A Night Of Celebration

[Vytal Noctura]

Location: Throne Room
Tag: [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Rience"]

A Witch arrived precisely when she meant to. Fashionably late. Not so late that she missed King Malvern's speech, of course.

A flowing, black robe swept along along the Dathomiri woman's legs with a diamond cut over her belly to reveal the pale flesh of her taunt abdomen. She slipped into the chamber just as the King rose to call the affair to order. Silent steps carried her deeper into the chamber as he lay low the truth of existence, and gave defiant cry to his enduring reign. It all drew a faint smile to her darkened lips.

Vytal plucked a flute from a passing servant of the night. Everything her eyes beheld was quite remarkable. Especially when you accounted for the battered state the world held, and the rise of this new center of power and glory amidst the ruin. She could appreciate the work it entailed to build such an empire; mostly as the very existence of such enormous cities was unlikely anything on Dathomir. The stars were truly a wonderful place. Full of riches, opportunity, and an endless array of ways to die.

The witch drew up slowly upon an armored figured that loitered amidst the rest. Her smile curled up the corners of her lips as the flute fell from them. "What plague brings forth a hunter among predators?" Vytal's eyes had fallen upon the Bounty Hunter [member="Startorn"]. Adron hadn't hired this man as security, she hoped. The room was full of enough power to level half the city before any 'Rapid Response' team could get out of bed.

 

[Startorn]

Startorn turned to see the lady in front of him, *strange* he thought *a Dathomirain so far from home?* "What light shine on Dathomir that a witch leaves her Shadow's?" Startorn returned, he'll admit, amidst all the these politicians he did stand out, even the warriors had dressed up but Startorn was a mandalorian warrior, and one of the first things you learn is to always be prepared, always, and this was no exception, but he was curious as to why such a lady was here

 

[Gianna Aegis]

​

Location: Courtyard [Dancing] - [member="John Locke"]

There was always a forbidden temptation that existed when being faced with partial truths. The desire to read his mind, to know what he thought, burned like an ember through paper. Many assumed that she was entirely immune to the whispering lure that the Force presented. It placed opportunity. A path. Choices. Gianna always refused to make them. The flame-haired Jedi let the unseen guide her through the darkest nights, the bleakest, of scenarios. The Force brought her peace. It ushered in a sense of harmony when everything else in the galaxy seemed to have turned itself inside out and upside down.

This moment was stolen.

He was warm. Secure. Gentle in ways she didn’t deserve. The ever-observant Knight had been mistaken. Part of her had thought, perhaps in wishful thinking, that John had managed to find his center and place his more intimate feeling to the wayside. It hadn’t come up again. Not since Tanaab. On Haseria she had wondered briefly if he had seen through the thinly veiled guise she had constructed, only, they had been interrupted by a well-meaning clone. The fact that her empathy could pick up every high singing note so strongly now told her that her assumptions were woefully incorrect.

He did not care less. If anything—He cared more. Loved, more. The sensation was profound.

Strong. So strong, it almost hurt.

When he asked that she stay, with him, would he see the tears that glittered in jade eyes unshed? The cooling sensation of metallic fingers along her jaw did little to help her try and halt them. When his lips brushed her own in the softest of motions—Would he feel her breath catch? The timed sway that they had fallen into along with the music came to a stop while everything seemed to fade. Colors, lights, and the beauty of such a celebration faded away to dull black and white sketches.

For the span of a forbidden heartbeat she kissed him back. Her fingers curled in the expensive material of his jacket. Her head tilted just slightly while her weight shifted to depend on his center of gravity rather than her own. It was pure instinct and emotion that made her thoughtlessly move to find an angle that might allow him to deepen what he had started. Closed eyes stung, almost unbearably, while she fought to keep from breaking what was one of her most important vows. She cried beneath what the world could see. Invisible sadness. Invisible tears.

Invisible pain that peeled away the skin of her still beating heart.

Gianna pushed gently backward with her palm flattening against his chest. A set amount of distance appeared between them. He would find that no matter how hard he tried there was a physical barrier he would not be able to cross. Her chin had fallen with eyes that were glued to some forgotten point on the ground. Wisps of crimson hair hid her expression. “…What you feel…You mustn’t.”

“I am a Jedi Knight, John.”

As if that explained everything. While her heart raced, despite, the fact that she remained steady—It still sounded hollow. When her words came next, they were soft. Barely a whisper that he would almost find hard to hear among the background sounds of music and frivolity. “My life is not mine to give. My heart is not mine to give. I can never raise the value of my own personal wants over the mission. You must know that I chose this lifelong calling, long ago, in which I must serve and hold compassion for all. Not a select few. Not one person.”

Gianna could feel the walls that kept her strong slowly rising while her faith filled the cracks. Moment by moment, her breathing evened, and she was able to blink away her tears. She could clear her mind. Find peace. Quiet. A white space in which she could acknowledge what she felt, and know, that this was just as much her fault as it was his. She felt warm in his arms. She looked forward to seeing him, more than others, and often found herself traveling in his company. He made her—

“This emotion radiating from you. This feeling…You cherish the Knight I currently am. If my path is corrupted, I will no longer be that which you hold dear. Passion temps focus. It changes us, quietly, luring in the dark...”

Attachments of the romantic variety would only spell disaster in the end. It had happened before. Already, she could feel the subtle whispers, that bade her to lower her arm. To lower the barrier. To embrace him and never let go. To disavow the old ways. Gianna took a deep breath and tried to find the calm focus that she was so well known for. For the first time in several months—she was entirely honest.

“I do love you, John. I want to keep doing that, as I have been.”

She’d never felt crueler. Her gaze rose from the ground, slowly, before green orbs settled on his. They swirled with fathomless levels of sentiment that he would never understand. The sadness that he had seen before had returned tenfold, only, it was wrapped in something worse. Something dark that the light had a hard time shining through.

“…But I can’t love you unless I give you up.”

 

[Carbon]

Location: Throne Room
At: Bar
With: [member="Athena"]

He realized, as she spoke, that he truly was his father's son. Or, rather, he was very much a clone that had received the proper nurturing to achieve similar patterns of thought. "Sometimes the things we want the most are the very things which destroy us." He replies, eyes dipping for a moment as his smile turned sad, and then they lifted back to study her as she took up his hat. It was eerie, how easily she tipped it, and his apprehension was compounded by the fact she didn't seem to recognize the hat. She didn't recognize it, or know where it was from, but she knew just how to handle it as though she'd choreographed the moves beforehand.

Working his teeth across his lower lip, his eyes dipped to his drink as he thought of how to respond. "It's fashionable on Haseria. But... as for being a clone, it's not different than being a person. We all have our own personalities, we just look the same. In many ways, I think it's like having nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine twins."

Inhaling deeply, settling his mind and relaxing the broad slopes of his shoulders, he took a sip of his drink and let the warmth settle in. It was a harsher flavor than wine, with far more burn, but the warmth was immediate and welcome.

