Continuity, Contemplation, Conscience

One of many idle encounters for Kathea Sinrae. Present location: Mon Cala, outside of her personal freighter the Mercury Phoenix.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A set of five fingers extended, three with replacements for bone and nerve endings, but she could still feel it. The golden plating that interrupted the skin of the left palm gave a cooling sensation to the flesh around it.
Still she caught it.

While the force ever remained that all present entity, Kathea knew she’d become more and more entranced within it. But this moment wasn’t some breakthrough at the bottom of a waterfall, merely trying to halt the encroaching rainfall on Mon Cala’s island before it landed on her datapad filled with yet another set of journal entries and holo images of various mundane happenings around the colony Veles.

With a minor adjustment her focus and control were lifted allowing the moisture to plink harmlessly to the sand and dune grass alongside its molecular family, she’d turned to the other side of the chair only lightly resenting the canopy that was a ramshackle attempt at a shelter for the afternoon rain shower, the first of six. With buildings nearby this was a deliberate choice to get a bit of fresh air even if the next temporary shelter might require some better material to patch the holes.

Never in all her life did she imagine this would come to be a home for her. In a summary of her existence, she was born and lived almost entirely in situations of zero or artificial gravity. Going planetside was a certain death from all the people who’d come and gone from her life, all fatalities seemed to be on a planet somewhere. And worst of all, the volume and vastness of the Mon Cala seas. For all intents and purposes they were the temporary specks of land masses that managed to breach and stay above the water’s surface. And she always had fraught nightmares of drowning far more often than not.

The moment was quiet, a jarring serenity in between rest and constant training. Even now her muscles ached at the slightest motions. Reaching only to stay hydrated between scrolling on her datapad, if it weren’t for the degree of internal reinforcements she might well be just bedridden.

But quiet did not mean calm, nor grant peace.
Her gaze of amber moved quietly to the occasional bellows of the wildlife, the shifty foraging Amphi-Hydras that had some sort of latent ability with the force. By now she could count the seconds between their breaths from when they would begin their fight, to when they would breathe their last.

They were not the threat she remained aware of, there was always something else.
As a clawing shadow at the edge of her vision, or the whispers that kept her company, something maintained a focus she could not master, could not contain, and would not combat. There were moments of words, gentle leadings. But then so too were there moments of sudden aggression, and motions that surpassed her. As willingly as the first time she chased the voices into the jungles of Trandosha, so too did she continue to advance whenever the instinct struck her. This was only different for how instead of her venturing to seek it, it sought and kept around her.

In all this she remained obsessed, focused, and ever seeking knowledge about the system she’d come to find herself wandering through. Neglecting the small special desert treat she’d purchased, the candle long since been felled by the coastal wind. In sugary frosting, 22.

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Between scene for Kathea Sinrae. Present location: Viscara Mountains, aboard her personal freighter the Mercury Phoenix.

The warmth and glow of the well maintained freighter kept a shielding presence around the occupants, even as it relied on one to keep the hull and fuel supplies maintained. Some people attribute names, feelings, and attachment to their vessels. In just this way so too had ‘Scrap’. An adoration for her craft was assured from years of depending on their structures just to survive living ever in orbit and out of reach of the worlds. But now that had certainly changed, as she went, ascended only to touch down once again.

Her fingers run along the insides of the vessel, knowing them well by now for the countless hours she’d spent upgrading, maintaining, and allowing herself time to focus in between her rigorous training sessions. It was still something to grow used to, having something that was your own.

But even with these comforts there was still great turmoil, of which she could feel resting in the sanctuary of her vessel. The man now finally at rest and with her promising to stay nearby, a promise she would honor. While she’d woken before him that still would not erase the feelings, the memories…

The dreams.
A blissful sanctuary, a time for the mind to rest and recover from all manner of trauma. For a brief time the world need not be what it was. To most beings it was a healing time.
To most, but not all.

Even as her methods to soothe others continued to develop, the success of these attempts wasn’t something to be explained. With a mere touch it was a will conveyed, though it flowed more delicately than other aspects of the force. To knit wounds, to rip apart the senses and disorient, these were far more practical and pragmatic, familiar.

For days and weeks now she’d housed a wellspring of ceaseless anger, settled in her as a molten core. From losses raw and recent, to opportunity stolen, she could consume so much and it would never be enough. The pit it formed was a familiar lair, but the despair she couldn’t allow to maintain its footing.
The rage should never be allowed to lead.

Slipping into a younger memory she’d been there before, slamming her fists until durasteel tiles dented and tools were broken. It never helped, nothing ever soothed her.

But there was no need for that.
The core would not die out, the anger still was kept nested deep inside. But this time, for the first in a long time her attentions didn’t strictly have to contain.

There was another heart beating, there was a hope as a spark.
But who?

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To rest, to dream.
In a matter of weeks it felt like the depths of despair had sunk deep toothy wounds into her, and in spite of it the high of hope and possibility all returned in swift ebbs and flows. Finally at a point between suns she was on her back again. The ceiling of a freighter granting her a familiar viewpoint to slip away from, where others loathed it, she found delirious comfort in the artificial enclosure.

The scene a familiar one, a pre-teen scampering through the various vents just as something caught her eye. Excitement in her chest, confidence in her movements.

There was a strange man who’d noticed her once already from the corner of his eye. A massive brown trench coat, a curious expression on his face. No other had spotted her.

A glance, just a fleeting glance as the vents might allow. A patchy and disrupted viewpoint, if she wasn’t careful they’d hear the footsteps pressing through in pursuit. At one point the pathway opened up to one of the many hallways that expanded allowing for a crossroad in which way to navigate the station. Here more of a view opened up, but still she cowered, still only cheating some small moments to see the target of her focus more clearly.

But as with all explosions there is a pause in the thought process that almost is entirely paralyzed. Her body crumples against the ventilation first before the structure fails, the smoke immediately blasting into the controlled air while she falls along with it.

Blasters, grenades, shouts of troopers, an ambush. Howls of pain and cries for help.

The sounds thereafter had deafened her, each consecutive flurry of fire would race past and only the vague vibrations were felt. Not the cries of those being struck or other victims anymore. Breathing started to overtake, a pulse, throbbing in agony in the chaos.

The vision starts to darken at the edges like wisps at first, smoke. Before sight departs her.

Who knows what hours or days might have cycled or passed.
A sharp intake of breath, from darkness back into artificial light. A sterile smell filling the senses, medication.

At first she tries to look down but her body is covered, wrapped in excess with gauze and kolto all along her limbs. Her gaze turns, finding a readout of a whole mess of information, procedures, parts used.

Parts used?

>> Replacement of both knees.
> > Reconnection of nervous system with integrated nodes located in the Cerebellum.
> > Partial replacement left hand. 42% Replacement with skin and muscle grafting.
> > …
> > …
> > …
> > …

Her eyes would water, she couldn’t read more for now. The grief and pain was hard to manage even with the medication.

She wasn’t registered, in all official sense she doesn’t exist. The medics have a hushed conversation just beyond some frosted privacy glass, she can’t hear them but she has one of those feelings she can’t let go. It’s a miracle she’s even alive, she’s grateful, if in shock.

Her eyes waken, shifting from that ancient place between sedated and the waking world.
Let us see what it brings.

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It would be another hour, another day, another struggle. For a change, she could only blame herself.
A pensive focus, maintaining a sphere of influence, here in the sanctuary of the ship.
The only place she could ever really feel at home.

As her foil raised high, the shine of the golden yellow plasma would be reflected in her eyes, and play with the internal lighting of the Phoenix, every movement both a show along with a memory playing out. Taking a moment to compose herself, she’d recalled the spar before, the first test on her own against her companion. No harm to be done yet still, she knew there was significance in every dance no matter the circumstance.

She could feel it in her bones then as she did now, though before it was the sky above her, vacant and unending. The only break of that vision was the falling leaves of the last trees before the mountains of Viscara. Their chosen ground. One loss, and then the next bout. She let the eyes fall into darkness a moment, digging deeper, remembering the prickling ripples of the static from lightning felt once before.

Was it her own practice finally paying off, she never was too comfortable or too certain in that. But she couldn’t overthink things here and now. It was just another set of movements, to work through, to process even as the memories flowed.

First set, four jabs, quick and yet small. Accuracy before all else.

