First Reply Flowers of Dantooine

[Mythem Yittreas]

The shuttle's landing struts hissed as they bit into the soft loam of Dantooine's rolling plains, the massive shadow of its hull sliding over the ancient temple complex. Mythem rose from the pilot's seat, her golden eyes narrowing against the sudden glare of sunlight slicing through the clouds. Red hair, bound in a tight crown beneath a simple green band, spilled loose strands across her pale cheeks as she stepped into the open hatch.

The armor's servos whispered as she dropped to the grass, boots sinking slightly into the soft surface. The temple lay half a kilometer ahead, its broken white-stone spires rising from the hillside like shattered teeth. Craters pocked the surrounding meadows, old orbital scars or ancient excavations, she neither knew nor cared.

Vines choked the outer walls; cracked staircases climbed to fractured platforms where wind moaned through empty archways. Mythem's lips curved into a thin, predatory smile. Somewhere inside waited forgotten holocrons, shattered lightsaber crystals, or perhaps the lingering echo of a long-dead Jedi.

She had not come for sightseeing as her feet carried her forward towards one of the entrances with practiced silence.

The Force coiled around her like a living shadow, tendrils of dark energy probing every inch of ground. Her golden gaze swept the path: no obvious tripwires, no fresh footprints in the dust. Yet she trusted nothing. One gloved hand rose, fingers splayed, and she sent a gentle pulse of telekinetic pressure ahead.

A faint click answered, stone shifted beneath invisible weight.

Mythem froze.

A pressure plate, cleverly disguised as a fallen lintel fragment, had nearly triggered. She circled wide, boots skirting the trap, and felt the faint residue of old Jedi safeguards still humming in the stone.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Mythem Yittreas

Braze had been busy here, pouring his time into passion projects; chief among them was the work of sourcing materials and laying plans to restore the Dantooine temple, as well as a training vault he meant to establish elsewhere nearby on the planet. Even so, he became faintly aware of another Force-user moving through the area; a presence that brushed against his senses and pulled his attention away from the work. Conservation and rebuilding took time for a lone Jedi, and curiosity soon won out. After making certain his two younglings were safe aboard the ship, he went to see who was prowling about the temple. He did not need another incident like the one from a few nights ago.

From a distance, he spotted the redhead and watched her from the shelter of broken stone and shadows, his presence drawn tight and quiet, smoothed over until it left little trace. The wind carried low across the ruins, stirring loose ash and whispering through fractured columns muffling the sounds of his footsteps, while pale light settled over the worn stone.

Why were the Sith venturing to Dantooine…?

Braze stepped out at last, boots finding steady ground as he let his presence rise just enough to be felt. His gaze settled on her, calm and curious, though weighing without pressing.

“So… are you exploring, trespassing, or merely lost?”

 

[Mythem Yittreas]

Mythem's hand lingered close to her lightsaber hilt, the weapon partially ignited with a low, menacing hum as her golden eyes narrowed at the sight of Braze stepping out from the temple that was once believed to be deserted. His posture exuded the essence of an Echani, a species of warriors known for their martial arts prowess.

They are trained to strike at a moment's notice by interpreting their opponent's body language. She felt the warning like a cold blade against her spine. One twitch of her shoulder, one shift in balance, and he would already know her intent, read it in the subtle tension of her stance, the angle of her jaw, the way her fingers hovered near the hilt.

A look of caution was visible on her face as she steadied herself on the grassy ground beneath her boots. The dark side seemed to coil tighter around her, reaching out as if to sense his presence. The wind howled through the broken white-stone spires above, stirring the vines that strangled the ancient walls and sending dust swirling across the vine-covered atrium.

Sunlight pierced through the openings in the shattered ceiling, casting sharp golden rays over Dantooine's undulating plains in the distance. As she paused to reflect, she remembered that this planet was meant to be sparsely populated, so she was not expecting company, especially not one that could hinder her exploration.

She kept her voice low, edged with dark amusement that carried clearly through the ruined courtyard.

"Exploring," she answered, lips curving into a thin, predatory smile. "Though the weak would call it trespassing. These stones hold secrets the Jedi abandoned long ago. I've come to claim what belongs to the strong." Her golden eyes never left his, weighing every micro-shift in his posture for signs of movement.