Private Between Worlds

[Braze]

TAGS: Nameless

Braze had left Gidgit to keep an eye on Tel Ahren and report back if anything went awry in his absence. With that settled, he led the man, a person he felt a vague, unspoken responsibility for, to the Mud Duck . Once aboard, Braze showed him to an unoccupied room that could be his and gave a brief tour of the ship, pointing out key areas and explaining how things worked.

Eventually, they ended up in the galley, where Braze settled down in one of the lounge sections, gesturing for the man to do the same.


"So..." Braze began, eyes fixed on the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze. "I don't really know much about your people, but I hold a position with certain expectations and responsibilities. One of those responsibilities is to look after the younger members of our order and make sure they're safe. I try to stay out of the way, let them have their experiences, but... I'm exceptionally young and inexperianced for the roles I fill. And there are plenty who'd love to see me fail because of that."


He exhaled, fingers drumming against the armrest. "The order I serve teaches that we're guardians of peace and balance in the galaxy. We're trained to connect with the Force, this energy that binds all living things, and use it to protect, heal, and defend. We strive to act with compassion, wisdom, and integrity, to resolve conflicts without violence whenever possible. Our weapons aren't tools of aggression; they're symbols of our commitment to justice and the preservation of life. We serve the greater good, always trying to walk the path of light... even when the darkness calls."

Braze leaned back pausing briefly before he spoke again. "I wasn't exactly responding well to your intervention. I wasn't being a good rolemodle with how I responded. I get that. But... I thought you should know where I'm coming from.... I carry my people's traditions as a sense of idenity and I hail from several warrior cultures... I may not always understand the correct path to take consideirng they are vastly differnt worlds that make up my identity... For what it is worth... I'm sorry for behaving the way I did... it was un called for and you didn't deserve to be treated like that... I was not happy with being judged and confronted.... I have lost a lot recently and I'm not doing very well with coming to terms with it... "

 

[Nameless]

VOICE OF NOTHING

Outfit: Blood-Etched Nomad Armor
Weapons: None, save memory and fire

The Cholerkin formerly known as Kaelith did not sit immediately.

He remained near the doorway, hand resting on the frame. Not as hesitation—just stillness, the kind bred in people used to reading a room before stepping into it. His gaze passed over the galley: the lounge seat, the lights, the low murmur of idle machinery. It was not a space built for ceremony. That helped.

Eventually, he stepped forward and lowered himself into the seat Braze had gestured to. Stiff posture. Hands on knees. Silent for a time.

When he did speak, his voice was low, his words precise.

“Your words about the Jedi… they sound like Erian's Anchors.”

He didn’t elaborate. He assumed the comparison would be enough.

“The Anchor is to be a peacekeeper, given power and trusted not to fail. The Heartlands give them chains and call them sacred."

He paused in reflection.

"I think Concordians just like things that way.”

His fingers flexed—scarred, healing, pale where blood had burned away old etchings.

“You are young. That is no cause for shame. Aging is a lifelong trial."
A pause. “My king was twenty when he killed his father. Ending the war by taking the Throne of the Hollow Star. Age is not the measure of a man.”

Another breath. Still steady.

“I did not act with restraint in the Forum. That is clear to me now. My blood is Hot. Angry. It climbs the throat fast. Try as I might to suppress words spoken in haste, the fire can spread past my lips to my hands and still cause harm."

Another pause.

He leaned back slightly, though his posture remained rigid. Not relaxed—only at rest.

"You have born witness to the loss of my name. If yoy wish to speak of them, I would hear of your losses, to share in your grief."

That was perhaps the most Mireborn thing he'd said in his life, but the youth had offered him access to the heavens, and by extension, granted him the access to the gateway of his purpose.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nameless
"But every one fails... and every one makes mistakes from time to time... " Braze offered.

"Well... why are you so angry ?" Braze asked lightly. He blinked at what was asked last. " My... losses? You want to hear all of that ?" Braze asked seemingly a little confused by that. " You wish to know what hardships I have suffered to better understand my outlook on life then?" He paused as if waiting for confirmation... that might take a small while to detail.

 

[Nameless]

VOICE OF NOTHING

Outfit: Blood-Etched Nomad Armor
Weapons: None, save memory and fire

"But every one fails... and every one makes mistakes from time to time... " Braze offered.

