Private Common Threads

[Viers Connory]

Aidan Kerelenko.

The name lingered on the tip of her lips and haunted her mind. Over and over again, Viers played the memory back, trying to figure out what she could have done differently.

Aidan Kerelenko.

She couldn't say his name; the moment she said it, her life was over. Everything that her mentor had trained her for, tradition and vows - all of it meant nothing. Viers had taken a life, a precious life that was to be protected with every fiber of the Monk's being.

Aidan. Kerelenko.

He wasn't supposed to die. His life had yet to be lived. There were several excuses the staff had tried to give the girl to ease her mind. Nothing sounded right; in the end, Viers ended his life and not the man's choices. A nurse wandered in and looked over Viers, the bacta bath had done its job - healing her body, but her mind focused elsewhere. The Doctors and Healers had decided to keep the girl under careful watch, worried there might be more lying underneath those glazed over amber eyes. "Sweetheart," a calm voice echoed as she lifted Viers up, running a washcloth against her face. "Everything will be okay; take your time; ol Betty will make sure you're comfortable." The middle-aged woman smiled softly. Viers glanced, focusing on the woman's olive-skinned arm, her actions reminded her of the monastery, and tears welled in the youth's eyes.

Betty, seeing that something was wrong, quickly stopped cleaning the Monk's face and brought her close. A hand soothed along Viers' back as soft words were whispered. Betty sat on the bed and kept her young patient close, rocking her gently and comforting her the best she could. Sadness filled the Nurse's face as she did her best to hold back her own tears. A part of her had hoped that someone somewhere had given her own child this comfort while they died. She hoped that someone held her daughter's hand so that she wasn't alone. Seeing the young pass through her halls, she could only think of her daughter and provide the comfort she prayed Vanessa received in her last moments.

"Baby girl, it's going to be okay, shhh." Betty continued to rock Viers until she had calmed down and began to pull away. Viers wiped her face and stared at the white cotton sheets of the bed, "His name was Aidan Kerelenko." A fresh tear rolled down her face as she hiccuped, "May I have scissors?" Betty shook her head carefully and examined the room to ensure no sharp objects were lying around. "No, honey, I can't give you that, but maybe if you tell me what it's for - I can help?"

Viers nodded understanding, and a hand gently pulled her long brunette hair forward, "Its customary that when I break my vows - I have to cut my hair - to start my atonement." Betty nodded, feigning understanding. She never really understood the point of the religions of the Force, but if Viers needed someone to just understand - then the nurse would do that. "Okay." She stood up and patted the bed. "If you eat this evening - all your food, I'll get you scissors." A blatant lie, and Viers saw through it, but after everything that Betty had done, Viers feigned ignorance. "Okay, I will, Ms. Betty." A slight smile and Viers returned her head to her pillow. "See you later, Viers." And the nurse walked away to continue her rounds.

Yula Perl ​

 

[Yula Perl]

In Nurse Betty’s wake, a bruised Zeltron hobbled through the threshold of the open door.

“There you are!”

Yula’s exclamation was followed by a carefully paced shuffle toward the Jedi, one hand dragging along the IV pole as she went. Without asking, she unceremoniously plopped at the edge of Viers’ bed and heaved a dramatic sigh of exhaustion. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Viers” Idly, her hand twirled the IV pole in lazy circles. “Lost track of how many wrong rooms I went into....” A sheepish chuckle for her mistake.

They'd only met at Krayiss, on the precipice of suffering, but there was a way about Viers that tickled Yula's empathy. Along with Dagon Kaze , she and Bernard of Arca had crept into Yula's mind after the initial shock of waking up in a hospital ward had worn off.

For now, Yula had done a fantastic job of repressing her trauma. The swelling of her face was less noticeable beneath all the contouring, and her one remaining eye was rimmed with precise strokes of kohl liner and carefully blended shadow. All that remained was one thing, and she fumbled for it through the awkward pockets of her hospital gown.

“I need your help; Fuchsia Sky or Coral Crush?”

Now facing Viers, her lips thinned into a hard line as they conveyed the significance of this decision.

