Private Between Past and Present

[Zesiro]

The ruins of the temple on Ossus did not feel abandoned.

Zesiro paused just inside the threshold, boots settling against ancient stone dusted with centuries of neglect. Light filtered in through fractured arches overhead, catching on broken columns and half-buried mosaics whose meanings had long since slipped from common memory. The Force lingered here, not loud, not demanding, but present in the way old places remembered being important.

She moved slowly, deliberately, hands folded behind her back as she took in the space. This was not a pilgrimage. Nor was it politics. It was something quieter. Curiosity, perhaps. Or the need to stand somewhere untouched by courts, titles, and expectation, even if only briefly.

Ossus had always been a world of echoes. Jedi history layered upon itself, rebuilt and broken and rebuilt again. The temple before her bore scars of collapse and reconstruction alike, its walls etched with symbols half erased by time and conflict. Zesiro traced one with her eyes, recognizing the intent if not the language. Devotion. Study. Reflection. Things she understood well enough.

She had not announced herself. Had not brought an entourage or security detail. Just a single datapad tucked at her side and a cloak drawn close against the mountain air. Whatever she sought here, it was not meant to be witnessed.

As she stepped further inside, the quiet shifted.

Not silence breaking, but changing. The subtle awareness that she was no longer alone in her solitude.

Zesiro stopped, head tilting slightly, senses sharpening. It was not danger she felt. Nor welcome. Just presence. Another will was moving through the same ruins, drawn here for reasons that might mirror her own, or sharply diverge.

She did not call out immediately.

Instead, she waited, posture composed, blue eyes lifting toward the shadows between fallen stone and fractured light. If this place still served its old purpose, then encounters here were rarely accidental.

And if someone else walked these halls now,

They would reveal themselves soon enough.

T'zarna Khab

 

[T'zarna Khab]

Location: Inquisitorial Palace, Ossus
Objective: Induct the new blood
Tags: Zesiro

T'zarna knew every stone in The Imperial Palace on Ossus, she had personally overseen the conversion of the former Jedi Temple. It was a labor that took months, but was crucial in proving Imperial sovereignty in the region. Ever since the temple had been refurbished, resistance on the planet had slowed. Many cells saw themselves as Jedi reborn, and T'zarna made examples of all of them when their precious Temple fell. Though, she had heard whispers of a Cathar Jedi who might be a threat to her Hive. No matter, soon there would be a new power to challenge the so-called Jedi.

Rhythmic tapping filled the echoing halls of stone and metal, the marble floors resounding with the quick skittering noise of the advancing arthropod. She walked with practiced speed, making her way towards the newcomer to The Imperial Confederation. She had her lidless eyes locked on Zesiro, the dark jedi padawan, analyzing her as she stood there.

"When I was told a Dark Padawan would be joining us, I was expecting someone...more youthful," She said with a decidedly human looking smirk on her lips. "Still, there is much potential in you. I sense a great well of power yet to be tapped into. Perhaps there is reason that you have been alive so long in a galaxy so cruel."

Indeed, a person imbued with the force always had a target on their back. People across the galaxy wanted to bring in darksiders, even other who channeled the darker powers headhunted their peers. Dark Jedi could never sleep soundly, for fear of those that may hunt them.

As T'zarna circled the woman, she chuckled, contemplating ever move the other woman made, even the most subtle of shifts registered. There was much to learn yet about this padawan learner. She held herself seriously, befitting a powerful creature. Should she wish to join the hive, she could be molded into a great weapon. One which could be leveraged against their enemies for certain, if T'zarna could reach her.

"Perhaps in time we will see the potential you possess blossom into a beautiful, but deadly flower? You merely need the proper master. In time, I could see your power growing to match my own. If you wish to see what you are truly capable of."

While the inquisitor was no monstrous force being, she had the power of a darkside master. Beyond that, she had connections to even more powerful forces in the galaxy, something she would reveal to Zesiro in time. Until then, she would continue baiting the hook, drawing the woman into her proverbial trap.

Whether or not she would bite, was yet to be seen...

 

[Zesiro]

Zesiro did not recoil from the circling presence, nor did she rush to turn and face it. She allowed T'zarna's measured steps to echo through the hall, listening as much to the cadence as to the intent. Years spent standing just behind another's authority had taught her how to read a room before claiming it. When she finally looked toward the Inquisitor, her expression was neither offended nor impressed. Merely attentive.

