S E E K
GALLO MOUNTAINS ☛ NABOO
After Briana whisked away, then Lossa charged him with - in so many words - going after her cousin on the understanding that he knew the eldest Sal-Soren better than virtually anyone, before departing the council chamber herself and leaving him there alone, it felt like he was left holding the bag. Left closing his mouth around words that burned the tip of his tongue, so to speak. It seemed to Vizion that he was nearly alone in seeing the situation clearly - Kahne appeared to have his head on straight, and he could reasonably expect that from a Master - but that wasn’t a thing to dwell on; doing so would help nothing. He didn’t linger in the council chamber for more than a scant few moments before he left in a measured rush to catch up to the woman who featured often in his thoughts. For better or worse.
He wasn’t certain he did know her better than someone, anyone, she’d spent more time with. He gained a lot from skilled perception, sure, and she was more willing to open up recently, but there were too many gaps. The balance of council meetings, most of a week just spent together, and a single evening so many months ago didn’t make up for all he’d missed. All the time spent apart more than together over the balance of their lives.
But damned if he didn’t try to close those gaps, and maybe damned if he did. He wasn’t sure where this was all going to lead, with her, and that was a tangle of thoughts that was starting to traipse down a committed path regardless of how loose things were. This wasn’t the way he did things, at least not for this long, but… she needed time. No one could dictate how long that would take.
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do or say in the present; he’d have to play it by ear, he knew, as he tracked her down by way of trained sense, and their regrowing bond.
“Briana! Hey, wait!” He said aloud, as he caught up at a gentle jog, finding her well on her way to… what? Leaving the temple? Heading to the training terrace? The Pit? It was hard to say at this junction of the temple’s corridors, “wait,” he breathed, a little quieter once he was close enough, “can we… I didn’t mean to suggest…”
Vizion brushed some curls back from his face. She whirled and continued moving… he balked, then caught up again and kept pace.
“...come on,” he urged quietly, “let’s talk about it.” He laid a hand on her nearest forearm, not grasping it. “Don’t bottle this up. Please.”
He didn’t want to consider what another several months of silence could mean.