"Only morally questionable if he hadn't agreed to it, and he did. I was the only one 'raised' by him, and thus my name - Carbon. I'm a carbon copy." He smiled, both proud and sad that his identity was so tied to someone that was him, but Other.

"Do you like the hat?" He asks, a bushy brow arching high as he studied her. The fact she was still wearing it suggested she did, and that - given her dress - was highly entertaining. "It's a little big, but it looks good on you."

 

[John Locke]

Location: Courtyard
With: [member="Gianna Aegis"]
Wearing: This

[SIZE=10.5pt]Heaven and hell in a heartbeat. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]A single moment that took John from the dizzying heights of jubilation down to the lowest pits of despair in the same time that it took for his heart to beat one wretched pulse. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]He could still remember, still feel it, that perfect moment. The feeling of soft warm lips pressed against his, the subtle smell of her perfume and the sensations of a petite frame so close to him that for that instant they might have been one. The world around them had faded away, a blur of colours that seemed to get further and further away, a dull murmur that ebbed away like the waves of a sea leaving the two of them in a cocoon of their own making. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]A perfect moment.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]You always heard about them in the holonovels, in the dramas that filled the holonet, yet John had always dismissed it as a fanciful romantic notion that didn’t really exist. No more. It was as close to a perfect moment as John could imagine, a moment he wanted to live in forever. The slight weight as her fingers pulled at his jacket, the way her head tilted back as she kissed him back.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]She kissed him back. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]That simple fact amazed him, astounded him. The feeling of the woman in his arms, her taste, it was everything he’d ever dreamed of. For that heartbeat the icy claws of darkness that had haunted his soul since Taanab, the fear and anger that had been his constant companions were gone, as if they’d never existed. For that moment peace and light were all that existed in the world. For that moment John was happy, contentment he’d never known before suffusing his body, his soul. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]For a heartbeat the dreams he’d only recognized after he thought he’d lost her took root. Dreams he’d barely dared allow to breathe, dreams he’d barely hoped to acknowledge took root, unfurled their banners to the winds of fate, of the Force. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]For a heartbeat, John saw a future, a future with her, the future he’d always dreamed of. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Heaven and hell in a heartbeat.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]A wall he couldn’t see, couldn’t touch, a wall he couldn’t break, a space he’d never wanted forced between them as Gianna’s eyes watched the ground. The force, that energy he’d always known about but could never touch, well he was touching it now, the light that infused her, that was a part of the woman, of who she was now what held him back as she spoke. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Gianna’s words washed over him, through him like blades, flensing his soul, again and again, each world a blade tearing him to pieces. The Jedi’s gaze remained on the ground, but if she’d looked up, she’d have seen the pain etched onto his face as she spoke of duty, of the need to encompass the galaxy with her warmth. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]John wanted to reach out, to tell her that he understood, he’d always understood that her path would lead her to seek out those who needed her, that she’d always go where the force called her. He’d never wanted to stand in her way, to hold her back. All he’d ever wanted was to stand next to her, to help her, support her where he could. Just to be with her was enough for him. He wanted to tell her everything, tell her anything but his body wouldn’t move, he couldn’t form the words he needed to make this nightmare end. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Dark eyes that could hold so much mirth and warmth, so much curiosity about the world were filled with anguish, deep pools of pain. And yet he couldn’t look away, a silent appeal in his gaze, begging the woman to tell him that it wasn’t true, that this was some cruel joke. Hoping against hope for a sign that this wasn’t happening, that she’d smirk at him, that teasing smile he knew so well. Yet the icy fingers that wrapped around his soul told the truth of the situation, the cold grasp of horror and sorrow that seized him the truth. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]“Gia please...”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]A broken whisper. Two words, two words alone that bore with them the weight of a plea, so weighted with emotion that it was amazing they’d made it across the space between them, through the barriers she’d erected. It was a plea heard the galaxy over, the sound of someone facing the end of their world, facing only desolation and loneliness. The sound of someone facing the end of their world, of someone watching a future devoid of light. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Gianna had always embodied light and happiness to John, he’d realised on Taanab how important she’d become to him. Now, with each word she spoke it was as if that light was leeching from the world, that happiness was pulling away from him. He’d faced a world without the flame-haired Jedi once when he thought she’d died, it had led him to face a world he didn’t want to see. This was infinitely worse. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]There was no-one else to blame, no enemy action that was taking her away from him. Just her...her duty...her beliefs. He’d ruined it. His throat felt think, body shaking as John shook his head, as if through force of will he could stop this, make it not so. Tears running in tracks unheeded down his cheeks.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]“They do it...the other Jedi, they have friends, family. It all makes us stronger...those connections, that’s what they told me. You don’t have to do this...to do this alone. I’m sorry I didn’t mean...please...”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Minister. Admiral. Executive. Words had never failed John before, he’d faced down the rich and powerful of the galaxy, stood face to face with the most powerful individuals in the galaxy and been acknowledged their equal. Yet, in front of this petite woman, all that assurance vanished, his confidence cracked and broken. As Gianna found her centre, found peace in her core John could feel his own walls crack and shatter beneath the weight of emotion bearing down on him[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]And still, she wouldn’t look at him. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]She said she loved him, that she wanted to keep on doing it, but...as those emerald eyes he loved so much finally lifted off the floor, John met them with his own dark gaze, searching there, looking for something. A light of hope. Anything...but all he saw was finality. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Listen, oh listen so carefully. That sound you hear? That’s the sound of a heart breaking. The sound of dreams so young and fresh shattering into pieces. The sound of a future just embraced falling to dust, as if it had never been. A silent wordless howl of pain, of a sorrow so deep, so profound that there were no words to describe it. Yet not a word, not a sound escaped John’s lips, all the anguish and pain he felt reflected in his eyes. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]From happiness’ height to the despair’s depths. Heaven and Hell in a heartbeat. The birth and death of hope and the future.[/SIZE]

 

[Gianna Aegis]

​

Location: Courtyard - [member="John Locke"]

Her hand trembled.

It pressed against him, keeping him where he was, almost more than the telekinetic barrier she had erected. Her elbow locked. His every emotion flew through her chest on a very visceral level. Gianna could not disassociate herself from it. No more than she could bring herself to lie. Did this affection only stem from the Minister? Was she merely a reflecting pool? Returning that which she was given?

No. A reflection was too pale in comparison. Somehow, someway, Gianna had accepted his presence as necessary. She craved the moment when he would take her hand to help her whether she needed it or not. She accepted the fact that from his mind sprung some of the worst weapons the galaxy had ever seen. She accepted that he had killed. Would kill, en masse, if the circumstances required it. She forgave it. The Knight had become complacent—Blinded. By affection. By love.

When he whispered her given name, she almost gave in. If he pushed, pressed her, Gianna wasn’t certain she would be able to resist. The bliss that melted into horror left her feeling empty. Darkness that she had never known reared its ugly head. All the light she held within railed against it, fighting, while her weakness became more and more apparent. “Don’t…”, she murmured, softly, though there was a certain pleading quality to it.

“Don’t do this, John.”

