Chasing Spirits

[Boethiah]

Boethiah now wanders on Pax Insul, a fact known to only a handful of individuals throughout the entire galaxy.

If a particular someone in the Primeval were to ask hard enough, perhaps they'd eventually discover this fact for themselves. Whether or not they did, however, was of no concern to the young witch...

"This way!" Boethiah marches across the sandy shores, with a contingent of colossal crabs following behind her. They clicked and clacked with their claws, chattering amongst each other while they follow their new leader. Not too much further down the shore is a makeshift camp, with smoke rising from a fire now turned to cinders. The large crustaceans form a half circle around the camp and begin to burrow for their much needed rest.

Boethiah plops down into the sand, sprawling out like a cat on its backside and looking up to the clouds.

She exhales, "this is nice..." Some peace of mind at last, on a world where she would master the spirits inside her; one at a time.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“It is, isn’t it?”

The Slave popped his somewhat iconic head out from her tent, offering a cruel smile as he knew he interrupted whatever semblance of peace she had made for herself in the middle of nowhere. He expected her to move to hit him, or something worse, but he still moved as a ‘friend’; taking a seat in the sand just outside her tent still some distance from her. And there he sat, smirk emblazoned on his expression like the sun on an especially scorching day.

It took a few weeks for him to pull up the needed contacts and favors to get ahold of where she was at; and one that wouldn’t come cheap to him in the short term. However, this wasn’t about what would come tomorrow, but what would come today; and in a far more simpler sense he needed to satiate his endless curiosity. The exact thing that seemed to keep him as a youth, the ever incessant need to pry where he was unwelcome.

Once planetside, things didn’t get easier. Another few weeks passed before he finally found signs of someone surviving far from the more conventional archeological zones. It was only today he spotted the dying smoke of her forlorn fire; and an even greater surprise he managed to actually find the correct camp once she came back.

Perhaps that’s why he held such a vibrant grin.

“Come here often? I sure don’t.”, he quipped.


│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

"I do. This is where I camp," Boethiah walks up to one of the crabs and plants her feet upon its smooth back.

The great beast shuffles itself free free from the sand, lifting her above like an idol on a pedestal. "You of all people come to find me. Why?" She questions him from up high, looking down at The Slave like a queen observing her realm. Yet the simple robes and frizzled hair betray this illusion, revealing nothing more than a strange girl in a strange place doing even stranger things. Of course none of this happened to be new when considering who Boethiah is.

A calm breeze rolls in over the camp, pushing the smoke in the Slave's direction and scattering loose sand over the hot charcoals. More sand shifts where the colossal crabs rest, revealing their circular wall around the woman's camp, a protective barrier to keep the pests away and The Slave certainly would not want to be considered among them. One particular crab however--the one she happened to stand upon--skittered forward towards The Slave; casting a soft and blurry shadow over his person.

"Well?" She awaits his answer.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave rested his chin in his palm, idly glancing up to the towering crab that dared to loom over him. Certainly, he faced some oddly resistant numbers should Boethiah decide he was a thread; doubly so considering he carried with him nothing more than his standard pistol. With his sword too heavy for long travel, and anything else too cumbersome as well, there wasn’t much he could do but shrug and let what would happen do just that, happen.

His voice came first, the ever enigmatic expression he carried casting a molten golden glare past the crabs curious form;

“I haven’t come for you. I’ve come for the one who spoke to me, before.”

With legs crossed and a mild cockiness in his form, he couldn’t help but grin wildly at the situation, let alone the ever odd behaviors she seemed to carry. Most would be slightly perturbed that a near stranger had ended up in their solitary camp far from society, but not her. She simply stood atop her crab and took the leadership role she seemed destined to play; something he couldn’t help but appreciate when witnessed.

The force took a careful breeze around him as the smoke was shifted just slightly off course to avoid forcing him to move. In truth, he was actually a bit tired from all the hiking, but he wasn’t going to let Boethiah know that. And so he took to his usual course of action, to divert the subject with a carefully crafted tone;

“So, where is she?”, he said offering an obviously exaggerated glance around the camp.

│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

"Who?"

And just then Boethiah found amusement....

"Who... Whoooo. Hooo..." She hums the same tone found with the simple word, "how funny, wouldn't you say?" Her deadpan expression played up her little gag as only the most serious of inquiries. Indeed zealots had to put up with this behavior of hers, for often she sewed strange wisdom between the oddities. Although this didn't seem to be the case, unless she was trying to insinuate that he follow an owl.

No, beach owls did not exist. At least not on this planet. "I am afraid I am unsure how to help you find 'her' if I don't know who 'her' is. Unless 'her' is a name, then I definitely never met them." In fact, one of the high priests actually had been named Her, however Boethiah always called him Jar instead. But that didn't matter, not here anyway.

"Perhaps I can help you, perhaps not." She nods once as if concluding a hard to reach truth.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave cocked a brow to her response, maintaining his grin as he began to speak;

“You’re as crazy as I am! Wonderful.”, he chuckled.

