Homecoming
Posted: Thu Sep 22, 2022 2:50 pm
246 ABY
Naboo
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The door to the lonely lakeside house creaked open ominously, a cool wind swept through and if following it he walked in. Looking over his left shoulder and then his right. He breathed in gently through his nose, the smell of home cooking filled his nose that and the familiar scent that could only be described as home. It was a scent that was unique to every individual in the universe but no matter whom you described it too, they all understood it with an affirming nod and a feeling of nostalgia. He on the other hand did not have that sense of nostalgia, there was nothing he missed about this place since had left in the middle of the night all those many years ago.
His pointed ears twitched slightly as he heard a commotion coming from the kitchen. They must be preparing for dinner, perhaps now was his chance to make his grand entrance. The prodigal son returning from his long self imposed exile, but to what purpose? They surely would be confused, but he doubted they would be happy to see him. He lowered his hood and his dirty blonde hair fell in front of his demonic red eyes, interestingly enough this was his natural color and was not a product of his training. A rare genetic defect, led to his eyes appearing as if they belonged on a mythical creature from a world that could only exist in the realms of fantasy or perhaps the land that nightmares were made of. As a young child these eyes did him no favors amongst his peers at school, but no one dared to mock him to his face, instead they all feared him...and avoided any unnecessary interaction with him. They didn't know it, but that was the smartest thing that they could have ever done.
The teenager made his way into the kitchen, his footsteps fell silently, his black leather boots were thin and lightweight, perfect for concealing any evidence of his approach. there they were before him, both of them with their back's to him. Mother was working over the stove and father was standing on his toes pulling one...two...and three plates down from the cabinet. Were they expecting him? That would be impossible. He left nearly ten years ago without a trace, they must have assumed he was dead and buried many years ago.
He made his way to the kitchen table and dragged a chair out, it's legs scrapping against the floor. He put his right hand on the back of the chair and sat down as his father turned and saw him first. The plates falling from his hands, he gasped as they shattered on the floor and saw those distinctive red eyes staring back at him. Quickly his mother turned around to see what was the matter, her eyes widened as she saw him sitting there and she let out a half of a scream before stifling it immediately.
The young Sith sat there motionless as he stared at both of them. His clothes would have been peculiar to them, all black, a lace in his tunic near his neckline, leather gauntlets on his forearms came into view as he crossed his arms on the table in front of him. His hellish eyes raised to meet them both.
"Mother. Father."
His voice was more mature now, not quite that of a man, but not the shrill high pitched one of a child either. Neither of his parents knew what to say or do, his mother quickly pulled out a chair from the opposite end of the table and moved to sit down...but then stopped. Did a double take of the young man who was clearly her own flesh and blood son sitting there. It wasn't a dream. There he was. Right THERE. She didn't know what to feel. What to think...or even what to say. Her breath had left her as had her sense of reality, she wanted to rush over and hug but...she didn't. She couldn't explain it, but she feared him. How could she fear her own son?
"Samuel. You're....you're alive?"
His father was much less indecisive. He rushed around the table and threw his arms around his long lost son, but again there was a sense of uneasiness about him. He couldn't explain it. He felt everything he should be feeling in this moment, joy rapture, elation, excitement...but then there was the fear. His son mostly grown and there was just something different about him...
"SON! We thought you were....that doesn't matter. You're home now."
He shifted in his seat and moved to put one arm around his father, but showed no emotion. He turned and nodded to his father, before turning to see his mother who had now pulled up a chair across from him. She had the most curious look on her face...still seemingly frozen. Meanwhile the young man sat there analyzing the situation. Was she herself sensitive? Could she sense what he was? If she didn't know it, because if she did they wouldn't be living here.
"Yes. I have returned. Please sit. I would prefer Samael now, it's part of who I am. I brought wine for you, we can eat and get to know each other again. I'll tell you everything..."
Naboo
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The door to the lonely lakeside house creaked open ominously, a cool wind swept through and if following it he walked in. Looking over his left shoulder and then his right. He breathed in gently through his nose, the smell of home cooking filled his nose that and the familiar scent that could only be described as home. It was a scent that was unique to every individual in the universe but no matter whom you described it too, they all understood it with an affirming nod and a feeling of nostalgia. He on the other hand did not have that sense of nostalgia, there was nothing he missed about this place since had left in the middle of the night all those many years ago.
His pointed ears twitched slightly as he heard a commotion coming from the kitchen. They must be preparing for dinner, perhaps now was his chance to make his grand entrance. The prodigal son returning from his long self imposed exile, but to what purpose? They surely would be confused, but he doubted they would be happy to see him. He lowered his hood and his dirty blonde hair fell in front of his demonic red eyes, interestingly enough this was his natural color and was not a product of his training. A rare genetic defect, led to his eyes appearing as if they belonged on a mythical creature from a world that could only exist in the realms of fantasy or perhaps the land that nightmares were made of. As a young child these eyes did him no favors amongst his peers at school, but no one dared to mock him to his face, instead they all feared him...and avoided any unnecessary interaction with him. They didn't know it, but that was the smartest thing that they could have ever done.
The teenager made his way into the kitchen, his footsteps fell silently, his black leather boots were thin and lightweight, perfect for concealing any evidence of his approach. there they were before him, both of them with their back's to him. Mother was working over the stove and father was standing on his toes pulling one...two...and three plates down from the cabinet. Were they expecting him? That would be impossible. He left nearly ten years ago without a trace, they must have assumed he was dead and buried many years ago.
He made his way to the kitchen table and dragged a chair out, it's legs scrapping against the floor. He put his right hand on the back of the chair and sat down as his father turned and saw him first. The plates falling from his hands, he gasped as they shattered on the floor and saw those distinctive red eyes staring back at him. Quickly his mother turned around to see what was the matter, her eyes widened as she saw him sitting there and she let out a half of a scream before stifling it immediately.
The young Sith sat there motionless as he stared at both of them. His clothes would have been peculiar to them, all black, a lace in his tunic near his neckline, leather gauntlets on his forearms came into view as he crossed his arms on the table in front of him. His hellish eyes raised to meet them both.
"Mother. Father."
His voice was more mature now, not quite that of a man, but not the shrill high pitched one of a child either. Neither of his parents knew what to say or do, his mother quickly pulled out a chair from the opposite end of the table and moved to sit down...but then stopped. Did a double take of the young man who was clearly her own flesh and blood son sitting there. It wasn't a dream. There he was. Right THERE. She didn't know what to feel. What to think...or even what to say. Her breath had left her as had her sense of reality, she wanted to rush over and hug but...she didn't. She couldn't explain it, but she feared him. How could she fear her own son?
"Samuel. You're....you're alive?"
His father was much less indecisive. He rushed around the table and threw his arms around his long lost son, but again there was a sense of uneasiness about him. He couldn't explain it. He felt everything he should be feeling in this moment, joy rapture, elation, excitement...but then there was the fear. His son mostly grown and there was just something different about him...
"SON! We thought you were....that doesn't matter. You're home now."
He shifted in his seat and moved to put one arm around his father, but showed no emotion. He turned and nodded to his father, before turning to see his mother who had now pulled up a chair across from him. She had the most curious look on her face...still seemingly frozen. Meanwhile the young man sat there analyzing the situation. Was she herself sensitive? Could she sense what he was? If she didn't know it, because if she did they wouldn't be living here.
"Yes. I have returned. Please sit. I would prefer Samael now, it's part of who I am. I brought wine for you, we can eat and get to know each other again. I'll tell you everything..."