"You speak truth, yet it is also true that mistakes and failures come with consequence, else they would not have such labels. There may be occasions for clemency — but if history could be swayed I would not change my course. I am what what the land has made me, and to myself I have been true."

"Well... why are you so angry ?" Braze asked lightly. He blinked at what was asked last.

The one yet to earn their name sat motionless for a moment longer before answering.

“My blood runs choleric.”

He said it as if it were a simple truth, like stating the weather.

“That is not metaphor. It is the mark of my people. We are born with heat in the marrow, fire beneath the skin. It fuels strength, resolve, rage, passion. The priests say it is a divine inheritance. The medicine men say it is blood memory, Ulfang’s wrath passed down. The Concordian scientists say it is a gene-line condition: Force-reactive neurological and hormonal effects from proximity to choleric Godsblood deposits over generations, trace amounts in the bloodstream. Doesn’t matter which is right.”

A pause. A breath like steam cooling through clenched teeth.

“I feel what I feel. Too fast. Too sharp. And sometimes it spills out. Whatever the cause, that is the truth of it. It is not a good answer, I know that, but it is the only one I can provide with honesty.”

" My... losses? You want to hear all of that ?" Braze asked seemingly a little confused by that. " You wish to know what hardships I have suffered to better understand my outlook on life then?" He paused as if waiting for confirmation... that might take a small while to detail.

After another long silence in thought of the right words to convey, he finally replied:

“I will not force the question. That is your burden to carry or set down.”

His eyes remained steady. There was no softness there, just a hint of the beginnings of trust.

“If you wish to speak it aloud, I will listen, and I will not interrupt.”

He folded his hands loosely in his lap.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nameless


"Well… Un-shed tears will never dry," Braze murmured softly.

"I've lost a lot recently. Maybe that's why I'm so… eager to act out. I don't really have an outlet for my feelings. When you hold them back and hide them away, they can quietly fester in the darkness of your heart and mind." Braze lifted a hand to tap at the jaw prosthetic covering the lower half of his face.

"I don't have a lower jaw or tongue anymore—at least, not for now. I can't speak with my own voice. I can't really taste food either. Simple pleasures I took for granted are now things I dearly miss." Braze explained, his tone subdued. "I can talk to you as I do now because of the medical technology we have access to. Eventually, I hope I can get a… grown replacement."

He hesitated, eyes lowering. "I lost it when a woman, ( Maple Harte ) , took advantage of a moment when I was distracted. I was thinking about a different loss… my teacher and parental figure, Jasper Kai'el . He's been missing for a long time now, and I haven't seen him since. I don't like sharing my thoughts or feelings with anyone. To do so is to be vulnerable, and I hate that feeling. I hate feeling powerless and helpless, unable to do anything but what I please."

Braze's hand dropped back to his lap, fingers curling into a fist. "I don't like being told what to do. I don't like being criticized. And yet… despite all of that, I long for interaction and friendship. But I often find myself pushing people away, even when I'm aware of these patterns of behavior.

It's not easy to make good decisions when your emotions are running high. And when you feel anxious about almost everything, the world becomes that much harder to navigate. Jedi aren't supposed to have attachments. I shouldn't be attached to anything. Everything is temporary… but I am. I feel things very strongly, in both the ups and the downs."

 

[Nameless]

VOICE OF NOTHING

Outfit: Blood-Etched Nomad Armor
Weapons: None, save memory and fire

He did not answer immediately.

He listened, intently and silently, as Braze spoke. Not just the words, but the pauses. The tension behind them. The places where grief left its teeth marks.

When Braze finished, Nameless gave only a single nod.

“Those are wounds that does not close clean.”

It was not pity. It was recognition.

"What was taken from you… the voice, the sense of taste, the trust… that is not small loss. I do not think less of you for carrying it poorly.”

He drew in a long breath through his nose, then exhaled slowly.

"My flame burns outward. Yours curls inward. But it is still fire. The kind that devours if left untended.”

He tapped his chest lightly over his sternum to ground his words.

“We are told many things. Jedi. Cholerkin. Men. That our feelings must be shaped or silenced, cast away if they are not useful. They must not burden others, least we be perceived too weak to carry our burdens. They must not burn hot lest you lose yourself to the flame's temptations. L Sometimes, it is enough to say: I feel this. And it hurts. No hiding. No fixing.”