Tossed, pinned, blood racing colder now, the metal within and on the skin overcharged as others looked on in horror. Helpless under the light of the twinblade red.

The four cuts, pirouettes, fluidity and ease. Key points to ensure crucial hits.

Soft hums of the engines, forms layered atop one another in fitful rest. Companions all working to protect each other to the point of exhaustion shielded under durasteel wings. Healing was anything but easy.

The sweat rolled down the back of her neck, dissipating into the fabric of her clothes, hair starting to stick. But the sets must begin again. They must flow. Even as her jaw tightened in continued self chastisement.

Soft words aside, an invitation to walk, to rest. The flow of water nearby. A tender embrace and considerate thoughts. She should be afraid, but let that subside for the moment’s distraction and escape.

Again. She demanded of herself, focusing on defensive motions, angles and adjustments.

A voice calling out through distant space, daring to reach and draw forth. A verdant world, a second chance. Release. She would be remembered here, she couldn’t let go of that wild freedom. She believed, and was able to feel nearly whole for the first time again.

Again.

Long walks and training against beast and wilderness, the dust indomitable and listless with each step that disturbs the sands. Yet he shows how he listens. Endearing in one feeling, breaking in agony on the other. The pain remained.

Again, she hissed, the muscles spasming in protest.

The scarred expression regarding her, not one stance, not one moment, but all at once. From beneath a cowl, from the glow of red saber, between metal dividers electrified and maintained, holding all that was sought so small and so heavy all in the palm of her hand.

The vision grew harder, strokes more clumsy. She’d vow a final set, and then a breath. But it must be better. No, it must be perfect.

The strike of a crude blade, the devouring flame. Chosen.

At last, she could be satisfied in this. Hardly noticing the storm of her exertions, the hiss of the plasma as the moisture made contact. For now the foil could rest, even if she could not.

Turning, there was a glance to her datapad, the slate clean and quiet. Unremarkable as ever. Expected.
For now to meditate was a way to calm and collect herself, her palms fell to brace against her bent legs before the stone. The sound of embers on the right, the trickle of water to the left, the silent heavy chains behind. She was starting to feel something new, connecting these emotions, shards of time broken as glass and fragmented into something recognizable.
Perhaps she was onto something.

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EWOmRonSm

The hours slipped and layered, packing themselves in with the thin stretched moments of quiet and shattering acute pressure. Always having to retreat and recover, somehow in her own instinct Kathea knew that this would not become any easier.

The clacking of marbles, the squabbling aspirants, even without looking she could feel the varying strengths testing one another just as they were testing her. The presence of two teachers looking on. Much like a prowling feline, the squabbling of two birds was of little consequence to the hunt ongoing. Perhaps to be eaten later, a trivial thought.

This would be only one of many lessons, though there were times she could feel the dynamic shifting. No longer just the soft-spoken withdrawn lady, there was more direction, an ease and a flow that came slowly as the leaves waken to the dawn. It was taking effort, though most things often do. She was starting to be heard, it warmed her in a way she’d longed for.

Departing the chambers her thoughts recounted the prior declarations. Second in command, as if anyone else were better suited. Sneering, when did she become so comfortable with the thought? She wanted this all along. And now she could drink in the fruit of some of that labor, it was intoxicating.

After assisting as well as she could, with an experimental step completed she’d find herself considering the possibilities of their discoveries. Of the value that so few here could really appreciate anymore. She could seek companionship, satisfying her own trivial physical needs to ensure she didn’t forsake some small selfish wants along the way.

An unfamiliar ship, but a comforting presence, and another safe place for now to let her thoughts swim through the furnace she had kept deep inside. She’d realized before she had let it grow cooler, the impossible living things struggling within that space. Such an odd visualization of something alive and churning in the environment of molten metal, but to her it was the way it felt. She could reach in if she needed to in order to draw strength and focus, but the surface had to still be malleable.

Sating herself she let the heat back in, the frustration felt necessary then, far easier to source than mere anger and betrayal even if those were the elements that worked best. Settling into a side room away from today’s companion, she utilized the meditation space for herself. Voices churn in her mind, male and female, sources varying, some nearer and others far. Previously they had been a chorus of whispers clawing for her attention, but with time and meditation they were starting to become clearer.

“Close your eyes”
"Sleep"
“Let go little Dove”
“You are not alone”
"You belong to me"

For now at least she could find a semblance of quiet, it’s the very thing she shouldn’t long for at times. Her path was to be a rush of calamity, of destruction, guiding the hearts and minds in the direction of a far greater future.

This peace after all, was a lie.

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OOC Preface: While I’d much prefer to enact her actions in game, I don’t think I’d be able to given circumstances surrounding the events that have brought the story to this point.

==================================================================
After a period of time, it would be another moment aboard the Mercury Phoenix. Kathea wasn’t likely alone, even if she felt it to be so. Her aura had decayed with her mental state set in a way that was easily known as mourning. In her arm was the packaged remains of what could be recovered, so little and so small now enough, what was once a person.

Having begged, yearned, and pleaded, there was an answer to her despondent call out into the void. She had a promise to keep after all.

There were no ways to be tracked, the jump blind. Only ever having done this once before, yet oblivion didn’t seem so bad.

The lines of stars and systems trailing by would last for an enduring time, her grasp of the package remained firm and close. Her thoughts trailing to the revelry that no doubt would be happening. A stark irony, her fall rejoiced, yet here she’d stand inconsolable. Keeping a cowl up, a mask in place, it had that unsettling dehumanizing visage to it and maintained the stoic presence of someone who was anything but.

Hours and days had already crept by, being more tranquilized than awake, it was the only way to stop from breaking down. With motions and aches slowed in her drugged delirium she knew there was this piece of unfinished business to handle.

Her mind wandered through the past as one often does after a loss. Harrowing moments of pain and uncertainty that would shake any sane mind. But at the progression of it she understood the need boring like a determined worm into her gut. What once was a necessary thing in a point of crisis seemed easier, learning to run after one finds their footing, the wind and adrenaline of it exhilarating.

Yet even in this, a sharp cutoff. Losing her once before, having that unforgiving darkness creep in around the edges of her heart and mind to remind her once again how helpless and small she was. This wasn’t even the first time she would mourn this particular death, so it burned all the more.

A small adjustment as her hand checked to ensure the seals were still well in place, the Phoenix lurched just shy of the asteroid field, but her hands directed the ship with a familiar ease and grace now. The unsettling sound of kinetic impacts, chunks of rock were never a desirable thing to hear striking a hull, even if they were only likely the size of pebbles and grains of sand. But what came after was something her quaking heart needed. An immaculate hidden world, yet looking upon the verdant paradise now another shard of bitterness broke loose within and more moisture trailed to the bottom of her mask. There was no point in stopping the tears now, let them flow.

Guided, there was a place among the wilds made for just such a landing, intention still spared for one so otherwise small and previously unknown it was a humility she’d clung to in spite of all the teachings and trials. Her footfalls proceeded down the ramp and onto a wild world.

With a small pat, she muttered the words as if remains could ever hear.
“I promised you Master, this is Elysia.” Words finding their way more easily even if the emotions swept in like a tide consuming her throat and vocal chords after.

Taking a few steps the beautiful flowers and creatures all created and toyed with by a being far beyond herself would all seem to bow and move aside as to not impede her steps. Drawn by a connection still established she’d emerge to the top of a hill where the ground was broken up into the sky, showing a small cliff and waterfall. There was no hurry in this, no demands to be made of her now, but the beauty of this place was a little too far for her glossy eyes to keep. A sense of shame came over her and her progress stopped.

Yet it mattered little as the ground beneath would shift, an impossible gnarling of elements to allow for a small sprig of crystal in a whole assortment of colors to peer up and out. The feminine form familiar and a deep comfort in contest to the morose moment.

“Please…” She started by begging aloud, choking softly. The figure’s head turning in immaculate radiance, curious but listening with clear endearment. “I know you brought her back because of me. I wasn’t ready yet, this was your way of letting me spend just a little more time with her.”

Tones and words fell apart, she’d gone cold some time ago in her hope, this was a parting act, a finality. The figure closing the distance as she was by no means bound to a mere piece of earth, she was the world now. A small rub of her back, silent and reassuring, she’d let Kathea move at the pace she needed.

