Though his days were often busy and filled with kingly councils and important decisions to be made, the High King of Midvinter would always devote one hour to introspection and meditation by secluding himself from the rest of the world and tap into the vastness of the Force, same as he had all his life even as he was now in his sixties. Many of the familiar voices and presences of his younger days were long gone, nowhere to be seen or heard.
And yet, as his mind escaped the confines of the mortal world and ventured into the calming oceans of what his own kind would consider the supernatural, there they all were - as alive and serene as they were once in life. In this Netherworld of the Force did he commune with the spirits of the Jedi, learning from their infinite wisdom collected over thousands of generations past. However, he was also granted images of current events unfolding across the known galaxy, focused around those he held dear.
One such individual was Kyra Perl .
He'd sensed her suffering ever since she left his home that day, in the aftermath of bringing Nida Perl back from the corruptive clutches of the Sith. She and his own son, Thirdas, had come seeking his skills at healing for Nida's sake, when perhaps it was the younger Perl sister who was in even greater need of soothing. Her mind was racked with guilt, thinking she'd killed her own sister in the attempt at freeing her from her captors, and Thurion had seen the troubled road the poor girl was heading down.
Her recent abuse of narcotics, spice and otherwise. Trust issues, above all with herself. Inflicting harm upon herself mentally as well as physically.
Thurion wept for her, and sought to somehow make contact with her. To let her know it would all be right in the end. That she was loved and, more importantly, was worthy of being loved. Depression was like a black hole, capable of sucking everything you hold dear into its dark pits, leaving behind only emptiness. It was a very real disease; one he would cure, had he the knowledge to do so. Unfortunately, each case was highly personal and could stem from a great number of sources, be they true or imagined.
"Kyra," he sought to transmit a message through the Force. "Take heart, Sweet Child. You are not alone. Many there are who wish to help you. This pain will only depart when you let it. Trust in the Force, as it trusts in you. Become at peace. Live again."
Even for a Jedi Master of his considerable experience, to converse with another being in another part of the galaxy was a taxing ordeal. He relinquished his connection to Kyra for the time being, waking up to laboured breath and beads of sweat upon a weary brow. Whether Kyra would heed his words of comfort remained to be seen.
The ball, as they say, was in her court.
And yet, as his mind escaped the confines of the mortal world and ventured into the calming oceans of what his own kind would consider the supernatural, there they all were - as alive and serene as they were once in life. In this Netherworld of the Force did he commune with the spirits of the Jedi, learning from their infinite wisdom collected over thousands of generations past. However, he was also granted images of current events unfolding across the known galaxy, focused around those he held dear.
One such individual was Kyra Perl .
He'd sensed her suffering ever since she left his home that day, in the aftermath of bringing Nida Perl back from the corruptive clutches of the Sith. She and his own son, Thirdas, had come seeking his skills at healing for Nida's sake, when perhaps it was the younger Perl sister who was in even greater need of soothing. Her mind was racked with guilt, thinking she'd killed her own sister in the attempt at freeing her from her captors, and Thurion had seen the troubled road the poor girl was heading down.
Her recent abuse of narcotics, spice and otherwise. Trust issues, above all with herself. Inflicting harm upon herself mentally as well as physically.
Thurion wept for her, and sought to somehow make contact with her. To let her know it would all be right in the end. That she was loved and, more importantly, was worthy of being loved. Depression was like a black hole, capable of sucking everything you hold dear into its dark pits, leaving behind only emptiness. It was a very real disease; one he would cure, had he the knowledge to do so. Unfortunately, each case was highly personal and could stem from a great number of sources, be they true or imagined.
"Kyra," he sought to transmit a message through the Force. "Take heart, Sweet Child. You are not alone. Many there are who wish to help you. This pain will only depart when you let it. Trust in the Force, as it trusts in you. Become at peace. Live again."
Even for a Jedi Master of his considerable experience, to converse with another being in another part of the galaxy was a taxing ordeal. He relinquished his connection to Kyra for the time being, waking up to laboured breath and beads of sweat upon a weary brow. Whether Kyra would heed his words of comfort remained to be seen.
The ball, as they say, was in her court.
