Faction Heal Thyself

[Aspect of Defiance]

Atrisia had not been what the Confederacy of Independent Systems had expected. Over the course of the diplomatic mission to help rebuild and offer protection, the behemoth of a nation had found itself tested much sooner than expected. The test came in the form of a virus, a deadly near incurable virus. Blackwing was deadly, but what made it so dangerous was the fact it did not merely kill its victims, but changed them. It was more than a waste of innocent life. There were no words to describe the atrocity that was the Blackwing Virus, and it had been unleashed on Atrisia and CIS.

That had been a month ago. Atrisia was devastated, and the Confederacy had begun the efforts to rebuild it. That was the easy part. Buildings could be repaired. Homes could be rebuilt. Infrastructure could be restored. The psyche of those who had seen the virus, or been infected by it, that was going to be much harder to repair. Once again leadership had been put in a dangerous position, and had it not been for the efforts of many the exarch Srina Talon could have been among the casualties suffered. The Knights Obsidian had already been dealt a major blow in the loss of Kyyrk , another was not needed.

Monestary was about as opposite a situation as Atrisia. The world itself was almost designed for healing. Even with the Light Side Nexus which could be found on the planet, and the danger posed to the many dark siders among the Confederate ranks, the world offered a peace and place for healing that was needed. Those who had been infected found a place to recover and receive the treatment and care they needed. The traumatized discovered a tranquility that was not common among most of the worlds the Confederacy found under its influence.

This was a place of peace, and while healing was needed, there was also a need to determine what was next. Clearly the attack was an act of war and terrorism, but by who? Did the few act alone in the biological attack? Answers were needed. While some were there for healing, others were there to set a course of action to find the answers to those questions. Still, there was one overarching question that had everyone edge.

Why did they not see it coming?

The question should have bothered everyone, and certainly it would be the one question which kept Darth Metus awake at night. His apprentice had almost been a casualty because they had been blindsided, he had been blindsided, or had he? Regardless the Confederacy would certainly look exposed in front of the rest of the galaxy. This was not the first time they had been compromised. They would look weak, and weakness was not something they would tolerate.

It was a dark time in the Confederacy, but there was a light, a glimmer of hope to hold onto.

OBJECTIVES:

Did you or someone you know get infected, this is your recovery and final check up after rounds of treatments and cure. Maybe you're just visiting those who are recovering? You might be a medical professional assisting in the effort.

Rest and relaxation are just what the doctor ordered. Fortunately there are some natural hot springs on Monastary, the perfect place for getting away. Whether you are there to simply enjoy yourself, or are seeking peace from the trauma of the virus and seeing loved ones turn into zombies, this is the place for you!

Where does the Confederacy go from here? How did they get blindsided? For those of you wishing to add your voice to the mix, this is your chance to convene.

As always here is a bring your own objective. You decide why you're there and what your character is doing.

DANGER WILL ROBINSON:

Don't forget about the Light Side Force Nexus on the planet. If you are a dark sider coming into contact with it will harm you... extremely so. You might want to avoid that!

Spoiler

Luca Donskoi
Alkor Centaris
Amelia von Sorenn
Ari Riggs
A Arisone Irithiel
Archon Xris
@Ashara Evanaris
Aston Jacobs
Aya Clarke
Beric Layne
Bullwark
BX-1335
Caesar Kenway
Corvus Dravere
Credius
Alejandro Chadian
Damsy Callat
Jayce Pryde
Decious
Destroyer 2873
Eli-Mae Forrest
Fawn Alzi
Faye Malvern
FN-1138
Gerwald Lechner
IG-65A
Ingrid L'lerim
Joannis Campbell
John Locke
Eugen Aker
Karlie Lynn Destat
Kasca Fen
Kathryn Foster
Kayla Wylen
Kiff Brayde
Krystal
Kurenai Yumi
Kyber
Kyrinov
Lady Moll
Lirka Ka
Luna Terrik
Luna Vega
Lyla Quinn
Maani
Maple Harte
Maria Savilia
Maur
Muad Dib
Myrrdin_Emries
Nine Lives
Petra Cavataio
L LGMForever
R4-AUD
Razelle Breuner
Roy Americus
Rylan Kordel
SC-A1
Srina Talon
Startorn
Subject 73 Red
Taiia Locke
Talon Rahl
ToKola Bakari
Tess Valnora
Amz
Tyran Numeck
Valencia Hadley
Vanric Dannon
Veronika Fleischer
Visanj T'shkali
Kyyrk
Vyse de Valorous
Vytal Noctura

