Private Diamond Dust

[Corazona von Ascania]

Perched atop the icy plateau of a Mount Tellec, the Dawn Temple of Spintir was well out of the way of the civilian populace.

This was a good thing, Cora reasoned; while she believed that Jedi shouldn’t cloister themselves away in abbeys, away from the people they were supposed to protect and understand, Dawn was meant to provide guidance for the wayward, the questioning, and the penitent.

Naturally, the temple sometimes housed Darksiders. Only those who’d come of their own free will would find admittance, after intense scrutiny and sometimes the administration of Force suppression technology. Not out of cruelty, but of necessity. Redemption was almost never out of reach, but that didn't mean eschewing caution.

Cora had come not as a curator, neither as a warden, nor a jailor. She’d come for herself. Her center had shifted, and perhaps she’d find it somewhere in the crisp air or the snow-worn stone of the Dawn Temple.

The fur lining of her heavy cloak shifted as she extended a hand. A pebble fell from her fingers as they uncurled. She watched as the small stone slipped beneath the surface of the pond, still and unmoving like a sheet of liquid glass.

No ripples. No disturbance. It was like nothing had happened, but the stone was still in the pond.

“Huh,” she said, breath clouding in the frigid cold.

Diogo

 

[Diogo]

With great humility, Diogo arrived on Spintir. With even greater humility, he hiked the serpentine path of Mount Tellec's icy fist and navigated through its misty veil until there, nestled in a snowy knuckle, was the old weathered stone of the Dawn Temple.

Here, following in the footsteps of many a Jedi, Diogo sought answers, understanding, knowledge, and wisdom. This place held the promise of such.

After the long journey, he grabbed a hot cup of caf and walked the austere halls. The temple was like some ancient womb. It offered shelter from the elements, a private yet connected space to grow, and perhaps, if one were to believe - and Diogo was not quite certain he did - a chance at rebirth, in the figurative sense.

Eventually, Diogo felt drawn to the winter garden with its hardy, alpine flora. He approached the pond where a woman with a vaguely familiar Force presence released a rock into the puzzlingly motionless waters. He stood beside her.

"Fascinating," Diogo commented, his breath birthing a misty, fleeting cloud. "Is it... an optical illusion?"

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora let her hand linger high above the water for a few long moments, before her arm retracted beneath the heavy drape of her cloak.

"I'm not sure," she answered with a thoughtful little frown. "Perhaps the waters have been manipulated in the Force."

Stasis, perhaps? Either way, it seemed unnatural, even if it was meant to be symbolic of inner peace or something equally as aspirational.

She turned towards Diogo. He was taller than her by nearly a foot. The grim, weathered features of his face in contrast to his unmistakable youth had her gaze softening. She'd seen this too many times - young men and women, battered by the horrors of the galaxy, by the Sith.

"Cora," she offered politely. Gloved hand over heart, and slight bend at the waist in the suggestion of a bow. Even Jedi training could not wash away all of the aristocratic tendencies she'd learned in childhood.

"First time here?"

Diogo

 

[Diogo]

Diogo shrugged. "Yeah, that makes sense." He was a simple guy, and he liked simple answers.

Then she turned, and he did too.

The recognition was immediate, though she looked much different without the holomessage's desaturated blue light obscuring her delicate features. Cora's gaze was softer now than it was in the recording. Much softer. Diogo's eyes slid over the long, thin scar carved into her porcelain cheek, and he was most impressed that, despite the cold dry air, her face was remarkably well-moisturized.

"Oh! Master Ascania," Diogo exclaimed, looking down upon her. Her practiced gesture didn't go unnoticed, and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to reciprocate. In any case, he was much less dignified so he just dipped his head instead. "Diogo. Padawan. I answered your call on Tython."

His golden eyes skipped away at the mention of the planet, and his voice dropped into a lower, sadder register. "Yes," he answered. "First time. What about you?"

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

One corner of Cora’s lips lifted in a lopsided little smile. It nearly dropped at the mention of Tython, slow to fade.

“You were there,” she said quietly, and something like a silent acknowledgment passed between them.

“First time in a while,” she admitted. Cora half-turned to bring the great, white-weathered stonework back into view. It looked almost bleak. Somber.

“I came here several times as a Padawan while navigating a particularly troubling affair with the Dark,” she murmured. How long ago that felt now, but the lessons learned were carried in every scar. “I returned as a Knight on rotation for the jailor program. And today, to sort my own thoughts.

Cora turned her gaze back to Diogo. It wasn’t as stern as it had been in the holomessage. It was quiet. Tired, but still present.

“Is Tython why you’ve come here?” she asked gently. Threads of guilt began to spin their way around her heart.

Diogo