Nameless leaned forward, bracing forearms on his knees. His posture became something simpler. Less ceremonial. More real.

“You spoke truth. That is not weakness. It is structure, foundation. A place to stand.”

Then, more quietly:

“Even when we cannot control it, we are judged for it. A single moment of vulnerability can erase years of steadiness. Even by those who swear they would never see you differently. Even by the ones who begged to know your heart.”

Something stirred behind his words—not anger, not pain, but the cooled residue of both. An old burn, from a flame long gone.

“You cannot control how others see you. Once an illusion forms, it clings. And once it breaks, it does not heal. A cracked vase that can no longer hold water.”

His gaze did not lift. He spoke like someone who had long since stopped trying to explain.

“You may not mean to wear a mask. But others will build it for you. They will cast you as guardian, guide, foundation. They will lean on you, allow themselves to be close to you, until they glimpse the truth beneath. That you are what you are, no less vulnerable or in need of support than they.”

A beat passed.

“Then, the mask cracks. You weep once. You falter once. Though they offered platitudes, said your humours were safe with them, said men should express their grief, said they would not judge... what they felt told a different truth.”

His voice didn’t harden, It didn’t waver.

“They never look at you the same again."

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nameless
"I don't think most people forgive easily," Braze admitted, his voice low. "Maybe that's why I always try to. Maybe it's naive of me—to keep believing that if someone regrets what they've done, then I should find it in myself to forgive them." He paused, then added quietly, "I know that makes me seem gullible."


"But the galaxy already has enough hate in it." His gaze lowered. "I don't want to keep adding to that. And if you judge someone so harshly, for so long, all you're really doing is keeping that hate alive.... I want to be selfish but I never know when it's acceptable to do so... I was being selfish when I goaded you. I wanted to fight. My perception of you criticizing me when I made no actions against you initially gave me that excuse to convince myself in the moment it was okay to bare my fangs... I was wrong. "

 

[Nameless]

VOICE OF NOTHING

Outfit: Blood-Etched Nomad Armor
Weapons: None, save memory and fire

He who was nameless once again sat with the silence for a while, letting it settle between them like cooling ashes. When he finally spoke, his tone was even. Firm, but neither cold, not heated.

“Fixating on the past serves nothing.”

A slow breath, measured and controlled.

“The duel is over. Your provocation. My reaction. The name I bore.”

He looked forward, not at Braze.

"All of it, and the toll it deserves to take upon us is spent. If you carry guilt, I will not take it from you. That is not my place. Know that I hold no anger."

Not because it did not wound. Because he chose not to feed it. He flexed his fingers slowly, almost absently.

“The choleric flame does not ask whether it burns the guilty or the innocent. It only spreads. My people teach to master that flame. I still fail, sometimes. But not this time."

Another silence. He spoke of cultural teachings of restraint among a species of people born with proclivity to the dark side of the force.

He was not teaching a lesson, just stating a fact, offering suggestion: "What passed between us is done. Let it remain behind us. That was business of Kaelith, Voice of the Hollow Star. No longer is that my burden”

Just saying the words and truly believing it in one's heart were two very different things. But one was the beginning of the other.

He did not express forgiveness, nor make any promises to forget. Just that lingering on it could only cause more damage. At least until the heat has cooled and the kindling of memory doesn't ignite in the flame of emotion.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nameless
"Well... You can learn from the past... to make better choices in the future. " Braze stated simply.

"Like it or not our past is what shapes us to be who are in the present. " Braze offered simply shrug lightly and shaking his head before letting out a heavy slow sigh.

He shook his head and slicked a hand through his snowy white bangs and pushed them back before getting up to walk around a little aimlessly just to burn up some pent up energy. " But. You're right Focusing too much on the past isn't really... healthy. " He offered lightly.

"Do you want to see where I like to spend my time?" Braze asked lightly.

 

[Nameless]

VOICE OF NOTHING

Outfit: Blood-Etched Nomad Armor
Weapons: None, save memory and fire

He listened without interruption, his gaze steady, unreadable.

“That is... fair,” he said at last, in his usual deliberate cadence. “The past leaves its shape, even if we choose not to stare at it.”

He stood, fluid but unhurried.

“Yes. Show me.”

Braze​