Private Broken Sentences for a Broken Soul

[Gillem]

GILLEM

The cold nipped at his face as he stood in front of the library. The whispering winds flowed past him, whipping his duster behind him. The star that he wore on his belt buckle from the Morellian Rangers shone brightly as the light hit it, along with his revolvers that hung on his belt, clinging to his hips.

He slowly plucked the cigarette from his lips, exhaling smoothly the sweet scent of his tabac. Not the stuff that radiated the stink of chemical smoke, but the kind that gave off a sense of soothing.

He looked over the entrance as he placed the rolled paper between his lips again and finally stepped in.

He may not have looked like it, but Gillem did like to read in his spare time. Stories, encyclopedias, engineering novels. You name it, he has probably taken a gander at it as long as it wasn’t in the forbidden wizardry section. He had no affinity in use of the force, in fact he was force dead completely.

The first thing he noticed was the quiet. And it was not a comforting quiet where people would be silent in courtesy of others. This was like the kind of quiet where sound was just smothered. Tomes, holodisks, datapads and holocrons were set up in their own places here, neatly. Some covered in dust from years of neglect, others as if just cleaned a few moments ago. He did receive some odd looks from some of the officials of the building as he puffed on his cigarette. There wasn’t a no smoking sign so he indulged of course.

Someone did catch his attention as he made his way towards the back. Oddly enough it was quieter back here, and he could feel a sense of unease. Not only that but there was a feeling that clung to the air. He didn’t know the word for it but it was best described as

A space not owned, but territory to someone.

He rounded the corner from some shelves and he saw a lone table. A low light lantern on the surface surrounded by tomes and holocrons. The pile was quite impressive, and it was still growing.

He noticed movement just behind.

Darker hair, glasses over hazel eyes.

He stopped.

His eye dimly flashed, barely noticeable as it studied her face.

<........Analyzing……..>
.
.
.
.
<.......Match……>

Name: Neriah Calven
Title: Jedi Padawan
Bounty: 0.00
Status:.........MISSING​

Gillem took a slow inhale of his cigarette as the word missing flashed on and off in a slow rhythm over his hud.

“I’ve gathered up the scattered shards,
To build a mosaic, strong and new,
Each crack a story, each scar a bond,
Now more complete than I was through.”​

He quietly recited the poem as he approached, stopping just a few feet from the table to not over crowd her space. He took a small inhale of the sweet smoke and then exhaled the scent through his nose.

“Mind if I sit with ya?”

He waited quietly.

Nilira Vornix​

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Gillem

"Sit where you want. I don't have the strength to make you go elsewhere."

She muttered to herself mostly, even as she ignored the poem. It was unneeded background noise. All of it was. Instead Neriah ran her hands over various datapads, her eyes flickering between them all as she took in the information. Numbers. Symbols. Languages. Multitasking was one of the few traits she had that was actually useful. That helped her prove herself, as the information continued to be reflected by her glasses. Sure, it might have been rude of her to not even look at the stranger, but he was exactly that. A stranger. Not a friend. Those didn't exist anymore. Not an ally. They only stabbed you in the back. He was a stranger.

Even if she looked herself in the mirror, all she'd see was a stranger. Neriah wasn't the girl she used to be. She knew that. Part of her didn't even see herself as a girl anymore, or even as a human. She was an object. A tool. In a way, she was a creation of the Sith, and thus a Sithspawn, even if they hadn't changed anything about her physically. Instead it had been her mind. Her heart. Whilst others may have found glee in the pain, inflicted to them or inflicted to others, Neriah hadn't. Her Jedi nature had clashed with that of the Sith. Instead of finding joy and glee in pain, she found...nothing. It made her feel cold inside. Empty.

She was not as truculent as other Acolytes. Not quick to anger, nor sudden to lash out at people. One might have thought that the way she spoke was her insulting people, but Neriah had always seen the insults as...beneath her. Whatever she said, at least in her mind was simple fact. There was no emotions or objectivity to it.

​

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

He exhaled through his nostrils at her comment.

“I doubt that's true.”

He looked over the many tomes and datapads she was reading trying to make sense of the jumbled mess. He was well versed in books, but this was far beyond him.

“Neriah Calven.”

He spoke quietly and directly to her.

“My sources say you’re missing. An aspiring Jedi Padawan nonetheless.”

He took another drag of the cigarette and exhaled slowly.

“I know for a fact you could kill me in several ways just by thinkin’ about it. Pardon me if I say that my strength pales in comparison.”

He slowly picked up a tome, investigating the cover.

“Besides, if ya don’t want me here, just say so. But something has my attention here.”