Breaking, the woman just let it all spill forth, an unpleasant thing to behold for some, an irony likely to others who loathed the fallen so absolutely.

“Blue flowers.” She managed eventually, fitfully clawing the remains closer to her chest.

With a mere thought and gesture, she directed Kathea’s attention over to an opening in the trees, their forms yawning and shifting to wind them their own personal path. Walking beside her the grounds beneath were watered in a deep release of more suffering.

Emerging upon a field flat and rolling with scarce boulders dotting the land, there were spiral twists as if the area had been some game once before to the ancient. A plain emerald and ivory grassland, it was beautiful and pure on its own. Yet with a spindling of her fingers the landscape shifted course once more. Buds striking out in newly commanded direction as their pods burst forth. All at once the prairie was filled in a sea of all manner of blue hues, and a small fissure opened softly by their feet with a delicate vibration.

It was here Kathea could lean down in her darkened armors and leave her, letting her fingers unwind as she entrusted this place to be her final rest. Holding on was impossible, going back impossible. Her hands moved to the sides, scooping the dirt herself as she would tenderly intern the remains in this small unknown place.

Once it was done, the small mound remained that indicated the filled place where she was to be left in peace. She’d bring about small stones, one for each of those who would feel the void left behind in her wake. No inscriptions, nothing more to mark it, she couldn’t carry the thought of it being disturbed later even if there was nothing to be recovered.

In a final act, a new set of tropical flowers would emerge just behind the placed stones. But she couldn’t leave for now, her cowl fell away, her mask discarded she’d lean forth letting the pain quake and release in an awful wail.

Her heart in her chest, the agony in the Force, it would take hours and perhaps even days more for her to ever finally calm, she would have to leave eventually but for now, she didn’t want to leave her.

This moment she would never be the same again.
In the nearby atmosphere a storm began rolling in.

==================================================================

Should it be the end.

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ERUdXrxMmQ

– A song of yesterday –

Fingertips tapping along the edge of a datapad entry. She knew she was no writer, not really deep down. Time had slowed, agonizing in pace and flow. Every word she held in her chest was bursting into starlight and trying to burst out into the open air.

The night cycles had been always interrupted. Limbs stirring wildly as she’d recognize quickly the two resting bodies nearby. It wasn’t a shake that pulled her awake, it was the absence.

Sand and breeze whirling, she knew deep down she’d done all she could have. But now the survivor’s remorse remained. Destiny, chance, it couldn’t all be impossible. Learning to kneel at a new master’s feet, she held inside a hope of another chance to progress, but also the contempt of loss in the defiance of a young soul having to submit herself once again.

He’s not my master… is he.

Breathing harshly, she wouldn’t have known she’d been frozen in place during their training. How her mind had actually stopped for a time before relief came. She was protected, but just so. There were more missions to head towards.

Her mind flowed backwards and forth, from memory to anticipation. Small pangs of vacancy still drove her to try and write more. The message sent to one who was far and assigned to systems well out of reach in deep space.

Corbin, I’m uncertain if you’ll get this message at all.

There was a man stranded out in the sands, slammed body first into the canyon wall. I carried him on my back to Anchorhead, he’s alive at least.

I blame you.

A crisp closure as she flicked the message to send, not letting hesitation bury it down into extending, editing, or deleting it. Granted, he wasn’t the only one to blame anymore. Solomon and those other outside influences still came in. Spreading the blame did little to soften the blow, Corbin would probably smile bemused if he ever got the message back.

Her masked expression bowed, stirring in the ebon robes that fitted around her. She always had that choice, and she had that history where for all purposes she should also be little more than a smear on a wall after an explosion.

Shaking her head, she hated this feeling, taking the time to reprimand her body for what her mind was exacting.

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A crack and a tear of the ground. Explosives coming from every forward angle. The verdant jungle coast would be a wild paradise if it were not already a warzone.

Kashyyyk.

Between radioed attacks and coordination came their own forces, marching in search of something. The iconic mask and dual wielding saber master leading his charge.

Yet somewhere, somehow, something all went wrong.

A series of shots, the young warrior was doing her best to draw the ire of the oncoming heavy commandos and their supporting Jedi counterparts. The issue was, she was entirely too successful. For so many it would be their last battle. She faded into darkness as the rest surged past and stormed the answering force.


It was quiet suddenly. A low ambient ringing in her senses, slowly it broke.
The wind in the fronds of the various bushes and trees.
The crisp compression of sand and dirt.
The lapping of the coastal shore waves.
A beat deep within the world.

There were no people, no animals, no beings to intercede, the visual spectrum having gone ethereal.
Where people stood were only drifting clouds, clashing and dissipating as a storm around her, until the movements slowed.

One cloud broke free, deeper, denser than the rest. One power reaching out to her.
Not a gesture,
not a request,
not beckoning.

Compelling.


Awakening to the mask of Revan is not something one forgets.

The rest helped to steady her as arms came swiftly around, but she’d be on her feet within moments. Reinforced by will and powers beyond. Yet again to two he turned, herself and another. She was far from the only one who fell. Ironic that it would be the blue saber of another Jedi that would come into her possession. A shared fall.

It would be days later before the purpose fully came to realization.

Upon the red sands of Korriban, under the weight and gaze of however many fallen Lords, Darths, all manner of dark sider and Sith. Several acolytes and apprentices dead and torn apart, the old ways never did fade. Those who failed suffered their price, but for those who endured and succeeded as they did…

Cowed and collected at the central altar marked by ancient runes and a bleak obelisk, they concentrated and focused. Yet all this time she’d been carrying the weight of the past along with this newer acquisition.

Taking it apart was an ease, she’d trained for weeks then to know the feel and weight of the saber. Its defiance wouldn’t be enough to keep the heart of it sealed away.

The crystal, simple and bright blue would come before her. A thrumming at her side let her know there was more than one choice here. Looking upon the uneven faces of the turning kyber, her thoughts were weighing. Voices of the past, potential in the future.

The fear and anguish of those who dreaded the bleeding process, the breaking of a crystal at the hands of a ruthless Sith.

The need she felt in the pit of her own wellspring simmering and seething, the need to know this knowledge and to pass it on was a devouring menace without end. And it was right.

The thrum at her side eased, it would be a companion to her in spite of the choice she was making. Eventually those that cared to know would come to know what would transpire.

With the surrounding atmosphere of hate and suffering, of loss and anguish roiling around herself, the light of the blue was shuddering. Outside looking in, she began the process of connecting with it, driving some of the static energies of the dark side as she formed words to deliver to the crystal, if such was possible.

No one would see the moment she looked inside and saw the helpless little figure, mourning the loss of their connection. Some might crush, batter, and belittle. But in this they had empathy, in this they had that emotion.

Reaching as she had been reached out to, there was no longer asking, but a compulsion. A refusal to die and be defeated. Her voice and words reaching out.
Come with me.

With the connection made and her will made manifest, they would cease suffering alone and to deal back the pain that was dealt. Finally the pieces of her dead Master’s blade would find their fitting, finally every detail fell into place as naturally as the Force allowed.

The sundered bodies of Jedi, of Sith, of those caught between in this whole ongoing strife.
She’d rise at long last, the blade’s weight in her palm.

Finally, it ignites.

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Between all the various movements, between training sessions, keeping excessively physically fit, and all manner of lightsaber fixations there were still breaths in between.

Precious few, she could almost count them on her hands.

The waking first and often having to drag herself away from one of the many arms that vined around the form during a much needed rest.
Taking tea and sharing meals on the ship.
Watching the news over whatever caf they could scrounge together.
Any number of nonsensical chases and captures for some gentle impasse.

These were the private moments of a team of Sith and their enforcers when they had shelter, and sanctuary. Far from what anyone would’ve imagined a darkened set of cloaks and armor regalia could possess. There were moments for professionalism, crisp aggression, and decisive killing blows.

But even with this strange humanity, there was a small fracture. A blind spot in critical infrastructure. It’d be a wonder if anyone had even started to realize.


Normally she could simply ignore it, keeping herself busy enough. But lately that didn’t seem to be enough. It wasn’t as though there weren’t things to chase and enjoy…

She had started to wander off on her own, “Just a run”, she’d say, “Need some time to think”. Even doing something new she’d never done and staying an entire standard day cycle out in the wild sands of Tatooine. Sheltering from the tribal feuds and native wildlife, only realizing she had no experience in keeping safe overnight outside.

