Private Echoes of a Whisper

[Amara Zambrano]

Half​

J U T R A N D

Tall skyscrapers and soulless buildings lined every street, none of them quite as tall and seemingly unending as the ones that dotted the skies of Coruscant and other core worlds but there was a certain intimidating factor at play here that she couldn't quite say many of the other city-planets seemed to give off. It made sense, though, considering the planet was Jutrand, the new home for the Sith - maybe new wasn't quite the right word but it felt right to her, given how spaced apart her knowledge of what it was like in the galaxy at large now that her own little bubble she had spent the last few years in had popped. Somewhere near where she was there was supposedly a massive academy - one she was certain her father would have been accepting of if she wanted to attend, but one she was most certainly never stepping foot in as a student given the numerous private tutors and hellish training she was told she would be going through once everything was in order. That wasn't why she was here today, anyway.

Towering so far above her was a government building where she'd be getting her identification paperwork in order, among several other things. This was where she'd finally have to figure out how best to manage the entire ordeal that came with, something her mother was rather opposed to given she had never been quite close to the sister she'd made to replace her with for her father, but it was a decision she'd felt had been necessary to move on with her life and finally put that person to rest. Transparisteel doors slid open for her to enter, the room a rather sterile environment that offered a stark contrast from the bleary world outside - it was raining, the transparent umbrella she carried with her left by the door - with its bright white walls and polished black floors. Some artificial plants dotted the entryway and sat between the seats that she supposed were there for when they might've been busier, most of which now sat rather empty aside from a few people that seemed preoccupied with their personal devices rather than actually waiting to be called on.

The three government employees that stood behind the long counter towards the back, all human, weren't actively dealing with anyone at the moment, after all.

Three holograms of aurebesh lettering were projected over each of their heads, though only one of which indicated it'd help with her issue of identification. She frowned slightly, a bit unhappy that her entire afternoon was going to be taken up by this tedious work, but the alternative was quite a bit more of an issue for her so she eventually walked towards the man at the counter. It was a bit of a walk, not quite far but long enough that she could glance at the faces of the strangers in the lobby - no one that she could recognize, but there was a bit of a pinpricking at the base of the back of her neck that generally came about when she was looking for something but couldn't quite find it. Chatter, from the left, was muffled by the door just beside her, but she ignored it as she pulled out some of the paperwork she had brought with her from her purse. "Documented name." The man said, not really quite asking but rather telling her what he needed from her. She frowned, catching sight of the door opening at her left out of the corner of her eye, and fidgeted with the necklace she was wearing with a sigh.

"It should be Vesta Zambrano."

Quinn Varanin

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Amara Zambrano //:
//: Attire //:

Woostri felt like some time ago, but Quinn readily welcomed the calm of her everyday routines. Her classes were settling into their places after having a substitute for a while. They were unruly, the students who couldn't go to combat, but she was able to reveal them in her story—the tale of the brutish Jedi whom she fought and sent home dead. Quinn embellished the ending, but she had felt the idiot brute collapse through the blood trail. Still, the young Sith acolytes roared with energy.

Their ambition sparked.

However, her older classes were smaller. Several acolytes went to war only to perish or be wounded. The professor made a note to visit those who still breathed and to lay a memorial for those who didn't.

Classes went by fast, and she had the documents she had filled out for the government. Lucky for her, she didn't need to walk very far.

Entering the building, she moved to where she needed to go. Several new students had recently passed a rise in rank and enrollment in the class. Since they were under her care, she was required to make sure they got their paperwork in order. Quinn saw the closed door to the office where she needed to drop the records off. Frowning, she placed her back against it. She pushed inwards, rolling herself into the office the best she could without dropping the paperwork.

As the door opened, a familiar feeling washed over her—one she had felt before, melding with the sense of another she wished she could feel again. The quiet office allowed her to hear the name she had not heard spoken in what felt like a lifetime.

