Kyyrk
Vylmira's Wrath
Voph strode slowly through the gardens, keeping pace with the blind being beside him. They were at the estate of the mighty Ee'everwest family, seeking aid in relocating a group of survivors. Voph was there as moral support, while his dear friend Guidance would be speaking directly with the the noble family. "And still, you worry too much." The blind female beside Voph turned on him, her face twisted into a frown. "There aren't many of us left, Wrath. The Champions cannot possibly hope to defend them all. If we are to survive, we must disperse." Voph stopped, turning to look at the younger Miraluka. "The Miraluka are a hearty people. We did not falter when Nihilus attacked us, nor did we falter when Vylmira was destroyed. Our people will endure. Have faith in the Force, sister." The Miraluka known only as Vylmira's Guidance nodded. "I'm so tired of the rejection...Of asking, pleading, begging...And yet we are turned away at every doorstep."
Voph turned to look at the grand building behind them. "Yet you forget that the Ee'everwest family are staunch Confederates. Being a member world has already done much for their opinion of you." Guidance opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a servant. "Lady Ee'everwest will see you now, Madam Guidance." Voph turned and followed the duo back into the estate proper. He trailed behind as Guidance and the servant spoke, turning to look about the garden as they walked. It was quite a beautiful location, Voph could not deny. It reminded him of a time long ago, another house of nobility on this very planet. A princess in whose company he spent a good deal of time. Liason for the Sith Empire was not entirely bad. Voph smiled gently at the memory. One of the few not laced with disgust and vitriol.
While Guidance went to speak with the Lady of the House, Voph instead drifted towards one of the many rooms meant for entertainment. He paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back, as he inspected every display, every painting, every trophy. It had become almost an obsession for him, finding things that may spark a memory. Or perhaps it was his newfound perception that intrigued him so. Voph paused in front of a wall mounted mirror, and looked at the face within. Scars dotted the visage before him, almost seeming to frame and accent the glowing eyes at the center. Voph drank in the image of...himself. An image that was still very much foreign to him. But the darkness invaded his thoughts still. How many people had the sight of his face instilled terror within? How many families had he needlessly destroyed? Was it worth it? Was he even worth the breath he drew? Voph dropped his gaze to his feet. He couldn't bear to look at himself any longer. The guilt was too strong. The Cataclysm was his fault. His. How could he ever repay that? How could he ever fix it? Had he even tried? He could feel the robotic fingers of his left hand curling into a fist with the anxiety. But in an instant, the cloud was broken, and Voph's attention forcibly dragged to the doorway. He was no longer alone...