In those hours, in all the times she could manage to shelter alone and secluded, she couldn’t let them see the doubt that was creeping in behind her eyes. The anguish and horrors that she kept forging out of her hands. The skill to kill.

The arguments were endless, the guilt wrenching, the doubt growing.
Look at the way they kill, frivolously, freely, like bored felines.
See how they strut around, pretending to own one another.
Is this really all you set yourself to become, is this the true height of who you’re meant to be?
Do they even care about you, deep down will they ever give a single sniff.
How long until your existence is someone else’s convenient cover, how long before you’re no longer needed.
They killed her, they’ll kill you too.
She couldn’t tell a soul.

The sands would feel plenty of moisture in whatever fissure she’d managed to find and secret away in that night.

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Within the safety and stewardship of the vessel known as Mercury Phoenix. A fitful crew recovers from the ordeal of the Nallus Vranduk and Ambrose.


There wasn’t everything to be remembered. Waiting, poised for the strike in self preservation in the mountain pathways, minutes stretching into hours for the prey to finally arrive. Soldiers counted in the dozens all infused with a power beyond humanoid limits.

It was in their eyes, you could see it. She knew what they were affected by. There would be no reasoning here.

As the call for a flank came down the commlink, the four would race in with heated steps.
And then, at least for one, it all went white in a second.

Hours would pass, heated words along with panic in steps. Rigid emotions that tore through lungs and senses, fears realized in the moments that moved in agonizing slowness. In her most fragile state since the explosion on the station all she could do was feel.

Increasingly she could not only sense the kinds of people around with their auras, but a growing familiarity she’d been establishing was taking hold. No longer the vague shapes their gradually entwining hours and proximity was letting her see beyond sight.

Something would trespass the senses, intruding on her form and infusing it with visceral strength and restoration. Barely opening her eyes long enough to realize she was healed before being abruptly hauled off in a freshly tranquilized state.

Later…

Her body had to at times submit to rest, recovering from a vast exposure to the Force along with the duress of conflict not hours before. Her breath having hung in the balance, pulse having been reduced to a frigid silence, she managed now through the suffering and strength of others; draw breath.

From there the weakness of flesh in the face of such dire conflict could escape, the mind take wing, and the dreams soar. Healing or temptation, hard to be sure.


A pit of the world, darkness coated in abyssal frost,
abandoned, forsaken, lonely, yearning,
steps proceeding with delicate intrusion, solitary in number,
loathing eyes emerge, recognition, distain plainly set,
reaching a hand to journey the connection, a will invoked, a memory of wholeness,
a response hollow and haunting, the shattered bellows of a polar cavern of crystal,
it comes, inanimate on pumping wing, the mineral flies.

crystalwyvernqueen

She wouldn’t remember if she was devoured or invited, waking to a bed of sweat and chill.

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A woodland traveler.

A dirty blonde mug piercing the veil of a dense array of shrubs. Utapau’s temperate surface hid those cities and societies living well beneath. But this man wasn’t here for the people, even among the Order he was renowned for something far more unique.

The warbling of a tiny body with a powerful voice continued to bay out, enhanced by the nearby sinkhole. A great tactic of the reptilian species to locate their parents and packmates. The vibrant plumage of the species that moved with both their traversing of terrain and catching of light made them extremely vivid.

Yet in a basket on his back this little hatchling couldn’t be more than a few standard weeks old. Probably separated in a sudden flurry of movement from either a rival or a predator his foot had been broken, now set and repaired to ensure his survival. With a weather worn stick to help steady his movements through the undergrowth, supplies at his side, and food kept hidden from the young eager mouth he’d try and close in on the den of these creatures.

Hours into the venture the yelping cries of the young one were answered. His brown eyes widening a bit, a smile coming to his features.

“There’s your mom now…”

Padding his way closer he’d approach the worried parental varactyl. He’d calm her down first, deep down he knew the ache of having left behind someone little and vulnerable.


Out in the wastes. Location: Mobile. Climate: Arid. Third week into trials.

The duro was half scrambling over the rodian as he nervously pressed a digit into the console. A hiss and release quickly being signaled.

The equipment was more suited to storing droids in need of cooling or draining rather than containing a living being. Their rusted walls were abrasive and barely suitable for even that job.

Inside the woman was shaking, an array of nodes planted along her head while restraints ensured she didn’t have the full use of her arms and hands. A captive.

The rodian quipped, "Be hab’ naut gotten be bermission to release Raak’saab!"

But the grey flesh merely furrowed as he ventured inside to see what the readings were giving off. The woman fully asleep but her nervous system was in complete disorder. A brain activity level that high on a body so deeply asleep seemed impossible.

"You know be cannot be exposed… if be subject breaks skin, be infection risk!!" His feverish and fretful pitch going higher and faster before only tense and terrified breaths emitted.

Their supervisor had approached, none too pleased. Ringing out a set of shots that echoed in the rust bucket of a lab.

The male Twi’lek in verdant blue ceased leveraging his blaster. An exhausted sigh, another set of replacements as useful folk were so hard to come by.


He’s back.

Such an impactful thought, however simple it was. Corbin was always this sort of ‘what if’ factor in her life. She couldn’t fully push possibilities away, it seemed foolish to do so even if one had to take care with whatever they allowed to survive and thrive nearby. Much like many things she didn’t like he was going to keep on growing and existing regardless of her own feelings for such, until one day if she were forced to do something about it.

What is loyalty without a test. She let the thought become a path to think and wander over time and again, justifying herself. Not that anyone had called it into doubt or question. Not directly at least.

So much to consider after another torrid night of activities.
Training, socializing, even at times the basic consuming of a meal together could feel a little overwhelming. So many new faces to consider, so much potential, but where was it all going.

Giving herself one of the rare moments she felt a bit alone she’d bring her form into the refresher, cleansing herself as she hadn’t had a chance to since yet another round of training and teaching. The rain on Viscara had this quality that somehow made it both hotter and colder than it would feel when dry. Suppose that’s what humidity is, she thought.

Slumping, her form had far less scarring before through nothing short of immense efforts of those around her. The combined effort was starting to work. One piece could fail while the others supported and reinforced, there was no need to cower. Right.

Right?

Her body turns, pressing a hand flat against the wall panel of the refresher. Sucking in a few deep breaths. She never could get too comfortable, even as she’d tried so hard to build havens and the means to scurry and escape. The hunter’s vision was never far, and it was as though at times she could feel that rage and frustration of something stolen creeping up her back.

As the sensation rose and fell, she found herself once again cowering in the corner, letting the system keep running until the automatic shutoff would break her from her thoughts.
The mighty Apprentice, the would be Lord, Fatebinder.
By the stars she was terrified once again.

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To battle a hero.


It would be one of many restless nights, by now losing count and track of how many cycles were disrupted. While others slept or were off handling their own affairs, there would be one distressed Sith padding along the durasteel flooring. Steps light enough not to echo, rooms sealed enough not to carry the sound.

The target of her fixation was something that didn’t belong to her. Not stolen, but offered. A saberstaff with a krayt tooth charm hanging from it. For now it was laying on the azure circular carpet, decadent in a way with the rolling fountains falling from one layer to the next. In a more ancient place the whole presentation would seem honorific.

Finally after enough useless passes of her feet she’d draw a breath and find the center point on the floor, she always did prefer symmetry whenever it could be found. Such a small order to things. Palms onto her thighs, knees to the floor, her body poised and in submission while her mind drew focus and quiet.

To any observer the only sound would be the gentle errant splashes of water from the tumbling fountains, the low hum of the ship in a landing standby to keep the occupants comfortable. Just a woman and a weapon.

Within however, a lowering of defenses, a gradual aura was recognized emanating from the blade’s core. The artificial exterior faded from view and sense as a rolling forest took the place of the various walls and decor, a babbling spring bringing out a soft flow of water broke the ground into sides.

One began with herself, still in that training attire she hardly left, mended from countless blows and gripping her form it knew her curve and her strains by now. But in this place, by this particular fixation in the Force she felt a little ease creep into her joints and the contours of her mind. A burden lifted, pains eased, however short lived it would be.