As his belly laugh came to a close, he wiped away what slight tear had formed in his eye and began to speak once more, his tone moving from the higher friendlier reaches to something far more serious and low. At least, as serious as he could sound when faced with a beach owl like her;

“In truth, she never said her name. Only spoke in rhymes and riddles; much as you do now.”

He eyed her carefully, studying her apathetic expression with the faintest hint of curiosity. If nothing else, the girl known as Boethiah served to bring about in him a slight unnerving presence, one he didn’t often find himself in with the galaxy; and just as only a few before her he simply couldn’t read what she was about by a glance. She was something more than what she spoke of, even of how she carried herself, and just as The Slave she often betrayed the image she had made for herself with the quiet fondness of a child.

“She asked how far I was willing to go; and I’ve decided.”

A momentary lapse in the conversation before he filled the void with his words once more;

“I’ve decided I’m willing to die.”

│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

Boethiah claps her hands together.

"Wonderful!" She exclaims with full enthusiasm. Not exactly the response one might expect to such dire words as 'I've decided I'm willing to die,' and just then the crab bows its head forward, allowing the woman to slide off its back and sink her toes once more into the warm sands. Soon after the great beast skitters backwards and burrows into place with the rest. "I knew you'd come around eventually, I'm glad we're making great strides." Her enthusiasm only continues.

Indeed Boethiah's demeanor is different since their previous meeting. It's not quite her, and it's far from the demeanor of the woman he desired to meet again. "Now, I say that because if you want to meet Anja then you actually do need to die, but not here. It'd be easier to do it at the entrance to the Netherworld. You die, I enter through the portal, and you get to talk to her."

Hands on her hips, Boethiah stares directly into his eyes with her own of murky blue and pale red. Representative of the two forces at play inside her.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

With a soft laughter, The Slave stood to meet her, even if he stood a few inches taller. With a shake of his head, he spoke in a soft tone; one that never betrayed the sphinxlike demeanor he carried with him.

“I suppose I did just offer my life; just thought you might take me to dinner before asking for it.”

The Slave moved from the shade, letting the wind take what loose areas of his clothing it could in a careless flail behind him. Somewhat stoic, perhaps on purpose, he hesitated as he watched the horizon only to turn back to her with the molten eyes, in both color and intensity. His words were slow, each syllable carefully wrought to creation as he spoke;

“There’s no other way? I didn’t have to die last time, after all.”

A hand moved to brush his hair away, a cocked smirk bringing his somewhat serious behavior back down to a semblance of his usual playful self. At the very least, the mention of death kept him just slightly off put to the whole demeanor she carried with her, a less than easy feat to force him into a serious attitude.

│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

"A glimpse is all you saw, I'm offering you an audience; and it can only happen there. Unless you're content on waiting until I master this power."

A power she had been trying to master for nearly seven years now, which did mean it'd be quite a wait for him.

Boethiah breaks eye contact with The Slave and walks towards her tent, picking up the handful of belongings she gathered. Sea shells and smooth rocks, nothing out of the ordinary or particularly of any value. "Do you have a ship nearby?" If they were going to leave the planet together, then one of them would have to provide the means.

Unfortunately for the witch, she couldn't remember where she placed her brother... Who also happened to be her primary mode of transportation throughout Wild Space. A long story should anyone ask.

After packing away her souvenirs, she turns to face him once more. This time awaiting his decision for she told him everything she knew to say.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave let his eyes follow her as she went to collect her things, letting flaxen irises move smoothly with each of her steps. He pondered her body, how lithe she seemed and oddly strange she came across as. Perhaps it was the lack of sway in her step, or the complete contrast of personality from her usual domineering nature; in that she even reminded him of his old masters, putting the slightest intimidation in his heart, and anger in his soul.

His thoughts were derailed when she spoke once more, the soft tints of her voice reaching his ears with a gentle caress. A sharp hum signified his attention as he turned to look at her, only to meet her own gaze as the two stared; with his own words breaching the silence, he offered a calm response.

“Actually, yes. Just over the hill in fact.”

With that, he pressed a few buttons on a datapad in his thin coats pocket, letting it fall back to its resting place. As his gaze came back to her, he offered a secondary hum and momentary pause of his breath before he spoke once more; words that seemed to hint at teasing, yet a slight seriousness that pestered each syllable.

“I’m going to enjoy traveling with you, right?”

│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

"I like to meditate in the engine room," is her only answer to that particular question.

"Now I don't know where your ship is, so lead the way." Over the hills could mean anything on this hilly island of hers, and the poor crabs are to be left behind as well. Their time with Boethiah may have consequential effects on the development of the whole species which thrived upon that particular island, perhaps leading to a new sub-species or a future sentient race to scatter across the stars.

Yet that would be millions of years away, and the chances were slim.

