Private A Scholar at the Edge of Ruin

[Meri Vale]

Meri watched his hand withdraw, her breath held tight in the back of her throat as she braced for a reaction that never came. She had expected the familiar sting of anger, the heavy weight of disappointment, or perhaps that quiet, dangerous shift people often made when their kindness was met with resistance. Instead, he simply stepped back, a gesture of distance that unsettled her far more than a raised voice ever could.

For a long moment, she remained perfectly still, her fingers remaining twisted together in the defensive knot she had formed to weather a storm that had passed her by. Slowly, with a conscious effort, she forced her muscles to yield, letting her hands come to rest against the edge of the table where the heavy scent of old parchment seemed to ground her.

His words lingered in the stagnant air of the room. A claim that she had not yet asked the right questions. The thought made her brow crease in a flicker of confusion; it sounded less like a simple reassurance and more like a cryptic prediction of things to come. Yet, as he spoke of them not being enemies, the suffocating pressure in her chest loosened just enough for her to find her voice again.

"I did not think we were," she said, her voice sounding steadier than she felt as she looked down at the books. Her fingers brushed against one of the worn covers, carefully straightening the stack that had shifted during the weight of their conversation. "And I did not mean to argue with you," she added after a brief hesitation, finally meeting his gaze again. "I just needed to understand."

But understanding was a treacherous path, built on the questions she dared to voice and the answers that inevitably changed the world around her. Even now, she realized with a prickle of unease that he had moved past her inquiry without truly answering it; the mystery of what Kor'ethyr actually was remained between them, an empty space in the conversation he seemed content to leave unfilled.

When he told her she was welcome to stay, she studied his face with the same cautious intensity she might use on a crumbling ancient structure, weighing the risks before deciding if it was truly safe to step beneath its arches.

"Thank you," she said softly, the sincerity of the words mirroring the way she pulled one of the volumes closer to her. Though she opened the book, her eyes didn't immediately find the text, lingering instead on the unanswered void he had left behind. "I do not know if I will change my mind," she admitted, her voice falling so low it seemed directed more to the paper than to him. "But I will keep asking questions. That is the only way I know how to move forward."

With that, she looked back down at the page, the quiet, rhythmic rustle of old paper filling the silence as she forced herself to disappear into the text once more.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace

“I studied at Kor'ethyr.”

He spoke quietly, as he walked towards the opening of the temple gazing over the sandy dunes.

“For the past couple of years I have walked its halls and attended its classes.”

He paused.

“Then, purpose found me, and I found it.”

His gaze stayed looking out towards the red sands.

“It has kept me from attending more classes than I'd like. But, it has led me down a much clearer path.”

His hands slowly folded behind him over his lower back as his posture relaxed a bit, though he still stood straight.

“Kor'ethyr is a Sith academy. Thus it creates Sith. But it holds special classes for likeminded people such as you.”

He slowly looked over to her as she delved into the ancient texts.

“The ones who ask questions, digging closer to the right questions, the ones who admire ancient ruins and wish to delve into their history.”

He looked back over at the academy in the distance. The place he once called home.

“In most cases you are rewarded for asking questions. In some cases, you are led to more questions.”

He fell quiet as he thought about his time in the academy, before he then attended another academy on top of this one on Desevro. When most of his time was sucked into class attendance and traveling.

The busiest he had ever been.

“It's not for everyone. And I would not force that decision on you. But I can't deny that you would go far.”

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri didn't interrupt him this time, choosing instead to remain quiet and simply listen. Really listen, as his words filled the space between them. Her hands, which had been braced against the edge of the table like a defensive barrier earlier, now rested there loosely, reflecting a shift in her internal landscape. The tension that had held her shoulders in a tight, guarded line had begun to ease, dissipating little by little as his own posture softened and his tone lost that sharp edge of insistence.

When he finally finished speaking, she didn't rush to respond, but instead looked down at the ancient text spread out in front of her. Her fingers brushed the surface of the page with a light, rhythmic touch, as if she were grounding herself in the familiar comfort of ink and parchment before finding her voice.

Then, she slowly glanced back up to meet his eyes.

"I don't think I could ever truly stop asking questions," she said quietly, her voice steady and devoid of the defiance that had colored it before.

There was only a simple, grounded truth in her expression now. She tilted her head slightly to the side, considering his words with the same meticulous care she would use to study a complex architectural structure, mentally testing which parts held weight and which ones did not.