He laid the book back down lightly and leaned forward.

“You’re not a Sith, are you? And by no means do I mean you’re too weak, just a genuine yes or no will do.”

He watched her closely as she read over her material. He could tell that physically, she was not taken care of, emotionally she was extremely distant and mentally she was as guarded as a Star Destroyer.

Nilira Vornix​

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Gillem

"Killing isn't strength. Anyone can kill. A baby. A rat. A bacteria. Strength is control. Being able to push back."

Neriah muttered once more, still scanning over all of the different books, absorbing the information. A small frown on her face at the smell of the cigarette. It reminded her of Arris. None of that mattered however, as the man put one of the tomes down, and Neriah's hand instantly shot out to pick it up and put it back in the same place it had been beforehand.

"I'm an Acolyte. A poor one. I'm not a Jedi."

Even then, she had been a piss poor Jedi. She couldn't have saved anyone. She couldn't even save herself. All she could do was absorb as much information as she could. It was the main way she could be useful. She wasn't intimidating. She wasn't aggressive. She didn't...instil fear in anyone. She was pathetic in her eyes. Intelligence was all she had.

"You are right however. I am too weak to be a Sith. No Sith wants to die."

​

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

“I never said weak, Ms.Calven. And you mistake my comment about being able to kill me. A baby, a rat or a bacteria may be able to kill, but how often do they move things with their mind.”

He watched her hand shoot out to grab the tome he had laid down, not flinching, not even blinking. In truth he could read her reflexes way before they acted. It was a talent he developed.

“No one truly wants to die. I don’t care what they say. I have seen the eyes of many who are truly afraid of death. The fear of meeting their maker and the culmination of their decisions.”

He crushed the cigarette in his metallic palm, snuffing away the last of the smoke.

“Are you aware of how plants work?”

It was a simple question, he assumed she would. But the hope was to get her to think just a bit.

“Each type of plant needs specific care to grow.”

He paused for a moment, letting the quiet linger.

“Multiple factors are in place. Temperature, humidity, soil, sunlight, oxygen etcetera.”

He leaned back into the chair.

“Like I said, I don’t think you’re weak, Ms.Calven. I think you’re in the wrong garden bed. You’re not getting the nutrients or the care you need, and the bed you are in is infested with weeds. The kind that sap the life out of aspiring trees before they have the chance to don their branches.”

He looked down at his fingers, both his and the mechanical.

“I was born force dead. Most people they come out with some form of count, may not be able to use the force, but they have something that connects them.”

He looked back at her.

“I don’t have any of that. You could try to find me through the force right now right in front of you, you won’t see me. Just an empty chair.”

The room fell quiet again.

“I had to learn to turn that weakness into something. I had to plant myself into a new garden that better suited me. Then I had to nurture it myself. Soon being force dead was no longer a handicap, it was a strength.”

He watched her read more of her tomes.

“You are already on the right path for that. You just need more care.”

Nilira Vornix​

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Gillem

"Not caring about what someone says doesn't make it less truthful. I could say I don't care that people tell my master's dead. That won't bring him back. It won't change anything."

She had thought on the flower comment. For a single moment before it was thrust out of her thoughts and back to the job she had given herself at the moment. Even so...

"Sometimes those plants just die. They don't get a choice. They don't get to change their surroundings. They just die. And it happens far more often than people care to admit."

For a moment however, she stopped. Looking over towards Gillem...though in reality, it would perhaps be more truthful to say she was looking through him. Looking into a void instead as her gaze settled for a small moment.

"I don't see you through the Force. You are correct. But I know you are there. In the same way that you can only sense darkness through the absence of the light, one can sense the absence of the Force and the void that is left behind. Even the air in a way, has the Force flowing through it. So when someone who is completely cut off from the Force fills that space, there is still a void there."

Absence. People thought it meant nothingness. But she was not one of those people. Absence was still a state of being. Nothing meant there was...simply not something there. But a void. An absence. That was different. Something was meant to be there. Be it Force, emotions, life. A person can never contain nothing, but they can always contain a void. Something that devoured all of what made them who they were.

"Care is pointless. Those who are strong thrive. Those who are weak die. Like I did. My body just refuses to accept what my mind knows. Neriah Calven is a dead woman. And her corpse is just a simple puppet that dances to the tune of her betters."

​

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

“And that lies the weakness of a force blank. Everyone has them. Even if it is small.”

He leaned the chair back just a bit as he stared into the ceiling.

“Sure, plants die. Be it from neglect or natural causes. Still, most of the time a garden dies is either because of weeds, insects or they don’t have the proper sustenance.”