Then there was someone else. Youthful, and looking to her from just across the way before splashing through the brook with a laugh. Yet this is the one she was expecting as she let her eyes open to him.
This was Hero, Solomon’s kyber, made manifest.

“How are you?”
As if asking a weapon a question might be some kind of normal conversation, but she had to start somewhere.

“I’m fine silly, what else would I be? Ready to take on anything.”
The voice rang out like a set of wind chimes, not wild or unexpected, just reacting to the wind that seemed to spur them to life.

She found herself softening again as she listened. There never was any hesitation with him. This wasn’t their first exchange. And found herself in both a small adoration, and a gnawing jealousy at once.
“You always are. You never get tired.”

Bounding around he could cast himself into the leaves, tossing a few up in the air with a juvenile huff.
“Not really no. I have to be ready at all times, and it’s rare we need to really have to fight.”
His fists pump in the air, starting to box the leaves that fell.

Yet she didn’t move or stop him, his presence wasn’t a distress but a comfort. Smiling some, in the end of course he had to be ready, it would be his role at the side of the one who assembled him.
“Fighting isn’t what we’re looking to do. It’s just part of how we survive.”

“Of course. We get to have fun then, relax, play, and rest. No need to be so stressed out.”
That joy almost sounding like her own from years now gone, not a worry to be carried, or a fear to be held.

A plain light laugh came from herself, as if a mother took in the whims of a son, taking a degree of focus not to ruffle the hair of the little one. He wasn’t real, no matter how he breathed, how simple and honest he was.
“You never let anything get you down, do you?”

Never missing a beat he’d be up in an instant, working to climb up a tree to swing from one of the sturdy branches. Just a ceaseless energy.
“Well sure, Solomon has to keep his eye on the prize and stop being such a crybaby. I’ll stay strong for him.”

Her gaze felt hazy, her attention shifting a bit more away from the young spirit he took the shape of. The warmth was wholly intoxicating.
“You do so much for him, you know?”
The tether of the emotional weight started to tug her back. Her uncertainty, her pain. She couldn’t remain.

“Of course, and I’ll help you too!”

Those final bright words ringing in her head as the chill and hardness of reality latched back on. No nature, no longer alone. The crushing pressure hitting all her unnatural joints, those minor shocks that feedback through her neural connections.

She was back, no doubt to that. And it seemed this was a taste of the Light side.
In the depths of her focus the cauldron where all of her suffering, all the fears, the woes melted into slag as one to feed the engine. Up on the shelf there was a little pot, with some soil, and a tiny defiant happy little sprig of green.

She muttered a curse before she wandered now to the next task. An endless cycle.

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Beaten, Bruised, Breaking


The week began with Lord Revan.
IT BEGAN THAT WAY.

Reassuring and repairing each and every day.
Next it would be Lord Sohma.
Then it would be negotiations.
And it would be the Dark One.
To a permanent sacrifice.
Falling into a recent memory.
Then the trail.
The loss.

Hurling herself as hard as possible into the Force took her strength, she didn’t remember when she collapsed or how long it had been. She didn’t know if she could summon the strength to rise again anytime soon. Perhaps it was better this way.

Where do we go from here, who will save us now…

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A path backwards to look forwards…



An evolving situation was always what she’d call it. But in her mind the elements really were the same few figures and whatever strands that bound or broke only to reform again. She could have paced, she could have brooded, instead she kept running to mend this or prop up that as if to ensure a fading structure would somehow endure. Secluding herself she saw how it was dissolving in key places, she knew it was more than one person could handle. Perhaps in fact, it was not worthy of being held up any longer at all…

Looking down after composing the encrypted message, she had to exhale to remember to breathe again. Wondering now of course what the ramifications were inevitably going to be. Something was going to give, but she had to admit she was growing more tired. Part of her started to understand why others would simply just give up or stay away, soaking in success while not forcing themselves into this tedious and endless work.

At worst, she’d be the traitor stepping into the molten fields to be burned away.
A simple and resounding defeat that would cement her departure and self preservation in durasteel.

At best, it would be a challenge to everything that kept threatening to tear apart.
A reckoning of the comforts so easily taken, a demand for sanity and structure.

Some over the time they’d come to know her would’ve anticipated voices all clamoring over one another to try and get to the front of the race in her thoughts, but she smiled bemused at the concept. No, for her it was only one master, one purpose. That made it easy, even if the execution was endless, difficult, and draining her. The smile would fade as she started to realize through all these duties and works, what had she really gained? A gnawing sensation on her side made her feel inadequate, falling behind. She knew she wasn’t meeting her potential, let alone gaining anything anymore.

It was time to take refuge, it was time to get back to her meditations. Slipping into them was more than a concentrated effort, it was a step back in time…


A space station with a multitude of purposes. During the Mandalorian conflict it served as a trading post, a dock and repair hub for military and non-military vessels alike. Coordinating the orbital traffic and issuing a constant string of coordination codes ensured that travel to and from was relatively seamless.

But to keep ships going, it had to be equipped with a means to replace the parts that were either damaged or destroyed. So uniquely this station was equipped with a starship forge. On one of her countless excursions, she couldn’t be more than seven standard years, she’d always been warned to stay away from the red zone. Blue zone for medical, yellow for cargo and loading, ah but the red zone was the industrial and the forge. It was impossible to tame that curiosity, and an unsupervised kid with vent access was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Having already heard on the comms and PA systems across the area that echoed in the vents, the shift was done for now and a rare quiet would fall over the red zone. While the tired and soot covered workers limped longing towards their nearest cup of caf or other vice of choice, someone far smaller was scurrying above them to the vacant and less monitored zone.

The vents were a treacherous place, but she knew even just by touch which ones were exhaust from the red zone, the smell too was intense and hazardous. Confident in her navigation she pressed on until she had thought she could find a small access way out and into the forbidden zone. While she was correct and managed the screws and bolts with a pilfered multitool, she couldn’t have accounted for the steep and sudden exit.

Falling, smacking her head, her back several times it was too dark to know if she had remained awake through the impacts. Lucky for her she wasn’t out of it at all. With a groan she’d put her hands to the surface below her, a roughness immediately greeted her skin that she had never encountered before. Smoke and fumes already were seeping into the room she’d fallen into, the excess being drawn into specific channels by automated fans. But here and now it did start to permeate her senses and disorient her further.

The room was dark, a depth that reminded her of the void of space but missing the hopeful distant stars that broke apart the darkness. This was the darkness of the shut eye. Her attention blearily shifted to the source of the fumes as she stumbled, caring little for the guilty soot that she’d have to scrub off later before she returned to her mother. There was one opening, the warning signs would’ve been where humanoids might’ve been expected to see them, but this was a maintenance access, she couldn’t see anything without light.

In defiance of the darkness was a red hot opening, surreal in presentation. The heat of it was palpable, getting too close started to blast organic flesh with that growing cooking sensation that would eventually blister and burn. She could only get so close, it wasn’t something told, it was something felt. Peering into the churning forge made to melt those components and alloys down the angry orange eye.

Next to her she could feel flakes of the forge having blown up and cooled, metal flakes that were light as paper sheets. In a childish instinct she started to push and let them fall and float back into the molten heart. The pieces danced on the heated air before finally touching the searing surface and melted into nothing.

It felt good.


Yet in the depths of her forge that she focused her meditations on, while she poured the emotions, the suffering all to melt away and feed the fire she found herself turning once again to that little irritating potted plant.

No longer a mere sprig, had it been growing?

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All that we do in life…


Taking rest again, another round of injections to ensure the biological and artificial parts didn’t continue to wage war inside of the body. Her focus, her growth had to be elsewhere. Day after day it had been now sorting through the multifold mess of intrigue, standing in a position between all sides wasn’t really a metaphor anymore.

The push and pull of power, handling the ungrateful whelps that were growing in number and louder by the day had put a further strain on the situation. Clarity came in the form of uncertainties cleared between allies who had always been. Pondering how disdainfully their order was looked upon, she’d only come to now realize the bizarre harmony that emerged beyond all chance, all doubt.

