Private Dead Memories

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin burst into his room with panic in his eyes. He stopped in the doorway, chest heaving, breath ragged from sprinting the length of the Kor'ethyr dormitory. The corridor behind him still echoed with his boots. Moving that fast made him impossible to miss, a thunderous shadow through a place built for whispers.

He did not care about the stares. Everyone already knew the important things. Everyone knew he trained under Diarch Reign. Everyone would soon know the Sith Order had declared Reign and his circle enemies. To be tied by association was to be marked. To be marked was to be taken. The thought tightened his hands until his knuckles hurt. They wouldn't take Reign away from him.

Packing was methodical and frantic at once. Memory flickered through his head like a broken holovid. Faces. Names. Failures. The likeness of people he had lost rolled up with each item he shoved into the pack. He hit the small scuffed trunk by the bed and began filling it with essentials: a spare set of robes, a compact field ration pack, a medstim, a data pad. He snagged a heavy cloak and shoved it down so it would not rattle.

Naami.

The name hit him like a hard breath. He had to get Naami. Reign meant everything to Gavin, but Naami was the brother he had chosen. They had grown through training and fights together. Naami was more bound to the Sith than Gavin had been, but surely he would come with Gavin. If Gavin could drag Naami away now, they could vanish into Diarchy space under Reign's protection. They could train, get strong, and become something that no one could drag apart.

"He will understand, he has to," Gavin muttered, words rough and urgent as he thumbed the buckle of his pack. He imagined Naami's face, the stubborn set of his jaw, the little grin he reserved for trouble. He pictured them, one day, standing tall enough that no one would strip them of what they had. Together.

Gavin paused at his robes. The Rakghoul colors lay folded on the stool, the sigil of his house stitched inside the hem. The Sith had opened a door for him once. They had taught him how to be useful in a cruel galaxy. The memory of pain and discipline flickered warm and bitter. Then he thought of Reign, who had given him something that felt like purpose. Reign had looked at him and seen usefulness, but also potential. The robes slid from his fingers and crumpled to the floor.

He reached automatically for the hilt of his lightsaber, the metal cold and familiar under his palm. He clipped it to his belt and it sat snug at his hip.

The doorway opened as he slung the pack over his shoulder. The sudden motion surprised him and he instincively reached for his lightsaber. Naami stood there in the dim light, and Gavin breathed a sigh of relief.

Gavin did not stop to soften his approach. He thrust the second pack into Naami's hands without ceremony, voice coming out raw. "Naami!" he said, breath rasping. "Great, now I do not have to find you. Hurry, we gotta get out of here. I have a ship that is going to take us to Diarchy space and we can vanish from the Sith Order."

Not waiting to read the look on Naami's face. "We do not have much time so we can get in and out of your room with time to spare," he added, words clipped into urgencies, as if the wall of footsteps he heard beyond the door could already be the approach of patrols.

His fingers brushed the hilt at his hip as if for reassurance. An old habit like a man continually checking to make sure they had their wallet.

Run, hide, survive, and do not let the chain break this time.

"Its you and me against the Galaxy, buddy." Gavin smirked the familiar smirk. The one that said that things were crazy but they were going to make it. Just like they always did.

Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link,
Well Worn Boots, Weal & Woe

​

It had all happened like a slow motion landslide. The first tumble of one proverbial rock, which soon caused a chain of disastrous events. Naamino was still reeling from the aftermath.

Lines were being drawn, loyalty tests and interrogations would surely follow. Head spinning with memories and uncertainty, the teen made his way to his dorm. Surely talking with Gavin about it all would help. Surely they'd be able to maintain their status as students and… well, he didn't know. All he could hope was that Diarch Reign would understand how important their studies were, and perhaps this call to conflict between the Order and the Diarchy would settle down.

Surely that would be the case, right? They shared the same foes and as best he understood, the Diarchy merely had a more moderate view of the Force and geopolitical machinations than the Order.

The zabrak was so distracted with his worries and wondering that he was uncharacteristically oblivious to the stares and quiet murmurs of his fellow students in the hallway he walked.

He thrust the second pack into Naami's hands without ceremony, voice coming out raw. "Naami!" he said, breath rasping. "Great, now I do not have to find you. Hurry, we gotta get out of here. I have a ship that is going to take us to Diarchy space and we can vanish from the Sith Order."

Blinking in surprise and delayed processing speed, the teen merely listened as Gavin continued on. His confusion turned to consternation at the dawning realization that his brother in arms had already made up his mind about how this would go. All at once, Naami didn’t look like the young man he was rapidly growing into. No, in that moment his face displayed all the hallmarks of a boy that felt torn between two impossible choices.

”Gav…” He managed, before needing to take a deep breath to steady himself.

”Surely there’s a little time— we’ve only just heard about the declaration, we’re students for Darkness sake… and, well the Holy Worlds have always been kinda removed from some of the turmoil of the main territory…”

Naami’s voice held an uncharacteristic waiver, as if he was not only justifying his indecision but trying to convince his friend to reconsider the vehemence of his certainty.

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin paused and stared at Naami when he spoke. He was..... asking for more time? The thought almost made him laugh, but there was no humor in it. Only disbelief. "We dont have time, Naami," Gavin said flatly but still trying to maintain his composure. His voice was rough but steady, like a man forcing himself to keep from shouting. "I know how these things work. Its a typical shake down. We will have two options, either completely disown Reign or die." Gavin spoke matter of factly and intensely to him, his tone cutting through the air with the certainty of someone who had already made peace with the reality of it.

He took a step forward and put a hand on Naami’s shoulder, his grip firm but not harsh. "This place.... its done a lot for both of us. I know that. But they dont care about us like Reign does. He can give us everything the Sith can but he can do it without stripping away who we are!" Gavin’s eyes locked with his, the words coming faster now, heavier, almost desperate. "You know what I mean. They’ll break us apart, Naami. They’ll make us choose between who we are and what they want us to be."

For a brief second, Gavin’s composure faltered. Maybe part of him knew that Reign was not much different from the Sith. He saw the same thing in Gavin that the Sith did: someone who could kill on command. A weapon. A tool. But with Reign, it was different. Or at least Gavin wanted to believe it was. When Reign looked at him, it wasn’t like he was being inspected or measured. It was like being seen. There was purpose in that, a kind of belonging Gavin had never felt anywhere else.

What he didn’t want to face was that Naami might not feel the same way. The Diarchy had given Naami structure and knowledge, but not the sense of belonging it had given Gavin. Naami was a thinker, a builder. Gavin was a fighter. He knew that deep down, even if they stood side by side, they were standing on different ground. He had ignored it for as long as he could, because acknowledging it meant seeing the crack forming between the two worlds they lived in.

Gavin’s hand dropped from Naami’s shoulder, his expression hardening again. "I wont turn my back on Reign. I cant." The words came out quiet but absolute, heavy with conviction. He stood tall, as if daring the galaxy to try and pull him in another direction.

Naamino Zuukamano