Patience had never been a problem for him, even before throwing himself to the arms of the dark side he had always felt it easy to figure out ways to occupy his time. Meditation and such was beyond him for the most part, his mind at the time was simply amusing itself with his most recent kills. He had convinced himself that the Twi'lek and Mother had brought upon their own deaths. The Twi'lek was going to ruin his chances to follow the thread that led him to the ripples in the force and the mother was... well, she was just disobedient.

[i]It sucks that I had to do it,[/i] he told himself, his silver eyes falling on the trembling daughter across from him; they were just a sheen beneath his earthen robes but they display an radiant pit. [i]But to further my own goals... I'll show no mercy. That is the creed I've chosen.[/i]

Again he felt the tiniest of twitches in himself, a arrow that tilted towards indifference and away from guilt. The steady fear in the daughter had not diminished and thanks to that, he could numb himself to his pain. The pain of betrayal and the pain of loss. 

Silent breaths counted the moments of his travel, moments that like his own life had passed by and never been thought of again. Before long the ship had docked with a few heavy-metal scraping, the lights in the starcraft flickering as it settled. Now that the ship had been successfully halted, he could feel the tether to the dark side so much stronger now. It was like covering yourself in shadows, having the darkness embrace you in a deathly hug. It was frightening and awe-inspiring at the same time.

Rising from his seat, he turned towards the daughter and after a moment said. “Try not to let this make you crazy. [i]If[/i] you leave here alive, just think how lucky you are.” 

The girl's lips quivered before her tears rolled down her face. Naraal couldn't help thinking that in the end, it was better to have a stranger kill your love ones than for your loved ones to betray you. 

Walking out of the ship, he was met with chivalry of troopers that persuaded him to halt his descension from the vessel. His robes came to a stop on the metal ramp as he pulled off his hood, the silver gleam of eyes curiously looked on at them. It was clear to him, simply from the tension in the room, that it was not goodness that drove the soldiers; it was either fear or utter and complete loyalty.