan knew he was starting to ramble. Too dizzy? Too afraid?
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The offered hand closes slowly into a fist.
"So be it."
Collan's gasps for air become suddenly constricted as his throat is slowly squeezed shut. In moments, his blood is thundering in his ears, and his vision starts to get closed off by darkness. The desire to kick out, to run, to do anything overwhelms him, but fear keeps his legs locked in place. By reflex, his hands go to his throat, but there is no help to be found. His knees give out, but whatever is closing his throat keeps him suspended as he tries in vain to draw air into his lungs.
His heart feels like it will burst through his chest, and pains begin to radiate out from his heart, stabbing down his arms and up his neck in time with his heartbeats.
Darkness closes in, and oblivion waits. Collan has only moments of consciousness left to him. The only thing he can see is the face of his father, twisted into a cruel smile of enjoyment.
[Actions?]
You've been trying to resist whatever this is, but it's too strong for you. You have one last action before you black out.
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Collan closed his eyes. All his instincts said to shoot the bastard. He had a blaster; he could probably make the shot. Instead, Collan decided that he would trust the Force.
There is no emotion; there is peace he said to himself. He closed his eyes and set his mind to focusing. He tried to drown out every aspect of his physicality.
The thundering of his blood.
There is no ignorance; There is knowledge. This could be real, but Collan knew he had been manipulated to be here.
The constriction in his throat.
There is no passion; there is serenity. Trying to use anger, fear, and rage would ill serve him.
The suffocation of his lungs.
There is no chaos; there is harmony. Collan worked to bring his mind into that harmony and be one with the Force.
The pain in his chest.
There is no death; there is the Force
He was dying; so what was left except to die and trust the Force. He tried to trust the Force and focus his mind in the flows of the Force and focus his resistance to whatever was attacking him.
[ooc: concentration to boost Control?]
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[As discussed on IM, I'm taking 2 CP for boosting your Control skill to activate Concentration.]
As consciousness starts to fade, Collan reaches deep within himself to find the calm centre. The Force, thin and thready within him, is barely perceptible. But Collan manages to reach it. He manages to block out everything - his father, his starving lungs, the pain in his chest and just concentrates on the flow of the Force within himself.
The Force suddenly flares within him, the darkness rapidly recedes. Collan notices that the darkness is not driven out of him, like shadow before a flame. Rather it retreats inside of him, like a withering flower, shrinking down to a little nugget - a seed of sorts - that persists even in the face of the light.
Then the moment passes, and Collan comes to his senses. He is on his hands on knees, gasping for air. His body still trembles from an abundance of adrenaline, and his heart still thunders in his ears, but those are the after effects. Fear no longer grips him, and his mind is his own.
That is when he becomes aware of feet. Looking up, he sees Nightshade standing in the very spot his father had been moments before, a concerned look on his face.
