Destruct the Architect

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The diminutive blonde slipped from her seat, both feet now on the floor as she leaned over the railing to peer at her mop-headed friend below. She scowled when he recalled her actually steering the craft from it’s rungs. It had been humorous, and Marclonus had laughed at first, then given her some very thorough lessons on direction following suit.

“Mission accomplished, though.” The youth chimed, beginning her descent down the steps to where [member="Harland Gates"] stood. She rolled her shoulders, as if slipping into somebody else’s skin before embodying the voice of someone more authoritative than herself —someone more akin to Selev; “Sleeping on the Job, Padawan Gates — most disappointing indeed.”

Kiskla didn’t stand still for long though, she was quickly weaving her way to the strewn and discordant cockpit her companion had recently spent his night in. “How did you fall asleep in here anyways?” With a hoist, she was into the cockpit and sitting in the seat, kicking up her feet to the console. “Doesn’t seem comfortable.”

Slender shoulders shrugged and she kicked off the dashboard, her lanky legs almost tangling as she did so and standing once again, hands on her hips.

“Well, you’re already late for today’s lessons. And now I am too. And we’re in the capitol.”

Blonde braid would slip over her shoulder as she cocked her head; “Whatcha wanna do for the day?"

 

[Harland Gates]

Evidence of a night of unconventional sleeping traced along the cloth and leather of his Padawan tunic, marking less than incumbent creases and folds within the fabric. However the wrinkled garb would be nowhere near the disaster that the wadded up robe and former pseudo-pillow was in. Disheveled was a word so aptly coined that it was somewhat of the default for the older of the pair of learning Jedi. It was a wager how much they learned these days, considering if either one of them was less than enthused about showing up, neither rarely did. A combined frustration to their Masters seemed to be their goal - rather than the tutelage of the Force, or expertise with their swordsmanship. It had been long understood by the Masters that they should not practice against each other too often - lest they descend into anarchy and flamboyant displays just to show-boat. Hands rested on the thick leather belt, thumbs curling around the edge - a habit he'd take with him for years to come as Kiskla descended and mocked his sleeping habits.

"Battle Meditation, Master Jedi. A new form, you should try it sometime." The youth beamed with self-righteous poise and a glance of his pearly whites in the most forced display of honesty he could muster. The facade quickly dropping as the blonde slipped passed him and vaulted over the side and into the pod itself. Each hand pressed then to the edge of the vessel while he peered in at her lounged display. "Wasn't so much a choice to bed in, as it was a lack of energy to get out." In other words, Hal had passed out behind the yoke, and his subconscious routine had decided not to alert his body to a very stiff necked slumber of which he was now paying the price. Absently drawing his right hand to his neck, to rub out a kink that wouldn't abate for several hours in the future. "I was this close Kay.." His fingers pinched, indicating a few centimeters of distance. "..to unlocking the Lahara sector before I dozed off. Sooner or later, I will get this thing into the Unknown regions - at least I'm gonna keep trying until we get a mission out there." Their Masters never took them into the Unknown regions, despite the constant prodding, goading and begging Gates did on a regular basis.

The change of topic formed the catalyst for a shoulder roll before a shrug soon followed and his hip landed squarely to the side of the training pod, one arm propped against the hull and resting in his mop of blond curled locks. An inquisitive thoughtful look rose towards the ceiling (where he often looked for invisible inspiration). Kiskla and himself had ventured back and forth across the planet, even so far as to take daring underwater rides to the abysmal labyrinths around Naboo - all while staying one step ahead of the various manner of sea creatures who would gladly snack on their transport. The city itself, while majestic and eye-catching, didn't boast much difference from other cities, and they had free reign to (almost) everywhere aside from the Palace chambers and throne room. A small glint in the oceanic color of his eyes offered mischievous intent and a raised brow before he parted his lips to respond.

"I did see a V-19 sitting port side, and I think I've got enough Jedi balance to surf it over the Plunge. You up for being driving over the falls, Ace?" He asked with a daring quality to his voice. The prospect of skipping the speeder from land, over to the largest waterfall on Naboo, only to ride it down like a surfboard on the water was quite a stupid stunt, and that made it all the more inspired to Gates. Most teenagers thought themselves invincible - even more so of the Jedi in training.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Almond-shaped blues electrified with pure glee at her friend's suggestion. Not only did [member="Harland Gates"] acquiesce to another day of conveniently avoiding lessons, but his suggestion would immerse them in a total adrenaline rush.

Her enthusiasm manifested as a crooked grin, and a furrow of her own brows. Pouted lips twitched with the potentials of enthusiastic replies, but instead they manifested in a slow, assured nod. "Oohhhh yesss." She replied, her voice dropping an impressive octave with the deep vowel, and extending with a snake-like hiss with the final acquiesce. "I cannot wait for you to go back to Master Selev with a broken limb and an explanation." Her brow quirked humorously, imagining the amount of trouble her companion would get into. Those ignited features faded slowly though, as she realized she too would be heaped into the issue and would be served her own dish of discipline.

Whatever.

"Actually." This happened often, this slow realization that was visually projected on her youthful features. Kiskla would want her friend to get the brunt of the blame, and then she would recall that they were peas in the pod and what happened to one would undoubtedly spill over to the other. "Keep your bones in tact -- let's go."

*
The water sprayed at her face, and the entire rest of her body. It would have been refreshing, if Kiskla was paying any attention to the shower of droplets that were raining down on her beneath the pleasant Naboo sun. The youth was often awed by the beauty of water, no matter its form. Many of her days passed by in the Lake Country, where she'd dive and dip beneath the waves with reckless abandon and no talent for keeping afloat.

The tranquility of water, and the mirth it provided was not in her mind. No. Kiskla was thinking about the deafening roar the Plunge projected, and the amount of power and speed behind the torrents that spilled over the edge and pounded into the pools below. To get trapped beneath that force would surely be enough to break something, if not keep the being unfortunate enough to meet that fate totally submerged. Instant drowning.

"If you're gonna do it, you are not doing it alone." Kiskla finally said, looking toward her friend and the vehicle they'd...liberated from the hangar. There would be two reasons Kiskla would insist on joining [member="Harland Gates"] over the edge:

1. She was a thrillseeker -- and this was a limited opportunity offer. Once that V-19 was over, the conditions could never be duplicated. And she didn't want Hal to hog all the adrenaline and glory.
2. She was better at the Force than he -- and should something go awry, she was more likely to know how to manipulate the current of their omnipresent ally than he, therefore prolonging his life expectancy. It was compassion, if anything.

Though if anyone asked, reason number one was the foremost. "So lemme up." With this, she turned from staring down at the liquid vortex below and ambled toward the turquoise speeder.

 

[Harland Gates]

Reckless endangerment, and youthful folly go hand in hand young Padawan. Do not let your bravado dictate your fate - allow the Force.

Such a comment was a long time favorite of Master Selev when lecturing Harland on the errant and often wayward rebellious ways that had become a way of life between teacher and student. Selev attempted to instill discipline, and Harland sought to undo it in days' time. He didn't see his actions as reckless or without purpose - they were cemented in purpose, and it was a singular idea. If he couldn't enjoy being a Jedi, he'd never be able to continue on the path as instructed. Jedi continued in the Order from a sense of duty, a desire to serve and protect. Hal - he needed a little less of a 'noble' reason to walk that narrow road. After all, nothing ventured - nothing gained. No other sentiment held more truth with him than when he was in the company and influence of the less than pious blond that he'd come to know to be a kindred spirit in all manner of danger and risk taking endeavors. This morning was certainly no exception.

Kiskla's electric gaze and wide brimming grin acted as the catalyst to a mirror image with the elder of the two Padawans. Convincing him to retreat from a day full of instruction, order, and regiment was not hard at all. It was decidedly harder to convince him to do the complete opposite, and even though the Masters knew Grayson was the girl who could rouse the slothful Jedi in training, they were taking a risk in pairing them together again without proper supervision. Both hands reached out, taking the younger Padawan by the hips and lifting her out of the cockpit to set onto her feet beside him, a roll of his eyes was granted at the implication that he'd suffer some sort of injury for their combined stunt. It was however highly possible considering he'd already come back with a host of issues, and none of them were from the intense and stamina draining training that Selev put him through on a near daily basis. Arms crossed over his chest as he eyed his friend with a minimal amount of disagreement.

"You may be my best friend in the Galaxy Ace, but if I'm going overboard, I'm dragging you down with me." Hal mused with a slight chuckle as he glanced at the hangar bay door left wide open to let in the morning sun, and everything else he didn't enjoy about an early to rise lifestyle. A sashay of coral blue orbs went back to her and he got the immediate impression that a race was about to ensue. In an instant he was bolting for the door, but he only got about a half stride out before he skidded to a halt. "Nope...not getting yelled at again for leaving you behind." He paused, turning his gaze back to the pod and the flap of his brown robe peeking out from behind the chair. His arm pointed out, index extended. "You." Drawing in sharply, his finger pointed at his boots while he snapped his fingers in a parental tone. "Here." Dark brown cloth ripped by the invisible will of the force, and launched at Gates to come to grasp in his hand curled into a fist. "I finally found out, the best use so far for this thing, it makes an excellent pillow." It was no surprise at all to Kiskla that Gates hated to wear his Jedi robes, though he also didn't want to dig himself any deeper with Selev than he had to.

*
Deep rolling thunder echoed with deafening decibels as the Plunge loomed in the distance. A massive freshwater dive over the embankment of the capital city straight down over a hundred feet in a complete ninety degree nose dive. People didn't ride over the Plunge, it wasn't meant for diving, for fishing, or for anything aquatic. Most beings had more sense then a couple of Padawans attempting to prove themselves. A napsack was slung over his tunic, and inside the tightly wrapped brown robe that he'd refuse to wear on an endeavor like this was kept safe. At least if he didn't, it would survive. Perched precariously on the nose of the speeder, his hands pressing against the cool metal and mist rose and saturated his form, watching the edge become a closer and closer reality. That ear to ear grin plastered on his face didn't die while his hair began to form into a more slicked down to drape across his ruddy complexion.

"Probably the worst setting for auto-pilot imaginable." Gates surmised as his blonde companion had dared to brave the waters in the self same way. Reaching back his arm and helping her over the subtle wind shield so they could both balance themselves on the elongated nose of the craft. "You know...this thing somehow makes it, I'm keeping it. It wrecks...we don't say a word about it." Gates laughed as he turned his attention towards the upcoming thrill ride they had just embarked on. Feet planted, knees bent and arms stretched out. He could feel the rush, the pounding of his heart, the roar of the Plunge, and the Force. He could feel it so clearly now, so effortlessly as it raised through his body and drew him it's grasp. Few things about training ever warranted such a moment to tap into this cosmic energy source. This was what he lived for, this is what made Hal feel free. It felt immediately like he was flying. Seconds ticked by until the nose teetered over the edge and the entire scene went white with the haze and fog of a mighty waterfall. Even the excitable cheer of vaulting over the side couldn't be made out from the constant and mighty voice of many waters.


-------------------------
Present Day
------------------------

White foam clouded his sight, as the water's roared down into the bath of steam and stim-caf while he stirred the cup with a plastic stir. Twin mugs were produced from the galley situated just behind the left row of passenger chairs currently empty for this duo ride into the black. The hyperspace tunnel cast its eerie incandescent glow in waves within the cockpit proper. Boots clipped up and into the nose of the vessel, each hand holding into the ceramic handles of deep blue mugs. Dagobah was at the other end of the Galaxy from the deep core and it took more than a few hours to traverse that billions of miles between them, even in hyperspace. Still it was far and above the fastest way of travel in one of the most agile ships in the verse. The ride was mostly silent as Grayson had set herself on meditation beside idle chit-chat. There were a lot of unspoken things between the pair, and now was not the time or place for such a discussion. As previously stated, she was intent on something stupid, and it was occupying the woman's mind more than the tales of daring and charm that Hal could regail her with. She'd likely be unimpressed anyway, in that sort of defiant derision she'd already shown for his less than respectable ways.

"Dagobah may be a humid, but at least this'll hit the spot." Gates offered the cup to his passenger and long time friend before moving to his seat after taking a swig of his own stim-caf. Lightly dotted with hints of cinnamon on top, the way they both used to take it on Naboo when they raided the palace's cafe. Hal was more into the beverages that made men blind and compliant, but they weren't so often as fulfilling as a piping hot cup of caf. It also offered a small boost of energy - which he assumed they might both need for whatever went down on that gaseous swamp of a planet. "So what's this venture about, or are you gonna tight-lip your way through this until it's too little too late?" He assumed it was a personal affair, more than assumed actually - it was heavy apparent. However, if he was gonna risk his hide over this, she might begrudge him an explanation of what was to come. Hal had already made it clearly evident he wasn't gonna let her do this alone. Even when he didn't know what it entailed.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

As a rule it seemed, Kiskla had never been very good at meditating. When she did put her concentration into losing her conscious however, she was very good at getting lost. Sometimes, she injected her knowledge from the Aing-Tii and surfed through time to gain insights from the mistakes and successes of others, and how that could relate to her predicament in that moment. It was something she had done before declaring the Jedi Order at war with The One Sith after Coruscant had been lost, and again when she had made the decision to dissolve The Jedi Council. This was not a technique she was implementing now, however. She was merely searching herself, and gathering a holistic view of her ethereal footprint and how to perhaps manipulate it when the impending time would occur — but not to the knowledge of her inhabitants. She was literally walking on eggshells around herself, but had no lust toward the darkness, and she focused on that. Her concentration honed on her ethereal glow, one that had been remarked on by entities alike; even the scar from Abeloth in her prison had dissipated due to her ability to smother darkness.