He was shaking. Not just in body, but in soul, and the green-eyed empath could feel his resolve crumble. Gianna knew he was crying with out looking. She could taste his sadness in the air. Feel the unending ache, the loneliness, the sound of a broken heart. He offered up different ways that other Jedi had made romantic attachments work in the past and she could only shake her head. She wasn’t strong enough. She loved him too completely. “If I had to choose between saving you or an entire world—Could I?”

All life should have been equal to her. Equal weight. Equal value. Could an entire populace full of men, women, and children hold a candle to him? Could it even come close?

No.

Gianna breathed in slowly before exhaling. His pain hit her like running headlong into a duracrete wall. He didn’t speak, he didn’t yell, but she heard it all the same. She felt it so acutely that her head felt like it was trapped in a haze of agony. All in the span of moments. Seconds. Seconds, that lasted an eternity, while she felt the convictions in her faith quake. He was in distress. Burning. His eyes were so full of anguish that she didn’t have words to describe it.

This was not a wound she could heal. It was an injury she had caused—But held no capacity to repair the damage. When she blinked, twin tears rolled down her cheeks, as incandescent pearls. Yes. Finality. Gianna could not be with him anymore than the sun could be with the moon. They were often destined to chase each other, to hide in the same sky, but, they could never touch. Never catch one another. Slowly, ever so slowly, her expression softened immeasurably. Even broken. Even in pain, her heart found him beautiful, so much so, that it hurt to look. “John…”

Her arm relaxed. The barrier that kept him back dissolved. She couldn’t pull away when he was like this. She couldn’t stand to see him in pain, couldn’t fathom his suffering, and certainly not when it was over their mutually broken hearts. What could she do? How could she defy the natural order? Nothing would take away the fact that she could only love him as dark things were meant to be. Hidden. Somewhere between the shadow and the soul. And so—He would hurt. Suffer. He would know, everyday, what it was like to know her. To be with her. To know how she felt, and yet, to have none of it.

Would he survive that? It was cruel.

Too cruel.

Her hand moved from his chest and she hesitantly closed the space between them. Every action was excruciating. Like walking on shards of glass. Gianna reached up and let her hand rest against his cheek as a solution began to percolate. It was unthinkable. Yet, what was the alternative? To let this love, burn, fester, and turn to hate? It was not a childish crush or a passing fancy. It was that which wars had been fought. An attachment that would, if Taanab was anything to go by, eventually, cost lives.

Pale jade eyes peered into his for a long moment. They were quiet, affected with similar pain, but the truth of her actions remained obfuscated. Her gentle touch drew him down. Drew his face close to her own so near, that her visage would become blurry, and the details would be lost. I love you. “…Will you ever forgive me?”

I love you.

Her head tilted just slightly and her lips brushed over his. Confusing, no doubt. It would be easier for him this way. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. As her kiss deepened her mind brushed against his. It would have been hard for a qualified Force User to keep her out, but for someone without experience, someone, distracted, and in pain—Her warmth would be welcomed. By the time he realized something had changed it would be too late.

Small changes, small amendments, so as not to harm him. Their hands never touched during the summit meeting. She never embraced him on Naboo. They never met before or after Taanab. They spoke only of the weather before the fireplace in Frosthall and he sat in a chair. Not at her feet. She worked as an attaché for Lock and Key Mechanics when her missions required it. When he needed her help. Slight changes. Just enough.

Just enough—so that he would not truly know her. He would not love her. This moment wouldn’t have happened. They would know each other, but, he would never know the sting of rejection. He would never feel this pain. She would…She would bury it. As a Jedi Knight, devoted to the cause, should be able to bury anything that caused indecision or disloyalty. She would love him in silence. At a distance.

And never speak of it again.

When she pulled away, he would be a little dazed. He wouldn’t see her tear streaked face. Just a glimpse of crimson hair, the phantom scent of perfume, and the back of a flowered dress while it disappeared into the crowd.

 

[Malok]

Location: Ilyria - Rooftop
Tag: [member="Darth Elyria"]

Oh, how he strived to be different.

The example of the one he once called Master loomed perpetually before his mind's eye. Though, at the bitter end, the woman called Rave had seen the Light - when she walked the path of Darkness, she was a far cry from the average Sith. It was at her feet that the Sith learned how to push the very tenets of creation to their very limit. But beyond this, he learned how not to be the same sort of rabid demon which only scratched the surface of the Dark Side. Ambition. Passion. Oh yes, these were vital sources of his strength and direction. But did Darth Metus slay for the joy of killing? Did he raze worlds for the joy of dancing flames? Did he press his heel upon the necks of mortals beneath him?

Perhaps he should have.

Perhaps, if he had attempted to be different than the example he held onto so dearly, the circumstances of the present might have been different. Namely, the fate of the alabaster woman who looked to him for direction. It was a primordial force that had set the Echani's life in his hands, not free will or happenstance. Yet, the man who seldom cared for more than himself found himself connected to the young woman. For her sake, he clung all the more to the example of his Master. For her sake, he promised that his path was different - that she would never fear a day coming where she would have to slay him to become a Sith. That her lungs would never be caked with ash. But, Darth Metus had to wonder...if he had learned differently...if he walked a different path...would she have been nearly killed on Kuat?

Would she have even set foot on the damned world in the first place?

Regret was a perpetual ocean that his mind frequented as of late - and this reality was of no secret to the woman who claimed to be primordial. The Force which had smashed together the lives of Sorcerer and Echani had taken a name and a shape in the waking world. And she hungered perpetually. Beyond this, what motivated the woman was a dangerous mystery to the Sith Lord. At any moment, she could choose to rampage across the stars - and most would be effectively powerless to stop her. This reality...of a broken apprentice and a vengeful god...heat boiled just beneath the surface. It was said that Anger was one of the truest expressions of the Dark Side. And Darth Metus certainly was aflamed.

He kept his temperment in check for the time being. The night was young and there was a momentous occasion to celebrate. Like all who descended upon Ilyria to celebrate, Darth Metus had left parcels galore at the designated table. The young heir of his apprentice - Adron - was finally announced to the world; and thus, the Malvern line had a promising tomorrow. The Sith made certain that Adron would feel his presence adjacent to the festivities, but beyond that he did not join the thicket of swaying bodies below. Rather, after depositing his wares, he kept true to his word to the primordial one and procured a pair of glasses and a particularly dark bottle of wine. His return to the rooftop was triumphant - he strode forth with arms outstretched with not a care in the world.

Did you get lost? Her quip was a testament to how the waking world had affected her. The Sith had bargained to be her guide throughout the present - and that came with a healthy introduction to snark. Sarcasm suited the tundra of her persona quite well at times. "Wouldn't you know it. I took the wrong left turn at Tatooine and just got all turned around." Despite the wrath, his words flowed amidst a perpetual smirk. Some might mistake it for cockiness - but they both knew better. Reaching, he placed one of the glasses in her waiting grasp and filled it accordingly. "This ought to hold you over. Though, if you're good, we can make a pit stop on the way home."