"If the day ever comes where I run out of things to ask…"

A small, almost shy smile touched the corners of her lips, softening her features in a way he hadn't seen yet.

"…then you should probably check my pulse to make sure I'm still breathing."

It was a rare, fragile offering of humor, the closest thing to a joke she had allowed herself to share with him. Her gaze drifted briefly toward the distant silhouette of the academy on the horizon before returning to the text, her expression turning introspective.

"I genuinely like the act of learning," she added, her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register. "There is a peace in understanding exactly how things fit together, in seeing the logic behind the design."

She paused for a moment, letting the thought settle before she finished.

"I just don't think I necessarily need to belong to a formal institution or a greater cause to do that."

It wasn't a sharp rejection, not this time; it was simply a quiet clarification of where she stood and the boundary she was still carefully maintaining.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace

A small exhale left him with her humorous remark.

When she finished speaking he took his time, digesting her words. Taking them in and measuring his response.

“Those who don't ask questions, the ones who believe they know everything are truly ignorant.”

He slowly turned to face her, taking slow steps towards the table. His footfalls echoed off the walls along with Sinew's slow breaths as she relaxed on her personal bed.

“Those who start asking questions, never run out of questions.”

He stopped just before the table, his posture still relaxed and no sharpness in his tone.

“The galaxy is infinite in questions, though limited in answers based on the questions you ask.”

He paused to look at the tomes before her.

“But, if you know what questions to ask, you will receive a plethora of answers. Some you will not like, some that bring no satisfaction. Only a smaller bread crumb of trails to something else.”

He took a shallow breath.

“You are smart to know that you would be limited in an institution. However, it does provide resources you would not have access to as easily.”

He slowly took his seat in front of her, picking up one of the tomes on the table, the spine creaked as he opened it up. Dust fell from its cover.

His finger ran along the words that were written.

“For example, you would have an easier time translating certain languages if you were under a tutelage rather than trying to learn yourself. Though the self learned option is possible, it leaves far more room for error.”

His gaze found her face.

“I would recommend finding a master, or a teacher of sorts for you. You have limits, but with the right guidance, those limits will lessen.”

A soft smile came to him.

“As to who you would allow that to be, is up to you.”

His eyes fell back to the pages.

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri listened without interrupting, her attention fixed on him with that same quiet intensity she gave to puzzles that hadn't quite revealed their pattern yet. She did not rush to respond, letting his words settle and arrange themselves in her mind, turning them over carefully rather than accepting them at face value.

When he spoke about questions, something in her expression softened slightly. That part, at least, made sense. It aligned with what she already knew, what she had always known. Questions were not something you ran out of. They multiplied. They deepened. They refined themselves into sharper and sharper forms.

Her fingers shifted lightly against the edge of the table, a small, absent movement as she organized her thoughts.

"Languages aren't that hard. Usually."

It was not said dismissively, but simply, as though she were stating a fact she had tested herself more than once.

Her gaze dropped briefly to the tome he had opened, following the lines of unfamiliar script with a measured kind of curiosity.

"They have patterns," she continued after a moment, her voice steady. "Structure. Repetition. Even when they look different, they behave in ways that are…predictable, if you spend enough time with them."

She lifted her eyes back to him, not defiant, but not yielding either.

"Mistakes happen, but mistakes are part of the process. They show you where the pattern breaks."

There was a pause then, her expression shifting slightly as she considered the rest of what he had said.

A teacher. A master. Her fingers stilled.

"I understand the advantage," she admitted, her voice dropping to a quiet, reflective note. "But being taught also means being…directed. It means letting someone else decide which questions matter and which ones are simply noise."

Her gaze drifted from his face to the table between them, her fingers tracing a faint, invisible line across the wood as if weighing a heavy, unseen anchor.

"I don't know if I am ready to trust someone else with that map," she added. It wasn't a hard rejection—just the honest caution of someone who had spent a long time navigating the dark alone.

For a heartbeat, the silence of the temple seemed to press in around them, thick with the scent of old paper and the hum of distant wind. Then, the tension in her shoulders bled away, not into defeat, but into a tentative, fragile sort of peace. She turned her attention back to the open tome, the unfamiliar script catching the light and drawing her back into the safety of a puzzle.

"But," she whispered, the word barely more than a breath against the air. "I suppose some maps are too large to read without a second set of eyes."

She didn't look up, but the corners of her mouth tightened in a way that wasn't quite a smile, yet lacked the bitterness of before.