Boethiah waits on The Slave who finally takes the lead on their journey to his starship over sand-stained grass blown by stormy winds, and yet this young witch found harmony in the grains that press against the bottom of her feet. She wonders where each one had been, what creature graced its surface and what corpses decayed above, casting the single grain in darkness until the final strand withered away.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Their trip was shrouded in silence, only punctured by the distant whirring of charging ion engines. As they broke the peak’s edge, they saw the awaiting ship that was used for a number of discrete travelling needs; but to say it was anything special was a fool’s errand.

Even in look, the ship was a rust bucket freighter that had seen the better part of its life millennia before it was in its current state. What with a few plates missing from the exterior, leaving its internals left to air dry under the sun and radiation of the void, all the while only one of two sensor arrays seemed to be in working order. The other of course being riddled with what could be either blaster shots, or the results of an ill timed debris field.

The Slave didn’t care that it wasn’t as nice as his other ships, as the only need he had for it was to traverse the galaxy with little attention; and a beat up old ship buried amongst the traffic of the galaxy did exactly that. Nobody gave it more than a passing glance, perhaps because the meer prolonged stare could transfer tinnitus or some other unruly disease.

Still, as the lift gate screeched open, a quick glimpse of the inside showed it was at least somewhat well kept compared to the outside. While it wasn’t pretty by any means, it at least had the basic amenities one might require on a cruising vessel; something less militant and more relaxing perhaps. And as it would all sink in to the young hierophant, The Slave moved to press a few buttons on a localized computer before glancing back to her, only offering a few words to her figure;

“So where’s the funeral?”

│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

"Csilla," she answered with a quaint smile.

Boethiah walked up the ramp and into the heart of the vessel, uncaring for its unseemly exterior and makes her way towards the engine bay.

She shouted throughout the ship. "Hello!?" Then noded contently at her situation, finding a nook near the exposed reactor panel to listen to the hum of the ship's heart when it came to life. She almost forgot about the Slave, then wondered to herself about their journey. This would be the furthest Boethiah ever traveled outside of Wild Space, let alone leaving 'Primeval Space' behind; something she has yet to do.

She knew only of Csilla in the back of her mind, from the one who the Slave wished to meet again.

If he wanted to meet her again, it is there he must find the door.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

And meet her again he would, but in due time.

As the engines whirred to life, and The Slave made himself comfortable with a glass of some unknown brew of Caf, he made his way towards the place the young prophet had found her travel position. Pulling up a latent crate, he moved to sit and cross his legs as his corrupted gaze fell upon her, warm Caf moving to meet his lips.

With a satisfied smile he set the cup back into his lap and offered her her own cup by motioning with his, but regardless of his answer he’d move to speak just following;

“So, Csilla. That’s where we’re going to enter the netherworld? I thought this weird spirit lady was inside you?”, he said curiously. Perhaps in a slightly prodding fashion, he was simply far too curious of a cat to let vague answers be the end all be all of this trip.

Besides, until they were in more major Hyperlane routes, he wouldn’t have the company of his AI or the Holonet to converse with; let alone catch up on the newest season of ‘Who’s Jar Jar is It Anyway’.


│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

"The dead must be where the dead go if they are to speak clearly," she answered indirectly.

Boethiah vibrated with the engines, tuned herself to its resonance, and imagined the flow of the force like river rapids grown calm. She felt the presence of two others beside her. One chaotic and vigorous, the other orderly yet utterly brutal too. Both Anja and Inhix shared similarities despite their stark contrasts, for one they delved deep in the Dark Side of the force. Feeding off its reservoirs like a leech sucked blood, and both had a more untamed command of the force. A wild disposition when they unleashed their powers.

Boethiah had no choice but to balance the two, to channel one strength without isolating the others. This is the task handed to her by her master and mother, and a task she found frustratingly difficult to accomplish.

Without these two spirits Boethiah was but a freed slave with untapped potential, and with them she proved one of the more dangerous entities throughout the galaxy. Worthy of fear and recognition alike. Indeed there were those who would see her dead or imprisoned rather than free and roaming.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave glanced away for a second, pondering just what she meant by that. He wasn’t stupid by any means, but he also didn’t have any clue about what the ‘other side’ even was; let alone what it meant to be involved with it. Was it really like a normal destination one could traverse to? He thought it more like a glass pane that always kept the two worlds separate, shattered only in times of great distress.

Suppose he wasn’t right.

“Fine.”, he said simply, moving to stand and kick the box back to where it was. It scuttled to a halt somewhere nearby as the tailcoat he had on flared behind him as he turned; leaving the space empty as he went back to the cockpit and took a seat.

As the ship made it to the first of many hyperspace checkpoints, a familiar voice came over the communications relay; a soft chirp of some forlorn waif it seemed.

“Did you find her?”, he seemed to sing.

“I did.”, he said with a slight smile; letting the cup of caf rest on his chest as he leaned back.

│ @Boethiah │