The Lord of Sorrow
There was an overwhelming sense of displacement that took Akhema wholly. For the first time in her life she had arrived on Coruscant but not as the vanguard of a Sith invasion to see to the destruction of the Jedi and Republic, but as a refugee lost in time. The Sith Empire had fallen. Not only had it fallen, but it had been shattered not too long after her stasis. Akhema resigned herself to ennui. With the Republic gone, what use was a Sith Empire? All that really remained steadfast since her time was the Jedi Order. It coupled her listlessness with fury that boiled just beneath the surface. The Dark Side was her calling, and while she still felt its power, she could not sense anything of her own past save her own Lightsaber.
Everything she knew was truly gone. Allies and enemies alike were dead, and generations of their ancestors thereafter were also dead. All of her ambitions were upended. What was she supposed to do now? In her mind, it fell to her to form a new Sith Order, but were there other entities out there beyond the galactic core that had done just that? She knew nobody on this planet would guide her in that direction, so she would have to find some kind of information about it elsewhere. Not only that, but if she was to believe that Coruscant remained unchanged since her time, then this world was still one of the homes of the Jedi Order.
While she loathed Jedi entirely, she did not feel at this time as if she wanted to confront one. It would draw too much attention when she was here unwittingly in the first place. It was the droid that placed the navigation coordinates in the ship, but it was her fault for not checking the destination. Regardless, she did not feel threatened. Akhema tread carefully where she went. It was still staggering that so much time had passed. If this was to be her fate, then she must acquaint herself with the current age. With some careful questioning, she learned that there were several museums dedicated to the preservation of history, Sith or otherwise. While the Jedi had always taken a strong stance against the Dark Side, their dedication to preserving knowledge was to be admired.
The Pureblood tried to retain anonymity as she entered the museum. While it was clear that the standard employees were not Jedi themselves, she knew it was likely that relics from the Sith were closely guarded by the Jedi. As she browsed old tablets and stone relics, she did find it to be truly surreal to recognize things from her own time now placed in a display case as a piece of archaeological history. Ancient Lightsabers, old suits of armor, training blades and talismans. All of them at least vaguely recognizable as relatively contemporary to her original life.
It was upon arriving at her own personal training blade in a display rack of training blades, that she had to pause. A rush of memory and nostalgia cut her deeply. That was the weapon with which she slew her first enemy. His death was a deeply satisfying feeling, but ultimately the blade fell into disuse as she progressed to a Sith's true weapon. The pang of loss and anger roiled through her like a cold front. She wanted that weapon back. It was the only thing that could connect her to the past, and provide her some kind of grounding feeling whereas all she felt now was barely above water. For the first time since she was a child, the only thing she felt was sorrow as it ran down her cheeks. She suffered in silence, just staring at the weapon rack, completely unaware of the world around her.
Everything she knew was truly gone. Allies and enemies alike were dead, and generations of their ancestors thereafter were also dead. All of her ambitions were upended. What was she supposed to do now? In her mind, it fell to her to form a new Sith Order, but were there other entities out there beyond the galactic core that had done just that? She knew nobody on this planet would guide her in that direction, so she would have to find some kind of information about it elsewhere. Not only that, but if she was to believe that Coruscant remained unchanged since her time, then this world was still one of the homes of the Jedi Order.
While she loathed Jedi entirely, she did not feel at this time as if she wanted to confront one. It would draw too much attention when she was here unwittingly in the first place. It was the droid that placed the navigation coordinates in the ship, but it was her fault for not checking the destination. Regardless, she did not feel threatened. Akhema tread carefully where she went. It was still staggering that so much time had passed. If this was to be her fate, then she must acquaint herself with the current age. With some careful questioning, she learned that there were several museums dedicated to the preservation of history, Sith or otherwise. While the Jedi had always taken a strong stance against the Dark Side, their dedication to preserving knowledge was to be admired.
The Pureblood tried to retain anonymity as she entered the museum. While it was clear that the standard employees were not Jedi themselves, she knew it was likely that relics from the Sith were closely guarded by the Jedi. As she browsed old tablets and stone relics, she did find it to be truly surreal to recognize things from her own time now placed in a display case as a piece of archaeological history. Ancient Lightsabers, old suits of armor, training blades and talismans. All of them at least vaguely recognizable as relatively contemporary to her original life.
It was upon arriving at her own personal training blade in a display rack of training blades, that she had to pause. A rush of memory and nostalgia cut her deeply. That was the weapon with which she slew her first enemy. His death was a deeply satisfying feeling, but ultimately the blade fell into disuse as she progressed to a Sith's true weapon. The pang of loss and anger roiled through her like a cold front. She wanted that weapon back. It was the only thing that could connect her to the past, and provide her some kind of grounding feeling whereas all she felt now was barely above water. For the first time since she was a child, the only thing she felt was sorrow as it ran down her cheeks. She suffered in silence, just staring at the weapon rack, completely unaware of the world around her.