His own glass was promptly filled and the bottle settled upon the balcony. Were the roles reversed, he might have made a primordial pedestal just for the beverage. Alas, even an old dog had tricks to learn. "I did, though I made no great show of it. I'm here, and that is enough. This is his night - let him bathe in well deserved spotlight." He punctuated his thoughts with a sip of the wine. "What of you? Did you pay your respects to your child?"

At this point, if she flung him from the roof he wouldn't be surprised.

 

[John Locke]

Location: Courtyard
With: [member="Gianna Aegis"]
Wearing: This

[SIZE=11pt]Words, they were nothing but sound and John understood sound. He knew how it worked, how the waves could pass through the air, how the waves were transmitted to his ear. It was science, and he understood that. Using just the tools available in this room he could replicate any sound, could create the sound of a concert or a single laugh. He appreciated the science, and yet…he’d never thought, could never have imagined that words could cut more deeply than any blade could.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Soft words from soft lips, lips that should have been turned up in that ever so familiar smile. Jade eyes that normally sparkled with life, with an infectious joy that had always spread around to others around her, transforming an entire room, making them want to be better. Only, that wasn’t there anymore, Gianna’s eyes were hooded, something dark muting their usual glow, a sadness the likes, the intensity of which he had never seen before seemed to fill her gaze.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]More than words, more than any action it was that dark sadness that had filled the red-haired Jedi’s gaze that speared John, drove the ability to think, to move, to even breathe out of his mind. All he could see were her eyes, eyes that could normal convey so much meaning, could make him smile just by looking at him. Only now…now he’d ruined them, brought darkness to a place there should have been only light.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It was his fault.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Four words, four little words that shattered him all over again, and again. A gaze that accused him with every second, every heartbeat sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through his being. He’d done it, ruined it. He’d only ever wanted to make Gianna smile, to make her as happy as she deserved to be, as she made everyone else around her. However, one moment of selfishness, one brief moment where he’d thought that maybe, maybe she felt the same way. And that was the worst part, the most gut-wrenching realisation.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She loved him[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt].[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]She loved him. It should have left him elated, it should have left him feeling like he was floating on cloud nine and that the world was full of light and happiness. It should have been. It shouldn’t have left him feeling like all colour, all light had been drained from his world, blacks and greys all he could see. It shouldn’t have left him wanting to scream at the world, at the universe, to cry and beg and demand what it wanted from him. To have everything so close, and yet so far away, untouchable behind an invisble wall of the force.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It wasn’t fair. To lose Gianna just as soon as he’d found her, to nothing more than her position, her calling as a Jedi. He loved that she always went out to help people, that she embodied the truest ideals of a Jedi, the willingness to help anyone who needed her. He’d just never thought, never imagined that it was that very ideal that lit her up that would keep her away from him. Gianna embodied what it was to be a Jedi, right down to a willingness to sacrifice to do the right thing...but he’d never realised that meant she would be willing to sacrifice him, this on that very same altar. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It was in that instant that something changed about John, outwardly he looked the same as ever, yet there was something different, indescribably sadder about his form. The small slouch that had found its way into the man’s posture, the downcast eyes and lips just curling down. But mostly it was the loss of a sparkle in his gaze, that life that always seemed to animate him. The cyborg had stood against the worst the Mandalorians, the Sith could muster unbowed, the defender who could not be broken. But then, at that moment he was a man defeated, utterly and completely broken. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Once more he was faced with that abyss, the world without her in it, but this was worse, so so much worse. This was a world where she lived, she still existed forever out of his reach. Where he’d have to live every second in the shadow of that perfect moment, forever haunting him, forever unable to let it go. A colourless world of black and grey. The sound of the red-haired woman’s voice pierced through the cocoon of his thoughts John had wrapped around himself, pained, haunted dark eyes slowly rising to stare at her. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I’d never ask you to, to choose between all of them and me, I could never ask that...” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He knew that if given the choice he’d choose her, he’d always choose her he couldn’t imagine any other choice. And...neither could she. The word remained unuttered, hanging in the air between them, the crack in her armour, the glimpse of the woman underneath the Jedi, under that armour of the faith she always wore. Just for a moment, John could see the woman Gianna was, not the Jedi, the woman who would choose him, the woman who loved him. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]At that moment he wanted to reach out, to push past that barrier she’d constructed and enfolded her in his arms, just holding her there to protect her from this, from the sadness that had seized her. To hold Gianna in his arms and never let her go. If he could he’d have taken the entire weight of the world, every arrow every hit to protect her, but how could he protect her from this. How could John protect her from himself? Her earlier words echoed the ghost of a whisper threading through his mind. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]I can’t love you unless I give you up.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] Only...he wasn’t strong enough to walk away. To protect Gianna, to save her, all he needed to do was turn around, to walk into the crowd, to take himself and the decision, the pain away from her. He’d wanted to protect her, but he just wasn’t strong enough. He’d failed, in the deepest, most important way...he’d failed her, when she needed him he couldn’t step up, he just couldn’t give her up. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Light and love, happiness and colour, all in that petite package he loved so much, the avatar of all that were good and he’d brought her pain, brought the very darkness that should never have stained her. It was a failure more profound than anything that came before. The realisation was like claws raking over his soul, recrimination and pain tearing at him, reaching deep within him to find a purchase, to pull him apart. An agony, a pain the likes of which he’d never imagined ripping through his being. It was no more than he deserved, his due for tainting the light with darkness. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The cyborg sagged, would have fallen to his knees there in the middle of the floor, in the middle of the crowd if it wasn’t for the petite hand that reached out to press against his chest. That single touch froze the whole world, his heart refusing to beat, the dancers around them, the darkness and pain held in abayence. Dark eyes slowly moved up the arm, saw the woman so close no, so close he could smell her scent, could feel the warmth of her body as her hand pressed to his cheek. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]There was a hesitancy in her actions but she still stepped forward, till she was almost pressed against him, so close he could see nothing but her, her sad jade eyes as that hand drew him in. So close he could hear her whispered words. Forgive her, it wasn’t her who needed to ask that. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I love you Gianna.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He felt soft lips pressed against his, the taste of her just as he remembered, just as he’d always imagined. For a moment, for that heartbeat, he felt the spark of hope spark in his chest, that bright flare of emotion enough to drive back those claws of anguish that had taken hold in his soul. For that moment John was no longer the broken defeated man he had been, at that moment he was whole he was happy. Happiness that burst from him, a flare of emotion that he felt could light the path of ships the galaxy over. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She loved him. She loved him. She... [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The minister blinked slowly, his thoughts fuzzy, alone in the middle of the dance floor. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here, he could remember dancing with someone but...there was no-one here now. Dark eyes flicked over the crowd, searching for his erstwhile partner, but there was nothing. A shock of red-hair as another woman made her way off the floor. Knight Aegis, an associate, she must have finished dancing with her partner too. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]There was a subtle flowery scent that hung in the air, something both familiar and strange at the same time. He couldn’t put his finger on it but he felt a longing, an emptiness as he stood there breathing in the scent. A notion that there was something missing, something that he’d forgotten, something so important that his whole soul ached but...if there was something that important to him then he’d surely remember it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]For a moment he thought about going after the Jedi, to ask her about his dance partner...but if she’d abandoned him then it couldn’t have been that important. Besides, it wasn’t like he really wanted to be here, it was just another distraction, another duty of his position to be borne until he could escape back to the safety of his lab. To the world of science and invention, he loved so much. Dark eyes surveyed the crowd unhappily, the vultures circling, closing in on him. Metallic hands slipped into his pockets, that familiar well practised gesture as he bowed his head, ignoring the clamours for his attention as he made for the door. He’d spent enough time here to show his face and there was an experiment that he’d been toying with for a few days.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]For a moment John stopped, half turning to stare back at the spot he’d occupied, seeing himself swaying with her, that woman. He still couldn’t see who it was, but...but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing. Something so important. Couldn’t shake the feeling that he should turn around and go back, find her. For a moment he did, turning on the spot, maybe he would go back and find Knight Aegis, she’d know something, have seen something. Besides, she was someone he had always thought of as a friend, and it’d be nice to see a friendly face and catch up. A step backwards, back into the crowd. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Oh minister, I’ve finally found you, if I could just get a moment of your attention, I’ve got a proposal for you.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The moment was broken, that feeling of loss only a lingering touch as John shook his head, waving off the man. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I’m afraid you’ll have to contact my office for an appointment, I really do have to go.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]If this was going to be the night then he might as well go spend it somewhere else, he could always talk to the Jedi another time, they’d no doubt cross paths sooner or later. There wasn’t really a smile on the cyborg’s face as he made his way towards the door, there wasn’t really that sparkle of life in his eyes there had been but a look of contentment as he bowed his head against the cool air. In a moment a speeder would pull up and he’d be gone. One last look backwards, wondering what he’d forgotten, what had been so important before he pulled up his screen, losing himself in the data as he always did.[/SIZE]