Resting under an unfamiliar roof she’d found her way away from the others. She was growing increasingly tired, was it weakness, her limit she didn’t know. But let her eyes rest as she took to the comfort she so protested not but hours ago. If she didn’t she’d not make it much further. The dreams came as they always do…

Solomon, immaculate now with a certainty and a fire as never before. His strength and certainty were her envy. A passionate and unique maroon cloak over his armors, distinct.

Aiven, graceful, presentable, flawless and intriguing. How could her attempts at civility ever compare. A noble’s cloak and clothing, dark and consuming to draw one in to his designs.

Rissa with her pride and relentless force, the support she’d not expected. She didn’t realize how much she’d come to understand, she was overwhelming in capability. A valiant silver and violet attire, flowing with the way she moved and did battle.

Nrrax, his faith not in tradition but in absolute authority and following. He was the foundation that would never break to the end of days. A stoic form of gold plates and black filler cloth.

And here she would find herself trapped and left behind as they all walked away, tugging on glass chains too thick to shatter, calling and crying after them. In Xochipilli’s, Gravius’, and Valerius’ wake who was she.

Waking with a start yet again, she could feel the warm presence next to her. That it was someone new every so often wasn’t really a surprise. But the fear kept creeping in now, rubbing her face slowly as she struggled to get back down. Staring out into the midnight gloom.

Her expression damp she had to think now yet again to the past.
Was Alice wrong? With the loss of her Master was she incomplete? Was she only ever a tool to the end? What was her place, where did she really belong?

Distracting herself with tasks, that’s what she would always do. Meditation was taking longer and providing fewer answers. And then there were other nagging issues.


In the forge of her focus she thrashed the emotions that kept tumbling in forcing them to submit as she drove them into the molten vat once more. In the throes of her exasperated state she found herself grabbing everything that could be handled, a wild and rage filled catharsis she had awakened as she refused to yield.

But then she stopped.

She had the potted plant in her hands, her limbs trembled in a wretched way while her breathing heaved.

She couldn’t do it.

Her viewpoint shifted as she lowered it to look upon it once again, it should be easy to throw it, burn it away once and for all. The burning breeze from the opening promised to consume it and let it die forever. But she wept, turning away to cower in the corner well away from the only light that there was.

The darkness of it all was overwhelming as she felt herself drowning all over again, yet she clawed onto the pot as if it were a child of her own.

Slowly she remembered to breathe again, she was in no danger after all.

"It’s going to be okay."

A blink, a flash as she expected nothing to fill the consuming darkness. That voice was gone, dead.

Right?

Right?

Her eyes and tears would reflect what she never thought possible. The plant was not only still alive, protected by this hidden internal act.
It was now starting to glow.

Only in the darkness can we appreciate the light…

blueplane

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Come what may,



The momentum of cruisers would break through their next hyperlane adjustment. The void of cold immaterial suddenly filled with the bustling hub of life and prepared violence. Commanders and their forces drilling while the decks of dozens would ensure all readings were stable and optimal. Another adjustment as their eventual trajectory would be met, another jump through the systems all passing by in a blur as they advanced towards their goal.

Her eyes would come open again, she could hear it at times, feel it coming as the eventuality. Not that this was any prophetic vision, the assault was known from the moments following the Leviathan’s damage, the sundering of the Dark Lord. Though the feeling of the weight of it could be felt behind her eyes. Times like these is where she wished she could tame how the Force tried to warn her, not that she could begrudge the powers bestowed but it made her sleep all the more disrupted.

When she wasn’t viewing things from afar she had to tame more local voices and tones. After building structures, decorating them from top to bottom, she’d had more than enough places to hide away. Temporary closures as needed, her home being shared now, it was performing its purpose. Surrounding figures of heroes and beasts of fabled lore, she was entertained at how her own creations conveyed the battles without, while tending to the battles within.

Her mind had been a slightly repulsive myriad of confidence jaggedly sectioned in the midst of her humility and patience. Someone not all that long ago, so terrified and small had managed to find footing. It took her strength, her sanity, and yet through the thick foliage of distraction and uncertainty there was the shadows ended up being the binding truth all along. Instead of foes and divided allies they had been unified all along. She had just taken so long to see it, the names she’d been given, it wasn’t all just flattery.

Fatebinder. Whimsical, a pairing of words from a simple enough answer of the one with the capability to control aggression, the outcome of a battle on any field.
Dove. The timid avian known for pure simplicity and soft sound, representing a variety of images and ideals.
Queen. A dominant female force, the keeper and minder of all that was hers. A lifetime of preparation to ensure success over her dominion.
Monster. This wasn’t the word used, but it was more than implied. The thrill of discomfort, manipulation. The fallout from each provocative word and exposed weakness the only glaring setback.
Sith. This side of the Force. Destined, inevitable, inescapable? It was her placement, it was her duty rank and calling. Thankless, even brutal. How many more times are you punished than you are appreciated. You return to them, it’s where you belong, it’s where you are loved.

When they call, you come.

Her head shook. Everything was far clearer now. The choices being made were deliberate and she could go forth into the fray without doubt, without fear. All these mental taskings gave her was further certainty, too much of the noise and layers of each and every design and scheme, she had to mind that increasingly now.

Eventually a calm came to her in a simpler task. Committing her thoughts with ink she debated what to do next, but settled on something small and wasteful. Upon returning to her own territory for however long such would last she ascended a mild peak in the west. Leaving the note to the mountain air, she knew the storms would carry it, the rain would wash away the ink on humble paper parchment. She never intended to finish it, nor for it to be found.


The world looks so different because of you. Before I could never believe in myself.
Everything has a place, in the dark and in the light. I consider how our lives could’ve been so different.
If we had met sooner, if we had met later. Would we still be the people who stand here now.
Would it be better, would it be worse? What haven’t you said, what would you take back.
I’d give everything to hear you speak again…

The time of battle was upon Viscara once again. She was ready, come what may.

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Fatal Flaw


Ethos. Logos.
Two small words that rolled around in the mind. Strange that a simple conversation could settle so comfortably in the mind and take it up for hours and days. At first the green hued Jedi was a cause for some pause, she could appreciate another mentalist to actively challenge her own worldview. It was tragically far too easy to fall into certain rhythms, certain habits, only to suffer an eventual failure for it.

A small shake of her head to her own thoughts was all she’d ever disclose. Bombarded by message indicators in her sensory receptors installed in the base of her skull, the constant flow of data and information was its own plague. At least it had an off switch, she didn’t know how she’d ever sleep otherwise.

Taking another inventory of their equipment and hoarded materials, keeping the Mercury Phoenix in proper form and flying condition it all felt like an endless preparation. To be Sith was to be ready to fight, the methodical processes were only interrupted by mountain and forest strolls as she kept herself acquainted with the territory. Running over memories of battles witnessed or not.

A crunch of stray stone between her foot and the partly cobbled wildlands path that led to the pyre, her gaze would fall on the Community Center. Looking to the indents of grasses where others had fallen, even if it was only a memory that remained. Adjusting to the point where she who was Six stood.

The fury exhibited, the sound of a body falling on the ground in front of her. She had to strain a little to remember it all as the instinct that took her was consuming, time had flowed at a different rate, her limbs at a new strength. Only previous little piercing that sudden fraught veil.

"I am Six… you will be Seven."

No. A snarl and a toss of her head as her pace continued unbroken. She’d already made the determination she would be no one’s toy, not a piece on the board.

And yet in the same thread she could remember the sensation that filled her as never before. She couldn’t in her core deny something vindicating about it all. Her hand came up to her sights attempting to be held still, but it pointedly couldn’t as the tremble rolled through it even days after the fight now.

Giving a heated exhale she’d find her new refuge away from the rest. Only one other would have access to her in such a domain. She recalled the more recent observations of another.
“Mysterious… effortless.”
A smug grin hid under her mask as she considered the implications. Her strength and desires were resolute still, but to capture even a piece of her former Master’s excellence was something she craved. For now though, this trembling listlessness had to be brought to heel. The fight was over, her form needed to obey again.

Her senses drew to a close as she let her focus take precedence.


something in dark


The sight was not entirely expected. The opening normally that waited with a yawning maw was clamped shut. The tender glowing flower had gone to sleep with petals drawn closed. Darkness.

And then eyes. Nothing else to see, only what she could feel.