"I haven't ruled it out, Varin. I am just…still finding the right questions to ask."

The admission was quiet, deliberate, and final. A small bridge was built across a wide chasm.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace​

“Some languages do not present such patterns so easily.”

He spoke softly as he scanned over the book before him, his finger tracing over a line of words as he read to himself.

“I think mistakes are only healthy if you know how to recover. You can mistranslate something and never catch it until it is way too late.”

His eye picked up to look at her.

“You are very intelligent, I can see that. If you find a master who tells you certain questions are just noise, then you have found someone steeped in ignorance.”

He listened to her next words, she was not outright denying his offer, but she was not accepting. Her choice that he would live with, until she changed her mind.

If she changed her mind.

His back straightened and his hands entwined their fingers with one another as he rested his palms on the table.

“When you delve into ruins and ancient texts, what do you feel?”

His eye held a genuine curiosity within it, it was not often he met someone with such interests, and usually when he did they would always seem like they were too good to associate with him. They too would prove they were steeped in ignorance.

“Does it give you a sense of…”

The quiet hung in the air for a moment.

“Home?”

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri didn't offer an answer right away.

She allowed the silence to stretch, a familiar weight she used to measure words that carried more than their surface meaning. Her gaze dropped to the edge of the table where his fingers had recently traced the ancient script. There was a quiet, shared precision in the way he spoke, a deliberate care to avoid overstating what he didn't yet fully grasp. She recognized that quality; she respected it, even if she wasn't ready to mirror his openness.

His warning about mistakes lingered in her mind. It wasn't that she disagreed, but she understood the lethal gravity of a mistranslation. In her world, a single misplaced interpretation could become a permanent scar if no one was there to catch the error. Understanding relied entirely on the intuition to notice when something felt wrong, a sense she possessed but didn't always trust.

When he remarked on her intelligence, her eyes lifted to meet his, studying him with a clinical focus. There was no flicker of pride or sudden dismissal in her expression. Instead, her features tightened by a fraction, as if she were mentally weighing his observation to decide if it was a useful truth or merely a pleasantry.

Then, he asked what she felt.

Her gaze drifted again, not out of distraction, but turning inward toward a space that was far harder to map than the rigid patterns of a text. Feeling was imprecise and dangerously unreliable, yet she couldn't deny its presence. Her fingers rested against the table, anchoring her as her thoughts traveled elsewhere.

When he let that final word hang in the air, home, something in her finally shifted.

It wasn't a dramatic change, but a subtle closing off. A tightening at the corners of her eyes. She considered the word, not as a place, but as the heavy assumption he had attached to it. When she finally spoke, her voice was level, but it carried a new, stony firmness.

"I don't think that's the word for it," she said softly.

She looked back at him, her stare steady and direct, ensuring he understood she wasn't speaking lightly.

"When I look at ruins or old texts, I'm not looking for something familiar. I am looking for structure. I am looking for the evidence that something was built with intention, that it once made sense to someone, even if that meaning has been stripped away by time."

Her fingers traced an invisible pattern against the wood, a ghost of a cipher only she could see.

"If there is a pattern, it can be understood. And if it can be understood, then it isn't truly lost. It's just waiting."

She held his gaze for a heartbeat longer before her focus shifted, her tone turning clipped and factual, as if reciting the history of a stranger.

"I am from Panatha. It was destroyed."

She didn't add any embellishment to the statement; she didn't need to. The finality of it was enough.

"The concept of 'home' is a luxury of the living. For me, there is no such thing. There is only what remains, and the work required to make sense of it."

She let the silence return then, not as an invitation for comfort, but as a boundary. She had given him the truth, precise, deliberate, and entirely her own.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace


He listened as she spoke, the way her tone shifted to what could be seen as a neutral standpoint, or a tone of knowing, one of reality instead of pessimism or optimism.

“Home is not just familiarity. It is security. Home is where you feel you can be you.”

His gaze fell back to the table as a slow breath drew from him.

“Let me rephrase.”

He thought for a moment.

“When you study text or ancient ruins, do you feel your true self? Do you feel…real?”

The last word came out more soft, his voice trailing.

“Anyone who does something with true passion should be able to feel their true selves, when they indulge in it.”

A pause.

“Those who do not feel it have not noticed that the hobby has become an obsession and the only thing they are.”

He gently closed the tome and stood back up, breathing deeply as Sinew walked toward him, nudging her head over his leg, gently his hand reached down and rubbed her snout. A deep purr escaped her.