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Location: Courtyard | Appearance: [x] | Tags: [member="Gianna Aegis"]

Amilthi hated these occasions, hated them calmly, knowingly, aware, and equanimously. While she observed her own distaste for her present surroundings, she was, at the same time, amused at the bizarre arrangement that conditioned her presence here. It was an unspoken exchange with [member="Adron Malvern"], never negotiated and yet understood and adhered to by the both of them, that she would appear at such events as what was little more than tasteful furniture while he would abstain from excessive slaughter or at least listen to her admonitions if he did not.

And so once more she played her part, wearing an unaccustomed dress and jewellery that a tailor had deemed appropriate for events such as this, and wearing it quite well by now without an outwardly perceptible trace of the discomfort she felt. That discomfort, too, was merely an object to be observed and not acted upon.

The Jedi smilingly shook her head to herself, folding her hands behind her back, as she turned away when Adron had finished his toast. There was so much attachment in him - and he was so vulnerable, and he had no idea. Take away from him what chance had allowed him to build up, and he would crumble. There was no escaping - if he outlived his wife and children, his misery would know no bounds. And were they to outlive him, still in death his desires would be thwarted by their suffering. Perhaps he would learn, eventually - he still had some time. Or perhaps not. That it mattered little was no reason not to try and make him. After all, nothing in particular mattered much. Everything mattered only a little, if at all.

Amilthi idly strolled out into the courtyard, calmly abiding in the moment, separated from her surroundings, unengaged - and suddenly caught sight of something that left her puzzled as to whether she should be surprised by it or not. On the one hand, [member="Gianna Aegis"] was a lovely creature who did not find it difficult to commune with others; on the other hand, she was a Jedi. What was most definitely surprising, however, was the expression on her face. The shining radiance that her friend exuded by nature was dulled, and Amilthi was quite sure that the anguish that had gripped her would have been visible to anyone who paid attention and did not require the insight of a Force-sensitive. The girl was close to tears, and clearly moving away from something or someone. She would have passed Amilthi unnoticed, had she not quickly stepped past a group of conversationalists and taken her friend's hand.

"Gianna. Calm down", she said gently, reassuringly. "Just observe it. It's a feeling, transient, fleeting. You know it."

 

[Gianna Aegis]

​

Location: Courtyard
- Leaving [member="John Locke"]
- Approaching [member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

She could still feel him.

Gianna wove through the crowd whilst hearing a speech from within the confines of the main hall. It was running through some sort of sound system so that those outside the Throne Room could hear it too. It was all white noise. Her heart sat in her throat like a lump she couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t breathe around it. He would never ask her to choose between him and her duties—But that was the problem.

He didn’t have to.

Small fingers covered her mouth whilst she kept her head down. Guests were so engrossed in their own frivolity that no one really seemed to pay attention. She was glad for it. She didn’t want anyone to see the salted water that glimmered at the edges of her eyes. She felt raw. Laid bare. Even the gentle breeze was too much, so much so, that it felt like rubbing salt into an open wound.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I love you Gianna.”​

Even without the admission—She knew. Her heart still ached from the intensity. She had begged for his forgiveness, and although he would never know the reason behind it, Gianna did. Her weakness of will brought this on. Her lack of discretion, focus, and clarity. The red-haired woman had done the one thing she had always refused to do. To change the memories of a friend, to roll their mind, was unthinkable. Her hand pressed even tighter against her lips while the horror dawned fully.

What had she done?

Just before she made it to the staircase that would lead out of the gilded court yard she felt someone take her hand. Light. As much as she wished, in the darkest places of her being, that John had managed to shrug off her manipulation—She knew he couldn’t. It was not he that stopped her. He would have no reason to. She recognized [member="Amilthi Camlenn"] through the Force long before her eyes stole from the ground. Her chest rose and fell in short jumps while she struggled to breathe. Trying in vain to find peace. “Amilthi…”, she breathed quietly, hearing her words, and knowing them to be true.

The woman was a vision in periwinkle. Her hair was a few shades lighter than her own with eyes a shade of gun-metal blue that could still the most devilish of quarry with a well-placed glare. Was she here? Really? It felt like providence to cross the one person that could help her find her center on some far away world in the middle of a relatively unknown system. Some people found her off-putting. Gianna found her factual, and for some reason, it was always a comfort. “I—”

Gianna stopped.

Observe it. Let it run its course. Don’t indulge. Don’t think. Don’t look back. She would be mindful of the past and future but the young Knight needed to stay rooted in the present. In reality. The flame-haired woman closed her eyes and twisted the hand of her friend softly so that the back of it rest over her heart. If she could not find her own calm? Amilthi had plenty to spare. Breathe in, breathe out. Rinse and repeat. Over and over, until eventually, the tightness in her chest started to subside.

It wasn’t perfect. She was still troubled—But she could mask it. Bury it.

Bury him and her heart along with it.

“…I would very much like to leave. Will you come with me?”

They had, thank the Force, booked separate rooms upon landing on Illyria but Gianna was certain that some of her personal effects remained in the quarters she had been given on the Helios. With extremely recent events, if the Minister of Science asked, she would have a hard time explaining it. The red-haired woman did not relish the thought. If anything, lying to him, made the painful thudding of her heart ache all the more.