Inhuman in presentation, yet all too human in intelligence. This wasn’t her opponent, past, or distress. In more tender times she’d ventured into the crystalline caverns of Viscara as instructed, laying her hand upon a surface without suspecting anything, only to be confronted by her mind’s questions.

And her future design. It was her own form, morphed, but she remembered the dreaded presentation. Flowing in darkness, a brilliant red saber. How much closer she had taken strides towards this future, the saber hilt’s weight growling in her mind at her side.

The voice was hers, but rolling with a metallic grind that delivered the pain and discomfort to the unready listener.

"How DARE you. I feel your hesitation. I’ll rip you for that. I’ll take back what you keep trying to take away from me."

Composing herself, the opposition wouldn’t allow her ground to stand on. Slashing her aside to hit hard one of the walls of the chamber.

“You’ve fed me, you will not starve me again. You released me, I will never again be contained. Accept it. Embrace me.”

The screaming raging howl in her mind knocked her deeper into her focus, a weakness she hadn’t realized. Her body would fall limp to be discovered later. For now she was due for a new lesson.

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Theme: March of Progress

everspace


A song from a dark star.


Calm down. One more time.
Do you see the thread?
Chase after it, don’t think. Just go.

Standing abreast of the navigation viewport, it was a curious way to interact with the hyperlanes. A visual trail that would be nigh imperceptible save for those with the capacity to quiet, watch, and feel for such. The process wasn’t nearly as cold as she knew space to be, that void expanse that cradled the worlds in their relative rotations and distance. Much as the voices that guided her before, so too did these distant threads. Singing, calling.

But there would be no chasing after this thread, not this time. The Mercury Phoenix could be at risk with another botched attempt, and being stranded out in deep space, possibly on some unknown world or moon was just not something she could afford to chance.

You were willing to do it before. Now you’re afraid.

A sneer, a scoff, just like her own breath and voice. Irritable and sinister, this aspect of her had to comment on every step and decision. It was the potential of everything she could be, everyone else was lesser and prey to it. There were times it took a stronger hold of her when she allowed it to. To call it separate was incorrect even in her mind, everything was all one, but each situation demanded a different aspect.

But she only shook her head, settling down on the arid world of Tatooine. More work to be done on projects kept well out of sight. Scurrying away, it’s not as though anything other than the roving tribes would’ve noticed her as she had learned with extreme expediency how not to be disturbed, tailed, or troubled unless she wished to be.

Inside the bunker was everything she’d left it, layers of hazardous insulation to prevent any leaks or any intrusions. Besides to anyone else the contents were largely obscure instruments and useless chemicals, nothing to ultimately warrant the protocols put in place. After witnessing the potency first hand and the demands made by those who were ordering it, she knew the risks involved. One product created lethargy and ease at a cost. But this was going to be entirely different.

Weeks would creep by with her occasional appearance to the site. The process always the same, darken the transponder, settling under cover, entering the double airlock layers, and donning the protective gear necessary to prevent contact by air or touch. Standard droplet protections in the end. Apart from keeping the intense heat out, the interior was also glumly lit with basic lighting in time with a minimalistic attempt off grid. Anything more would produce heat and a signature that could be tracked. Everything had to be accounted for.

As the process begin anew, she’d draw out the extracted samples she’d been working with. In a way this hidden alchemy was both a scientific endeavor as well as an art. But just as anyone learning heavily on their own the process was slow and agonizing. With exact measurements the next attempt would be isolated into a container for her next experiment. The collected items resembling that of science and the occult by this point. Without further hesitation she began to pour her wrath and frustration her sorrows and bereavements all into the energy that would claw out into the container and the contents within. To the onlooker this might appear a divergent technique of force lighting, but instead of mere reaction with emotion, this was infusion.

sithalchemy01

The blood of the infected.
The shame of defeat.
Shards of bitterness.
Drops from mourning.
The burden of continuing on.
A mark of betrayal.
Denied rage.
Seething predator.

Falling into a trance state the hours would drift by while the energy caressed and manipulated the elements inside, attempting to control the wrath that was previously so wild. In a way she knew her methods were perfect for this, as in its own way her creation was her. To each who would take on this stimulant would experience a piece of her existence, condensed all into one small injection.

The final product was drastically different from what she’d remembered it initially being though. Worry entered her features as she looked upon it. Far from gold as it once was, it seemed her energy started to radiate through it more heavily. This was no longer her master’s creation. Exhaling shakily she could feel her energy seeping away as she broke off the focus, silencing her manipulation of the elements to see it still yet aglow.

Strangely the emotions were only going to last so long even if she’d been improving her endurance, the sources of these extremes becoming more reliable. The anger, the darkness inside her was worn out for now and resting to recover for the next time that she might be in danger and need to fight for her life. Her body would have to submit with it as she collapsed into one of the awkward corners of the lab. The protective mask fit awkwardly as it adjusted with where her head fell. Soon after her eyes drifted so easily back to sleep.


But it was always in her slumber where the trouble kept at her, yet she could never confess the truth of it in earnest. The dreams far from her focus, far from all the aches and woes of the world. A rolling distant storm over an ocean scape, her own body well on land and safe in the tropical shelter.

Yet she could feel something off, something she needed to find as it was lost, clawing through the untouched foliage that was unfamiliar and changing with each time her mind drifted to dream. An urgency, a fear entering her veins as she started to chase.

The malice that had accompanied her in waking was far behind and subdued, but the inverse was still out there. Somewhere, lost and hurt. Grief and worry filled her as the pace quickens, the slapping of broad leaves strike as the search becomes a panic. All this effort just to see… just to hear…

Kathea?


She couldn’t reach her eyes when she awoke with a start this time, she couldn’t hide how it made her wept for now. It burned, and she hated herself. She knew it was her fault. Worse still, nothing inside disagreed with it. A curse slipping past her lips again.

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Lost days


Get up.

There was less of an incentive to rise, less to emerge. Yet she stabbed the injector in, watching the dyed pink substance ebb and dissipate until it melded with her blood. The exhausted pull of laboring forward was becoming more than could be handled. Exchanging pleasantries, engaging in the day to day connections sparked no life further now. It was enduring between battles, perhaps this is why so many Sith she had witnessed seemed careless.

You can’t live without the fight. Perhaps the calm is too much to bear.

Wincing she’d pass by the normal sites that were commonplace. A world she’d think only of in fear now a definitive home after a time, not a concept her younger self could’ve ever mustered. Passing the pyre pit, the community center, all such places where she’d spoken, spilled blood, and spilled her own. From Six to Five, these harrowing shadows all devoted to one individual, or perhaps just simply one idea. The mutterings of curious and hungry minds hadn’t fallen deaf on her, but at the same time she didn’t even know where she stood. A languid gaze towards the not too distant swamps that had been singed and would likely look no more worn and decrepit than before, only with less festering a population of fast hatching predators.

You remember each of their forms, their numbers. You’ve been keeping track.

Her focus drifted west. There was sweeping to be done, the leaves and storms always coming to cause clutter. She’d look almost mundane save for her darkened training attire. She never saw much a reason to change her attire, even though she used to. Dropping her cowl to rub away the minor sweat that collected, it was nothing like when her master had drove her, almost holding a resentment in her chest for not having done more.

Living for those that are already dead. Such an odd way to exist.

But nearly every time she was meeting with others now there was always something to help sort, something to teach and pass along. The presence of the masked Lord-Overseer lurked in her mental shadow. She had to wonder along elements like her former study, recent exchanges with him had made her question how things progressed. Did she purposefully make it out that she had needed protection, or was this all entirely a storm of misunderstanding. The potential made her ache much as the gnawing gap of having turned him away at all. She desired desperately to look at the Lord-Overseer and beg to understand if one really ever loses their student. But between prior interruptions with summons along with an uncertainty to the possible answer, she had yet to send for him, to ask.

You reach and fill the void, better that than simply standing alone adrift, screaming.

Shuddering, the wind shifted. She’d seen her work pay off, the wildlife she tended growing in power and capability, her experimentation had allowed her to do some things right. By now she understood how things took time, how those who were bold would learn to soften and adjust. While so many had been away she ensured the Sith of Viscara would survive yet. Perhaps they were still growing in the wake of Revan’s demise, and Valerius might not realize what she continued to perform, yet she knew in her core that it was what must be done. Giving herself a moment of reassurance few others would offer she let her eyes rest as she leaned on the rake she’d toiled with to clear the training space of their little enclave. The spars, the arguments, the outright fights, to her it would always be a special place.