“I only ask because, I don't know if I have something like that. A passion for anything, truly.”

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri did not answer immediately, instead allowing the silence to stretch as she listened with the quiet intensity she reserved for those who chose their words with care. Her gaze lowered slightly as he spoke, though not in a gesture of withdrawal; she was simply following the shape of his thoughts, noting the shift in his tone—a newfound lack of structure and certainty that she recognized and filed away. When he finally finished, and the quiet returned, she remained still for a moment longer, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table to ground her as she turned his question over in her mind. It was a question that lacked the clean, mathematical edges of language or architecture, yet she knew it still possessed a definitive answer.

Lifting her gaze back to him with steady, direct eyes, she reached her conclusion without a trace of hesitation. "I am never not my true self," she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight of absolute certainty that replaced any need for defense. She didn't look away after speaking, showing no discomfort in the shared space between them, only the same calm precision she brought to every facet of her life.

"There isn't a distinction between who I am when I am working and who I am when I am not," she continued after a brief pause, allowing the thought to settle in the air before adding, "I don't become more real simply because I am studying something." Her focus shifted briefly toward the table before returning to him, her expression unchanged as she clarified, "I just have something to focus on."

There was no dismissal in her tone, nor any direct contradiction of his own beliefs; it was merely a quiet statement of her own existence. "If something feels different for you when you are engaged in it, then that might be what you're describing," she offered, her head tilting with a thoughtful but certain air, "or it might just be the absence of everything else." She did not press him further after that, having provided her answer, and for a person like Meri, that was enough.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace



Varin was silent for a long while after she finished speaking. Her words striking something deep within him, not as conflict but as if there were a piece missing from his whole.

The pages flicked within her fingers as she observed the writing on their surface. Stories, theories and ideals, they all held something for her to uncover.

Varin walked to the other end of the room while she studied, remaining quiet so he would not break her concentration. His attention the falling to Sinew. A soft smile curving his lips before he gently laid a hand along her snout, giving a gentle rub.

“Please feel free to wander if you must, there is also scriptures on the walls you could use to compare to what is written in those pages.”

His eyes wandered along the walls at the ancient carvings embedded within them.

“Every time I look at these walls I discover something new. Even after living here for a couple of years. Just in this first area, it's like some things hide, waiting for the right moment to shine.”

His hand ran down the wall by his bed. Red sand that clung within the cracks and gaps in the walls fell loosely like light dust.

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri did not answer him right away, allowing his words to settle around her without breaking her focus. They became part of the quiet rather than an interruption as the pages in her hands shifted slightly, her eyes continuing to move across the text with a precision that traced meaning where others might have seen only fragments.

But she had heard him.

The mention of the walls eventually drew her attention, not with a sudden start, but gradually, like a shifting lens aligning just enough to warrant a second look. After a few more moments, her gaze lifted from the pages and drifted toward the carved surfaces he had indicated. She did not move at first, choosing instead to study them from where she stood, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the patterns, the spacing, and the way the lines intersected and continued across the stone. It was not a passive observation; it was the same clinical process she applied to everything else, breaking the scene apart and testing it against the logic of what she already knew.

Then, quietly, she closed the book, the sound muffled in the stillness as she moved with a sudden, quiet intent. Her steps were soft as she crossed the room, slow enough that each detail had time to settle before she reached the wall. She did not touch the surface immediately, leaning in just slightly to examine the carvings at eye level, following the grooves with her gaze as if they might shift under the weight of her scrutiny alone.

"They don't hide," she said at last, her voice low and thoughtful rather than corrective. "They remain consistent. You notice something new only because you are comparing it to what you understood before."

Her fingers lifted then, hovering just above the stone before lightly brushing against one of the carved lines to feel the depth of the cut. She traced a short section before stopping abruptly, her attention shifting toward a nearby marking that did not align as cleanly as the rest.

"It isn't the stone that is changing," she continued quietly, her gaze fixed on the anomaly. "It is your interpretation of it."

There was no dismissal in her tone, nor any attempt to contradict him beyond what she saw as a necessary clarification of the facts. To her, the distinction was vital to reaching the truth. Her hand lowered again, but her gaze lingered on the section she had identified, her focus narrowing until the rest of the room seemed to fade.

"This one is different," she added, the words almost a whisper meant for herself as she leaned in closer. "The spacing here breaks the pattern."