When [member="Harland Gates"] re-entered the room, he wouldn’t find the Grandmaster sitting in the designated chair. Instead, she was cross-legged on the ground and slightly reclined against the wall. Her methods for meditation were unorthodox, and [member="Adele Adonai"] had called her out on it at one time, but Kiskla really couldn’t get comfortable and meditate in any typical manner. His voice broke the silence she’d inflicted, and light eyes fluttered open to look at him as he entered with a peace-offering. Her shoulders pulled forward from the wall first, and she uncrossed her long legs and with a single fluid motion she had erected to stand, reaching out to relieve him from the steaming caf.

“Thanks,” The kiffar commented, wrapping her digits against the ceramic. She welcomed the heat in any fashion, being heir to a desert planet and all. Light eyes locked with the caffeinated liquid while Hal indicated he wanted an explanation, and she smiled lightly at the powder that twisted on the surface of the darkness. To indicate she would remain tight-lipped would be far from accurate in any circumstance that wasn’t directly about her. When it came to her, her history, and her being, Kiskla was very clandestine. Not one single being in the galaxy knew everything about Kiskla Grayson — and the last person that knew about this very quirk of hers had been murdered on live broadcast. So it was a secret now shared with only herself. She’d admitted a dark tendency in the past to Marcello, but not to this magnitude. He had no idea. For a while, she was silent — sitting down in the designated seat and simply holding the liquid Hal had offered her against her thighs.

Harland had come crawling out of the abyss and resurfaced in her life. Long ago, she risked everything for and with him. They were inseparable — but they’d both had to rise to different challenges now. She had been burdened with the wardenship of self, and an entire organization; something she doubted he’d be able to appreciate in whole, and just categorize her as a wench. She frowned slightly as she came to terms of agreement with herself, and decided that since this trait of hers was about to be expelled, she could perhaps finally confide in whole to someone. Might as well be her earliest confidant — and she couldn’t delay the inevitable with attempting to redirect his curiosity. She took a sip, and let the bitterness resonate on her tongue before she finally decided to acquiesce.

“We’re going to Dagobah, because as it stands, it’s one of purest places in the galaxy for The Force in it’s natural state. With no influence from Ashla or the dark side.”

She looked to him, resting her elbow on the arm rest and slouching slightly, to indicate that this was going to be a colloquial confession. “Do you remember, years ago on Naboo when I was having nightmares? I blamed it on puberty, but that was definitely not the truth.” A wince flickered across her features to indicate she’d never meant to be dishonest with her friend, and she’d maintained as much of the truth as possible — she allowed time for him to react to her premiere confession, although it’d likely be no surprise to him that she had lied about that. She did not apologize, though. Kiskla adapted based on demand and necessity. For a moment, she closed her eyes and retraced through the chronology of this fiasco which had plagued her for far longer than the physical affect.

“They disturbed me greatly, Hal. What I was seeing was sick and far worse than the fallacies of dreamland. Apparently they were more of the precognitive nature, foreshadowing a prophetic fate.” She rolled her wrist and brushed at something imaginary in the air, demonstrating that she despised discussing anything about destinies, prophecies and foretelling. She didn’t believe in the load of it (much like when people used “The Force wills it..” as an excuse). “-Anyways, I never told you what exactly I was dreaming.

The visions showed a world I’d never seen before, more supernatural than I could understand as a Padawan. Everything seemed peaceful at first, like I could actually see what The Force created on it’s own — this world was nothing but pure Force energy. It had been beautiful, and then what woke me each time was watching it spoil, seeing the shadow infect and destroy it until the darkness manifested as some unfathomable creature which seemed as if it would look right at me each time — like I wasn’t actually dreaming and it was there with me.” At this recollection, she looked slightly concerned. Kiskla hadn’t focused on this part of her history for quite some time, and revisiting this story was not comfortable.

“The visions eventually went away until I was eighteen and training with a new Master. Not Master Marclonus. At this point, my new teacher showed me a world beyond this one — called beyond Shadows. There was a pool there, a prison for Abeloth from when Master Skywalker conquered her years ago.” Kiskla realized that perhaps Harland’s understanding of Jedi history was fuzzy, and she leaned over to set her coffee on the floor next to her chair.

With her hands free, she spread them as if stretching a cat’s cradle. The Force poured out of her like a theatrical performance, and a younger reflection of herself stood in a setting Harland would never recognize — for it was Kiskla at eighteen Beyond Shadows. In the distance there was a silhouette of her then teacher, Master Valentine. Instead of retelling the story, Kiskla was revisiting the threads of time for Harland’s benefit.

The image showed the blonde Jedi looking somewhat distracted, as if she’d heard something, and defecting from her course. The pan followed to her kneeling near a bubbling pit, a pit frothing dangerously. This had been the very location her teacher had instructed her not to venture to — but as everyone is aware, the girl was insatiably curious.

In the present time, Kiskla’s finger twitched and she concentrated on the memory more — making the projection before them seem more realistic— to the point that if Harland was perceptive enough, he would not only be able to hear the conversation, but feel the emotions that surrounded it.

Kiskla was feeling curious, as usual, and challenged. Abeloth was speaking cryptic tongues, but encouraging the child to creep closer — for motives of her own (possession). She spoke of the blonde as a vessel, with brilliance even in a world made of shadows — but the answers to her visions would not be found here. This caused a questioning look to appear on the teenager’s face, which soon turned to shock as a large tentacle stretched from the abyss and looped around her lower left wrist, alive with the dark side. Kiskla struggled, and with a few twists and kicks and the assistance from her teacher pulling her away, managed to wrangle free.

At the memory, the scar beneath the alchemical cuff on her left arm itched. Abeloth had literally burned her with the dark side.

Narrating once more, the images receded. “It’s a long story, but Abeloth told me to go to Mortis. I didn’t know what that was, and the only account of it was from Anakin Skywalker’s days — saying it was a mystical planet that didn’t actually exist. But he’d mentioned it somewhere in wild space.

So I went there.”

That was enough of the introduction to the monastery planet where Kiskla had been for a series of days as their guest for studying. The blonde waved her hand, and a projection of a withering man and eighteen year-old Kiskla appeared.

Mortis
Four Years Ago​

The Entity finally spoke: "You are a Warrior of the Light, are you not?

"Yes."

"But you are also the darkside."

"No, I'm not. Nor will I ever be, I won't fall."

"You cannot fall to yourself. I said you are the darkside." He shook his head at her ignorance. "The Force is far more than falling, child. It simply is. It's far more complicated than you make it to be." He drew his hand out for her to look outside. The beast that had been in her room was soaring through the skies, along with a glowing griffin. They were not flying together, but they had little animosity toward each other, although their auras were very different. "You divide it between the Sith and the Jedi, when truly it is a balance of power, and what your drives are. Power, selflessness, protection. It is your heart, not your proclaimed alliance." He glanced over at her, his glowing eyes meeting hers for a moment. "You will never fall to the darkside, young one, but you will become it."

That clicked. She stiffened and furrowed her brow in response. "I cannot.. ?" She was unsure of what he had just said. "That's impossible."

"It isn't, really." He replied with a shrug of his weary shoulders. "I am both. Daughter is the light, Son is the dark. I am the eternal balance that keeps them here, and safe from releasing destruction on your galaxy. With too much light, certain things cannot flourish. And beneath the oppression of the dark, much cannot grow." Pause. "You will not become Sith, nor Jedi. You will simply be, as you simply are now. You do not follow the Jedi Code to a 'T' and have not been part of the Order for as long as you can remember. For now, you are a warrior of the light, because the oppression comes from the prevailing darkness. Their time however. will come. The light will dominate long enough to restore balance in that sense, but once again, the cycle must occur."

"How am I going to do that? A cycle like that would take years, generations in the making."

He turned to face her "Immortality does not fear time."

"I'm not immortal."

He continued, despite her perpetual ignorance. "But, this body of mine has grown weary, and I've seen that it is my time to recede and transfer my energies." He looked at her. "Your aura is fiery and bright. You are defiant and not chained to your beliefs. Your raw power is unheard of, and you've been suppressing it." He drew in a breath and turned to face her "-I will be transferring my power to you. My time here on Mortis has ended. Years ago, I would have asked you stay here in my place. I did that once, and it backlashed. Since then, I have had generations to form a new way to maintain balance between my children, without hindering the Chosen One's position. That had been Skywalker." He reached for her burnt arm and scowled. It had been the monster of old's work, something she had received Beyond Shadows. "Like Abeloth, I will inhabit your body when the balance needs to be executed." He looked at her "-unlike her, I will not kill you. Only fuel you, empower you to your utmost potential. You will execute whatever means necessary to restore this balance between the dark and the light, and with both of our wills combined, the galaxy will have no choice but to submit.


"In my time for thought, I have forged a container for myself, for you to wear at all times.”

Present Day​

At the conclusion of the story, Kiskla folded her hands for a moment, and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt to display the cuff which The Architect had forged.

“In here. This is what I warden over.

Normally, I suppress them — which is why I adopted Vaapad as my primary fighting style for so many years. It allows the being inside to exercise his reign on darkness, without overpowering me and beginning the possession.

However, the enemies of The One Sith — they’re more powerful and evil than anything I’ve ever faced before. They’re the only ones who have detected this darkness in me, and almost twice succeeded in using it against me.

For fear of jeopardizing others, I have to get rid of it. I don’t know if it’s possible but I have to try.” She paused, inhaled to calm her nerves, and continued. “That’s why Dagobah. I need as much help from The Force as possible."

 

[Harland Gates]

Five years and some change had put a great chasm of distance between two friends of the highest regard, separating their lives for the first time since their Jedi training had truly begun. In the silence of time, and the fractured and frayed thread of a connection that both (naively) thought were span the depths of the Galaxy, a complete contrast of roads were followed. Their footsteps led the adolescent Kiffar, and the crushed hopes of the Nyrannian across the stars leading a polar opposite version of lives and devotion. He never forgot the young blond that had been a constant companion - nor apparently did she lose track of the memories of her older and slightly more rebellious teenage compatriot. It was hard at first for the spacer, cutting out on his own and turning his back on everything the Temple, his Masters, and the Order had to offer. Often he had wanted to turn his course and look for a redeeming way back in, but it would never be the same. Gates had buried that part of his life, and attempted to move on, and steer his own course. While the ever determined and gifted Kiskla pressed on within her magnanimous journey of self discovery and Force prowess, Harland had out in the black forgetting that he had ever once called himself a Jedi - getting into a world of trouble, and clawing his way out of it, inch by inch. Now, that five year chasm of unsent holovids, and distant but fond memories had shrunk back down by a hair.

Calming waves of light flooded the nose of the craft, drawing light blue and teal waves across Kiskla's frame while she moved and took residence in the co-pilot's seat. His own chair turned with the touch of his boot to the floor, rotating to face her. There was so much to her personal story that he didn't know, and much he probably didn't want to if he understood the truth of things. Leaving the Order had meant much more than simply walking away from the temple. Gates had turned his back on the Force itself, and in turn his connection to the ever present energy source was so dulled that it would barely register a ping to even the most discerning of Force adepts. His training was given up shortly after his exodus, as was his skills with the light blade. Though he kept the memento of his time on Naboo and Coruscant safely tucked away as a relic inside this very ship, he hadn't touched his hand to that metal in some time. His return though wasn't a sign that he was ready to jump back into his old habits, and take up the mantle, the mantras, and the discipline he had so rebelled against as a youth. This jaunt back into Grayson's life was simply to secure his own mind in knowing that the only Jedi in the Galaxy that he still cared about was alive and kicking. He'd made that somewhat plain to the Grandmaster without completely outing the inward motivations in complete transparency.

Digits wrapped about the mug, savoring the warm touch and the fragrance of fresh cinnamon and the hint of a chocolate undertone that crept up from the brew. Lips divorced in thin fashion allowing a slow sip taken. All the while above the rim, his coral eyes lay glued to the blond while she relented of any guarded tension, to relax and weave a tale that he'd not heard - but had wanted to be appraised of. If it had been simple bravado, Gates probably wouldn't have asked, but this was more than some whim of faux chivalry that had literally demanded she play passenger to his pilot ways. There was deeper tones to the spacer than his outwork antics or his normal mouthy nature would suggest - people just didn't get a chance to look that closely that often. A rare exception seated in front of him, starting with a time in which he had been hopelessly perplexed by the Kiffar, and in such confusion had been a bit soured to her reactions of prodding. Even Master Selev had warned against trying to toy with the girl's emotions, or incessantly bug her about these 'nightmares'.

"I remember. You were on a whole new level of grouchy back then. Distant, cryptic, and yes, quite shady." Harland commented in the space of time she had allowed. Lifting the mug of caf up to rest on the side bar between several dials and switches that blinked in arbitrary array. "The Masters told me to ignore it - but of course that was the last thing I did. I had figured you weren't being completely honest, but you were a basically a living wall." A small tug of a frown set on his lips recalling those awkward weeks until Gates had stopped asking. The pair hadn't spoken of anything of the sort until this moment, which kind of surprised him that this was what everything had been about back then. While he was a student of the Force, he had never been on her level, and now was even a much further cry from that plateau she rested on. Her level wasn't even visible from where he stood in the proverbial valley. Something like this now, anything that had to do with destiny, or fate - it met it's match at a cold callous refusal to delve back into this frigid and unfeeling waters that he'd experienced. "So that's tied in all to this...well color me curious." He offered but refrained from the carefree grin he'd normally sport with a comment like that.

