Private After The Storm

[Isobel Serraris]

AFTER THE STORM​

LOCATION — Naboo, Shiraya's Sanctuary, Meditation Summit
TAGS — Ala Quin

The golden dunes of Jakku still tainted the mindscape; the shriek of tanks firing as they neared the enclave, the agonising scrape of sand upon skin and the cold bite of accusations speared at Acier and Arris . It had to happen, Bel told herself time and time again, she had to leave before the poison--the wrath, the greed--would consume her too. But. . . it still left her hollow within, fraught with fears that no amount of picking at her nails could soothe. The skin of her fingers bled and stung, but it failed to mend or overcome the void festering in her heart.

Mere hours since the carnage upon the desert planet, her freighter landed upon the platforms near Shiraya's Sanctuary. It had been a year, mayhap less, since she had parted from the Order, taken on 'exile' to relearn what it meant to be a Jedi. A choice of her own making, one that had since shadowed her with certain regret.

Dressed in her old Padawan robes--embroidered with countless flora--Isobel had made herself known to the guards, being honest and cooperative from start to finish even if it such willingness made them wary of her true motive. Of whether the Sith still whispered in her ear, luring her into bouts of violence and depravity. Her remaining lightsaber was taken and her ship was grounded until further notice, until whatever verdict may come from the higher ranked.

Two armoured Jedi Guards led her from the platforms into the cavernous hall of the sanctuary. Brown eyes darted about, studying the many facets shaping the temple: the Nabooan architecture, the way the sunlight poured through the windows, and the passing class of initiates heading for the training course--it was a home refound and a mercy dismissing the tensions of the body. To know naught had changed since she had last roamed these halls, that even Ashla's Light had not vanished when all the Galaxy had been tainted by the shadow of Bogan.

Traversing a myriad of stairs, their path at last led them to the peak of the temple; the meditation summit. One guard slipped through the large doors first, announcing the dreamer's purpose here: "Grand Master Quin." The figure bowed their head out of respect: "A Sith of the Covenant--The former Padawan Isobel Serraris--has surrendered herself to us following. . . an assault on the Jakku Enclave." Once announced, the doors opened and the other sentinel stepped through, holding a firm hand upon the deserter.

Her brow furrowed lightly as she took in the words of the other guard, bowing her head only briefly: "If you had listened, you would know I am not a Sith-- It was an. . . association with them. A folly." A sharp exhale dimmed the faint agitation within, before she continued, eyes wandering from the short Jedi Master to the guards whose mere aura thundered with reasonable doubt and suspicion. "My presence here does not undo how wrong it was to ally with their sort, but I seek to wander the path of the Jedi again. Whatever it takes."

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala did as Ala did. And the exact Ala doing that she was currently undertaking was sitting on the seat back of the Grandmaster's chair, feet dangling from the high, solid stone form. It was not the most comfortable spot, but she had simply been curious as to what the view was like from where the taller Council members lived.

Upon sensing the arrival, and subsequent surrender of the hobo Jedi-Sith transient, Ala spun her legs over to the back of the chair, and dropped to the floor. When the door slid open, Ala was found standing at ease, in the midst of the chamber, hands clasped behind her back.

The pleading of Serraris did not fall on deaf ears, but neither did it elicit a response from the little Master.

"You can go now," Ala said, with an almost cutsie wave of her fingers to the guards, "thank you. I can handle this from here."

The guards were used to Ala's eccentricities at this point, and simply nodded before departing the room.

The silence that followed the doors closing hung for a long, agonising minute, while Ala simply studied the young woman before her. The Grandmaster did not stay perfectly still, mind you. No, she tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and then tilted her head the other way. Sometimes she even opened her eyes and mouth...simultaneously...as if about to speak some revelation.

Ultimately. She just shrugged.

"Why should I let you?"

| Isobel Serraris |​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

AFTER THE STORM​

LOCATION — Naboo, Shiraya's Sanctuary, Meditation Summit
TAGS — Ala Quin

The absence of the temple guards' watchful eyes was a mercy she did not picture herself to be granted; though was it truly a blessing, for the scrutiny of the Grand Master appeared to follow in its wake. With a gaze as pointy as her ears, Ala Quin gazed upon her as though she were assessing some. . . creature, or mayhap a flower that seemed foreign within a garden.

Teeth grazed the bed of her lower lip as she awaited the verdict, awaited the rejection or acceptance within the Order. Though the heart already drummed with a faint knowledge that this may not be as façile as filling out a form, it required. . . trust. And trust was a thing attained over time. Once the hand no longer resided on her arm, she slowly folded it over her abdomen, to check her breathing so she will not be consumed by the same blind rage as on Jakku.

Why, the question startled her, eyes widening instinctively as the careful breaths faltered into quickening madness. "Why. . ?" Tasting the word on her tongue, Isobel felt as though all the words in her mind had suddenly. . . vanished! Why would the Jedi Master permit her back into the Order, it was a reasonable ask...

Kriff.

"I-- I was not a Sith," Brow tensed and relaxed over and over as doubt washed over her in tides. "Look into my heart, does it bear the stain of Bogan?" A foolish plea as she had been tempted by its allure during the assault on the Jakku Enclave, and may have--without realisation--permitted it entry into her heart through strong emotions such as fear. Though the seer's mind remained clouded.

Slivers of fear and uncertainty lingered within her being as the Exile took a step forward, eyes never quite leaving the imposing silhouette of the chair. "I was a Padawan here before. . . blinded to the dangers of the dark until they grasped some close to me-- B-but now I see! I know what it can do, that it is the Light that calls to me." Despair practically dripped from her words as a heavy breath escaped her, her entire body seeming to sag, to stand hopelessly against the judgment of the Jedi.

 

[Ala Quin]

It was a tad mean. Perhaps. But Ala let the moment rest for a while, and simply observed the young woman before her. A lost sheep, looking to return home. Ala was certainly going to allow it. By the Force, she had been helping redeem lost souls for longer than the High Republic had existed.

But still. She had an institution to administrate. And entry into the Order required some...vetting.

"Back and forth...back and forth..." She rocked on her heels, with each slowly enunciated word.

"...and what happens when a lover of yours is pulled into that same darkness from whence you now flee?"

The diminutive woman stepped away from the young Jedi and around the comically oversized Grandmaster's chair, before peering around the corner.

"You went to the darkness once. Even if you did not embrace the ideologies and dogma of the Sith...you still were lured away by the Dark Side."

| Isobel Serraris |​