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

​

Location: Vitalii – Monestary
Equipment: Full Beskar with weapons
Objective: Grieve
Tags: Damsy Callat (Any others who wish to join)

Monastery, it had a lot of history with Allya. It was the place she had been introduced to Light Side Nexuses, where she had started down the strange, convoluted path she had been on. She had brought supplies for echani refugees, and so much more. Today it noted the latest in her journal....a sense of unbearable guilt and shame. She had followed orders. True. She had led her squad to take out a small terrorist cell on an outer planet. They had done a good job, minimal losses, and complete victory. And yet...yet she had failed to stand beside the ones who mattered to her at a time where they needed it the most.

Voph, gone. Damsy nearly died. Countless others hurt, confused, lost. Confusion was the true emotion on the hearts of most. How could something like this have happened? As the girl walked the streets of Vitalii, various beasts pulled carts along the other paths. It was a quaint city, truly technology backwards, but with a space port...it was a mix of old and new.

Allya shook her helmeted head and clenched an armored fist. She ducked into an alley way and the dark side surged around her as she struck a wall, and caused it to shake. “What...is the point....” What if she had been there?! She could have protected them all! It was what she was here for, made for....Images of Eshan filled her mind, of the star destroyer that crashed and she shook her head. First, a computer virus, it had been the start. Now a plague....it was too much. But it wasn't the first time she had fought something like this. Maybe her experience would have been enough to tip the tides!

Those doubt covered thoughts filled her mind. No, it would have ended the same, you never would have stopped it. It would have been like it was on the Wheelworld.

Teeth grit as she pushed herself forcefully from the wall and back onto the paved streets. No...even then she had obtained victory even in her weakness. He had been repelled, without his prize. But what about Dad?....He would appear weak, unable to protect his people. The Confederacy existed because the galaxy felt he was unbeatable, or that at least the casualties would make victory a moot point....Auntie Srina had almost died too. What if she.....Should she go to her father? Her family in this time? Would they want her?

The teen stopped and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No, this was pointless. Doubts and would haves, should haves, but nothing that was, or that could be done. It hurt. Voph had been the closest thing to a master she had ever known. He had inspired many of her beliefs, and put her on her current path. True, they had separated as she dedicated her life to the military rather than studying the force more. But...he had meant the galaxy to her. Tears welled up in her brown eyes. “Damnit Kyyrk ...but....still...” There was this sad smile on her face. “You were a badass to the end. I am so proud I had gotten to know you....”

She moved off down a side street, as a familiar presence filled her mind. The girl wove through the streets, dodged carts, and speeders, until she arrived at the entrance to some tavern. A place to drink and get food near the canal. There, she spotted someone very familiar. “Damsy.....Sister. A-Are you okay?” There, in the dim lights of the tavern, with the water close by, she faced one of the last people she wanted to see....someone she felt she had betrayed by not being there. However, this was someone she loved deeply, she couldn't allow her heart to force them apart. "D-Do you want to get something to drink...and talk?"

 

[Kyyrk]

​

​

WEARING: Robes

​

Monastery. The final stop before the journey home. Many from Atrisia lingered here, some had no choice. Either way, it was the first moment of rest that many had received since the efforts on Atrisia began. For some, it was a happy occasion. For others, it was not. Within the halls of the Lotus School, a somber display stood. A simple table, adorned with cloth and flowers, held the dark figure of Voph, clad still in his robes, arms holding his sabers close to his chest. His mantle rested upon his brow, but it was not fastened. No, it was not the custom. Not what he had desired. Instead it was neatly folded, and laid across his barren sockets.​

​

Standing silent vigil near the body, Councilor Daejin had traveled from Vylmira. She had been chosen as his successor as High Councilor. Thus, the duty fell to her to bring his body back to Vylmira, where it might be buried at his family's plot. It was against his wishes to have a grand funeral, but he had allowed, in his final wishes, a small gathering. A moment for people to pay their respects, and say goodbye one final time, if they wished. Voph had, by a cruel twist of fate, outlived all others of his line. No family stood watch over him. Daejin found herself standing vigil over the body for more than just her duty as his successor. Aside from the delicate being she had met on Vylmira during the gala, she was perhaps the only thing resembling family that Voph had.​