She did not look back at him, for she had found a fracture in the logic, and for the moment, that held her entirely.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber


His stance shifted slightly as she moved closer to observe the carvings. Giving her the space she needed to observe and take note of what held her attention.

One stray symbol different from the rest held her attention like an iron grip. His eyes squinted as he leaned in to take note of the symbol, etching it to memory.

“I have seen a couple of these throughout the temple.”

More so in the room he would not allow her to venture in. The main study, deep within the temple, just beyond the library.

“I always thought nothing of it. An error in the code. Perhaps I was wrong.”

His gaze looked back down to her before he walked back to the table of tomes.

“One thing I had gathered from this temple is that it was once used as a pilgrimage site for the Ashlan Jedi.”

His fingers tapped along the table, the sound echoing just faintly over the walls.

“It's interesting the dangers they would go through to reach sacred sites. Korriban is not kind to anyone, especially Jedi.”

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri remained where she was beside the wall, her attention remaining fixed on the stray symbol even after he had stepped away. Her fingers hovered near the ancient carving without making contact, as if the slightest touch might disturb the delicate thought forming around it. She traced the surrounding lines only with her eyes, meticulously comparing the spacing, repetition, and placement until the inconsistency finally settled into the larger, more complex pattern she was beginning to see.

When he mentioned that he had seen others like it, her expression tightened with an immediate, sharp interest that transformed the mark from a mere anomaly into a clear sign of intention.

Slowly, she straightened and turned from the wall, though her gaze flicked back to the symbol one final time before she followed him to the table. She crossed the room at an unhurried, rhythmic pace, the book still held securely against her side while her mind clearly worked several steps ahead of the current conversation.

"If it repeats, then it is not an error," she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight of certainty. "Errors happen randomly, but deliberate marks recur with a specific purpose."

She set the tome down carefully near the edge of the table, then glanced back toward the corridor that led deeper into the temple, toward the rooms she had not yet been invited to enter. There was no accusation in the look, only a quiet, keen awareness of the boundaries between them.

His mention of the Ashlan Jedi drew another subtle shift in her attention, prompting her to consider the room around them, the thick dust, the intricate carvings, and the oppressive age of the place itself. She contemplated the strange decision of building a site of devotion in a world that seemed to fundamentally resent visitors.

"I think the people here…" she began, then paused for a moment to choose her wording with characteristic care. "The Jedi, perhaps, went mad." There was no cruelty in her statement, only the cold, detached analysis of a scholar.

"Or perhaps they simply changed into something else entirely." Her gaze moved back to the walls again, lingering on the symbols cut by hands that had been dead for centuries. "Places have a way of shaping people, especially if they stay too long and let the environment seep into them." She let that thought rest before another surfaced, one that seemed to catch her focus more strongly than the last.

"Did this world have a different name for different people?" Now she looked directly at him, her eyes intent with that familiar, piercing scholarly focus. "Worlds often do, as conquerors rename them, pilgrims rename them, and survivors rename them to fit their own history. If Jedi came here willingly, I doubt they all called it Korriban."

Her fingers rested lightly against the cover of the tome as she offered one final reflection. "Names tell you what someone believed a place was, and what they hoped it would become."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber


He did not speak for a moment, as if letting her words and thoughts dig themselves into the very walls around them. The hypothesis of the Jedi turning mad was not impossible. Korriban was a very dark planet with an even darker and secretive history.

His gaze looked out towards the setting sun as he walked towards the doorway of the temple. A slow and controlled breath inhaled then released from him before he spoke.

"My Father only called it one other name."

He looked back at her.

“Moraband.”

The name echoed off the walls which invited a slight breeze into the building as if the planet breathed a sense of familiarity to the name.

“There could be more names, but that is the only one I know of.”

He looked to the symbol she observed, paying attention to the details that created it and the evidence surrounding it.

“It does seem a bit out of place.”

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri listened without interruption, the unfamiliar name settling into her thoughts with immediate weight as she repeated it silently rather than aloud. She tested its shape and cadence, noting how it differed from Korriban not only in sound but also in character, because she understood that names carried intention, memory, and ownership. Even when history was lost, names often remained as fragments of what people once believed a place to be, serving as the final anchors of a forgotten identity.

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the doorway and the fading light beyond it before returning to the wall and the symbol that still refused to fit cleanly with the rest.