"Padawan is accurate," she said calmly, inclining her head just enough to acknowledge the assessment. "Dark Jedi, if one insists on labels." Her blue eyes held steady, thoughtful rather than sharp. "Masterless, however, not by rebellion. By absence."

There was no shame in the admission. No challenge, either.

"I did not come here seeking one," Zesiro continued. "But neither did I come believing I had nothing left to learn." Her gaze flicked briefly to the altered walls, the marks of Imperial conversion still visible beneath the polish. She had overseen secure halls before, had learned how power announced itself through architecture and silence alike. "Places like this attract instruction whether one asks for it or not."

She turned slightly now, allowing T'zarna a clearer view of her posture. Not defensive. Not submissive. Grounded. The stance of someone accustomed to standing between danger and consequence. "Survival does leave its mark," she allowed. "But it also teaches discernment. I have lived because I learned when to observe rather than act."

As T'zarna spoke of potential, of growth and mastery, Zesiro listened without interruption. There was no scoff, no immediate rejection. Only quiet consideration, as though she were weighing a proposition rather than reacting to provocation. She had evaluated threats and offers alike in her life. This was no different.

"Power is not something I fear," Zesiro said at last. "Nor is it something I pursue blindly. I am selective." A pause, thoughtful rather than tense. "I am interested in understanding what I am capable of. That does not require obedience, but it does require perspective."

Her gaze met T'zarna's fully now, open and assessing.

"If you wish to test me," she added evenly, "I will not object. Observation is fair." The faintest restrained smile touched her lips. "But I would prefer conversation before cultivation. I find it clarifies expectations."

She glanced once more around the chamber, then back again.

"So," Zesiro said quietly, "if you are not here merely to posture, tell me what you believe this place is meant to teach."

The silence that followed was not resistance.

It was an invitation. Careful. Deliberate. And entirely her own.

T'zarna Khab

 

[T'zarna Khab]

Location: Inquisitorial Palace, Ossus
Objective: Induct the new blood
Tags: Zesiro

"If you wish to test me," she added evenly, "I will not object. Observation is fair." The faintest restrained smile touched her lips. "But I would prefer conversation before cultivation. I find it clarifies expectations."

"Smart of you to think ahead, not all in this galaxy can be trusted. In fact, there are very few who can be kept at simply their word," T'zarna then chuckled, looking to one of the banners adorning the hallway they'd stopped in.

Those banners bore the mark of The Confederation, her hive. It was everything that mattered to the arthropod, in one simple piece of threadwork, a whole life was held. Only scant few years ago she was created in a vat, born against her will to an Empire that knew only war and strife. Since then iconography was something she studied in great detail, for symbols and propaganda were the foundations of an Empire.

"You asked about this palace, about the newest structure for the hive, I can tell you everything. Once in the distant past, this temple belonged to The Jedi, it then fell to The Sith, from there it laid dormant for years without number."

T'zarna placed a hand upon the wall beside her, a carving of Jedi origin was lovingly etched into the wall. While the names of the jedi were lost, it was clear they were revered by the painstaking details of the stone relief. The masters of the order holding lightsabers, or other such heroic stances. Wherever one looked, there was some depiction of greatness to be seen.

"I keep this not for veneration of the Jedi, but a reminder of their self-righteous aggrandizing. Their symbols denote faultless heroism, a reminder that any order can fall, no matter how seemingly perfect. On Ossus, perfection only concern's ones power, a power that we all share. So to that end, I must say the test is not for you young padawan. I will allow you to test me this day."

 

[Zesiro]

Zesiro listened without interruption as T'zarna spoke, her attention following the Inquisitor's gaze to the banners, the symbols, the careful way she framed history not as loss but as proof. She understood the intent even if she did not share the reverence. Symbols mattered. She had learned that long before Ossus, long before the Force had ever been named to her. Power liked to announce itself quietly before it ever acted.

When T'zarna placed her hand against the wall, Zesiro's eyes followed, lingering on the carved figures. Jedi masters frozen in stone, immortalized in moments of certainty and conviction. She felt no pull toward veneration, but neither did she feel disdain. Instead, there was a faint, unsettled awareness that she could not fully articulate. History had a way of surviving even when orders did not.

She absorbed T'zarna's words carefully. The philosophy. The challenge. The inversion of expectation.

And then she frowned. Just slightly.

"You will allow me to test you," Zesiro repeated, not incredulous, but genuinely uncertain. Her blue eyes shifted back to T'zarna, brows knitting as she considered the statement from several angles and found none of them immediately clear. "I am not sure I understand what that means."