Gianna didn’t care who saw her casually holding on to another woman. She was affectionate, more than most, and it didn’t clue in that it might drum up some whispers. Especially, since where the gossip savvy were concerned, she had just stormed off after kissing [member="John Locke"].

Twice.

“I think…I think I’ve done something awful that I…I can’t take back. It had to happen...”

If it had to happen, why, did she feel like she needed to seclude herself on Monastery to meditate? Gianna knew that there were some choices that would not have favorable outcomes. It was impossible to avoid regardless the intent. This…She had never felt so unclean. So wrong.

There was no other way.

Was there?

 

[Alessandra Creed]

​

Location: Illyria [Azurine] - Palace - Throne Room​

Wearing: Queen Stuff [Save Me]​

Standing With: [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Faye Malvern"] | [member="Alden Akaran"] | [member="Srina Talon"] ​

_____________________________​

The apprentice [[member="Alden Akaran"]] that accompanied their Faye bowed before them.

It was still a strange custom. Illyria had a whole host of rules, decorum, and deference that Alessandra had never before experienced. Her parents had both been titled but it had never been the focus of their family values. Whereas the Malvern name was nobility incarnate, Creed, was known on Panatha and on Brentaal IV for a propensity for getting things done. Business acumen. Service to a variety of Empires.

They were well-respected, but, they had never been spoiled children. Gunther Creed and Valessia Brentioch were skilled, firm, but loving. Alessandra had wanted for nothing but in the same breath had learned never to take anything for granted. In her heart of hearts, she would do her best to see that Aries was raised the same way. It was hard to let him out of her sight.

Even when it came to [member="Srina Talon"].

As much as she loathed the alabaster woman, for reasons that had nothing to do with petty jealousy, nothing at all, she also knew that her son was safe with the Exarch. The white-haired Sith was as much emotionless as she was a terror. Alessandra gave Adron an affectionate mental nudge while he seemed all too pleased with her assessment. His fingers rose to fix her hair and her expression softened.

Perhaps being King would not cool his love for her after all. It was one of her deepest, darkest, fears. Heavy was head that wore the crown. She wanted to support and aid him, however, she wondered if all this would be too much. Many of the Viceroyalty doubled as a King or Queen but how would an Exarch fair? Especially, when his opposite, was so unpredictable?

“He is also his father’s son.”

That was undeniable. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how he wanted it. Case in point could be observed by nearly breaking the sound barrier at the sight of his godmother. The newly crowned Queen reached out and touched the front of his suit. There was an invisible spec of dust that she definitely needed to brush away. Not that she wanted to be closer, of course.

Between [member="Faye Malvern"] and [member="Alden Akaran"] it seemed that her husband accepted her quiet counsel or came to the same decision on his own. She released him only to reach out and embrace her sister-in-law. The guards tensed. It was against protocol. They seemed to think that their rule was not simply because they had seeded success for this world but a divine right. They’d fallen from the heavens. Tamed the dark pyramids in the south. Pulled fire from nothing.

“I am glad you are here.”, she murmured in Faye’s ear, before letting go, while Adron began to make a toast. Dark eyes swept from the beauty of the woman in front of her and her gaze landed on her guest. How to make him feel like he wouldn’t lose his head? “And it is good to meet you Mr. Akaran. You must treat our Faye well. Make her happy and bring her everything her heart desires.”

Well, she tried. It wasn’t exactly a threat but it was welcoming. It just made things clear. If not-so-little Faye asked for a moon and Mr. Akaran did not retrieve it? There would be hell to pay.

She returned to her husbands’ side and let him take her hand. Her digits curled around his and the pride he felt for this night swept through her with a vengeance. He felt settled. Alessandra was still not imbibing alcohol post-partum but she took a glass anyway. It showed solidarity. Even if she didn’t partake. The speech he gave was short, regal, but it made her smile.

“The King has spoken. Drink—Enjoy this night.”

Small words to the assembled crowd were met by happy cheers. Likely because most of them were already half intoxicated. Regardless, the warm vibe, and smiling faces placed her at ease. Perhaps she could do this after all.

Be a mother, a minister, and a Queen. Perhaps.

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Location: Guest Tract of the Palace | Appearance: [x] | Tags: [member="Gianna Aegis"]

"Yes, let's go", said Amilthi immediately, but with no undue sense of urgency, when Gianna voiced her desire to leave.

Guilt. The bane of so many Jedi, perhaps the most difficult defilement to overcome for those with pure intentions. Amilthi did not waste time speculating what it could have been that Gianna had done, and simply accepted that she did not know. It would all come to light later, or not, but in this moment, it did not matter.

Still holding Gianna's hand, she led her towards the exit, with determined, but unhurried steps.

"While we walk", she began, unfazed, "Observe. Watch as these pangs of guilt arise, name them, label them, as 'pain' or 'guilt' or something else appropriate. And then investigate them. They are objects. They are not you. Discern their qualities. Do they arise and sting and pass away immediately, or do they stay and fester? Is it always the same kind of pain, or different kinds? Does it have a location on your body? When you feel yourself at risk of being sucked into it, identifying with it, suffering through it, then remind yourself of its nature as an object - label it again." She spoke calmly and matter-of-factly, without overmuch warmth, but circumspectly and knowledgeably. She noticed it, and only hoped that Gianna would know that giving pointed, apposite advice to help was to show that she cared. Not that she was saying anything revelatory - any Jedi knight would have heard similar instructions for meditation many times, but nonetheless it was all too often quite helpful to be given a reminder that was specifically applicable to the exact situation at hand.

Oddly enough, Amilthi appeared to know where she was going. Soon enough there were apart from the crowd and slipped into a quiet hallway and up a flight of stairs. It would be a few minutes' walk before they would arrive at Amilthi's guest chamber in a far corner of the building, which the Jedi was equally prepared to spend to pass in silence or not.

 

[Darth Elyria]

Location: Unknown Rooftop w/[member="Darth Metus"]​

​

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”​

​

---

​

---

Indecision. Regret. Anger.

Eyes made of black water, filled with stars, watched [member="Darth Metus"] with a certain sense of unbridled curiosity when he made his approach. She did not have to ask to know where his mind had run to. The White Rabbit. It was always the young Echani Apprentice that left him with more questions than he had answers. His affection for her remained unwavering. In her time, outside this paradox, the Sith Lord had learned to let her go. Why? Because she was a ghost. Dust.

She had not died as she was meant to. Therefore—His favor could not be buried. The bonds between them were unbroken. The rabbit grew darker, day by day, and while she watched with a certain level of glee it seemed that he Vicelord did not. It was almost as if he were going through stages of grief. Slowly. And in the wrong order. Curious. Curiously human. Factually, weak.

When he walked forward it was seemingly without a care. In fact, he had remembered the wine. Good. If he had forgotten in the darklit being would have likely sent him head first over the edge of the roof to retrieve it properly. The sable-skinned man made a joke about the once-jungle now sand-filled Tatooine and Elyria could only pierce him with an unfathomable stare. For a moment it seemed as if she might lash out.