"Moraband feels older," she said quietly after a moment, offering the observation with thoughtful analysis rather than certainty. "Or at least closer to whoever wanted it remembered differently."

She stepped nearer the carving again, studying the irregular mark with renewed focus now that another layer of context had been added to the mystery. The longer she looked, the less it seemed accidental, as the interruption appeared too deliberate and the lines existed too cleanly within the surrounding work to be dismissed as the result of careless hands or damaged stone.

At length, she glanced toward him with a question that was polite but direct. Her hand had already moved to the satchel at her side, her fingers brushing through its contents until she withdrew her small tablet and stylus, which she held carefully while waiting for his permission rather than simply assuming it.

"If there are others deeper in the temple, I would like to compare spacing, angles, repetition, and placement," she explained, her eyes returning to the symbol as the stylus rested lightly against the inactive screen. "If it is deliberate, then one instance is a curiosity, but more than one becomes language."

There was a quiet brightness to her now, a subtle but unmistakable shift in her energy. Whatever darkness the temple carried or whatever history clung to the stones, the chance to uncover a hidden pattern within the chaos had pulled her fully back into herself.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

She wished to visit the room he had locked off. The private office. His gaze sharpened slightly as the sun began to dip lower in the horizon, Sinew looked up at him with a curious tilt of her head.

“I understand your urgency to identify the secrets of this temple.”

He spoke plainly to her.

“But, I am afraid I cannot let you in that room. Not yet at least.”

He could hear the distant howls of roving Tuk'atta packs that stalked the sands after dusk. Hunting parties. Something he had to learn the hard way before he found Sinew.

When he finally turned to face her he had made up his mind on the suggestion.

“The night grows, Meri. I suggest you get some rest tonight. I can escort you to my old dorm and you can rest there, and come back by daybreak.”

His gaze flicked to the doorway.

“Those howls, Tuk'atta. They hunt in packs, delve into ancient temples and guard ancient tombs. Intelligent creatures.”

He slowly walked towards her.

“Going down there right now would be exceptionally dangerous, for you.”

He did not mean it as an insult, but more of a suggestion born from experience.

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri did not argue.

The refusal to let her into the locked room settled somewhere behind her curiosity, not extinguishing it, but placing it aside with deliberate care. She studied him for a moment as he spoke, watching the shift in his expression, the way his attention moved toward the doorway, the subtle change in the air as the light outside began to fade.

Then she listened. Truly listened.

The mention of the Tuk'atta drew her gaze briefly toward the darkening horizon beyond the temple walls. The distant howls carried differently now that she was aware of them, no longer background noise but something with intent, something that moved and hunted and chose its paths through the same ruins she had been so eager to explore.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her satchel. Danger, when explained clearly, was easier to accept. "I understand," she said quietly. There was no disappointment in her voice, only acknowledgment. Curiosity remained, but it did not override reason. It never had.

She glanced once more in the direction of the sealed room, committing its location to memory without attempting to press the matter further. It would still be there in the morning. Secrets did not vanish simply because she waited.

"Thank you," she added after a moment, her tone softer now. "I would appreciate the escort."

Without further hesitation, she moved to gather her things. The datapad was powered down and slipped carefully into her satchel alongside her notes and stylus. She brushed dust from her knees with efficient motions, then adjusted the strap across her shoulder so it rested securely and within easy reach.

When she finished, she returned to stand near him, posture composed, hands resting lightly at her sides. She did not rush him. She simply waited, ready to follow, her attention already shifting from the carvings and hidden rooms to the path ahead and the sounds of something alive moving through the dark beyond the temple.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

There was surprisingly little fight from her about his suggestion for rest. He expected some form of push back but instead he watched efficiently gathering her things ready for the trek to Kor'ethyr. Fortunately enough it was not too far, but the walk would still be quite dangerous.

Not only from creatures but night time sandstorm do happen, not only would she get lost but the sand would shred her body.

He would not tell her of that unless it was a necessity at the time though.

He slowly walked over to where he sat his things and unhooked his saber from his bag, clipping it to his belt.

“Do stay close. We are less likely to be bothered if we stick together.”

After grabbing his saber he retrieved some rope, tying part of it to his waist then offering her the other end.

“Added security so that I know where you are at.”

He waited for her to either reject or accept the offer of extra safety before he walked towards the entrance of the temple, looking down its steps towards the sands ahead of them, then towards civilization.

“I…I do hope you come back for more studies after this adventure Meri. Not only for your quest for knowledge, but to also help unlock the secrets within this temple.”

