For a Sith, there was no peace, only passion. Through passion, he would gain strength. Through strength, a Sith gained power. Through power, gained victory. And with victory, a Sith's chains were broken- and the Force would set him free.
The Dark Side allowed him to express himself- a empty freedom. A power he would wield without rules, without mercy. The world was his and he would use this power as he saw fit. A lost Anakin, turning to Darkness, out of love, out of the passionate attachment to his wife.
But life here long since forced him to restrain- to control himself. Vader hated that feeling- he wasn't to be controlled. He wasn't a pet. He had no leash and he was free. He belonged to no male- he would never be a slave, not again, to anyone of anything.
And the only being in the galaxy, capable of swaying and relaxing his anger, was now pregnant with his children.
To combat these frustrations- recent events- Victorianpup's refusal to understand his feelings. Susurro's disrespect. Padmé visiting Poe. Ivan finding his old home. Navi's upset. Jekyll's weakness. Jekyll's pasifism. Jonathan's poor choice. And now?
Lessa. He feels weight on his shoulders, as his hands rest on his belt and he ventures outside the territory, heading to the boar's territory. He had been watching his target for a while now. One of the piglets from the troop he allowed to live, so he could harvest them, like crop.
The boar has grown into a plentiful male, a giant. He's been taking guesses at its size. Six and a half feet long, perhaps. Fifty inches at the shoulder. Edging towards half a ton in meat. It would feed the clan for weeks- and Vader would purposely show them up. Maybe dare Susurro to attempt the same, with just as clean a kill. Then shrug and look dismayed when the boars break the young lion's spine.
He would stop when he crossed the boar's border, reaching out with his senses. He already hears warning shrieks- ear piercing screams, emitted from deep in its throat.
It knows he's hear to collect.
He hears warning calls, threats, he presses ahead and breaks into a sprint, pulling his hilt from his belt. The boar is hostile, giantic- he leaps, and it meets him by tearing up, catching on Vader's cape and pulling back. He is surprised, briefly, but ignited his blade. The lion twisted, landing on its back and mounting it. His gloves latch onto the first handle he finds- the humped back, and it bucks, kicking and screaming. Vader plunges his blade in his shoulder, striking the joint, the creature falling on that leg, and rolling over, trying to get Vader off. The lion hears a crack and sparks- he curses, as his fingers curl, the Force tightening on its throat, beginning to choke it, and listens to its screams become gradually weaker. The boar tries to get up, but falls and will roll again. It bucks and shakes and writhes and his metal hand is going through its muscles. Vader raises his other hand, plunging the blade right into the boar's thick skull.
It's still screaming. He'a hit its brain and its still screaming, crying for help, begging for the pain to stop, trying to run away, rolling over in one last, vain effort to survive.
And it dies, its mouth closing as it leaves the world, an end to its scream. A thousand pounds of dead weight presses on Vader, he hears something else crack, and pushes- the boar rolling to its sides. He huffs. His breathing sounds slightly ragged and empty- like an incomplete breath. He feels his chest box, and his anger flairs. Damage. It got his most vulnerable spot. Whatever. It's fine. He can fix it. He can fix about anything.
Except what you did to Lessa. He feels the dead Boar's neck crush- a reaction, and he lets it go. It's fine. He's fine. He can drag it back now.
He pulls the rope he brought with from his belt, and ties it to the boar's hind ankles, and starts to drag it, like a dog that didn't want to leave the park yet. He presses ahead, alone with his thoughts, and the boar. It only takes a slight addition of super strength, to drag it.
Less than an hour later, the boar is hanging over his right shoulder, off the ground, due to Vader's height. It was like a bag to him- a thousand pounds on his back, a being he had unleashed his fury, his need to destroy, his conflicts, his frustrations- his emotional weight- on this boar. And he carries it with one arm. His cape is rested in the crook of his other arm- an inherit mannerism to take care of his cape. A massive, three-fourths circle of black wool lined with satin.
He slings the boar over his shoulder, landing it next to the pile, and letting roll onto its side. Vader's already knows it's attracted attention, and takes his cape, pulling it back onto his shoulders and clasping it, finding the link resting on his throat. He stares down at the boar's face- its eyes are still open, the expression of panicked fear petrified on its face, in a permanent scream.
And Vader, staring at his own reflection in its black, empty eyes.
// 909 words, jfc
// see if you can spot the hidden meanings!!