A dream-walker, Hal was not, or had ever aspired to be. Although the practice had been dotted through some Jedi manuscripts here and there - it was never an avenue he'd even considered. Most of this due to the fact he was just passable as a Padawan, and far less convinced that this Force affinity he had a mediocre knack for was housing secrets he couldn't even fathom. Gates had been mired in the bureaucracy of it all, the politics of the council, the ethical codes and shades of gray that had reared it's head the older he had become. Even with the description of her dream - Hal was having a hard time of making heads or tails - and would often chalk that up to some bad puff cakes or a late night junk food run. His long time friend was actually a prophet and he wasn't even told? That was quite a kick to his ego - but he'd stay the course. As a pilot he'd flown just about everywhere in the last five years taking jobs here and there and discovering things about the Galaxy and himself he'd never even dreamed possible. The world of Beyond Shadows however was not on his radar, and he was kind of questioning if it even existed on the plane of reality. The history lesson didn't much help either as he glossed right over that otherwise very important name.

"Surprised you slept at all after that.." An idle comment more akin to what would have been his reaction if his mind's eye had been tugged open to watch darkness embodied blink back from slumber. The creak of his leather jacket sounded as the spacer intertwined his digits and rested both elbows on his thighs leaning forward to listen intently to her story, and her tale. While he could note the serious tones of trial in her voice, he was getting to understand a little bit better the mystery that enveloped a girl he knew everything about on Naboo. Between the two secrets were rarity for the pair, and as Padawans they shared adventure, pain, laughter, excitement and danger. Together, side by side a thick as thieves partnership. With that so damaged and unbalanced, getting this glimpse into her life was something of a breath of fresh air. Once she had made a short end of speaking, the proof of her 'show versus tell' philosophy became ever apparent while she opened her hands and her mind to the flow of the Force. Gates had seen many aspects of the Force utilized, mostly by their Masters, but he'd yet to see someone project a vision so vividly (and in color) from a perspective that would insulate it had been from the holo-archives. Another creak of leather offered as he sat back a bit startled, blinking to make sure it wasn't a fancy illusion. "I see you've picked up a few new tricks." Another idle comment while the picture came into focus, and Hal began to glimpse a reality he had wished for several times. To have known Kiskla beyond Naboo.

Coral eyes fixed on the image of the teenage Kiffar, seeing how she was maturing and growing into the woman that was providing him a bird's eye holistic view of her journey, and the paths that she had tread. From a seemingly omnipresent viewpoint, drawing from the expanse of space and time to watch his friend wander a planet so shrouded in mystery that the ethereal fog that covered it seemed to be only parting to reveal a perverse reality. Shadows and fragments of an existence he wasn't entirely sold on drew his frame of vision to the girl's prodding and poking into the depths of a dark and swirling pool. That rare feeling he so barely understood in these last years started to churn a big brighter in the depths of Harland's being, if only to further illuminate the direction of this vision and capture not only sight and sound, but of mind. He could hear the Kiffar's voice as if he had been standing at the other side of the pool all along, playing witness to events that would unfold before him. When the force in the dark abyss of a pool lashed out to grasp her wrist, his fingers instantly grasped together in reaction. The lines at the edges of his eyes narrowed, but he didn't dare look away. Spellbound in the world she had manifested for his eyes only. Concern touched his face as it had before when the news of Coruscant had reached his monitors, and the thoughts of Kiskla touched his mind again.

"I'm..." He really felt tongue tied, as he searched for another word. "I'm..." He paused again, feeling sheepish before glancing at her once more. "Sorry just doesn't hold the weight this needs, but I'm interrupting." A phrase that Gates said without precedent, as it sounded very much like an apology. Those were about as rare as it got when it came to the spacer. Dolling out blame, sarcastic comments, and pushing away the reality of a truth to benefit him - those were all staples of his trade, but an apology was very much not his usual. Despite this though, he watched with greater intent as another bit of the puzzle started to fall into place. Whatever this jigsaw was that she was putting together for him, it wasn't at all what he expected. Another vision, another glimpse into a part of the woman's life that had shaped her and formed her into something that in the last few weeks he'd had tried to come to grips with. Now he was starting to learn a bit more about his childhood friend. Mortis; another planet he'd not either heard of or seen - making two places he had mentally acquired to learn a bit more about. The chances of him visiting them - that was not a likely outcome as it was quite beyond him the level of the Force in which she was delving into.

The Order had taught balance, preached it, shouted it, wore it on every piece of cloth and steel. It was their mantra, their insufferable lecture driven model. Yet they were very much concerned with the light side that could embody a balance. While not incredibly invested in the philosophy side of things, he had always felt slightly off about the concept. There were too many questions that he'd never gotten answers for. Most of the time when he asked probing questions to Selev, or even Kiskla's assigned mentor, he was always told that in time he'd understand, after much training and meditation. Self discovery - another hallmark of the Order in which frustrated the spacer to no end. They rarely gave a straight and to the point answer - it always had to be some backwards riddle. This vision proved no different in that the figure whose wearisome voice echoed with profound authority also spoke in twisting corridors of confusion. However, he seemed to embrace a different understanding, and while he wasn't too fond of the circumstances, the real subject here was Kiskla. This chosen one mentality he'd heard before. Anakin Skywalker was praised for the Jedi - despite his 'fall' to become one of the most powerful Sith Lords in existence, he had redeemed himself and killed the Emperor. That much he knew...he couldn't forget it if he wanted to. To think though that this being who had set Skywalker as his target was now looking to choose Kiskla - that struck a deep chord. His friend was....a new chosen one? And then like any man trying to win the affections or cooperation of a woman - he'd given her jewelry. How quaint.

"I think that qualifies as a burden alright." Hal wasn't laying, he understood that it would be a great weight to carry for a Jedi, for anyone really. The enigmatic vision vanished with a simple wave of her hand before the evidence of it came to light in the glittering golden hued bracelet that she had finally showed Gates. Instinctively his hands reached out to slid over the cool metal. He wasn't afraid of the thing, but was far more curious about it's purpose and it's power. He felt nothing beneath his digits but ice cold metal and a gemstone of which he just gently grazed with his index finger. "And this thing...is trapped inside here, trying to capitalize on your calm. What happens if it gets out?" He asked, hoping that it didn't meant what he guessed it to be. Kiskla was the Grand Master, and if some ancient evil spirit was gonna try and hitch a ride on her connection to the Force, he was somewhat doubting that anything good would come of it. Something to actually worry the rogue - what a heavy set of circumstances indeed.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla’s light eyes flickered when the spacer offered an apology for the inevitable; “I’m not looking for sorry, Hal. Everyone has something they’ve got to shoulder.”

He reached out to interact with the cuff, and Kiskla could feel a squirming within — something about Hal made it react. It was always ice-cold to the touch, but Kiskla had never been bothered by it, nor noticed the apparent icy exterior. It had bothered Marcello, to having something that cold interacting with him, but he’d never asked about it. Likely just observed and worked to draw his own conclusions. That’s how he worked — and Kiskla had been fine with it, not being one to ever start talking about herself in such detail.

Now, Darron and Hal were the only ones who had asked, and they were the only ones who had been told.

“It did once,” Kiskla replied, those electric eyes darkening for a moment as she pulled her arm back and wrapped her fingers around it. She looked down, already ashamed of her actions. “Soon after I came into possession of them.”

This part, Kiskla did not demonstrate visually. Instead, she would speak it — thought it had never been mentioned aloud. Not one single person in the history of the galaxy knew this next tidbit of information. Not one.

“My late teacher, Jedi Master Valentine taught me how to fight. And I mean really fight — we would go hours and hours on end, sparring until our physical resources were exhausted or we’d be too wounded to continue.

One day, we were on our sixth hour of fighting — which means I had been using Vaapad for about five hours or more.”

She paused, did Hal know what Vaapad was? “Which also means, I was on the edge of the dark side for a very, very long time — manipulating what I could within this alchemical prison.” Her nail tapped against it’s design as she continued “—I was getting tired, and halfway through the seventh hour, I slipped. I lost control and I wanted to win.

The darkness inside this latched onto my selfishness, and my primal aggression threatened to overthrow my training. Master Valentine saw this happening, and saw the potential and severed me from The Force. He cut my existence off, and killed a part of me —” she inhaled deeply, breath shaking now at having to actually admit her transgression. Her face met her palms and she smoothed her features out, starting from her nose, through her hair. With an exhale, recognizing that had been the past and she’d never once killed blindly since — or even really killed at all “Without my consciousness instated, the darkness overthrew and inhabited me.

When I finally came to, which was..probably a week or so later judging by the rot on the corpse, My Master had been killed, and I hadn’t any idea how. But before that happened, he’d trapped me in the training room somehow — thankfully.

Galaxies knows what could have happened otherwise.” At this suggestion, she shuddered, rubbing her arms and leaning back into the seat — physically curling into herself.

This was part of the reason Kiskla was such an understanding Jedi, and known as The Redeemer. To be lost to the darkside, was to lose oneself.

[member="Harland Gates"]

 

[Harland Gates]

Between the two of them as Padawans, there had never been an actual rivalry - as Kiskla always out-shown her friend in basically any area of the Force, or saber skills. Gates wasn't an awful student, not was he exactly unpracticed in the ways of the Force, but he was far from gifted. That term had been used, overused, and misused more times than he could count. Even for the short span of time that he was at the Temple, it was a consistent boon of conversation among the learners. Outsiders might of thought that the Jedi were selfless, and reigned in their ego presenting a presence of implacable calm and the highest degree of mercy and humility. What with all the bowing and scraping, it was easy to be misled by that. The Masters of the order certainly could walk that walk, but the younger Padawans were still learning to temper their passions, and thus the pride and showmanship was near narcissistic levels sometimes. Not for Grayson though - she never bragged or gloated about her abilities, and even now she was just as mute on that aspect. And even now, in the stark contrast of their chosen paths (or fated as some would say) there was still not a rivalry - unless they were behind the yoke of a fighter.

"Thought I'd duck that actually after I left. Never did want to shoulder anything too heavy, but I've taken my fair share of burdens out in the black. We're still not too different, you and I, we don't like to ask for help - it's not our way." A small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth as he lifted the cup of stim-caff and drew it in for another sip. The bruise on his cheek and lower jaw was starting to fade away, and her only drew attention to it by working his jaw back and forth and lightly touching the sore sport to gauge it's tenderness. It seemed however there was more to this story, and he suspected much more than she was able to admit at this time. Perhaps not about the cuff itself, which Gates didn't really enjoy the knowledge of, but there was five years between them where he didn't know a thing about the woman. The spacer was grateful that she was starting to open up again to him, even if it was born out of necessity he'd take it. Never look a gift bantha in the mouth as the saying goes. The light clink of the ceramic mug touched the side panel again before Kiskla offered up a compulsory tale of the dangers that this jeweled prison.

Another notable difference between regular run-of-the-mill Jedi and the woman seated before him - she may not have looked it with her model like features and physique, but she was a warrior. She was the champion of the Order and their Grand Master. He knew what the title implied, but if Selev had taken that kind of training with Gates, he would have swiftly taken a seat and demanded a sandwich well before he'd reached a second hour. Stamina was not his game in the path of the Jedi training, and even Kiskla's first master never pushed the girl anywhere near that hard. This Valentine - his description left something of a sour taste in Hal's mouth from the brief description. As far as his Jedi knowledge, there were things he couldn't forget, or simply wouldn't depending on when and how you asked him. He knew of the seven forms, and even some fringe forms that had been mentioned in a few archive texts. Personally he had only studied one or two, and he honestly didn't remember the difference between Niman and Makashi at this point, other than one sounded like a pretentious delegate, and the other, a form of soup. He had heard of Vaapad though, only because it related to a balance that was harder to maintain, and not exactly encouraged to learn. Of course Grayson would be trained in that, always had to go the extra mile.

When you were a Padawan in the order, among the many variants of lectures there was one that was the default go to in any branch, from any Master, in any mission. The Dark Side was bad ju-ju. Certainly not said like that, they went into great depths of telling you to avoid it at all costs, about it's corruption. For most of the learners, it was a warning that they agreed upon, never actually knowing the Dark Side. Hal struggled with the implications, as defiant as he was, he also never took things at face value. If he was told not to do something, he wanted to know why or it held no weight. Most of that had to do with the fact that he wanted to explore every inch of the cosmos. Now things were a bit different for the rogue - his view of the Dark Side was far less a feared slant and fall into the depths of chaos, but more a rather annoying power hungry and egocentric wrecking ball. The One Sith had proven that on Coruscant. These Sith were coming in droves now, and instead of being locked in heated debate about who would lead them, they seemed to have a singular point of focus, which made them inherently dangerous.

Her story of slipping after what seemed to be an incredibly demanding 'training' session was a telling one. As usual, Kiskla's mouth told her emotions better than anything else, but her accentuated body language didn't contradict. A look of concern washed over Gates' face, not because she slipped or wanted to win - but because of what he saw etched on the face of his friend as she recalled and told the memory. Digits clasped together while the familiar creak of leather edged out as the spacer leaned forward, listening and watching in silence. Coral blue eyes struck the electric green of the blonde, studying the movements of each iris as they shifted back and forth, seemingly uncomfortable with focusing on his own. He saw shame, and it was not a comfortable feeling to have what was once his best friend troubled by her recount of the incident. By the time she had ended her words, his right hand was already on the woman's shoulder in a gesture of calm support.