Vesta Zambrano.​

The door shut, and Quinn felt her heart stop. Why was someone saying her name? Why here? Everything around her spun as she stood staring at the back of the woman's head. She had said her name; she was the same one on Bastion. As everything rushed back to her, she stood in the middle of the office, and papers flew around the Echani Princess. A hand clutched the locket, which remained the last piece of her old life.

"Vesta?" her voice asked before reality settled in, and she realized the mess she had made. Quickly kneeling, she began to pick up the papers. The back of her hand wiped under her eye as she choked down the tears she didn't know she could still shed for the fallen Zambrano. People knelt down to help, several recognizing her quickly as Lady Varanin or Professor.

All that Quinn could ask was why, over and over.

 

[Amara Zambrano]

There was a myth, a superstition perhaps, of some idea that people could remember their experience of an event as it happened as though it already had. The nagging buzz at the base of the skull, the yearning at the hollow space behind the eyes, or the ice-cold grip that reached in through the spine between the shoulders to grasp at our hearts: a chill, a shiver, or even just a glimmer in the corner of one's mind that felt like a sensation once-forgotten that paradoxically hadn't happened yet.

"Vesta?"

A cold emptiness spread slowly through her chest, centered around the place her heart should be, as if the mass of crystalline rock recognized what was happening as something that it had been through before. Then she turned her head and the feeling was gone, like the vaguely audible whisper of a voice carried faintly through the air as an echo, in some winding canyon, only to be consumed by the wind before the words could be made out. The man behind the counter forgotten, Amara herself bent slightly to crouch down and pick up a wayward piece of paper for Quinn Varanin . There had been people she'd met that had known of her sister, a few that even had met her, but the kind of visceral response she'd just been given was usually something someone like her father would've been more inclined to act with.

Someone that knew her.

"Sorry."

Out of all of the things that came to mind for her to say, to ask even, a simple apology came out first. Amara reached out to hand the sheet she'd been holding back to the other woman, looking her in eyes for once. There were several things she wanted to ask, like if the shi'ido that'd coopted her identity had used her likeness as well, but considering the circumstances it seemed wildly inappropriate to not make sure everything was alright before figuring out if it was even a good idea to probe her for that kind of information. Instead she went with the basics. "I go by Amara," She said, but when she went to follow that up with something else she realized that there was no context the woman must've heard her birthname in.

"You already heard the name my parents gave me when I was born, unfortunately they also gave it to a strandca- my sister - and I'd like to respect her memory by changing it." Amara explained. It was a bit more complicated than that, but unless she wanted to go into a long-winded recap of her life's story and everything else that gave greater context to that whole ordeal. What was important now was making sure she didn't spook the woman off too early - it'd be rather hard to find out more about the person who had essentially filled in for her.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Amara Zambrano //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn's fingers curled slightly as she took the page, a faint tremor betraying the stillness she fought to maintain. It was a reflex to keep her expression measured, hiding the swirl of emotions brewing under her skin. The name still to this day was an open wound. Vesta had burned a place in her heart, and no matter how much time had passed - the wound still bled.

Lucky for Quinn, Vesta's name isn't on many people's tongues nowadays. She was able to quietly live her life without the constant reminder of what she had lost. Now, she was reminded of not being enough, not being able to hold on to someone she cherished.

Glancing up, Quinn studied Amara with careful scrutiny. Her mind reached for fractures of memories, searching for the familiarity of the face. Beyond the familiarity of the face, Quinn felt her features soften hearing Amara's voice. They were similar—not exactly—but enough for the Echani to feel the way her chest used to tighten hearing her first love.

Amara apologized; it was as if she knew that there was something more behind Echani's eyes. Quinn caught herself and blinked quickly, dispersing the gathering tears. "Oh, no, I should apologize. I just - "The woman continued to speak, and she knew. A sheepish smile pulled at the Princess's lips. It seemed this wasn't the first time the woman was probably mistaken for her sister. It is difficult not to have the woman around - yet be mistaken for her. A cruel existence and Quinn felt sorry for Amara.