​

Daejin wondered if the girl would be here. Perhaps she was at a bar drowning her sorrows. And if so, Daejin couldn't blame her. It was a sobering thought, knowing that war had finally claimed Vylmira's most stalwart protector. She found her mind plagued with doubts. But she would have to remain strong. For her people. Her mind drifted to the upcoming election, and for a moment she wondered who would be best suited to represent Vylmira before the Confederacy. Trying times indeed. But for now, Daejin allowed her mind to quiet. Now was the time to stand vigil over the fallen. To mourn the lost, and celebrate the life they had led. Daejin smiled softly to herself as she felt a small ripple in the Force. Dead, perhaps. But not entirely gone...​

​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Y O U . D E C I D E

Equipment: The Blood of Dathomir Armor | Nightmother's Ward | Water of Life Potions

Tag: Open | Kyyrk | Taiia Locke | Prennis Keeoli
​

The Nightmother stopped at the threshold to chamber where Voph lay in the Lotus School. Her green eyes were bright and fixed on the scene before her. Black lips were held in an unwavering, flat line, while the Nightsister's armored gauntlets crossed over her chest. That Monastery was the Confederacy's bastion of peace and recovery had not deterred the pale Witch from wearing her blood red armor. Battle came when it was least expected, and the fields of combat were not always visible by mortal eyes.​

​

At last, the still figure began to stride forth with a nearly silent step. Her arms slowly uncrossed so the gauntlets fell along either side.​

​

"Councilor." A calm, dispassionate voice announced the Nightmother's approach while Daejin was occupied with Voph's temporary resting place. "Did you know Lord Voph well? It is rarely foreseen, but less so when it claims someone that has survived countless battles of impossible odds. He survived so many, most had come to believe he was immortal." It was the natural cycle that most life had a set time among the living. Their world was one where change was not only expected, it was demanded. Once you passed on the pinnacle of your existence became the shining beacon you carried back into the Great Circle -- forever unchanging and soon dispersed among new life to begin the cycle anew.​

​

What had happened on Atrisia, and the toll it had taken delayed what had been necessary. Even then, what he asked was not easy. Nor in many cases would the Nightmother deem it wise. However, there were always exceptions to the rule. The difficult part was knowing when they appeared, and not only when they were convenient.​

​

Truth be told, this public display was unfortunate. A burial would be more so. There would need to be something done about that. Something that would cause no small amount of disturbance until set right. Yes, this would not be easy for a great many reasons. Let them have this moment then. The Confederacy sought to instill peace after the ravenous chaos of Atrisia; to reset in preparation for the next ordeal. This was wise. However, the next ordeal would come sooner than they could foresee, but not to the scale with which they feared.​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Damsy Callat]

​

​

L O S T​

Form: Humanoid | Post: 01 | Wearing: This + leg braces |​

Tags: Allya Vi'Dreya Luna Terrik + open ​

​

Damsy was in some ways better, and in other ways not. She had finally changed fully back into humanoid form, but it wasn't the one she had changed involuntarily out of on Atrisia. She wasn't used to this new body that the Force has gifted her. Every joint ached. Each inch of skin itched, a sensation of a scab almost healed and needing to flake off. ​

​

Damsy had come to in the exact place Berrezz and Prennis had left her - on her knees in the middle of a zombie horde - except she didn't look the way they had left her. She found it hard enough to stand, so she gave no thought to fighting infected that weren't attacking her. Why aren't—? she thought as she pushed past a zombie on her way down the river. He gave way easily, sending her stumbling a few steps before she righted herself again. The conversation with the lieutenant hazily crossed her mind:​

​

The key...to a cure. Her?​

​

Ducking into an abandoned house, Damsy passed a horizontally long mirror in the entry way. What she saw ground her to a halt. She didn't recognize herself. Reaching up to her face, she began to brush away the scales and dead skin left shed from metamorphosis; she hadn't changed in a while, so maybe they were obscuring her familiarity. They fell away in sloughs, as they always did after she shifted from water onto land, but the face underneath was surely not hers. ​