"Well let's not entertain a repeat performance." He said in a tone that wasn't in anyway condemning, but more of an encouragement that they'd beat this thing. "I don't want you to worry though - you're stronger than any Jedi I've ever seen, and as we always used to say, the Force is infinite, even if we aren't." Did he believe that anymore? Most likely not. Gates hand waved often at the notion that there was nothing he needed from the Force anymore. He did just fine without it, but he wasn't going to heckle his friend in this situation. "We're..." He paused as the beeping of his console curbed his attention and his tongue. Swiveling in the chair, he pulled it closer and locked it in place. The long winding tunnel of hyperspace broke as the craft ripped into visible sight floating above the hauntingly beautiful emerald aura of Dagobah, sitting out there in the black of space. "We're here." He finished his short sentence and thrust forward the yoke, driving the Wild Goose towards the murky jade planet. It wasn't long before the atmosphere of dense fog and humidity started to fog up the viewports until he had to compensate by thermal readings as he steered the craft through the lower atmosphere to find a secure resting ground. He wasn't going to make the same mistake that a certain rebel pilot did hundreds of years ago. He'd not fish the Wild Goose out of some disgusting Dagobah swamp.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

When the conversation had finally started to begin, it had soaked up most of the remaining time. When Gates asked her what could potentially happen, she realized she very well might not make it out of this alive for a series of reasons. The blonde had been feeling close to immortal for four years now, and that was all about to come undone by her own hand.

Her light eyes wandered to the viewport and her lips twisted in thought. "Thanks.." Whelp. They were here.

"Excuse me, a moment." It wasn't really a permission thing -- it was pretty well established that Kiskla didn't let things get in her way. Especially denial; much like how Hal had got on board. Similar indeed. With that dismissal between them, Kiskla pushed from her seat and moved from the confined space that she had been sharing with the pilot.
Goose's floor plan was mostly unknown to her-- but as soon as she saw an empty room, she went to work and twisted off the Operative bracer on her right arm, adjusting the frequencies to correspond with the single channel she wanted to communicate with.


Kiskla was silent for a few seconds, although she was well aware that the recording had started. The image would capture the girl sitting with one hand covering her mouth, looking slightly pensive.

She was feeling the most vulnerable she'd ever felt in her life. She'd just told her childhood friend everything she'd been through to do with The Architects in the past four years. Including losing herself and having it end in the death of another. The words she had spoken had never been said out loud before, and as important of an audience [member="Harland Gates"] was, she was finding herself wishing another had been present. Or that she'd been honest with [member="Marcello Matteo"] before. She debated even sending the correspondence at all. The last thing she ever wanted to do, was raise some sort of alarm. As it was, both the Naboo native and the Kiffar were fiercely independent, though it was clear if anything were to arise — the reaction would be appropriate to meet the demand. Still though, she wanted to maintain communication from the pit of her selfish soul.

Plus she was a little bit scared.

The hand covering her lips dropped and Kiskla began speaking at nothing, though the recording would capture it as if it were in person; though the cerulean silhouette would pale in comparison to the actual physical presence.

"I don't have much to say, I just.. wanted you to know that--" she fidgeted with the hem that folded over her cuff. "This isn't a message string-a-long that will end up at the healers circle. I promise--" she'd not make it that far if she died or what have you; but she forced a smile anyways. "I'm taking care of something that I should have done long ago. And as soon as I'm done, I want to see you, because I have something I need to tell you." Her hands clasped together now and she nodded "--In person."

The holo would capture Kiskla looking over her shoulder before turning back and rapping her nails against the surface impatiently: “I have to go. Be safe.” And that would end the transmission. She had been very tempted to say how she felt in that conclusion, but selfishly, she wanted to wait. If nothing else, she’d made a promise now, and it had been recorded. Kiskla was a girl true to her word, and that would be additional motivation to pull through if this plan backfired and she got in a rut.

The transmitter was left on the surface as Kiskla moved from the room to rejoin her companion, wrapping her dark throw around her shoulders to prepare for the dank chill that would meet them beyond the protection of the ship’s life support.

“I know you said you wanted to come, but how far are you insisting to join me? You can probably stay with the ship — though I can’t determine how long this will be.” Already, just from arriving on the planet, she could feel the embrace of The Force reaching out “—or where exactly I’m going.”

 

[Harland Gates]

DAGOBAH
"I met him in a swamp down in Dagobah, where it bubbles all the time like a giant carbonated soda.."

Talk about an unlovable place in the Galaxy. A planet-wide swamp with zero settlements around it's muted jade topography, no one lived here, and hadn't for many hundreds of years. There was a distinct reason that one of the great Masters of old had come here to 'retire'. There was nothing left after you hit pay-dirt, and especially for a little green -- whatever he was -- who hadn't really come here to do anything but sit in exile. He'd heard the tale of course, as all Jedi did. Historical readings and the endless if not inexhaustible fame that that little muppet had caused throughout the Order was one of the many talking points he'd endured while trying not to fall directly asleep in lecture halls. The thick humidity was doing no favors for the thrusters as the thick mirey fog laden above the tree tops. Descending any further was going to cause further problems, and he didn't want to keep diving down and back up looking for a place to park. Thankfully thermal readings were well within the Goose's forte, and allowed Hal to maneuver back and forth. With Kiskla momentarily absent, he felt as if he could concentrate and think about what he was really getting into.

"Pick the loneliest scrap of nowhere you could find. Anyone else, they'd go a nice meadow, an abandoned canyon...but no, let's go to the planet of murk and sludge. Probably run into swamp-thing while we're at it, it'd be our luck..well...mine." Gates grumbled quietly to himself while he fought with the yoke to guide him through the endless green fog that was thick as soup. The Wild Goose was protesting, but he knew how to sweet-talk the ladies - even if they were made of metal and weighed several tonnes. "C'mon girl, ain't nothing we've not been through before, but I promise you a good power wash when we hit civilization again." Gates lovingly tapped and caressed the console as they hit an updraft that cut through the foggy patches, as if on cue. While Gates wasn't thrilled about being on Dagobah, after what Grayson laid on him, he certainly wasn't backing out now. He'd see this through - after all, she was the reason he'd returned, and she could use a friend right now. It didn't mean however, that he was going to be enjoying this trip anymore than she probably was.

Thermal scans below spotted a nice cool patch of non-moving sediment, with several cooler rock structures laden around. The craft took a slow drive and twisted around in the expert hands of a seasoned spacer. Cutting through the thick vines and leaves of the low hanging trees, flood lights burst out to surround the area, and scatter critters of every size and shape away from the lights themselves and back into the shadows where they belonged. Water instantly condensing on every inch of the Goose as the humidity below the trees was even more thick and copious than above. A satisfying thud was not something he normally welcomed (as it meant a less than proper landing) but in this case it meant sure footing. The landing gear hit a firm patch of the planet's landscape and situated itself on the three legs of the landing gear. Steam hissed out mixing with the humidity and turning into great plumes of white exhaust and green fog that crept out of the engines. The readings from within the cockpit were reading what he expected - a nearly off the charts barometer level, combined with a balmy, and somewhat tropical temperature. This was not on his list of exotic tropical vacations.

"Really...you're gonna ask me that Ace?" Gates turned at her approach, his head shifting over his shoulder while he gave her an dulled look of a unamusing and somewhat incredulous nature. "Granted follow-through was never my default setting, but I didn't nearly drag you onboard so I could babysit the Goose." While he loved his bird, he wasn't so concerned about it's well being in the midst of a swamp and jungle that he'd not leave it's side. "Besides, I think the Order would hunt me down if the ship was more important to me than their Grand Master." He gave a small shrug, un-clipped his harness and stood up to face her. "Face it, Kay, you're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." A smirk touched his face as he gave her shoulder a gentle pat and shifted to her side. A hand press to a security device opened up a hatch to reveal two twin MT-14 pistols and one that was far more valuable to him, the Lazy-eye. Both shiny pistols slid into the twin holsters beneath his jacket, and the Lazy-eye was strapped to his thigh. Why bring three guns? The Lazy-eye was something special, and he wanted to be as prepared as he could be if things went south. Plans rarely went smooth anyway with him, so why chance it? He had thought about the lightsaber, briefly - but had decided against the glowstick. Glow rods on the other hand, he also had a handful of those in his inner pockets.

A few console commands later, and the seal on the cockpit broke, and the rush of humid air entered the cabin. The nose of the craft rose and then slid back allowing both Kiskla and Gates open passage to the swamp land around them. He offered Kiskla first footing, not because he wanted ladies first, but because he wanted to make sure he was the last one out of his own ship.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla listened, but she wasn’t really looking at him. Instead, those oceanic orbs were looking out at what would soon be caked around her boots. The door frame supported her while she patiently waited for the finality of [member="Harland Gates"]’ decision. When he insisted she had no say in the matter of his protection or safety, blue gaze transferred from mud to mug.

The look communicated something akin to being unimpressed, but she wouldn’t persist the issue. It was a kinetic inference somewhat mirroring his own when he challenged her query. She was hyperaware of Gates’ concern — and in this instance, he was the only person in the galaxy that could comprehend the magnitude of this task. If Kiskla were more worldly, perhaps she could make a clever analogy of this undertaking, but her experience was rather limited when it came to the artistic pursuits.

She was also zeroed in on the amount of arms Harland was equipping himself with. This observation however, was reflected subtly from her features as she assessed them with the strategic mind of a fearsome fighter — as she and been carved to be. True, the swamp was rich with indigenous threats, but for a trio of uncivilized blasters? Was he anticipating running into a legion of bog wings? Dragonsnakes? Pikopi? The possibilities were endless — but there was no need for that much aggression. The only other solution would be that the plasma would be used against her, or what would become her. It was wise of Hal to be prepared in that sense, but Kiskla sincerely doubted the ability of a blaster to prevent an ancient deity from executing it’s plan. Her full lips pursed and she looked away, taking the inaugural steps to embark into the slimy, yet sacred grove.

The instant Kiskla stepped out into the planet’s surface, she could feel the life it supported. An exhale trembled over the girl’s parted lips, and she closed her eyes for a moment — allowing the physical and metaphysical to communicate with her.

Her senses were assaulted.

It was like an ecosystem of entropy, but somehow systematic in its operations. The water vapour in the air was nearly tangible, and Kiskla took a step forward, almost positive something would squirm beneath her soles in the dirt. Looking at the scenery, she was glad her boots touched above her knees. With every step, the ground she had tread filled in behind her. Her footprints were erasing any concretion of her being there, and she hoped that wasn’t some sort of unholy omen. The silver cloud that hovered above the ground and wove through the draping branches prevented her vision from seeking out a destination.

It smelled like something was decomposing, vegetable and and animal matter releasing gasses into the air and water and it touched her nostrils. It was rich with the earth’s most dead odours. In the distance, a contributor to these scents rolled it’s long body through the water — causing ripples to pass through the milky liquid.

She was immobile for a handful of seconds, feeling the life force of everything around her. As if she could see the particles that composed each element. For a moment, an inkling of fear caused a chill to permeate from her belly and through her shoulders — what if this was not where she was to be? What if this couldn’t be done, and there would be no solution she could execute? The Force was silent, and she forced herself to box her dread and replace it with whole receptiveness.

A few more moments of silence passed before she felt a proverbial tap on her shoulder, and indication of a direction.
Blue eyes snapped open, and she checked behind her to see what Hal was up to (and if his weapons were out and pointed) — before she pressed in the direction of the spiritual usher.

 

[Harland Gates]

Trading out durasteel for a far more rustic and natural scene wasn't this spacer's idea of the best place to vacation. He'd lived on Naboo for a good length of time, and while he was used to making the best out of a very rural situation, Dagobah was a far cry from hospitable. The planet itself was teeming with life, despite it's complete lack of actual sentient life forms setting up camp in this veritable squalor. With engines killed, and the whine dissipated, the sounds of this swamp forest echoed into the cabin with the incessant hum of activity tucked into the dark patches of shadow and thick foliage surrounding them on all sides. He'd learned long ago that he was nowhere near in the upper echelons of the galactic food chain, and there were a few creatures on this planet that would easily snack on him and his compatriot for a lunch sized snack if given ample opportunity. Thankfully the idea of fear was something that all creatures of the bog seemed to radiate. They stayed out of sight, and stuck to what they knew, and with any amount of luck, Gates would avoid a very unpleasant invitation to their murky abode.

Flicking a single switch inside the nose of the Wild Goose, Gates activated a tracking beacon on the craft, and synced it with a repeater on his belt. He'd not want to loose his best and only ticket off of this jade rock if he had to put feet in motion for a quick exit. Once Kiskla touched down, the spacer followed suit, activating the self sealing cockpit to ward off interested parties. Digits clutched durasteel as boots pressed to the twin shafts utilizing a fireman's escape for the step ladder and landing with a muted thud on the fertile soil beneath his boots. A slight squish heard as some of the water laden topography splashed back on the leather. A frown forming on his face as he checked his boots and offered a non-committal shrug. In stark contrast to the Grand Master, Gates felt nothing but the thick and daunting cloak of humidity that wrapped about the planet's ecosystem. He already felt decidedly uncomfortable in such an atmosphere, but he'd been in worse spots, with far worse company. Originally he hadn't planned on taking a trip to this lonesome spot of a planet - in fact it had never crossed his mind. He was here for one reason, and whether it was a noble gesture, or completely selfish on his part, he was still here, so it had to count.