Viers Connory

 

[Viers Connory]

“There you are!” Viers’ looked up quickly to see the rose-skinned girl she had met on Kryiss. A part of her didn’t know how to react. Yula Perl was the girl that he wanted and remembering that tiny bit of heartache frustrated her. As Yula Perl continued, Viers felt the thorns squeezing her broken heart fall away. Viers relaxed and watched the animated grace the Zeltron exhibited. She was nothing like the others she had met, remembering the Knight during one of the Bryn excursions. His eyes were dark and tense, as if he was hiding something horrible.

He scared Viers.

The Zeltron moved closer, finding a seat on the edge of Viers’ bed. Conversation flowed from Yula’s side as Viers didn’t know when or how to respond to the visit.

There was something off about the meeting. Typically, Zeltrons made the girl wheeze and her eyes water. And yet, with the proximity of Yula - nothing bothered her. Viers looked at her IVs and began to absentmindedly poke at them, wondering what they were putting into her that would have countered the allergy.

Her curiosity would be fulfilled later as the question was posed to her, “I need your help; Fuchsia Sky or Coral Crush?” Yula asked her, importance showed on her face, and Viers blinked slowly, trying to catch up. “Oh, um…” Viers thought quietly, trying to understand the concept of painting one’s face with makeup to be beautiful. But, of course, in her opinion, the Zeltron didn’t need it - she was already stunning, but that was something Viers would never admit openly.

The only experience the Corellian had when it came to painting face was the outcasts, the sinners, those in search of forgiveness. The thought made her clench the blanket tightly as she knew she would have to venture down that path, but for now, her first mission was to help Yula. “I like Coral.” She pointed at it, forgetting that the fluorescent light would react to the blue shards of metal embedded into the forearm. The hospital gown did little to hide the rune-like branding along the girl’s frame.

“I’m happy you seem to be doing okay. I had wondered what happened to everyone after I left - I’m sorry I didn’t go back. I--” Viers paused, the same hand that pointed ran through her dark hair, pushing it from her face. Her brow furrowed, “I ran into some trouble. Did-” Another pause, “Is Dagon okay? What happened to you guys?”​

 

[Yula Perl]

The moment Viers made her selection, Yula’s hardened expression blossomed into a smile. “Good choice. I’ve been meaning to try this one.” Unscrewing the cap, she leaned forward to examine her warped reflection in the metal of her IV pole. A few precise swipes along the width of her mouth was all it took to get a sheer coat of gloss. Smacking her lips together, she turned back to the bedridden woman. One good eye caught the glint of the metallic brand etched into Viers’ forearm.

When the apology came out, Yula was all too quick to wave it off. She’d been just as quick to push down her own feeling of shame and betrayal, and so they swirled in the vestiges of her mind like a storm out at sea.

Her expression shifted into something softer, brows knit in gentle concern. “Hey,” Scootching a little closer, Yula placed her hand on Viers’ own. Touch was a big part of communication in Zeltron culture, even when done in a platonic way. “Dagon is okay. Bernard is okay. All of us, we’re all—all four of us made it out alive.” She had to readjust her own reassurance. None of them were really okay, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Apprehension and discontentment wafted through the halls of the ward like a perfume named Demoralization. It wasn’t the healthiest environment for an empath, but this was where Yula needed to be.

If Viers hadn’t pulled her hand away by now, she’d feel Yula’s fingers tighten a little against her own. Then, like a heartbeat, her grip slackened.

She didn’t yet know what became of Zaavik Perl . The last she remembered, Yula had tried to tear his arm off while under the influence of a cocktail of rage and desperation.

In the end he just…disappeared into the galaxy once again.

“We all ran into our own trouble, Viers.” An attempt to dissuade the woman from taking responsibility was made—because truly, how could any of this be her fault? War was hell, and they’d all had their battles to fight. “Dagon went to aid Bernard and the others in the library while I confronted…or rather, became an obstacle for someone.” Her lips thinned in a wry smile, reflecting on the irony and truth of that statement. An obstacle for Zaavik.

A thread of concern wrote along the lines of her face. “Are you alright, Viers? I’m glad you made it out, but I didn’t see or hear from you after you split from the group.” She had no idea what had happened to her, no knowledge of the events that had lead to her hospitalization.

Viers Connory

 

[Viers Connory]

Viers listened intently, everything that Yula was saying was true, and parts of it made her feel better. Knowing that everyone had survived lifted the weight from her chest. There was no telling what she would have done if someone hadn’t survived because she failed her mission. The SICA troopers were an anomaly to the plan - they were fighting in a temple, not the open battlefield.

