Stormclouds

If there was one thing Vizion Trozky was good at, it was compartmentalising. Today that meant setting aside his ruminating on recent joy, and resisting speculation on the day’s fresh development — he’d only just heard the whispers of a fomenting gathering at the old post of the Shirayan Vanguard, when the Grandmaster was already on her way down to tend to it herself — to focus on his work

He’d watched the short, knife-eared woman depart the Council Chambers as if she were a strong gust, and was left to review reports from areas under his purview, which for some months now had been twice what it was since the Order’s founding. The closest thing to a Shadow left on the Council after the departure of his future brother-in-law, Vizion now oversaw two fields, making him one rather busy High Councillor.

There was no use in letting his mind wander through what was happening there, detracting from his responsibilities, when he would doubtless hear about it soon. When ‘soon’ did appear, it came blustering in, breaking his focus in the process with its arrival. His head snapped up, and he rose halfway to his feet, eyes flicking to Ala Quin in reaction to the amount of noise she’d made, returning.

This from a usually calm woman… as far as he’d been able to observe since she took over the post at the head of the Jedi Order.

“Grandmaster?” The query came in halves of concern and confusion. “What—”

“Apologies,” Ala said, interrupting. Her momentary outburst had been more a gasp of breath as if coming to the surface after a long battle with the undertow. It was not, however, uncontrolled. Ala had instead allowed herself a moment of release for the pent up angst. “The Vanguard is reformed. Lorn is leading them in a more aggressive posture towards the Sith.”

Ala walked past Vizion and to one of the large windows that wrapped about the room. She paused to look out over the Sanctuary, a responsibility she had inherited from the woman he loved. Vizion lowered himsel back into his seat, but turned his head to follow the Grandmaster to the window with his eyes. Thoughts of the short-live Foundation arose unbidden in his thoughts, just as much a flash in the proverbial pan as the Lightsworn.

Both of those groups had sought to work with the Jedi Order. This? It rose from within the Order, in defiance of it.

“Given that the first Grandmaster of this Order stands with him,” Ala said, tone all sighing, “I do question my stance in opposition to it.”

Vizion swallowed, his brow knitting together as he stood again, his thoughts swirling. Hands found purchase on the Council table as if to steady himself. The first Grandmaster. Briana. She’d said nothing to him about this.

“You mean to tell me my girlf—” that was his own incredulous outburst, stopped short as he caught his tone; a short breath saw him continue under his breath, a hand raking into his curls, “—for force sakes, Briana,” he uttered, continuing on, huffing his next words, “like time itself, my… fiancée waits for nothing and no-one.”

Vizion released a couple notes of a sardonic laugh.

“Asked her to marry me,” the hand left his head in a wide gesture, “and off she goes!” The hand dropped, along with a heavy sigh and deflation. Resigned to his fate for the day. “Well that’s my evening.” So much for relaxing. "My apologies," he said, his tone thereafter morphing into something frank, "this is all so unexpected."

Though if the past couple of years said anything, it was that this resurgence of the Vanguard could be the latest iteration of a recurring symptom, and so long as the darkness prevailed, aggressive initiatives would continue to bloom in attempts to undo its hold.

Vizion's attention tracked back to Ala with the apology, as he shut away what he could do nothing about, at the moment, though it was harder to entirely clear his face of concern. He couldn’t help but think of where this path could lead. Yet more uncertainty. For a long, heavy moment, after he finished speaking, the Grandmaster stood frozen in the quiet space, no doubt meticulously unpacking the weight behind his words.

The proposal was not entirely a surprise. Vizion and Briana had walked the same path for years, their souls paired as perfectly as matching blades. Yet this new development carried a quiet threat: should Briana venture too deep into this dark territory, it would fracture the very foundation of their bond. Unless, of course, he chose to descend into the shadows right alongside her…

“What is love in the time of division?” Ala murmured, the words slipping out as a bleak soliloquy. “Perhaps the only thread left to hold us together.” Her voice lacked even a shred of optimism, as she turned her gaze back to him. “Congratulations on the engagement,” she said, though the blessing hung in the air like a sudden chill, sounding far more like a eulogy than a celebration... and he felt it.

He turned his gaze away, eyes squeezing shut while his head dropped and his insides twisted. He wasn't blind to the contours of this situation. Briana Sal-Soren was going to be the death of him, and he dug his own grave willingly.

Love, indeed.

“Thanks." A joyless word atop the roil of his emotions, disappointment among them. "You... should convene the council, soon,” Vizion's head rose and eyes opened as he continued, hardly looking forward to how they would manage from here on out, “we can discuss our stance on the matter of the Vanguard, then, after we've all had some time to sort out our thoughts.”

And feelings, as the case might be.

"I'll talk to Briana, tonight," he affirmed, "and see what comes of it."