Perhaps they are right, perhaps this is all entirely impossible. It’s not too late.

A growl of displeasure escaped her throat. With chores and menial tasks done she had to withdraw herself. Day after day of this slowing movement punctuated by conflict and friction did little to help her rest. She couldn’t know what was stealing it anymore. The stress only seemed to build, the visions and dreams all the more distorted and forgotten. Marching now away from the homes she spent her time building, furnishing, the sanctum she’d crafted by sheer hubris and effort she’d make her way east. She’d disappear once again into the treeline, beyond the point where Solomon had fallen before, always stopping and reminding herself how she nearly lost him. Knowing where to hide was becoming a new skill to hone with so many hungry hearts starting to see her offerings. She could slip away into a sanctuary, slumping down against the first wall hidden away from the world. No one else could reach, it was safe, except for him. The weeping started, releasing the building pressure in her heart and head. She mourned, she missed, in the depths of her core even the molten forge dimmed in the chill that ravaged her. How much she would bite into the flesh of those she couldn’t reach, demanding their presence remain, to soothe her. It shouldn’t make her suffer so much to want to hear their voice, to hear him say again…

Kathea.

Force be damned, none of them could ever know.

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Increased Awareness, Necessary Tasks


Settling slowly, finally removing the surgical bandage from her minor medic stay she couldn’t help but run her fingers over the healing wound which was more or less done. A small stripe along her throat that would fade in days, but for the moment it itched so she self soothed for the time being.

Her haunts were varied now, company kept was lowering in diversity but still she needed to keep to herself at times. Considering the last few days had been largely in a meditative state among her largely quiet buildings, she had the means and the quiet to delve into her own thoughts and focus. Ensuring a new degree of housekeeping in that dark sanctuary lit by the flames devouring and contained. But a degree of routine ensured that they would never escape or die, understanding now this endless process.

She’d spare a glance to the blue flowers, softly glowing aside as she couldn’t find the heart to fully discard them, noticing their luster wasn’t quite so bright. But she didn’t have time to mourn the failing light. If anything it was necessary, even if she couldn’t bring herself to destroy it outright, this was an inevitable death. Understanding it now, it was the hope of some brighter piece, as if her past hadn’t fully died. Those Jedi and wanderers now further away letting that dream and softer side gradually perish. Everything was a metaphor given a visualization on purpose, perhaps a sentient’s way of coping with the Force in all its aspects and confusion.

Pulling herself from such a rut though was essential, walking through life with one foot in the Force and the other in the galaxy spanning politics and powers that be was necessary. Heading to her ship she’d simply run over some additional calibrations, checking over the hull and engines in yet another methodical sweep. With activity stirring near Mon Cala there was a gnawing ache in the Force that kept waking her up. ’Don’t be caught off guard, remain ready.' A low huff and a snap she contemplated then how Lord Valerius might even be feeling by now. This place within the Sith felt strange and far less intimate, but she’d seen what effect strongly bonded masters and learners suffered, and while she carried adoration she understood in the end he was only human and having to toil in his own circles to keep them alive, and to carve a better future.

With that thought cemented, she knew now that it was time to ensure he had more information about local behaviors and situations. It was one thing to be alerted when the situation merited it, but an urge she couldn’t quite place demanded that this information be sent. Be it right or wrong, her instinct was not something she ever ignored. One day she knew it would end in a tragic backfire, but thus far it hadn’t so as a predator on the scent of potential prey she was relentless in fulfilling whatever struck her. A low huff as she settled into the confines of her on board laboratory and medbay, sealing it shut for the time being and allowing her shadow to pass by the statue memorial of her now deceased master. Picking up a piece of broad metal she’d left discarded, a faint smile as she recalled its prior use. How there could be uses for any tool. Even the awakened wrath and rage was pleased to see it, only wanting more. But with the mess cleared she could settle down on the cot and draw out a proper secure encryption datapad.

Composing reports was a gradually becoming a familiar task, but she didn’t find herself disliking it, only wishing she had more to share. Aside from a direct copy sent without redactions to Valerius’ secure communications, she ensured that a biometric lock would help keep this information secure for the time being. It was a step far further than she was used to going, but in this day and age one really couldn’t be too careful. As her retina was scanned to initiate the process she removed the casing of her thumb augmentation, plugging the jack of it into the appropriate port. Issuing a small sigh of relief, this was a device she knew, there wouldn’t be any worries while she composed with her neural interface. To anyone else the process would take minutes, looking as though she was staring off in some deep thought, fingers twitching restlessly and with no pattern to be found.

SHRIIK SERUM
º CLASS: CONSUMABLE
º DESCRIPTION: INJECTABLE, POTENTIAL INJESTABLE HYPER-STIMULANT CAPABLE OF OVERTAKING USER, UNSTABLE, UNRELIABLE
º DETAILS: ALCHEMICALLY MANIPULATED LIQUID CRYSTAL FROM VISCARAN CAVERNS
º SOURCING: NON SUSTAINED, REMAINING AMOUNTS DWINDLING IN SECURE CARE
º UPDATE: TWO DIVERGENT STRAINS ARE BEING CRAFTED FROM THE ORIGINAL SERUM, STARDUST [INTETNION: NARCOTIC/PAIN REDUCTION] AND ONE UNNAMED VARIANT [INTENTION: COMBAT STIM] STILL IN DEVELOPMENT


DARTH MALIGAR
º CLASS: LOCAL THREAT; REJECTION/DEFIANT OF ALLIANCE POTENTIAL
º DESCRIPTION: PHYSTICAL CHARACTERISTICS: BLACKENED EYES AND BURNED SEMI-SEALED LIPS [ACOLYTES SHARE SIMILAR PHYSICAL FEATURES]
SOURCING: HIMSELF, FIVE TO SIX ACOLYTES [NOT INCLUDING DECEASED], ONE APPRENTICE [NOT ENCOUNTERED]

º DETAILS: MALE, DEVARONIAN, SPECIALIZING IN MENTAL MANIPULATION FROM EXTENSIVE DISTANCES, LIGHTSABER ARTS, AGE: UNDETERMINED [THEORIES SURROUNDING THIS VARY FROM EXCESSIVELY OLD [UNLIKELY], POSSIBLE TRANSFERRENCE TO ACOLYTES[?]], ENGAGES IN MANIPULATION ATTEMPTS TO FOIST SITH CONTROL OVER VISCARA AND VELES [AS SUCH EXTREMELY UNLIKELY TO BECOME AN ASSET]

º UPDATE: POST DISPATCH OF VELLEN CREATURE HOARD HIS ACTIVITIES HAVE LESSENED SUBSTANTIALLY, SUSPECT LAYING IN WAIT FOR THE TIME BEING
[REDACTED] HAS ALSO ENCOUNTERED MALIGAR AND ASSOCIATES, HAVING A FORCE LINK TO [REDACTED] THERE IS POTENTIAL CONCERN THERE SHOULD BE COMPROMISE OR THE THREAT BE REDIRECTED ONTO THE VISCARAN SITH ENCLAVE

STEALTH DRIVE GENERATORS
º CLASS: ASSET - STARSHIP MOBILITY
º DESCRIPTION: EXPERIMENTAL TECHNOLOGY, ONLY ABLE TO BE FITTED TO SHUTTLE AND SMALLER SIZE AND WEIGHT CATAGORY STARSHIPS
º DETAILS: FAILS AFTER SINGULAR USE TO AND FROM A LOCATION
º SOURCING: HUTTS, NOT CHEAP
º CONTACTS: NELL [MALE TWI’LEK], BASHIRA [HUTT]


// I may have the hutt name slightly wrong, apologies. //

With the information catalogued and sent, she’d lock down the device and hide it well enough away. The warning remaining to any who would try to tamper with it.

[WARNING. THIS DEVICE IS LOCKED AND RESTRICTED, ATTEMPTS TO HACK WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE NOTIFICATION TO OWNER :KATHEA SINRAE: AND SELF DESTRUCTION OF THIS DEVICE.]

Oddly enough once it was all written, she felt better. Perhaps she’d sated this urge of hers for now. Although now something else caught her senses, but where to head off to next, where to go…

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