The Ardent Warrior

It was unreasonably hot in the morning and by the afternoon it was scorching. So much so that Revan had stripped down to simple trousers while he works on repairing a machine, letting and not quite caring that the sweltering sun burns at his shoulders and back. It was much too hot to be wearing a shirt. Even his young companion, who sits atop the fence watching him and swinging her legs back and forth, was wearing nothing more than a simple sundress.

She taps his shoulder with her barefoot, toes lingering. "Are you sure that goes there?"

"I am the mechanic," he grunts, shrugging his shoulder to knock her foot off. Her legs go back to swinging as he fits the part properly into place. He sends a smug, boyish grin over his shoulder.

"Oh, ha-ha," and she shoves at him playfully with her foot before he stands wiping the sweat from his brow. "All done?" she asks, peering at the machine as he leans against the fence next to her.

Revan nods with confirmation. "What did you need, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth leans over, wrapping her arms around his neck before he can escape, and presses herself against him just so. "A date for the dance tonight, is all."

"No."

She frowns, a slight pout on her lips, and she sits back. "You used to be more fun."

"That was before I found out you were seventeen," he points out.

"Please?" she asks, reaching over to card her fingers through his hair. "Otherwise I'm stuck going with grabby hands Edric. Don't you want to protect my virtue?"

Revan merely laughs, shaking his head.

As soon as Revan is through the door to their room, he strips off the sweat soaked shirt he wears and tosses it to a corner, vowing aloud that he'll pick it up as soon as he's out of the shower. (Just in case Kira decides to start berating him for it.) He's been out for a jog and he's sweaty and a shower sounds good to him at the moment.

He talks over his shoulder as he heads to the 'fresher, not really noticing if whether or not Kira (or even Ilona) is in the room, "I think I need to start jogging more. Or keep up with training because I felt winded only after a few laps." He disappears into the 'fresher, still talking about jogging and training, as he turns on the shower and lets the water warm up.

I am Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith.

Those who use the dark side are also bound to serve it. To understand this is to understand the underlying philosophy of the Sith.

The dark side offers power for power's sake. You must crave it. Covet it. You must seek power above all else, with no reservation or hesitation.

The Force will change you. It will transform you. Some fear this change. The teachings of the Jedi are focused on fighting and controlling this transformation. That is why those who serve the light are limited in what they accomplish.

True power can come only to those who embrace the transformation. There can be no compromise. Mercy, compassion, loyalty: all these things will prevent you from claiming what is rightfully yours. Those who follow the dark side must cast aside these conceits. Those who do not—those who try to walk the path of moderation—will fail, dragged down by their own weakness.

Those who accept the power of the dark side must also accept the challenge of holding on to it. By its very nature the dark side invites rivalry and strife. This is the greatest strength of the Sith: it culls the weak from our order. Yet this rivalry can also be our greatest weakness. The strong must be careful lest they be overwhelmed by the ambitions of those working beneath them in concert. Any master who instructs more than one apprentice in the ways of the dark side is a fool. In time, the apprentices will unite their strengths and overthrow the master. It is inevitable; axiomatic. That is why each master must have only one student.

This is also the reason there can only be one Dark Lord. The Sith must be ruled by a single leader: the very embodiment of the strength and power of the dark side. If the leader grows weak another must rise to seize the mantle. The strong rule; the weak are meant to serve. This is the way it must be.

My time here is ended. Take what I have taught you and use it well.

(Darth Revan's Holocron)

Rand,

We're not Earthlings though.

Thank you. For the ...presents.

Revan

Revan is curled up in the corner of his room, concealing himself from the Force as Kira sleeps on the bed. He clutches a bottle of Reserve he procured from the Bar earlier, about three-fourths of the bottle already empty, as he switches between watching Kira sleep and staring around at the darkened space of the room.

He feels like the walls are closing in, like his skin is crawling, and, most of all, he feels everything. His conversation with Kira brought things to mind that he was so good at pushing aside before. Now everything felt like it was trying to crawl and scratch its way to the surface; every emotion he ever buried, every thought he ever shoved aside. Everything.

And now he was stuck, the alcohol not proving useful at numbing, as he tried to shift his way through the mess, thought by thought and feeling by feeling. His mind flits between thinking of Bastila and her torture to whom he was and who is to how he never will compare to Atton in Kira’s heart.

He fights an inner battle, trying to weigh each thought with arguments and evidence that supports or disputes them, and he feels like he’s losing.