His gaze flicked over to her, a small smile touching his lips before he started down the steps, the cold night air nipping at whatever skin it came in contact with.

Meri Vale​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri's attention settled first on the rope as he offered it, not with hesitation, but with the same quiet evaluation she gave anything unfamiliar but purposeful. The intent behind it was clear enough without explanation. This was not a restriction. It was orientation, a way to maintain position when sight and distance could no longer be trusted.

She took the offered length without comment and looped it around her wrist with careful precision, tightening it just enough to hold without cutting into her skin. Her fingers tested the tension once, measuring the distance between them, committing it to memory as if it were another kind of spatial reference. Only after she was satisfied did she let her hand fall back to her side.

"That is logical," she said quietly, not as praise, but as acknowledgment.

There was no resistance in her tone, no need to question it. The environment around them had already made the reasoning clear. Darkness was settling into the temple and the surrounding sands in a way that felt less like the absence of light and more like a change in ownership. Whatever moved out there did so with familiarity, and she had no interest in testing how quickly she could become lost within it.

As he began to descend the steps, she followed at a matched pace without needing to be told, the rope between them remaining slack, a silent confirmation that she was exactly where she needed to be. The night air met them fully now, colder than she had expected, carrying with it a dryness that seemed to pull warmth from exposed skin almost immediately. Sound shifted with it. The distant howls he had mentioned earlier no longer blended into the background. They carried intention now, direction, movement through terrain she could not yet see.

She listened. Not with fear, but with attention sharpened by unfamiliar conditions.

When he spoke again, her focus shifted back to him, not immediately answering, but considering the weight of what he had said. The offer to return, the implication that this place held more than either of them had uncovered in a single visit, and the quiet suggestion that she might be part of that continued work.

Her gaze moved briefly back toward the temple, its silhouette darker now, less defined, but no less present. It did not feel abandoned. It felt… paused.

"I will return," she said after a moment, her voice steady, the certainty in it not exaggerated or forced.

There was no need to elaborate further, but she did anyway, because accuracy mattered.

"There are too many incomplete structures here, both in language and in design. Leaving them unresolved would make the rest of the data unreliable."

Her gaze lingered on the temple for a second longer before she turned forward again, aligning herself with the path ahead and the steady presence of the person she was now physically tethered to. Whatever lay between the ruins and the place he intended to take her, it was no longer something she would face alone, and while that did not remove the danger, it made it…manageable.

"And I would like to see the rest of the temple when it is not attempting to conceal itself," she added, quieter now, though no less certain.

Then she continued beside him into the dark, her pace measured, her attention divided between the shifting environment and the steady, grounding pull of the rope that ensured she would not lose her place in it.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

When she took the length of rope he waited patiently for her to wrap up, making sure the knot was secure. When she was ready then did he respond to her.

“It’s…necessary.”

As they traveled away from the temple he caught her looking back at it for only the briefest of moments, a small exhale of a laugh left him, one more of amusement than joy.

“It will still be there, I can assure you that. It’s been on this planet for who knows how long and yet it remains even after times of war and struggle.”

When she spoke of venturing further when the temple does not conceal itself his brow arched, his eyes remaining forward though his sense stretched all around them. If something came, he would sense it.

“I still have restricted access throughout the structure, I have yet to even delve to its very bottom depths.”

A moment of quiet as he thought over his experiences with the temple.

“The temple chooses when you are ready for further access. I had to learn that the hard way. I would rather you learn it the easier way and just trust me on it.”

The wall to the city drew closer as they approached, a hutt woman behind some stand only allowing in folks with proper credentials stood at her post as they approached. She knew Varin, knew his status and what he has done in the academy, she had no issues with him. But then her gaze dropped to the epicanthix girl accompanying him.

Speaking in Huttese she demanded credentials, the language bouncing off of Varin as spittle seemed to ooze from her lips. Varin grimaced at the sight. This one was always known for giving newcomers a hard time, he looked her in the eye.

“This one is with me, a temporary arrival and soon to be departing.”

The Hutt woman said nothing, only eyed Meri, as if weighing the possibilities.

She pressed a button opening the gates. The doors screeched and scraped, metal on metal before they opened fully to allow them inside. Varin gave her a nod and started to step forward before the Hutt woman spoke again, saying something that made him glare and causing her to chuckle.

“Damn slugs.”

He stated under his breath as he guided Meri through the gate.

Meri Vale​