★ sithism

        his lightsaber is drawn, held out
        in front of him. slowly, slowly, he
        takes little steps towards this …
        thing … standing in front of him.
        vaguely, from some far, far child-
        hood memory—-he remembers.
        seeing the markings on his face,
        the dark cloak, the very aura of
        menace, anakin knows that he
        cannot be anything other than
        some sort of spawn of the dark
        side. he tightens his grip. master
        has often told him to cut down on
        the quips and the sharp wit——
        but he cannot help it.

        ❛ a sith lord, huh?
                well, what’s a creep like you
                doing in a nice place like this? ❜