STRANGERS WITHOUT FACES
It wasn't Kalrath this time. The ancient Sith Lord had slowly begun to leave her mind alone. She couldn't help but wonder if it was something about Veridia that weakened his ability to leverage the curse mark. The runes on her back still burned, but not quite like they used to. No, this was about something different. It didn't seem to matter how much reassurance those in the temple gave to her that she would be safe in this place. The expectation of knives in the darkness flooded her shattered mind, cutting at hypotheticals that made her squirm. Her skin crawled with the weight of every doubt she carried with her.
This was only pity. They expected her to fail. She was not like them. Her darkness was a threat. It was not them that Seven had to fear, but rather herself. She couldn't seem to simply accept the aid without criticizing the very act of taking it. It was simply a reminder of her weakness.
The hour had slipped into the evening by now. The former assassin sat on the floor, leaning against the door of a small meditation chamber. She didn't know why she was here. Seven had received a room all to herself, perfect to sulk in, yet she couldn't stand to be there. It felt so unearned, undeserved... yet it had been given freely to her. For that reason she spent as much time away as she could from that place. Seven wasn't meditating in this place, however. She was instead mourning. Dreams had come to her that she had not expected. Faces of those she never knew, but felt very close to. They looked like her, a young man and woman. Evereni. That was what her species was called according to the other she met of her kind. They smiled, the man and woman, even as they were in tears. Covered in scars. One moment, peace and silence. The next was a simple act of violence. In-discriminant blaster fire was all it took to clear them from her sight. An echoing sound, like a scream or wail consumed her senses.
She hadn't quite been able to unsee that dream. It made her cry. She hadn't cried in years. Kalrath was not accepting of such weakness from his agents. Her capacity to do so she had assumed to be snuffed out as a child, a product of survival. Seven had no way of explaining this.
The door suddenly bumped a little, like somebody on the other side was trying to open it. Seven tensed up, her heart beating faster. She didn't want to be seen. Not like this.
"Sorry!" the voice called out from the other side. It was young, feminine. She seemed to have a higher registry than Seven did. "I didn't know the room was in use, nobody was on the schedule."
There was a schedule for these meditation chambers?
"It's fine," Seven responded. "Just... don't come in."
"Of course," the woman on the other end responded, her voice polite and punctual. "No trouble at all. Take care-"
"Wait!"
Seven didn't know what she was doing. All she could really think of was how much she didn't want to be alone. Just for a moment.
"Please... don't leave yet," the Evereni requested. "I wish to ask you something."
"I'm not sure if I'll be able to help... but I'll do my best," the stranger answered.
The former assassin took a moment to steel her resolve. She just had to get something off her chest. Anything. Maybe it would be best to just say everything to a stranger that wouldn't see her face or who she was. No baggage.
"I'm not sure what to do," Seven admitted, "I... can't seem to get a grip over myself. My emotions are out of control. This place has caused me no pain, but I can only think about how afraid I am. It feels like there's something wrong with me. This is... stupid... I shouldn't..."
There was a silence before the stranger spoke again, a silence that only made Seven's heart beat faster. She had definitely let too much slip.
"I understand," she spoke in a softer tone. "I'm not just saying that because it's something to make you feel better... I just remember feeling something like that before."
Seven hesitated for a moment, then chose not to say anymore and let the stranger speak.
"I used to have terrible dreams," the woman explained. "They were violent. People doing terrible things to others. Sometimes it was to me. Sometimes I was the one doing terrible things. It was real, I think, and I don't believe I intended to hurt anyone. I was protecting myself... but it still felt wrong. I'd go to sleep afraid of myself. Afraid I'd bring harm to others. I thought something was wrong with me. My mind is... strange. A very dear friend of mine became very intertwined with me. The more I ran from those feelings and tried to ignore it, the more my dreams caused me pain. In turn, they caused him pain to. I still feel very guilty about that. Even so, I think I came to find that it was easier to accept what I was. What I was forced to be. If you hate yourself, how can you ever be better? Tearing yourself down, not giving yourself any room to breath... you just suffocate yourself. Maybe that suffocates the people around you too. I didn't want to put anyone through that anymore."
"I don't... I can't... I just can't do that. I don't know... I don't know how."
"I'm not sure if what I did will work for you," the stranger admitted, "but it may. If you want to be able to face yourself, you can't hide it from others. You have to open yourself to someone else. Let them see all of your scars. Trust them with the things that hurt you. Don't do that to fast... but maybe gradually. Open up to someone. Maybe in time they'll open up to you. Parts of others will build you back up. You can't stop feeling pain... that's just life. But you can find others to share it with. If you link your arms with others, you might just have the strength to keep your head above water."
"That's... very well formulated for a question out of the blue..." Seven muttered.
"A friend of mine was very good at that sort of thing when we were younger," the woman mused. "He was often rude at first. A lot of people thought he was kind of a jerk. I didn't really understand those sorts of social ques when we first met. But... then he'd turn around and say the most profound thing. It was like he could see others for who they were... not what baggage they carried. I... lost track of him. I miss him a lot. But I think he'd want me to share as much of my experience as I could with someone who asked."
"Sorry... I hope you find an open meditation chamber..."
That wasn't what Seven wanted to say. Her mind screamed with a thousand other responses. Thanks, crying, desperation to peel open the door and meet them, yet also the fear of crossing that bridge to make that connection, wanting to wish her luck finding that friend. In a strange moment of clarity, Seven felt the stranger's mind connect to hers. It was brief, yet the moment was profound. It was unlike any experience she had ever had in her life.
"Thank you," the stranger responded, her words composed like before. "I'm sure I'll find what I need. I'm sure you will too. Maybe we can speak again some day."
A faint mechanical whirring was audible on the other side of the door, then gentle footsteps moved away down the hall.
After ten minutes of sitting in silence, Seven stood up, pulled up her hood, and opened the door. She glanced around to make sure nobody else was present, then ran back to her room.