She exhaled slowly. "It's okay; you don't have to explain yourself to me." She smiled as the last of the papers were picked up, and she stood. "I understand wanting to pull away and honor someone no longer here." Quinn tilted her head, thinking about Vesta's accomplishments and those she infuriated. Still using Vesta, Amara would only bring those horrors to her doorstep. Fingers twitched as she clutched the stack of papers tightly, holding them against her chest.

"Did you ever get to meet her?" Quinn wondered about their relationship. She didn't have the best relationship with Noelle, but she had tried when they were younger. Thinking of home brought further sadness, knowing she hadn't returned in some time.

At her feet, a small black feline curled around her leg, its tail clinging gently against her leg. Quinn smiled as she looked down, and the cat blinked curiously at Amara. "Tenebris, don't stare." she scolded the creature, who defied its master.

"I don't know if it means much, but Vesta was deeply loved. I do hope that she knew that." Quinn didn't know what drove her to say that. It wasn't Vesta who she was talking to, only a face she had seen before - a face that didn't belong to Vesta. Clearing her throat, Quinn sighed softly. "Is your father well?" Another pang of guilt, not having seen the man since the memorial when Vesta came to greet neither of them from the nether. Quinn took it as a sign that the woman had found her new reality - the one that she wished she could have followed.

 

[Amara Zambrano]

L'enfer​

What seemed to verge on the familiar, vague recollections of the body that had steadily begin to rise to the surface, was long gone by now. It was undeniable that Vesta and this woman had known each other, to an extent that certainly went beyond whatever faux-bond Amara thought being a genetic template had granted her, but the draw had all but vanished now - just a lingering sensation of a heart given to her, in her own mind, as payment for the life she'd lent to the chest it'd originally rested in. It wasn't anything as superstitious as a fading intuition, nor as mystical as the force untying her from the web her stand-in had left for her to climb out from, that caused the alienation.

"No." She answered simply, lamely.

It wasn't that she was bothered that she hadn't met the woman she regarded as her sibling, not in any meaningful capacity that she'd be able to recall at least, or discomfort at realizing how personal this was quickly becoming and how unready she'd been for this conversation to happen so abruptly that brought on the timid response. No, she could see it in Quinn Varanin 's eyes that even to someone who knew her sister well enough to speak on her behalf - to bring up her father - that Amara, Vesta, and the nature of the two had been a secret which never made its way out until she had, now. "My father is as well as I could hope he'd be, he has his daughter back now." She said, biting back the slightly bitter taste that had started to fill her mouth near her molars.

Her eyes moved down, if only momentarily, to the small animal at the woman's feet. She wondered, however briefly, if a simpler life like the cat's afforded it a happier one. Catching a glimpse of something resembling discomfort in the woman's face the urge to keep it from imposing on her as well moved her to blurt out something that she hadn't so much as thought of before saying out loud.

"I'm sure he'd be happy for you to visit, he doesn't, well, he doesn't quite get out much these days."

Dredging up the past, the daughter her father clearly had favored given the time he was allowed to grow closer to her, wasn't exactly something she wanted, but the dismal mood she'd brought on by steering the conversation towards the dead strand-cast had ruined her own penchant for conversation. "I, uh, didn't know anything about her, in case you were wondering."

A momentary pause.

"The price of missing a couple decades or so, I guess." She shrugged at that, deciding to divulge a bit more than she'd initially intended to. "Certainly not how I would have lived my life, but then I was in a coma and the- she wasn't."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Amara Zambrano //:
//: Attire //:

Listening to the woman, Quinn adjusted the paperwork in her hands. She could feel the feelings flow off the woman. No, she wasn't Vesta, and the pit in her throat lingered. Some of Quinn wanted this woman to be Vesta; she wanted just one moment to return to that time. Exhaling softly, Quinn continued to smile through the pain. She had long-buried memories in her heart to let them live for the rest of her life as she continued forward.