Her mind ran over the fight over and over again, trying to figure out where she had messed up and how she could have changed it. But the feeling of Yula squeezing her hand snapped her from her thoughts. Viers felt warmth move through her; the small gesture caused her pale skin to blush just slightly along the bridge of her nose. The world beyond the monastery allowed so much physical intimacy, or what she assumed it to be. Never back home would someone sit on the edge of her bed, consoling her while holding her hand.

Remembering this, she pulled her hand back slightly and held it against her chest. Slender fingers played with the neckline that hung awkwardly against her chest. “I’m glad. Did we win?” She asked the question but didn’t care for the answer - she assumed that was the goal for all of this, winning. It seemed to be what people celebrated, so she feigned her curiosity.

Viers wanted to avoid the question, but Yula had reassured her and answered. It was the least Viers could do; they were comrades at the end of the day. Her fingers continued to nervously fidget at the neckline of her robe; with each pull, the visible runic branding and deep obsidian tattoos showed to be something that covered the entirety of her body. Viers didn’t think about the secrets she was absentmindedly exposing, as her mouth and throat suddenly felt dry and swollen.

“I scouted ahead-like I said I would.” the monk showing her discomfort as she spoke, remembering why she had decided with haste to leave the group. She knew better than to split the party. “I assumed my invisibility would protect me, but these military soldiers were able to see me.” Her brow creased, showing her confusion as she remembered the events. “I knew I had to keep them from you guys; there were five of them, I was heavily outnumbered, but I was confident.” Tears began to well in her eyes, knowing that she was getting to the part she hated the most.

“I was too confident. As they shot at me with their lasers, I dodged and disabled one of the members closest to me. It was quick and easy - which only made me more confident.” Her voice cracked as she gestured, pulling something out of her cloak, “I reached and grabbed an explosive - hoping to force them to fan out - alone I could take them, but together they were too strong. I-I-I forgot about the one I had disabled.” The tears slowly fell from the girl’s eyes, her shoulders rolling forward as her arms wrapped around her thin frame, clutching the sleeves of the hospital gown.

“I broke my vows. I killed someone, I killed an innocent - they’re not a part of the war I fight, I’m supposed to protect them. I killed him, I almost killed another, but she stopped when I did.” Quickly, Viers wiped her tears, but they continued. She was so ashamed of showing this weakness to Yula, and she was ashamed of what she had done. “I healed her, I wanted to die - I accepted my death. It would have been atonement for the sin I had committed.”

Viers looked up at Yula Perl , amber eyes, red from crying.

“But I lived.” Her voice broke, it would have been so much easier if she had died. The path she was set to walk was going to be painful and the monk didn't know if she could survive it. ​

 

[Yula Perl]

When Viers’ hand retreated, Yula smiled awkwardly, apologetically. Her own hand occupied itself at the edge of her gown, fiddling with the rough cotton ties that held it together. A trait that both women seemed to share. Green eyes followed the hand that pulled away to the neck of Viers’ robe, sliding down to the archaic inking of her skin that seemed to spread beyond just what she could see.

“Yeah, we won.”

If you could call that winning. The Sith had fallen back from Krayiss, but seeing the aftermath of their efforts didn’t make her feel like victory was involved.

The normally chatty Zeltron fell silent as Viers’ spoke, attention honed on the monk as she relayed all that she wanted to regarding her role in the battle. When tears crested against her lash line, Yula had to fight the urge to grab for her hand again—or pull her into a hug. Your life wasn’t the only thing you risked in war—you also stood to lose morals, ethics, and whatever else you held dear. Whatever else made you you. And like Viers, sometimes you were forced into circumstances that had no good ending.

“Viers, I—” She didn’t know what to say. How could she? She’d never unintentionally caused someone’s death. None that she’d known about. Guilt over her own actions was something she understood, but this moment wasn’t about her.

“I’m sorry you were in that situation. That must have been difficult…” Speaking quietly, Yula’s normally sharp features softened. “War makes us…do things. One of those being quick decisions.” She wasn’t sure where she was going with this beyond speaking in a low, soothing tone. “It happens.”

Somber silence lapsed between the two, the vital monitors arranged beside Viers the only palpable sound in the room.

“What’s next for you, Viers?”

Please don’t say death.

Viers Connory