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Thirteen days, twenty-one hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty—-five seconds. 

That was the amount of time that Azixoss had been this Sith Lord’s ‘prisoner’. On occasion, the large, angry red man stopped by to gloat or to make an attempt at raising Azixoss’ ire, and every time he found himself thwarted by the maddeningly calm Twi’lek.

Azixoss knew that Ehlial was not ‘falling’ in the way the Sith wanted him to believe. It was the Sith who was in control, the Sith forcing Ehlial’s actions and reactions, none of them belonged to or were given by his Padawan. He had, after all, been paying close attention.  Ehlial was, for lack of a better word, a prisoner as well.

Speaking of prisons, the Jedi’s own cell wasn’t half bad—as Imperial holding cells go. Beat being stuck in a Flesh Raider cage, if nothing else. In fact, this cell was much larger than he would have required; more than enough room to stretch out (if he didn’t mind putting his feet up on the wall), and ample space to simply meditate, which is what Azixoss spent the majority of his time doing.  Much of his time had been spent attempting to reach out to Ehlial, to reassure him that he had no been abandoned, and to encourage him to fight the Sith’s control.

After some time, it became obvious that either Ehlial was unable to sense him, or that he was simply unable to fight back.

Assuming that it was the latter, Azixoss caught the attention of his assigned guard.

“I think it’s about time you let me out of this cell. It’s simply not right to keep an old Twi’lek locked up; it won’t do any harm to let me out for some exercise. Darth Iniquitous won’t mind.”