"Oh?" Concern littered her voice as Amara mentioned Praz's condition. Had something happened to him that caused him to be unable to leave home or get out much? Quinn tilted her head slightly as Amara continued, mentioning that the man had his daughter back. The words were heavy, while Quinn didn't fully understand the relationship between Amara and Vesta - she doubted Praz was perfectly happy not having both his daughters.

She wouldn't push the issue and would instead focus more on the woman's father. "Is everything alright with him?" she held the papers tightly to her chest.

Amara did speak further about her relationship with Vesta. Hence, the Princess was able to learn about what happened between them. It was something she didn't understand. Why would one sister sleep while the other lived? The thought made her uncomfortable, not because of the circumstances, but because she wished she could have done that with Noelle. As much as she loved her sister because she had to, she did wish that the woman was asleep. She could rule Eshan properly and not let the Jedi overpopulate the world.

Still, she couldn't do something like that. Noelle was one of the favored children. Quinn kept her composure as she inquired further. "I'm sorry to ask, had something happened as to why you missed out on so much?" Her voice was kind and curious, but she was still desperate to have Amara be Vesta or have something more familiar than her face.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to meet her. She was wonderful, at times kind, but…" Quinn trailed off and sighed. "I think she lost her way, and I feel like I failed her - but we were young."

Quinn caught herself and nodded toward the directory. "I interrupted something, I think. We should at least get in line so you can continue with your name change." Quinn reminded the woman that there was something unhappy about using the woman's sister's name. "Also, Amara is a beautiful name, quite fitting."

 

[Amara Zambrano]

She nodded, not towards anything Quinn Varanin said to her in particular, but because something was finally starting to make sense in her head. "Oh, I think I get it now." She said, not entirely realizing she'd spoken out loud, in a voice that was barely above a whisper but hushed enough not to overhear from too far away. Amara hadn't quite gotten to answering anything that Quinn had asked, much less respond to anything she'd said, but the strange fanfare she'd gotten from her father - in comparison to his icy welcome around the time of Vesta's death - made quite a bit more sense when it was clear that someone closer to her strandcast didn't seem to understand the circumstances around her, Vesta's, existence. His strangely guarded affection for her also seemed to fit a bit better in the picture she was starting to get.

"I didn't mean he was sick or anything," She answered at last, not sure how to elaborate given what she was beginning to piece together now. "I.. You understand I'm my parent's real child, right?" Amara asked, in a tone approaching exasperation. Darth Prazutis hadn't been accepted that kind of phrasing at all, and something told her anyone with any kind of sympathy for Vesta wouldn't either, but this was eating at her now. Her hand went to her mouth as she realized she probably sounded upset. "I'm sorry, and I know it's complicated, but the long and short of it is that my mother wanted a child that she could leave my father with before she passed and I wasn't.. responsive.. when I was born," She explained, her hands and shoulders a bit more animated due to the sensitive nature of the topic - something she didn't let show on her face, so much as she did through the shifting pitch of her voice, that it bothered her. "So she made her, someone who could look like us, like me and my mother, but wasn't. A replacement, temporary of course," She said, though she knew that if not for circumstances outside of anyone's control it would've been a permanent, if short, one instead.

"I'm sure she was," Amara said, nodding at the woman's perspective on Vesta. She'd wanted to pry a little bit more out of her but it quickly seemed like that line of thought was a bit more of a sore-spot for Quinn than she felt comfortable, or had the time, to deal with. She glanced towards the counter, towards the receptionist she'd almost entirely forgotten, and shrugged while she got back in line, now a person behind given the amount of time she'd spent talking with the Echani. "Thanks." She said simply, not sure how to respond to the compliment. "I'm a bit surprised, though. It sounds like you knew her.. and my dad, but neither of them ever mentioned me."

It was something that would've generally brought most people down, and indeed it sounded like she'd made a realization she wasn't quite open to, but instead she smiled as if it hardly bothered her at all. "The heart she left for me was what gave me back my life, so I guess maybe it was really our life if you really think about it." Except one of them was dead now, and the name and life with her, but whatever sort of contempt she felt left her lips disguised perfectly with youthful wonder.