There was no false humility in her tone, no attempt to deflect. Just honesty.

"I have tested myself before," she continued after a moment. "Endurance. Control. Judgment. Survival." She gestured faintly to the space between them, the ancient hall heavy with memory. "But you are speaking as though there is something specific you expect. A measure I am meant to take."

She straightened slightly, hands relaxed at her sides, posture open rather than guarded. "If this is a test of strength, then I am not prepared. If it is a test of ideology, I doubt I would satisfy you." A pause, thoughtful. "And if it is a test of loyalty, then I fear you would find me… inconsistent."

Zesiro tilted her head, studying T'zarna now with a mix of curiosity and caution. "So I will ask plainly," she said. "What does testing you look like? What am I meant to learn? And what, exactly, are you measuring in the process?"

She held there, neither retreating nor advancing.

"If I am to step into this," Zesiro added quietly, "I would prefer to know where my feet are meant to land."

T'zarna Khab

 

[T'zarna Khab]

Location: Inquisitorial Palace, Ossus
Objective: Induct the new blood
Tags: Zesiro

It was possibly overly dramatic, too much flourish and not enough substance on how she phrased her comment towards the padawan. It wasn't uncommon for the former inquisitor to get too wound up in her words. Her only thought now was on a more simple explanation, then she offered a slow nod to the woman.

"My meaning was, I wish to guarantee you that I can teach you to be strong in the ways of the force. With my tutelage you shall be molded into a true master of the dark side!"

Even in when speaking plainly, T'zarna had a flair about her. It wasn't as puzzling at least, there was that to enjoy. As a mentor she was prepared to send Zesiro through the ringer in order to prove her worth. All had to be proven worthy in her eyes, there would be no easy advancement. Strength came only from adversity, change from difficulty.

Of course, T'zarna was banking that the other dark sider was similar to those who so often tapped into the darker powers. Hungry, ambitious, and willing to do whatever was needed to gain what she wanted. For those that found themselves gaining an affinity for the dark side, power was a currency. A currency which one could never stockpile enough of.

Power, as much as it was talked about, was nothing without direction. With any luck, T'zarna would be able to offer both to this young woman. The power to take what she wanted, and the direction on where to take it. A combination that would hopefully be enough to dig the hook in, to gain trust from this woman.

"So tell me, are you willing to take what is rightfully yours? To be able to destroy any who stand against you?"

T'zarna then simply offered a hand to Zesiro, a smirk on her face that bordered between predatory and knowing.

 

[Zesiro]

Zesiro took a moment before answering. Not out of fear, nor calculation in the predatory sense T'zarna might have expected, but because she was genuinely weighing the words as they were given. Plain, finally. Clear enough to grasp without ornament.

Her gaze moved to the offered hand, then back to T'zarna's face. There was no flinch, no step backward. Just consideration.

"I believe you," Zesiro said quietly. Not agreement. Not commitment. Simply acknowledgment. "That you can teach strength. That you understand the dark side well enough to shape someone within it." She paused, searching for the right phrasing rather than the sharpest one. "I would not still be standing if I thought power was meaningless."

She shifted her weight slightly, grounding herself, the posture of someone used to standing alert rather than posturing tall. "But power has never been the thing I lacked. Direction, perhaps. Context. Understanding where the line is between using strength… and being consumed by it."

Her eyes narrowed just a fraction at the phrasing of rightfully yours.

"I am not certain everything I want can be claimed by force," she admitted, openly, without shame. "Nor that destroying those who stand against me would always serve the outcome I seek." There was no moral lecture in it. Just a truth shaped by experience rather than ideology. "Some obstacles are better endured. Some are better outlived."

That said, she did not dismiss the offer.

Zesiro's gaze lingered on T'zarna's hand again, thoughtful now rather than uncertain. "I am willing to grow stronger," she said. "I am willing to be tested. And I am willing to learn what the dark side can offer beyond instinct and survival."

Her voice softened, but did not weaken. "What I am not willing to do is surrender myself to someone else's definition of victory before I understand my own."

After a beat, she did reach out.

Not to clasp the hand fully, but to rest her fingers lightly against T'zarna's palm. A deliberate half-measure. Honest. Measured.

"If you are offering guidance," Zesiro said, meeting her gaze again, "then teach me how to choose what is worth taking… not simply how to destroy."

She held there, open but unclaimed.

Waiting to see whether T'zarna wanted a disciple driven by hunger. Or a student who would question what the dark side was truly for.

T'zarna Khab