Passing digits through his locks of dark auburn hair, the humidity already adding a layer of unwelcome moisture to the hair follicles so they felt immediately damp. Sky blue eyes shifted back and forth as his head tilted to survey their surroundings and take in the scenery. It wasn't exactly a lovely picture, it exuded a kind of ancient misery that plagued every inch this semi-firm ground mass. Trees snaked up through stagnant pools of murky green liquid. The sights of unusual critters skittered across various form so plant life in the distance. The sounds of fowl in the air calling out echoed in tandem with the dull groans of the larger bits of vegetation in distant expanse. Ethereal, and surreal that anyone would venture further here without really needing to be here, and he couldn't imagine there was much cause to do that anyway. Kiskla didn't even need to be here, it was just the best choice in her opinion. Her sanity was taken into question until she told her tale to him. He appreciated the openness and cander to offer up that locked away tale she was bearing. He hoped the load would be a bit lighter now, it was shared between two instead of piled entirely on her.

If it wasn't evident by the sights, the sounds and that stench of rot, and pockets of gasses bursting open in great bursting bubbles of the nearby swamp bogs that they were certainly the trespassers of a planet left to it's own devices, nothing much more would be. As if the entire planet groaned from their arrival, as it disrupted the balance of nature swaying back and forth - but it at least made for a good story. The spacer trailed behind the Jedi until she paused, lost in her own thoughts, and likely noticing things Gates was blithely unaware of. Years ago he'd be reaching out, gathering the full flood of senses to himself, and bathing in the Force's ability to tune his senses into powers of observation not known to mortal men. The Harland Gates that now stood on Dagobah's semi-firm land mass was just rolling his eyes at what a piece of bantha this place really was. He wasn't entirely alarmed though, as most of the dangers kept themselves at bay to observe and watch - which is what most predators were prone to do. Even some of the prey curious enough to see the strangers would peek out their eyes from every direction of the forests around them. Cutting through the thicket of trees, an unexpected melodic tune carried itself throughout the landscape, somewhat soothing in nature, but not exactly catchy either.

By the time Grayson's eyes snapped open, and her glance in his direction was given, Gates wasn't standing, guns drawn and panicked - no he was shifting his head to the side to try and track down that songbird while cleaning out his ear canal of a slight wax buildup with his pinky. A momentary glance her way was offered a quizzical uptick of his brow as he released his finger and flicked the wax away into the air.

"What?"

He offered up with an amused smile before jumping back in a startled shift of posture as the Jubba Bird, the self same bird that had sung it's tune, ripped across the landscape, actually gobbling up the bit of wax, mistaking it for an insect and dashed away. Obviously the bird was not amused as it flew up higher, and perched squawking loudly at the pair in frustration before it's beak tucked below it's wing to try and rid the taste with a fresh cleaning of it's feathery pelt. Collecting his composure and giving a perfunctory chin jab towards the bird, Gates turned to follow Kiskla in her movements to traverse a spiritually attuned map. Inwardly cursing that he was already unnerved by a low flying nightingale, and they were about to face the darkside's finest. Smooth Gates, Smooth.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The fog, dispersed by a torrent of rain, soaked around the swamp in diaphanous swirls. Kiskla had long ago decided that [member="Harland Gates"] was not a threat, unless she was a mouse. His arms wouldn’t be used until necessary -and not just because he was scared of her.
They walked in silence, though there was much noise that graced the girl’s ears as she navigated through the mud and muck of the swamp.

Suddenly, after many, many hours of walking, she came to an abrupt halt. She had suddenly become distracted by a strong neutral aura — something far stronger than the usual emittance. Her oceanic gaze looked around her, tracing the metaphysical radiation. As she peered through the drizzle of rain, she saw a massive, tangled tree, it’s blackened bark dry and crumbling. The base of the tree was surrounded by a small pond of water where the gigantic roots had down to form the opening of a darkly sinister cave.

Kiskla frowned at the cliché of it all — though still felt a tremor of apprehension.

“Here.” She commented uselessly, it was obvious there was the destination as she’d stopped her determined strut. Her nose wrinkled before she sidled forward.

If she didn’t go forward with this, she wouldn’t feel worthy of the title she had been elected to boast. How could she be a grandmaster, preaching to shine as warriors of The Light when a demon poisoned her veins with it’s devilish dance?

This had to be done. Perhaps it was premature, but she couldn’t battle Sith when she herself was a slave to their source.

With her body angled toward sliding into the tree’s underbelly, she paused. She was a master of the light, but a mistress to the darkness. This hesitation was obvious with her body language. She hated this position of vulnerability, where she had to ask for help, but she had dipped her toes of curiosity into these waters before. She would need assistance if she were to truly deceive the dark jester.
She looked over her shoulder, light eyes meeting those of her longtime friend.

Friend.

“Thank you.” She projected unceremoniously, before ducking into the shadows.

Into the farthest corner, Kiskla slid to her knees and folded her hands in her lap.

“Okay,” she breathed “Let’s play.”

Kiskla’s ethereal shadow was pulled backward, literally yanked with a surprising amount of strength. The glowing blue illusion of her celestial self tumbled for a moment, before falling backwards into a milky grasp that eclipsed her mouth and nostrils; forcing her underwater. Undead hands clambered at the spirit of her frame, threatening to drag her down. They knew her intent this time, and wouldn’t acquiesce to an alteration of the prophetic plan.

With a forceful tug upward, toward what she supposed was the metaphysical surface, the woman gasped in the realm. The inhalation took a year and a half before she was flooded with the strength necessary to bring herself to her knees. At this time, she looked up at the curling cliffs that twisted overhead and beyond.

The milky waters held her hands and lower legs captive as she looked up on all fours, panting heavily after her near-drowning experience that had elapsed over centuries. Or perhaps it was minutes? Who knew, time had a tendency to melt into oblivion when in a space that most Jedi hadn’t even heard of.

The blonde felt fingers curl around her ankles, and she drove herself forward and up, staggering to stand in a drenched ethereal state. Her breath was heavy, and the soles of her feet felt nailed to the water with little will to move.

“Do you feel that?” Came an echoing, daunting boom that ricocheted from the mouth between the cliff’s arch. “Your intentions are no secret here, warden.”

Kiskla’s wet hair clung to her thin, blue, glowing body. In the physical realm, Kiskla wasn’t sure what she looked like. Probably in some sort of painful projection, but completely deaf and mute to any sort of communication. She only hoped Harland didn’t send plasma through her skull — she wasn’t sure she could survive both that and this.

“You’re mistaken.” She lied, looking for the source of the shadowy taunt. It appeared, just on the other side of the cliffs, a shadowy figure with crimson orbs that glowed in the hollows of his skull. Balefully, she reached out to him. Her hand seemed 40 feet from her, and The Son seven leagues in distance. She stumbled and shook her head as she felt fingers against her calves and attempting to wrap against her knees and make her stumble once more. But she was the warden here, and this boost of confidence prevented their touch from inflicting any harm. “I promise you.”

She moved forward, dragging the hands that clasped around her like seaweed strung to a swimmer. Her skinny fingers felt the ridges of the cold, damp stone that arched to where the silhouette of her nemesis and inhabiter stood.

“Ah fine vessel you are, shame you’re so aligned to the light. This will be most painful for you.

The Jedi demand so much of you, and give nothing back. Nothing but spite and the reminder that you—“ as if folding space, he was suddenly in her face, his holistic hand gripping her jaw and wrenching her face to look at his, light eyes meeting with glistening blood-coloured beads “—will never not disappoint them.” A deep chuckle echoed around them and Kiskla hovered there, in his firm clutch while he stepped back, as if observing her glowing frame; marvelling at the choice for what he would infect. “If only you’d shown them your prodigal power and potential before this. If only your own fears of self hadn’t reduced you to nothing more than a mouse.” With a sense of finality, he released her and she wavered slightly with the change of weight. Suddenly, her elbows felt unnaturally heavy and she rested against the cavernous wall of stone as Son stretched his arms and every dark shadow in the area darted to his body and pummelled it until they were absorbed. “But if you are being truthful with me child, then prepare to feel what The Force’s potential really is.

You will scream, you pathetic servant of light. I will bring you as much pain as possible, so you can relish and unleash it on all those that stand in your way.”

She didn’t say anything. Nothing in opposition or confirmation, merely bracing herself in stoic silence before the rush of self-indulgence filled her core and spread out to her fingertips. As soon as he came at her, she went to work.

He was right.

She screamed.

The pain extended beyond the realm of Beyond Shadows and Kiskla’s physical body wrenched into a contorted twist of agony. Her spine was shot with a numbing stab and she arched, drawing her shoulder blades together and gripping at whatever she could — which was, sadly, nothing. There was an overwhelming flood of power that raced through her veins and circulated until it had nowhere to go. It was a searing, white hot sensation filling her veins. Containing this was exhausting, and she couldn’t hold it — and as she had warned her friend — allowed the Son to completely take over.

He made quite the entrance.
A boom radiated from the familiar body of the Grandmaster, and an exodus of wispy spirals of darkness raced away from her collapsed body. She didn’t stay down for long, however. Eye lids snapped open to reveal blood-stained irises and she pushed herself to stand. Blood caked her nose and mouth from the pressure that was going on within her, but The Son was oblivious to what Kiskla was truly planning. He believed he had conquered the prophetic warden, and her body of raw energy was his vessel to command.

A dark glow outlined her toned body and he started for the door, ready to bring the galaxy to its knees. Star systems would curse her name, and The Sith's and The Jedi's. They'd be so confused at the whims of his puppet that they'd all turn on each other in a delightful tumultuous tragedy.

Which would make for a glorious comedy in the architect's mind eye.

 

[Harland Gates]

It was a marvel that in the hours of hiking through a swampland without end, that Gates had kept his trap shut for as long as he had. Part of this had to do with the focus that Kiskla was taking as invisible strands of design was leading her footsteps to plod through thick green foliage and boggy mire; and another part of it had to do with the fact that he was too busy talking to himself in the confines of his own mind. If his physical mouth wasn't moving, you could bet that the spacer's mind was a buzz with a discussion that would normally drive anyone in his company straight into the nearest pub or tavern to dissuade the current of his tongue with anything that would dull the senses. The man could pander with the best of them, and whether or not that string of verbose verbage played to his advantage or not, it continued to play out. He had to fill the time one way or another for such a lengthy trudge into the murky depths of the planet.

Could of parked the Goose a little closer. Already he was stuck on the long journey that took him miles away from the HWK-290. He still had the beacon, and he could literally be halfway across the planet and get a clear bead on it's location - though he certainly didn't want to test that theory. If I have to carry her all the way back, there better be dinner waiting for me when we get to Anaxes. From there, the spacer's thoughts drifted to food, for as much as he was fueled by daring bravado, his stomach had a large amount to do with his desires. Wonder if I could get Corellian takeout all the way out here. Prolly have to shoot something for a snack if we keep going much further. Shifting his head back and forth, Hal glanced upwards at the shapes and sizes of creatures as they passed through various territories. You could feel the heat of eyes on you at every pass, but for some reason, today was apparently a free pass to the two treading through the swamp mass. Perhaps it was Kiskla's radiance of the Force, or perhaps Hal just wasn't their cut of meat - the kind that would fight back. Whatever it was, he wasn't scoping for danger as much as he was looking for a good bead on a nice substitute for nerf steak. In contrast, Hal's more vain and self-serving thoughts were probably in complete opposition to everything weighing on the mind of the blonde in whom he followed her Force inspired lead. That also tumbled through his mind. How many mantras is she going through right now? I think I remember five on a good day.

Drawing a thick branch of vines and whatever creepy crawlies were aligned on it, Gates bent it backwards to allow him passage, and then let it snap forward back to position with a creak of the soaked wood. His hair was far darker, and his boots were caked with debris from all over Dagobah by now. The rain torrents, while not prevalent all the time, did siphon through the thick upper canopy of dense foliage to light upon their frames until water was an ever present commodity on every inch of their clothing. For once he was thankful for the humidity, as it wasn't chilling him to the bone from the journey. A glance down at his boots as they surfaced from some residue sludge they had nearly waded through. Lifting it for inspection, a frown formed on Hal's face while his brows knit. Nope, not even a sanitizer is getting this out. I hope you know what you're doing, Ace. Gate's inward thought not exactly able to be protected any longer. He'd long lost the art of telepathy, and for good reason. Expressing his thoughts wasn't always in his best interest - despite how often he did without a filter. Despite the condition of his footwear, Hal was more worried about the state of his friend. She could literally be walking the actual green mile with him at her side, and that was not a picture the rogue was willing to commit to - at any price.

A sudden pause of steps gave him a renewed purpose of focus as the blonde snapped into the direction of a gigantic twisting trunk of dark black bark and timber. Gnarled and ghastly branches hung like an omen of impending doom yards from where they currently stood. Arms of lumber twisted out, beckoning the dead and dying to it's eclipsing shadow of an embrace. A touch of wide-eyed awe spoke out in silent reaction as the spacer studied the tree, letting out a slow whistle of impressed notice. He'd been do Endor, but those trees didn't hold a candle to something that looked like it had been drawn straight out of a graphic novel. Gates should know,he had a healthy collection. Hands moved to his hips while the ebony carcass seemed to suck in all light, never to let it slip back out again. The area around the base, deathly silent, and that's where she was planning to go. That idea of a meadow was seeming more and more inviting as they stalked towards the thick branches and deeply sunk roots. And she calls me out on drama. An inward groan of frustration at the chosen destination, and yet he plodded forward anyway.