He chuckled a bit.

“Even those who are strong and have conquered the weak still show a resemblance of care for themselves. Otherwise they would have wilted away long ago.”

He thought about what she said.

“No, it won’t bring your master back. No that fate cannot be changed, yes it happened. It’s a simple way to look at it.”

He fell quiet for a moment.

“How did your master die, Ms.Calven? If I may ask. No embellishment, no bias to any side. I want the cold hard facts.”

Nilira Vornix​

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Gillem

She let out a small sigh as the man continued to speak, her eyes returning to her work once more, as she tapped along the various datapads and flipped through some of the pages. He had a point of course. The strong still had some form of resemblance of care for themselves. That's why she had not been one of those. She had not been a member of the strong. Either way, that didn't stop her from answering his question.

"A group of Sith assassins attacked the Enclave. Master Jaran Xurgard ordered his padawan to leave. To get help. She froze. She wanted to help. She couldn't. Master Xurgard couldn't give the assassins the focus necessary because of her presence there. He had to protect the pair of them. He couldn't. His attention was split in too many directions."

The Acolyte continued to speak, without any inflections in her voice, without her gaze flicking away from the datapads, reciting the entire tale as if it was some kind of documentary she had seen.

"A lightsaber pierced him through his back. Through his heart. Clinical death occurred in seconds. The last expression on his face was that of fear, as his eyes met with his padawan's, before the light went out of them. Master Xurgard was murdered. But ultimately by who? His Padawan, who had froze instead of going for aid? The assassin who's blade pierced his heart?...Or that of Arris Windrun who was the reason the assassins even knew where he was in the first place?"

Through out the story, she had refused to use an identifier for the Padawan. The Acolyte hadn't referred to Xurgard's padawan as "me" or "I". Just simply her. She. A sense of detachment from the situation.

​

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

The name Arris Windrun rung a bell with him. He knew about her, knew of her reputation. You’d be a fool not to know.

“How often does that scenario run through your head? Ms.Calven.”

He sat his hat over the chair, letting it rest as he ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. His sitting position taking a more relaxed stance.

“Do you remember the faces of who did it? If you saw them.”

He was quiet for a moment longer again.

“You may not see it, but you’re a survivor. Survivors only earn that after being beaten down to hell and back. You had seen things, experienced things that most people your age should never experience. You have likely done things as well.”

He rested a leg over his knee as he looked around the room.

“Survivors tend to last. I think if you were truly as weak as you say you are, you would not have gotten this far.”

He pulled a bullet casing from his belt, gently flipping it through his fingers.

“What was the breaking point for you?”

Nilira Vornix​

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Gillem

"It runs through my mind when it's needed to. No more, no less."

She said, rather matter of factly, as her eyes continued to scan over all of her information. Taking in as much as she could, whilst at the same time staying somewhat involved with the question. Did she remember the faces? Of course she did. But it didn't matter, so she simply shook her head. Even if she remembered their faces, there was nothing she could do about it.

"I did what I've been told to do. Simple. I have gotten nowhere."

She gave a non-committal shrug of her shoulders when she was asked what the breaking point was for her. It wasn't an idea she had really put much thought towards her. For her, she had been broken the moment she had been captured. The Covenant had only managed to break her into more and more shards, to the point where even if you put the shards back together, she wouldn't be the same

​

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

He looked at the pile of tomes and knowledge in front of her after she spoke, and a quiet laugh left him.

“Water, water everywhere. Yet you feel you are dying of thirst.”

He picked up another tome looking at its cover and gently flipping through its pages.

“Do you study so much to stay busy or does it help with the feeling of insignificance?”

He spoke quietly as he flipped through a few pages then looked at her.

“You would make a fantastic archivist.”

He sat the book back down where it was.

“Most people don’t realise that they are the reason we have so much in this galaxy. Technology, dishes, tonics, alchemy, sorcery.”

He gently tapped a finger on the table a few times, collecting his thoughts.

“Without people to record that history and keep it in check, civilization will have started over hundreds of times over. Yet even then, some people refuse to learn from history's mistakes.”

He fell quiet for a moment.

“It’s clear you have a passion for reading and gaining knowledge. Perhaps even finding secrets.”

He looked around them, his eye scanning for any traces of people near them then he leaned in speaking quietly.

“Do you want out, Ms.Calven?”

The look in his eyes took a more serious turn, as he extended an offer of escape.

“I can make that happen if you wish. The covenant isn’t your garden bed, it’s full of the weeds that will bleed you dry and devour the rest after you fall. I don’t want to see that happen.”

Nilira Vornix​