Instead, she sat back in her throne, created of shadow, and darkness made real. So had she been returned to a physical form, thus, had her power followed. With a wave of her hand she created a chair adjacent to the one she occupied. “We will revoke your flying credentials then.”

Her attempts at humor were noted. A little archaic, but present.

“If you were gone much longer, I may have decided to dine on the local delicacies.”

That wasn’t humor.

She would have eaten them. The people. Devoured their uncertainties, inspired fear, violence, so she could feed on the negative ether. There was already something hidden deep within this world. A shell of dark power that had almost withered with time. Only, it was still there. A morsel. Ready and ripe for collection and repurposing. Elyria accepted the glass of dark wine. She was a calamity waiting to happen. It was only her pact with her guide, with his future, that kept her from breaking the tenants of their arrangement. “I have been watching the puppets. I breathe easier out in the open.”

The walls of this society didn’t press in as hard when she couldn’t see them—Even if they were still there. He asked if she had spoken to her son, [member="Kaden Farr"], and she slowly shook her head. Her expression became almost pensive. It was hard to read. Concerned mother or violent sociopath?

“…All I am is what I am. I have lived several lives at once. In my tomb I was pure power filled with the ecstasy of devouring death… I was akin to a god. Now, I am bound. Trapped. On a roof. Just one roof…In this time and in this place, with an incomplete Sith Lord, who broods too much and only deigns to accept my presence.”, she trailed off, almost, seeming petulant while she swirled the deep dark liquid. In the dim light she couldn’t see that it was the color of blood but she knew it would be. Elyria, Selene, as Kaden had named her—Would drink nothing else. She shot him an accusatory look. “You don’t worship me at all.”

Worse than that, she couldn’t leave, because of the early awakening. The roof? Of course. This timeline? No. It was not her gift to pull on the threads of time. She could only wait. Endure, stay safe, while her partner became that which he was destined to be. “In this time…You are but prey to those I know you will one day conquer. You will not worship me then either as I have dwelled too long among mortal peasantry. I reek of humanity.”

“Your worlds are too small. And yet, you box yourselves in rooms that are even smaller. You shut yourselves inside...In rooms, in routines. There are worse things than the walls, I suppose. Terrible. Beautiful. But if we look at these things too long they will burn right through us. Truths we couldn’t bear. Not every day.”, Elyria paused, taking a sip of the wine, before glancing back at Darth Metus. Her already red lips seemed to deepen and darken. The shade of a velvet rose that was set for a slow decay.

She sighed slowly and let her head tilt back. Raven locks slid like black silk over her shoulder while onyx eyes looked toward the stars. Her hair moved. Slowly, crawling to wrap around his ankle. Then it moved higher, almost affectionately, seeming to settle.

“We…We are so weak.”

Weak. Because she did not want to see her son when she felt like a shadow. Even if her power felt unimaginable to the man at her side, this was nothing, compared to what it would be.

So, weak. She hated feeling weak. It made her want to rip the arms off of the dolls down below and watch their lights wink out of existence. Hungry. She was so, very, very hungry.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Location: Throne Room
Tag: [member="Startorn"]

A smile touched the pale woman's lips. "There is no light that dares shine upon Dathomir." So much of the galaxy was filled with so much literal, stark light it did make a woman long for the shadows and red of home. "You'd be surprised to learn there are many of the darkness here. Perhaps, the better question then is where has the light fled so many of darkness have emerged?"

"Come to pay your respect?" she asked to circle back to the original inquiry as to the man's presence. "I was on my way to do such."

 

[Startorn]

Location: throne room

Tags: [member="Vytal Noctura"]

"Not quite, I was curious, had a mission here not to long ago, heard the people here aren't that different from those who still follow the Way of the Mandalor, seems there is some truth in those statements" he said thoughtfully.

"I hear all your people have abilities in witchcraft that rivals even the force, is there any truth to this?" He asked

 

[Athena]

Location: Throne Room [Main Hall Bar]​

With: [member="Carbon"]​

Wearing​

______________________________________​

The response that [member="Carbon"] gave her did not line up with the logic modules she had available. Instead, she was left to draw inspiration from the data stream to form a cohesive thought. Athena was predispositioned to learn and respond with as much of a human affect as possible. Therefore—She was constantly at grips with her processors seeming to fall victim to wanderlust while also falling victim to a need for certainty. The thought of the former leading to the latter wasn’t supported by experience or logic but it still didn’t trivialize the effect. A weakness. A blind spot. Small, gentle, simulated innocence.

“Are there not things worth being destroyed for?”

The term being “destroyed” was taken from the dialogue that the clone offered. An organic being would have likely rephased it to “Are there not things worth dying for?” but the HRD did not have that distinction. She was a clever combination of circuits, wires, synthflesh and a capacity to store seemingly infinite amounts of data that culminated into what could have been likened to a memory. Regardless, she could not die. She did not live.

Athena watched Carbon with no small amount of interest while she fiddled with the oversized hat. “I have never been to Haseria. I have read that there is a lot of dust. So much that it cakes armor and makes vehicles hard to maintain. Do you like it there?”

She knew what it was like to feel as if she were one of many. There were thousands of versions of the model of replicant she had been derived from. Her tweaks, packaging, and abilities had been made unique but the same could be said for the experiences that provided Carbon a basis for independent thought. Instead—Athena smiled. It was sweet, incorruptible, and indulgent. “I feel jealous. I would like to have, to know, that many siblings.”

Carbon sipped at the beverage she ordered for him and he would see her eyes light up. Almost literally. There was a little flare that made the green just a little brighter. It could be a trick of fluorescents combined with firelight but it still denoted a sense of happiness. Joy. Such a small thing made her happy, because if he imbibed, that meant he was happy too. That was important.

Athena questioned that assessment seconds later when he addressed the morality of cloning an individual for the purpose of being a soldier. He and all of his ilk had been born, essentially, to serve and die. The automaton found a moral quandary in that reality but she would not press. Not when her facial scanners had already picked up several points of something she likened to melancholy.

He could fool the rest of the room, if he wanted, but he would not be able to hide from a machine.

“Are you a carbon copy, Carbon?”

Did he not adapt through experiences? Nature versus nurture weighed heavily on her words—Though it remained unspoken. Instead he was issued the inquiry by a voice that his auditory systems would sweeter than candy. He asked if she liked his hat and her upturned lips bloomed into an honest reply before she ever spoke. Her head tilted down, the hat hiding her eyes, though leaving the tops of reddening cheeks exposed. “Thank you. I like it very much.”

“My home has more rainfall than most worlds by at least fifteen-percent. It seems adequate to keep your head dry. And your eyes safe. I find it…functional.”

It slipped to the side a little bit when she settled into her chair because of the size. The replicant giggled and reached up to straighten it, before reaching for her drink, so that she could match his pace. When he took a sip—So did she. It made others feel much more at ease when she played pretend to be human. She preferred when they treated her as they would anyone else. As if she were real.

Real and not real. A lie and truth.