"You sure know how to pick'em." Hal said in an absent fashion as she pin-pointed the depth of shadow that'd she be soon confronting. Then there was the almost obligatory bout of respect to his decision to come along for this journey. An act of which he straightened his visage into something akin to compassionate and offered a singular nod. Watching her descend into the depths of the darkness was grating on the spacer's better judgement. Hal didn't fancy himself a coward, nor did he suspect Kiskla was at all out of her ever loving mind, but this certainly made him question those two aspects as the vision of her paled as she crept into the darkest hollow of the tree's blackened roots. Then the silence came, not only from the nature surrounding this monolithic black plant that rose like a demonic landmark, but from everything else as well. It was like the entire landscape had been muted for this singular scene, and only the echoing of his thoughts escalated to fill the void. Remind me to blacklist this place if I ever make it out of here alive. Drawing back the edges of his red leather jacket, Hal moved around the tree, keeping a careful eye on Grayson's position as he looked for anything else that might warrant a reason to pull her from this quest if things got too close for comfort.

Back on Naboo, Harland would have never left Grayson's side if she was commited to a task so dangerous and evidently important. He would have squatted right down beside her and entered into every meditative state that Selev had tried to instill in the Padawan. She wouldn't have faced this darkness alone on any plane, be it physical or astral. This was a different time for the man who had left that life behind. He couldn't be of any help to her on the astral plane - he barely understood that it still existed now. His focus had been so much set on the here and now, on things he could touch and feel that there was little of Gates that was spiritually aware. He preferred it that way, but it did come with its drawbacks. Circling the tree step by step, his hand ran along the rough edges of the back, feeling the moist skin of the twisting trunks beneath his digits. Darkness didn't bother him, as he had inherited his people's excellent night vision capabilities, seeing with near crystal clarity while under the canopy of shadow. He wanted to keep himself occupied and alert, but he also hated to think of what she was battling alone in that state of the metaphysical. True to his nature, Hal didn't waste much time until he was using a vibro-switch knife to carve out a few designs and letters in the exterior of the tree, assuming that if there was a problem in surviving this mess, there should at least be a record of some sort. Tearing the blade through the bark and chipping off pieces in the process until a sound escaped the arena, and the voice of his friend screaming in agony tore him from his task in an instant.

"Kiskla!" Hal shouted as the knife was sunk deep into the trunk while he sprinted the other half of the distance to come around the tree's base. Heavy leather footfalls carried the spacer to her abode of darkness, and they splashed into the murky liquid at the base, landing in front of her rigid and contorted frame. Both hands reached out, grasping her shoulders as he gave her a few shakes, looking with panic in his eyes at her distorted visage. "Answer me damnit!" Despite his prodding, he knew she couldn't, somehow he knew she wasn't going to be able to even talk, much less respond at all to his commands. She was stuck in a world he couldn't even comprehend, and had never had the faintest idea about until hours ago on his ship. That's when the explosion happened, and the sheer power of darkness ripped them from each other, tearing Gates from his post and launching him up and over the roots of the tree to sail through the air and land hard on his side. Leaves and moss coated his jacket as he rolled from the force several more feet. Moments of confusion and pain touched his frame before his fingers curled, and his form started to move to regain his footing, and figure out what had just happened. His head was swimming with the power of the blast, and his ribs already ached from the impact. Shifting to his side, Hal, leveled one foot up as he attempted to stand. Coral eyes fixed on the blood hued orbs that were staring out from the woman who seemed far beyond herself.


"Don't think you have permission to be riding that body. Believe you me, she's picky about that kind of thing." Hal said in an attempt to shift the focus of the entity he figured was now battling it out for control of the woman's frame. Both hands slid into opposite sides of his jacket, withdrawing the twin MT-14 blasters from their holsters. Drawing himself up, he pointed both towards the blonde while he worked to claim footing and find solid purchase beneath his boots. He didn't know who he was talking to, even after Kiskla had mentioned some names and titles. Whoever this was though, he was fairly certain comedy was beyond him, or sarcasm for that matter. Not that he was attempting to make the creature laugh, but it was his own brand of staring down impossible odds that brought out the sardonic and acerbic wit more fiercely than anything else. "So, why don't you high-tail it back to whatever dark hole you crawled out from and we'll be on our merry." Like that was really going to convince the embodiment of the dark side. Shut up...why are you still talking? At least he knew he was being a complete back birth by issuing a command to a force like this.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

[member="Harland Gates"] was correct in the assumption that his childhood companion was deaf to the external world. It was likely a little strange to shake the shell’s shoulders and illicit no immediate snappy reaction. Even worse, perhaps, was the saturation of crimson where cerulean had been — an immediate window to the internal. A secondary reaction bubbled forth, which sent him a fair distance away.

The blonde rose from her knees, mud clinging to her garments and hands. Kiskla was naturally tall by galactic standards, but with the faint aura that burned around the Jedi’s body, she looked almost six feet. That was a lot of woman glowering across the darkness at the curly-haired spacer. The satisfaction from Harland’s pain fuelled him in his suppressive ethereal battle, and he…er..she took a step forward in the sludge. The skin around Kiskla’s eyes darkened with the amount of dark energy she was sustaining — all orifices too began to tint hideously as the internal attempted to reach beyond.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” Were the only words that passed through the girl’s lips before they curled upward into a thin, conniving grin. Her voice was not her own, it seemed to host an echo and a hoarse octave that didn’t usually weigh down her undefinable accent (a blend of Naboo and Kiffu). There were no more words to be exchanged — the Architect wasn’t concerned with the trivial pursuits of the organic termite. In those few seconds of staring down Hal, assessing him as worthless and weighing him as minute, red sparks licked around the flesh of her digits. Instantly, an overwhelming surge belched from Kiskla’s manipulated hands toward the wetness which Hal stood in — the electricity finding much delight in the liquid and licking up toward the man’s pant legs before she herself adjusted the direction to a more direct target in his chest.

The Son knew he would have his triumph. The host was resilient, but she was mortal — like all vessels that had preceded her and all those that would follow her. She had emotions for him to prey on, thoughts for him to convolute. It was a wonderful thing, evil. It would find the punctures in good people, and expose them like open sores and wounds to more and more infections until there was no more cure. The blonde could attempt to doctor herself, but he was the champion. Her remedies could not outlast his ancient strength and prowess.

In an untouched realm, Kiskla could see what she was doing — but was having little success in trying to control herself. Fear was taking over now, the fear that she was not ready and the possibility of completion was not in her scope. It was a painful idea, and a doubt that she’d never entertained before. Like the Architect, she could feel her friend’s pain — and she was horrified that she was the root of it. She was also aware, that should she clamber out of this mote — he would not be the last to succumb.

 

[Harland Gates]

Of all the creatures, and enemies of the Republic that Harland Gates had faced down (with the help of the Masters, and Kiskla at his side), he had not come across such an ancient and perverse being as what was currently playing body snatcher to his blonde friend. He didn't need a force read to get the picture of what was going on here, at least on the surface it was entirely evident that Grayson was not in control of this malevolent force parading around in a healthy lithe and limber Kiffar. He was however quickly figuring out that with just a touch of release on Kiskla's part, giving into this thing, it was no wonder why she had offed her own Master after a seven hour 'practice' session. Still, Gates wasn't overly concerned with himself at this point, he wasn't in nearly as much danger as the grand master currently was. Despite that, this Architect she had let out of it's alchemical prison was quickly pissing him off with the elation it showed in that cruel devil smirk riding across Grayson's face.

"I think you bought into the hype a little too much there dark one, cause trust me when I say, this ride is going to be over very soon." Gates had no intention of hurting Grayson, nor had the woman been foolish enough to ask that he do anything to make sure she stayed on Dagobah, because he wouldn't have agreed. Still, he needed to keep the thing distracted long enough for Kiskla to do what she had planned. Whatever that was, he was unaware, all he knew is that he needed to buy her time if anything. Unfortunately the grip on his guns wasn't allowing him to squeeze the triggers he had planned to, as red torrents of lightning struck the sodden ground at his feet, curling up his legs. Insulated leather boots worked well against regular electricity, but this was force born and it STUNG. The nerves his hands causing them to clench and become unmovable radiated the pain and threw him into a static pose as veins of crimson shot across his form visibly. Then like a battering ram, a focused shot blazed forward and barreled into his chest, ripping him from his stance and throwing him backwards several yards. Each gun leapt from his hand to flew off into the distance. Falling to the ground like a stone, Gates' for a moment lost his focus, and his consciousness.


"Ace...Ace...gorramit girl, where are you?" Hal said, his youthful annoyance etched across his smooth skin while he pressed forward through Naboo's more swampy regions. Giving forceful tugs to his Jedi robes that seemed to gravitate towards every stray tree-branch imaginable. A dense thicket of branches and leaves meshing together was powered through as he kept looking for the trail that her tiny footprints had left. Hal had been tracking her since morning, trying to figure out where in the world the girl was going off to, and without even a glance his way. Pathway halted by a number of spare twigs and tree extensions that had grasped his cloak, keeping him taught. Annoyance to turned to frustration as he tried for a few futile moments to press forward. Damnable Jedi robes were heavily resilient to tearing and the branches were too thick to break with just that force.

Snap-hiss. The sound of a brilliant cerulean blade leapt from Gates' hilt, as he swing backwards in a sweeping arc, rotating the blade behind his back and severing off every single branch that had tested his limits and kept him at bay. The tell-tale hum of plasma whipping through the air drew a smile from his face in glorious satisfaction as the Padawan hewn down every stray plant arm that tried to hold onto him in desperate silence. The robe fluttered down to his back at rest again as the saber was disengaged and lodged on his hip. Scorch marks of brilliant orange and yellow faded fast to charred stumps of the tree that had kept him momentarily as a prisoner. Wisps of smoke rising from the injuries as he took stock of his work and gave a nod of approval and confidence before turning around and trudging on. Just ahead the figure of the blonde standing still like stone, observing a pond of water just feet in front of her caught his attention, and diverted his path her way.

"What in the nine Corellian hells are you doing all the way out here?" Gates asked with that same tone of aggravation. Unfortunately, Hal had been given the cold shoulder since she had woken up, and he couldn't come to grips with what was going on with her. He knew the girl had mood swings, but she was expressive about them, and not so closed off or distant. Striding up behind her, his hand went to her shoulder, pivoting her around before he looked right into those normally cool coral orbs. What he found there was somewhat surprising to him, and it took him back. A mixture of pale white flooded her iris, dulling the normal crystalline blue he was used to. "Hey, snap out of it!" His fingers clicked together snapping them in front of her face for a minute before her gaze faded back to reality and her creased brows furrowed in mock anger before she turned away. Marching off into the distance, Gates stood there wholly confused about his friend's abrupt reaction, leaving him to question many things about what he knew of Kiskla Grayson.


Eyes shut as pain raced through his body, mainly concentrating on his sternum and solar plexus as smoke rose from the charred mesh of his armorweave shirt. The thing was resilient, and he was glad to have had the sense to make sure he was at least somewhat protected at all times. Coming back from the vision of his past when the first tell-tale signs were rearing it's head about what would start this whole ordeal. They were coming full circle now. Groaning in earnest, and trying to force his limbs to cooperate. He wasn't out yet, and as long as he had breath, she wasn't going to be alone. Damn that stings. He'd never been hit by force lightning of that caliber before, and he didn't have a blade with him to stop it either. That relic was back in his ship, and there was no way he was going to get the one from Grayson at this point. Clenching his eyes tight for a moment while the burns faded into a more muted throbbing pain, Hal forced himself up, and looked at the figure in the distance, walking along like this was it's ruttin' playground. Anger welled up in him, and he slowly moved to his knees. The only boon to his cause is that whatever this Architect was, it surely wasn't weighing the rogue as anything, when it should have been a lot more concerned about who Kiskla had chosen as her friend.

"So you want it all eh? Unlimited cosmic power?" He balked at Kiskla, and the force taking her for a test drive, while he got up to one knee. "Fine, then you get to take everything that comes with it..." Hal challenged and in an instant of communication with a Force connection long forgotten, Hal drew his spare piece - The Lazy Eye, a weapon truly of masterful craft that was as ancient in design as this thing likely thought it was. Hokey religions and ancient weapons indeed. The minute connection resonated once more as Hal leveled his gaze, aimed at the target and let off a crimson bolt of plasma faster than the blink of an eye. It wasn't for her though, it was for that thing on her wrist that he saw as the source of all this commotion. "..except your itty, bitty, living space." Hal finished as two more bolts answered in follow through. The cuff was alchemized metal, and it wouldn't rip away or melt with the plasma, but these charges hit hard, and if he was at all lucky, he'd damage that sanctum so no ethereal force could again house itself safely within the fashion accessory.

He'd not used the Force in a long time, and honestly he hadn't even tried at this point. Like an old familiar friend coming back to greet him, the events of the last few hours had seen to it, that this place of the Force and this unnatural dimensional entity had seen to it that it was coming back. It was not much more than a glimmer, but it was there, and he felt that rush again. Hal had almost forgotten how it felt to tap into that power - but it wasn't exactly missed either. His concerns weren't on that point though, as he kept that gun steady and aimed, while he rose to his feet again, careful not to step in too much pond scum.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

See, The Architects had a nasty habit of hyperbolizing. They weren’t really The Force but they did have more control over it than any sentients to date. Of course cosmic power was something they wanted — but to do so on their own had been done — it was so much more entertaining to watch the ants struggle while they perform the puppeteering actions necessary.

Meanwhile, Beyond Shadows, this was not part of the plan. To be honest, there really were no set blueprints for execution one way or the other, and she really hadn’t thought this out. She had simply categorized this entity as a ethereal blob that would jump around from generations to generations, as some ancient kings had done with Sith spells and what not. She’d thought that blob to be easier to grasp, but he was entirely suffocating. He’d been waiting for this, for some sort of challenge from the girl. Consciousness, she needed to be conscious.
Foresight was the darnedest thing, and it would have been an absolute breeze to merely dodge to the side when [member="Harland Gates"] fired a round, if Kiskla hadn’t seized the sliver of a distracted opportunity. (Considering the predicament, she literally had nothing else to do, rather than be exposed to the darnedest of chances.

Darkness needed light. She needed to light a candle, rather than spending her time confined in a realm nobody understood. At the moment The Architect’s attention was diverted, Kiskla elected to act in the only way she knew how to against something so purely wicked; something she’d never been able to wholly Master because of his taint on her system — but from the inside out, his shadow no longer gripped her.

Two years ago
Coruscant Temple

For a moment, Carn allowed himself to belive that she was talented enough to produce it from the start. Yet as with all things, it never goes as smoothly as planned. Kiskla had some form of interruption - something that upset the harmonious state of mind required to control the technique. It disturbed Carn to watch her faulter and struggle, mostly due to her place on the council, yet he took a moment to remind himself that nobody does this on the first try, and that she had done so well this time was no small thing.

"Good, Kiskla. Good. You clearly understand how to bring the technique into existance. Yet you went to big too quickly. And your mind was not in true harmony with yourself. Tell me what caused you to faulter in your focus, and lose your control?"

Carn's thought pattern was simple - it was not Kiskla's ability that was in question. Instead it was Kiskla herself. Whatever had stopped her needed to be dealt with, and so he intended to teach her how to turn the technique internally, as opposed to externally…

Silence hung between the councillors and Kiskla straightened, squaring herself to the master with the larger frame. She could lie and say the excitement of learning something new overtook her calm façade but they'd both see through that transparent tale. So, how would she do this? She'd never used her words to express her burden before, she'd walked Darron through the past by intercepting his mentality. As much as she respected Master Dista for his solidarity he wasn't quite as.. Mm.

"You have your secrets, Master Dista." She suggested, "And I have mine." Falling to the dark side wasn't something Kiskla was worried about; she'd feigned off those desires when she was younger and now there was nothing attractive about its allures other than the wealth of knowledge it provided. But falling was different than becoming.
"Focus is something I've struggled with ever since I was a Padawan." She chuckled lightly, diverting the conversation and skating from thin ice to a thicker platform smoothly "I assure you, it won't happen again." Absently, she stretched the hem of her sleeve over both of her wrists, shaking her head. It was true, her and focus used to be but two ships passing in the night. These days, however, she was forced to be more attentive.

"Mhmm. Perhaps it is... Wiser, for us to revisit the basics. If Force Light is an outward expression of the Light Side of the Force, then naturally it must have a starting point. For you, the starting point will not be your hands. Nor will it be your arms. Instead..." He tapped himself at the base of his sternum "It will originate from here, and fill your entire body, like ink spreading through cloth. Allow me to demonstrate..."


Carn rolled his shoulders slightly, and closed his eyes. If Kiskla's internal issues diverted focus from the technique's external application, then learning how to turn it inwards, before projecting outwards would do wonders for her. It would also afford her a much greater control over the technique. He inhaled and exhaled rhythmically, almost as if to some internal rhythm that was too faint for anyone to truly understand. His hands came up from his sides, and he began to bring them around, so that his palms were facing each other in the center of his chest. And then, with one final large exhale, he turned his palms towards the floor and began to push down against an unseen force. His mind focused inwards towards the base of his sternum, and he began to draw upon the vast energy resources of the Lightsided Nexus to aide him in his efforts. At first, there was little to no visible signs of change, other than his apparent struggle with the unseen force pushing up against his hands, yet slowly but surely Kiskla would have been able to sense the buildup of energy within Carn. It was as though the Lightside of the Force itself had agreed to originate from within the Jedi Master. It filled him, and the air around him with a feeling akin to being stood upon the edge of a storm. The air around him seemed to still, as if it were waiting for the oncoming onslaught of Force Energy... Yet this was the basics. Carn was not willing to bring the technique forth into it's full existence, for he merely wished to demonstrate to Kiskla how to begin with the technique.

With a flex of his hands, and the opening of his eyes, Carn allowed the technique to disperse from within him - The Lightsided energy that had built up within him rushed out in a harmless haze, seeking to embed and enlighten the area around him. For but a moment, his eyes appeared brighter, his face younger, and his body taller, as if the Force had granted him some form of eternal youth - However, just as suddenly as this change appeared, it disappeared, leaving behind his normal stern, bearded, overly serious appearance. "You see, Kiskla, it is from within that the Force speaks to us all, and it is from within that this technique needs to begin. Now... Your turn." For once, it was Carn with the almost cheeky grin creeping across his face. He was more than interested to see how she managed to handle building the energy up and allowing it to disperse - It was certainly a strange sensation, one that was both taxing and uplifting at the same time.

—

Present Day
Beyond Shadows / Dagobah 'n stuff

From the inside out. That's what Master Dista had told her to do, and that's what she had done to off [member="Cameron Centurion"] on Ossus that one damned time -- though it had been wildly uncontrolled and brought to a sizzling conclusion by that very one she was trying to expel now. At this moment, Kiskla couldn't have been in a more inside situation. From the mental core, the momentary blip Hal had provided was enough for her consciousness to summon whatever fragments of The Force were lingering about for her to grasp at.

The tingling sensation was entirely real, and the power of that light itself made her feel more physical than she could fathom. Simultaneously, Harland's shot connected with the twisted metal that wove around her wrist. By some strange stroke of fate, luck, or just darned marksmanship, the bolt struck true. Plasma skittered around the outside, and the pressure from the bolt forced the slight recoil from The Architect. This was another opportunity, and incredibly conflicted at this point, bits of light began to pick up around the ends of Kiskla's hair, letting it billow slightly. Then her fingertips glowed. It was a painful venture, incredibly painful as she and the celestial were torn between two separate locations of the ethereal and present -- him trying to push back what she'd been building up for years in her core. That everything that she knew about the light -- there might have even been some motivation from a darned emotion called love in that stew of stimulus.

Whatever was happening, not all of it could explained -- but there was a mighty roar that finally echoed. Not from Kiskla, but as a strange otherworldly boom as a colossal cloud was pushed away from the glow, though it still fought mercilessly to retain the vessel so carefully selected.

 

[Harland Gates]

With all the prowess of a Corsec officer, Hal kept that pistol level with his shoulder as each boot struck the soil moving in a slow semi-circle around the figure of the grand master. It'd likely never be this way again - as pointing anything of a blaster at his friend or a Jedi of her caliber was just one big game of kick-the-rancor. He'd gotten off a single shot, something to buy Kiskla a few more moments of concentration. The way she had explained this malevolent being, it was certainly not done with flattering words or grace in her silver-tongue. This was a being of darkness, and in the visions she'd let him privy to, his friend was meant to literally become the darkness - in an effort (he assumed) to draw on her vessel's connection and use her like any other divine tool of retribution. She was coveted trinket to The Architect, but not in so much that it cared for her in the slightest, she was to be simply the vehicle in which it dolled out the dark designs crafted over thousands of years if he had to place a wager. That was the difference though - while this celestial was riding around in a healthy and vital blonde meat suit, that being would never understand that a vessel, a vehicle (or for purposes of comparison) a ship was far more than just a tool, it was a privilege you had to earn. This haughty creature was about to get a one way experience in what an ejection seat was really made for.

"For an ancient evil, you sure picked the wrong Kiffar to latch onto, I'd start packing bags and signing wills.." Gates commented with a smirk of satisfaction. Hal wasn't student nearly long enough to know about the power of the Force light. It was a technique that rare few delved into, and it was never something a padawan touched on. Though, just because he didn't understand it, didn't meant he didn't recognize something was happening. Strands of light shown through the brilliant mane of golden locks that were now billowing in a windless environment, accompanied with the increase of luminescence leaking from every pore and appendage the girl owned. "..looks like you ain't long for this world." The pilot continued to taunt as he stepped in a slower pace. The battle he was seeing was only a scratch of the surface compared to what he believed to be the inward struggle. Hal had never played host to an intergalactic creep from the black lagoon, but he didn't imagine it was an enjoyable journey. Despite his cocky demeanor, Gates was quite worried about his friend - trying to take on the weight of this no longer proverbial monkey on her back. The problem with it, was that she was either bold or laser-brained enough to think she was going to face this darkness on her own. In concord - it was the same level of selfish and gated bravado that had driven Harland to cut ties with his past, and with her - a decision he had come to regret.

Nearly Six Years Ago
Vee-Kir 4 Bulk Transport

Down in the storage locker compartments of a modified bulk transport, the very confused, angry and embittered youth checked his belongings into the safe compartments before lifting the nap-sack to sling over his shoulder and enter down the corridor as the repulsor engines lifted off and rocked his footing a bit. A completely different set of clothing garbed the youth. Dark blue pants, and leather boots - a single t-shirt and a piloting jacket that was a bit too big for his more lithe frame. He didn't look like a Jedi, that was within design, because he no longer was one in his mind. Just barely into the cusp of his adult life, Gates had made a decision, one that was eating away at not only his mind, but his heart as well. For all the rebellious acts he had done, and all the fantastic adventures he had (whether warranted or otherwise) he had loved this life. Though he was quickly realizing just how much it wasn't what he thought it would be. His life had a course, and a purpose - even if it was haphazard at times, and that had been taken away from him by both chance, or fate. The latter being a word he didn't want to hear uttered again for a very long time. In silence he moved through the compartments to tuck away his bag of belongings and it only took a moment before his bare fist collided with one of the durasteel locker panels. The clang of metal on bone was unpleasant in his ears, but the pain was dulled thanks to the rage. Bruised knuckles came back into view before he relented and shoved his back up against the lockers and slid down to a seated position. Everything of material possession he had in this life was in that stuffed nap-sack - and in the moment of knowing he'd put it away, he understood more about what he was giving up.

From within one of the folded flaps of leather, Hal fished out a datapad he'd used several times within the last few months. His best friend, and really the only confidant he had left in the Galaxy was systems away. She'd left on a distress call from home about the same time that he'd also taken leave from Naboo with the late Jedi Master Selev. Things had gone downhill very fast since they had taken separate shuttles off-world, and it had weighed on him heavily that she wasn't at his side, and he couldn't be at hers. He understood the reasons she hadn't returned to the temple, and he put no fault on her for that. Still the selfish side of the curly headed blonde was coming through more and more, and he'd wished to the Force she could of been at the Temple. Maybe if she had been, he wouldn't have been on this shuttle, slumming it out into the Galaxy and away from the disciplines of the Order. The pad flicked to life with a simple thumb press, and a holo-emitter blinked to life, capturing his somewhat sullen look as he held it against his knees, and set in the coordinates. He couldn't face her right now - but he could send a message. The feed gave it's countdown, and the captured image of Hal materialized and began to record.

"Hey." His default greeting was not nearly as chipper or exuberant as it would have been months prior, especially when having an actual two-way conversation. "By the time you get this Ace, well - let's just say things have changed." He paused for a moment, gritting his teeth inwardly. "Too many things have changed." Hands rung before him, off of screen, but just for something to do while he gathered his thoughts. "I know you're busy and stuff, but I know you would of likely talked me out of this..." He paused, not yet ready to reveal what he was doing, and why he was sending this message as a holomail, instead of trying to initiate the chat feature they had used time and time again.

"I'm really messed up right now...I. My life is nothing like how I pictured it." His leaned back, touching the gray metal of the lockers behind him. "I'm leaving Ace. More accurately, I've left. I'm on a bulk transport off-planet." He gave a sigh, marshaling emotions, as he'd never been want to break down infront of the girl (though he had in the past). "The Order, the Path...it's not for me, and I suspect it never really was. Your my best friend Ace, and that's probably the only reason I'm telling you. After Selev, after what happened, I can't be a part of this anymore." His blue eyes translating no less depth of sorrow holographically than they would face to face kept their poise on the emitter. "I'm sorry." The feed blinked out with the swipe of his finger. He'd not given much of a reason, and one sorry was certainly not going to cut it for the Kiffar - that much he knew. That however, was all he was allotted to give from his mind. As well, that was the last message she'd hear from the spacer for a little over half a decade.

And back to the story
Presently in way over his head

The amount of times he wanted to send a wave to the girl was probably reaching the triple digits by the time he had landed on Anaxes and returned into her sphere of influence. That was the past though, and while it could harbor old wounds, there was something far more urgent and pressing on their plate at the moment. The light spread like a flame and fire licking up every inch of her form, causing the girl to nearly levitate with the power. And that power was speaking...no not that power...this was the echoing fury of The Architect was it was being forcibly pushed from Kiskla by the power radiating from within. Like a star being born, the fully potential of it's energy stores were stabbing through the thin veil of the physical and tearing apart the metaphysical darkness. The pistol lowered as the spectacle rose into more prominence, even having to shield his eyes from the sight with his gun arm. Then the booming thunderclap of an explosion ricocheted off of every plant and tree surrounding the pair. None of the animals dared get within a kilometer of this epicenter and for good reason. Rays of light tearing through the forest greens and murky blacks of this planet pressed over Hal's form, casting his own shadow in mute poses upon the ground behind him. The girl had awoken a literal sun inside her body, and he was bearing witness to her might.