“What brought you to this event? My friend invited me to partake in the festivities. She wished to meet many, many handsome men. Perhaps a few equally lovely women. Her features are most pleasing and I have not seen her since we arrived so I can only assume that she found someone to her liking.”

Athena would target and track her friend when the sun rose to ensure her safety. But, until then? The HRD hoped she found her happiness indeed. Perhaps multiple times.

 

[Gianna Aegis]

​

Location: Courtyard to Amilthi's Quarters
- Leaving [member="John Locke"]
- Walking Away With [member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

Gianna felt a distinct sense of relief when her friend agreed to come with her. She would survive alone. She would get through this just as she had many other sets of unfortunate circumstances—But having Amilthi meant that it didn’t need to be so painfully solitary. “Thank you.”, she breathed out firmly, meaning the set of words in the plainest sense, with her whole heart.

The feeling of bleak emptiness was threatening to overwhelm. Guilt. The flame-haired Jedi Knight could hardly sort through everything that flowed forth unbidden. She felt tethered to something stable and solid while the strawberry-blonde Jedi Master led her from the celebration with sure steps. She was gladdened that Amilthi knew where she was going. As much as she tried, the way became blurred, unclear from tears that kept welling. She blinked them back.

Gia would not cry where others could see for a second time.

It was her duty to be strong and hold true to the unifying force. To see things through a serene and unbiased lens. To act dispassionately, all the while, maintaining even compassion for the whole. For the many. Never the few. Gianna had always been able to see the threads that united all life. She had never questioned that. She never saw existence as random or without purpose. The universe was never cold and directionless. There was a structure to it all and a clear pattern that was simple to follow if one held faith.

These were core teachings that she had always held true to. It left her the ability to warm the hearts of others, to mend them, to soothe suffering, to defend. She had always done so humbly.

Was that not the way?

Now. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to breathe in a world John wasn’t in. Her John. Not the one she had hollowed out and left behind in the Courtyard.

Amilthi pulled her from thoughts that were, for all intents and purposes sacrilegious, and placed her back on the correct path. Observe. Rather than letting her emotions soar and sweep over her in a wave it would serve her better to analyze them as a scientist would study a foreign sample. Gianna found it difficult. Were her connections causing her to lose sight? “It is a constant ache that does not pass.”

“My chest is tight. It is not anxiety. It is…”

Pain.

Screaming, bleeding, blinding, agony. Gianna held not a cut nor a bruise but she felt as if she’d been vivisected and left to exsanguinate slowly. Her hand tightened on that of her friend. She knew that Amilthi cared through the very fact that she stopped her at all. Her demeanor had never been off-putting to the Nabooian woman. They entered a set of fairly posh quarters, though, Gianna still didn’t let go. She was still trying to make sense of what moved in her.

Don’t feel. Simply, label it. Passively observe.

Observe.

Why did it feel like it was eating her alive?

“I have never felt this. It is new—And old. I-I cannot isolate my mind and peace feels…Far away.”

The Force had always flowed through Gianna easily. She was not a rock, stubbornly, blocking its current. She was not indulgent in self-pity nor did she suffer from feelings of inadequacy. Yet, as a person, as a woman, and a Jedi Knight—She felt wanting. As if one action, one night, had left her with a failure so insurmountable that it was like trying to move a planet. “…John Locke.”

“The Minister of Science. We are friends. Were, friends.”

Gianna paused. That was untrue. Friends, in any capacity, did not kiss one another like that. Period.

“He wishes for more than I can give. I denied him. He was injured. I could feel his pain—It was unending. I took it away. I took…”, she trailed off, eyes closing, while her free hand rose to her temple. “...The only thing I could that would spare him. His memories. I took them. Those that made his heart beat for mine…I changed them. He knows me, outside of a professional setting, no longer. Loves me, no longer.”

As it should be.

Right?

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Location: Throne Room
Tag: [member="Startorn"]

Vytal regarded the armored man for a moment. "You'll find our warriors value honor, dedication, and prowess without the blind fury others engender." There were exceptions, of course. You didn't have so many without coming across some exceptions. As for the Dark Lords among them well they weren't "Warriors" in the sense this male was looking for. Force Users were their own, and even so they would probably pass as acceptable compared to those consumed by wrath.

As for Startorn's more personal inquiry, the Nightmother smiled before she spoke. "There is more power in this world and the next than people are willing to accept. It is enough, some think, that Jedi and Sith war over their philosophies; to think there is an equal or greater, untapped power frightens them." Vytal stepped in a bit closer. "We can make a salve to regrow a limb, a totem to forge one's way through enemy ranks, and even a brew to bring the dead back to life. Does it rival the Force? Perhaps. Or, perhaps, it simply throws off the limitations we impose upon ourselves."

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Location: Palace Guest Quarters | Appearance: [x] | Tags: [member="Gianna Aegis"]

"It is not constant, you are just not looking closely enough", Amilthi pointed out with a reassuring smile. "The stings are momentary. There may be a constant-seeming sort of tightness, a pulling sensation - but you'll find that it doesn't hurt in the same way. And if you look very closely, you'll see that that sensation, too, is actually not continuous, it flickers in and out of existence very fast."

Amilthi pressed her friend’s hand briefly in return, as if by way of acknowledgement.

The chamber they entered was entirely too luxurious for a Jedi, and also quite dark. Amilthi sat down on the bed and motioned for Gianna to sit besides her. The mattress was rather thinner and harder than one would have expected, given the surroundings. Amilthi had fought hard with the servant staff for this bit of simplicity.

She listened patiently and thoughtfully, her head slightly tilted. "Now, think about it", she pointed out. "You were acting with a wholesome motive: you wanted to reduce the suffering that is in the universe, and not even your own suffering, but another's. You may now find that your method was inadequate, rashly and inconsiderately employed - but motivations, intentions carry much weight, and yours was pure."

"But of course the intellect is, as a rule, feeble in such matters, it will not lead you to experience the truth of 'emotions, yet peace'. Mind you, not: 'there is no emotion'. That simplification was meant to be helpful, but is so simplistic that it has confused generations of students, as you well know, because 'no emotions' is very much not you." There was, quite unexpectedly, something like a mischievous, even conspiratorial twinkle in the Jedi Master’s eyes.

"So meditate. Stare at the feelings, discerningly, piercingly, until they become objects and disintegrate, reveal their transient nature. Or, if you can't bear to do that, fix your intention on some other sensation that suits you, the feeling at your fingertips, the touch of my hand, perhaps that sensation we call the flow of the Force. And when you feel strengthened, you could try investigating your pain again." She smiled encouragingly. "I'll be here."

"I know, it's easy to speak wise words when one isn’t the one suffering at the moment", admitted Amilthi with a wry smile. "But I also know that these words are true. As do you."

 

[Startorn]

"I find the untapped power in myself, my weapons and technology, as is my religion, as for the limitations we impose on ourselves? That's why Mandalorians are Jedi and Sith Killers, we don't believe in limitations" Startorn said then asked "I am curious about one thing you said, and that is to bring the dead back to life, it's a simple question, just if they are whole or reborn broken"
[member="Vytal Noctura"]