"Like I said." Gates yelled to get over the din of power that was being reverberated through the Force and The Architect's celestial bellows. "You don't belong here!" The pilot exclaimed before the cloud of darkness made up of pitch black billows and dark purple energy ripped free from the woman, tearing itself away like the fabric of reality itself. Strands of the energy could be seen clawing like mad to return to it's hide away on her wrist, but being banished continually by the deformation of the cuff, and it's broken structure - no longer a viable place to hold up. Then the snake like tendrils of smoke and energy turned at once, bearing down it's disembodied gaze at the only other source of The Force it could find. Insignificant as it was, there was something in the pilot it could latch onto - and with all the taunting, it was the perfect and only option this spirit had. A motion which made even Hal step back and widen his gaze. "Nek...take it." The pilot uttered before lancing a stream of plasma right through the cloud doing nothing to the force that came at him like a tsunami. Immediately and in great force, the celestial's energetic form surged into the spacer, right through the fabric and into his very essence, which slammed him onto the ground.

Another powder-keg like explosion went off with Harland Gates at the center, laying on his side. A plume of black smoke ringed outwards before the energy in hues of majestic purple swirled in and then dove inside. The spacer could not contain this force at all. It leaked out, of him in all areas, as he was a highly unfit vessel. The Force however saw fit to draw in the celestial like the moth to a flame. While he was certainly not a desired target, necessity was proving that the lack of real training had warranted an easy piece of prey. If it could not have Kiskla, it would have something, something tangible to connect it to this world. It was also something of a boon to The Architect's demented ego that Hal would certainly not survive this trip, and he could deal a blow to the vessel he had originally chosen. Bits of flesh peeled from Hal's face and hands as the darkened exterior of his face and glowing purple veins were evident as he rose from his knee and started to slowly stalk forward onto his legs. Something like a newborn calf trying to waddle to a stance - it might have even been comical, if the situation was different.

"I took what you wanted before, girl." The voice boomed from the unlikely mouth of the spacer as it forced him to grin. "Your Master was weak!" The Architect bellowed as he stomped forward, driving up soil and dirt in another directed explosion of Force energy. "You were the perfect vessel, the chosen one that would be my tool. You were to become the darkness, to see the true potential that the Force is capable of." Hal's hands rose in gesture of granduer as the glowing bits of Hal's eyes radiated a fire of ungodly energy. "And you squander it!" Another boom of force power now thrown at her like a wrecking ball. "You deny it!" Another coming up after that, a feat Hal never could accomplish on his own. "So. Be. It. I may not have you, but look once more on the face of this pathetic and unworthy vessel." He said the last word with disdain. "You are to blame for everything that comes next!"

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The sensation of purging a dark deity was a lot more tingly than she would have ever assumed. The regenerative abilities of Force Light, coupled with the struggling claws of the dark side inspired many pops and static shocks to run about her skin. The angrier the architect became, the more he retaliated — and the more she burned. From the inside out, she literally felt as if someone had taken a match to her innards and the wildfire was licking from her stomach up up and out.

Then, in an instant (or what felt like an instant) the gateway to hell opened. A screaming riptide of energy as the realization that the Architect had nowhere to return to — and he was being forced out of the habitat of choice. There was a frantic blip for a moment, one that Kiskla could only assume originated from an action [member="Harland Gates"] had taken. At present, she was awkwardly straddling the barriers between the ethereal and the physical; overwhelming herself with a drunkenness of the Force she’d not yet known, nor allowed herself to know to this point.

The franticness blossomed to action. Her light vomited out the darkness and in a typhoon of energy desperately seemed an alternative source.

“Hal — get!” Kiskla could only gasp, barely, and to which realm she wasn’t sure. As soon as she’d felt the dark lord’s desperation, she’d gathered her assumptions and hollered them out to whatever would listen. Unfortunately, however, it wasn’t Hal.

A dark cloud rolled toward the glowing Jedi Master, violet tendrils and sparks danced around her being as she regained consciousness, now wholly aware that she was alone in her body. A feeling she hadn’t been entirely familiar with since Mortis. She would have liked to slouch, but the amount of energy pulsing through her person prevented any sort of human reaction that was less than perfect. Her cheeks were on fire, her lips felt like lava, and her eyes; she couldn’t see anything but the manifestations presented through The Force. She was nearly on the Architect’s level at this point, without him holding her down she was inebriated with ashla.
Despite her being unable to readily detect the imperfections, and distortions of Hal — she could hear what was being said; though it echoed back and forth an fluctuating cadences and reverberated for a moment.

Her breath was heavy on her lips, palms facing outward. The words came slowly, but they indicated that this was not over. It wouldn’t be that easy. She tried to cling to what he was saying, but the roar of The Force was deafening. Before she knew it, an invisible burst belched from Harland’s body. She was unprepared for this, and it slammed against her body, sending her back a few feet as she crouched against it — causing her to skid; toes and knees dragging through the soil as she crossed her arms in front of her face defensively.

More words, and more energy. This one knocked her right out of her crouch, and sent her backwards through the hanging vines of the tree’s underbelly. Flora snapped with it’s interaction as purple energy coursed around her body, mixing with the brilliance of the white radiation that was emanating from her epicentre. She only stopped travelling backwards because her back cracked against a stubborn root. She slumped into a groan, mud caking around her; though streaks of light poked through the thickened dirt. The taste of metal was prominent on her tongue, and she could feel dampness against the back of her head — yet she still glowed; adding and taking away from the pain at the same time. Cells exploded and burst at the expulsion, and at the same time the Force breathed rejuvenation through her.

The seduction of his promise to see the ultimate potential of The Force and it’s capabilities was a lazy girl’s path. Her curiosity begged her to cave, but her resilience refused her thirst for knowing. The only words she truly clung to, were the ones that insinuated something was to happen to the one who wasn’t even supposed to be here.

Fists clenched at this point, and she moved her feet beneath her to stand, using the gnarled roots as supports.
She was too far from Hal right now, and a burst of Force Light without any direction at him could kill him or something. He already had way too much going on within him to contend with. “No.” Kiskla said finally, resolve settling in. This situation suddenly became ten times more delicate, and ten times more deadly. Harland had risked his life for her, and she wasn’t about to repay him with permission to perish. She angled slightly, and a rush of adrenaline flooded through her, as well as a perceived manipulation of the time and current around her.

Within seconds, Kiskla was on top of Harland. Her thumbs pressed against his jawline before his ears, fingers gripping into the back of his skull as she used her momentum and body weight to push him backwards; driving a knee into his gut for insurance. Her thumb shifted to force Hal’s chin to angle upward, brows knitting in concentration as The Force poured out of her like water crashing out of a broken dam.

This was where her mental work, her Force Light, and her knowledge of Beyond Shadows would all have to come together.

“Hal, I need you to hold on.” She whispered, words feeling like anvils. She wasn’t even sure if it was audible in her concentration. The pink, wriggling centipedes concealed beneath his skull opened up to her mind’s eye — a dark sinew twisted around them. With keen direction and precision, the Grandmaster sent spirals of light toward the darkness that infected his mind. She could feel him struggling beneath her, and in a physical competition he had her beat and she couldn’t keep him down for long. The darkness was conniving and burrowing, winding it’s way deeper and deeper into Hal. If he went further, the division between the two could be lost; something Kiskla had been able to always define. Hal, however, was far more susceptible.

“I need you,” Kiskla growled, both out loud and as a very intense thought directed to him through a connection established a very, very long time ago. “I need you to think Hal, Naboo.” The pressure she applied intensified, her teeth gritting through the glow. She needed something, an event, a memory, something to hold onto to clearly define [member="Harland Gates"] from the demon.

 

[Harland Gates]

Power. This influx of chaotic energy rippled through a form and vessel not suited for such a torrent of dark cosmic intensity. It bled from every pore in wisps of magenta hued tendrils licking up and down his form, and surrounding his body in an unearthly glow. The air around him crackled as arcs of electric current traveled up and down his frame. This malevolence had found very shaky ground indeed - and it couldn't simply relish in a host - in a connection to the terrestrial plane away from Beyond Shadows. The Architect was on the clock now, ticking down on borrowed time from this host that had no measure of strength to sustain him, to reign the spirit of The Son in to a functional degree. What had been, for many years now, a dulled and barely there connection flourished a thousand fold, tapping into mystic secrets long forgotten, and completely unaware in the mind of Harland Gates. What the Architect didn't have though was a master of the white current and Force Light to drive him away. Comparatively Hal had nothing of the sort to banish the dark force from using him as its personal meat puppet. The Son could revel and flourish for the brief span of time before the power he held would surely overload and dispose of this vessel.

The blasts of the force connecting to find purchase on Kiskla elated the entity as he stalked forward and raised his hands. Dark purple clouds swathed his frame flowing in devious orbit about his spacer suit. The echos of the planet's Force connection drawing to him as if it was a dark beacon for every story of the dark side to pour into the grasp of this disembodied tyrant. He would prepare something, and face his own exile back to Beyond shadows when this little parade was over. He hadn't conquered the grand master, but he'd not leave Dagobah and her without teaching a lesson on exactly how dire a cause it was to reject his choosing and his gifts of great power. The Architect knew he'd plot again, knew that Beyond Shadows would house him until he could find another worthy successor, and try his plan again. For now, he'd have to savor the ruin and destruction he could reign down for the time being.

"This form cannot hope to survive my powers, girl. Your cries to him are fallen on only my ears." The caustic words flowed from Hal's mouth unbidden by him, but echoing of that dark tone that radiated from the spacer, even as she got up and called out for Gates. "Ears that are deaf to your concern." A flood of purple tendrils ripped from each hand, driving into the air and then into the soil near the tree that had been the place of meditation. Energy tearing through to the roots to bring this black haunted and gnarled tree to life with the powers of the Force. His concentration though broken as the speed of Kiskla directed his attention elsewhere - onto her. Fingers gripped the spacer's head, thrusting it back as her knee connected into his gut and he slumped forward. "You'll only damage him further - Master Jedi, I am not affected by the trifle attempts to connect with your friend." The words spat out as breath regained into Hal, and he started to rise. The tendrils of energy whipping about started to come back, and strike towards the rear of the Jedi. The Redeemer of the republic would have to fend off his power while trying to connect to the spacer if she wanted a shot in the dark at what she was attempting.

Despite the words of the Architect, Harland Gates was not gone. Where he was though - even he wasn't sure. The place was mired in dull purple fog, and it seemed to be devoid of any scenery except a complete shadowed sphere about him that held him in its sway. His voice echoed with every call, bouncing back in his direction as it refused to escape. Turning back and forth, the spacer looked in vain to find something of an exit, before he started moving only to find there was seemingly no end to this plane of shadows. He heard nothing, he saw basically the same as he turned back and forth attempting to find some source of understanding of where he actually was. Suddenly pin pricks of light came forward, covering over what seemed to be a dome above him. Ten spots radiated atop the dome, spreading the light across the expanse, and showing the pilot that despite the distance, which was vast, there was an edge to this prison. Five points of light on one side, and five on the other, matching in tandem with their positioning. Then a voice - a very familiar voice called out to him.

"Ace?!" He replied, echoing again back to himself, unsure if she could hear him or not. No response came to his calling, but Kiskla continued to speak. The dull purple fog started to ebb away as her figure appeared in astral form garbed just like he knew her to be with him on Dagobah. She spoke of Naboo, of memories of the time they spent on that planet. It wasn't much detail, but he certainly understood the meaning behind it. There were many memories over the years between the two of them. Some were wild antics of rebellious youths, and some were more personal, and far more pointed. They had just started a journey together, one that neither one had come to completion on, though their paths had been strained by distance and silence. Harland went to move, went to run towards her but his feet lost their footing and he fell right into the clouds of dull purple before they started to change and form into an light white mist, and his world vanished into black abyss.


Several Years Earlier
Naboo

Away from the Palace, and away from the swamps and waterfalls that would distract one from the glory of the heavens, a hill-top overlooking a placid lake in eventide, the grand canopy of the stars rested above in an amazing light show. One of the few times during Naboo's rotation that a shower of comets would light up the night sky, and show a crystal clear view to the stars above. Trails of nebula overhead, with billions of stars shining bright within the black abyss of the sky. Cloudless and perfect, the curly haired blonde rested his frame in the plush comfort of the grass on a knoll to address the majesty above. Both hands rested behind his neck, while the brown Jedi robe that so often annoyed him was used as a makeshift blanket below his torso and head. Streaks of light passing from the horizon line shooting across the expanse drew his coral eyes.

"That's where I want to be." The youth said to the girl to his right, camped out underneath such a magnificent sight. "Up there with all of them. Imagine all the stories they could tell, all the systems and worlds undiscovered up there." Hal related to Kiskla. He always wanted to be a pilot, to sail within the black of space, and discover everything it had to offer. Space wasn't nearly as crowded once you were up there, in point of fact it was so vast that the stars they saw now were just a collected presence with no definable range from themselves to the lights in that dark canopy above. "Maybe I'll be an explorer." He offered. The Jedi's certainly had them, but they also had a grand library that detailed all the stars and system they knew about. Most were content to scan the archives - but Gates wanted an up close and personal view to them. He had to imagine that the idea also excited the blonde to his right as well. They were both aspiring pilots, and neither one ever passed up an opportunity to sail around out there in the cosmos.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]