​

A surge of dread coupled with new energy came flooding over her. She couldn't go back like this. Years with the Dauntless, A'Runda, her family, had lessened the body dysmorphia the sithspawn felt towards her humanoid body, but now this? This way like setting the clock back to the very first time she set foot off Kamino.​

​

Niobe Crowe. The name came to her as, with shaking hands, she went through the master bedroom's walk-in closet. She found women's clothes that fit her easily enough, to replace her hydroarmor. She hid the plastoid components various places: in the washer, behind the bedpost, in the freezer. Those minutes weren't her proudest, not by far, but a mind glossed over by fright was illogical.​

​

Soon after disguising herself and completing her task, Damsy was retrieved by a group of commandos she did not know doing their first finishing sweeps of the area. They took Niobe back to the Xam'Chi quarentine zone, where she avoided Luna and Taphan, as well as the rest of Omega, and Tiria too like the plague that had hopefully was soon to be extinguished.​

​

She had followed them, though, to Monastery, but she stayed away. Now, she nursed a headache threatening to cleave open her head behind a dank Vitalii tavern, slumped in the dirt where she could hunker from the aim lights all around. The light, in more than one meaning. Upon hearing a homely voice, Damsy's pain fell away, succumbing to a warm embrace, funny little pricks in her mind and heart. She gave a cautionary glance up, seeking the speaker. "Allya...?" she began before even seeing her. The sight of her sister was welcomed for a brief moment, before Damsy frowned and touched her own cheek in confused realization. "Is that—? H-how did you—?" Neither answer mattered as soon as each question half exited her mouth. Instead, without waiting, Damsy scrambled to her feet and over the her sister, throwing her arms around her.​

​

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Wearing: xxx
Tag: Open

Atrisia had been a mess, and Gerwald knew it. He should not have been there, but a scrambled message had pulled Eira Talon into a dangerous situation. Everyone involved discovered the glitch after the fact, but there was nothing that could have been done. It only highlighted the importance of what Gerwald was doing, and his time spent with the younger sister of the Exarch Srina Talon . Both of them had nearly been lost along with the advisor Darth Empyrean . All because the Confederacy had been left exposed. Gerwald would not have been able to save them all, though he had been willing to give his life trying. In the end it was not needed, but Gerwald had one question.​

Who betrayed them?​

The lupine had no other conclusion. For them to have been left that exposed, and for the viral terrorist attack to have slipped past their defences, it had to have been an inside job. He should have been at the healing rooms, or even relaxing near the hot springs. Instead Gerwald found himself in the assembly hall among others asking similar questions. They had lost Kyyrk , Alkor Centaris had been absent from the conflict, the Lotus chapter had no leader. The newly appointed Master had been one of the only Knight Obsidian present and still active. While others paid their respects to the slain, Gerwald worked. He would not remain idle when there were fallen to be avenged.​

He looked around the room. It was smattering of interested parties. The CDF had representation, the Viceroyalty certainly wanted answers, and naturally Knights and Mandragora gathered as well. Perhaps when the meeting was over all of them would find their way to something less formal, and much more relaxing. Until then, there were questions to be answered, and a plan of action to be put into place. Gerwald had his own thoughts and ideas, he had his own desired request to make. The wolf was patient however, and he would wait for others to speak before chiming in.​

Gerwald sat in the chair which had been set out for him. These meetings were still something he was getting used to, but the etiquette training he had received made him appear to fit in. In truth, he was still a warrior who wanted to take action. This was necessary though. His life was the perfect example of what happened when someone rushed into a fight. How many times had he almost been killed, or how many times had others suffered because of his hasty nature. Today, Gerwald was the hunter.​

The room itself was musty, almost as if it suffered too much neglect. While it had been cleaned, the smell of dust lingered in the air. No one else would notice, but the sensitive sense of smell the lupine boasted picked up on it right away. There was something else on the air, something that reminded him of Naedira. There was something of her old scent on the air that Gerwald latched onto.​

“If only you could see me now,” he muttered under his breath. ​

His words were not meant for anyone to hear, they were meant for Naedira Darcrath . His friend Gianna Aegis once told him that maybe Naedira could hear him, but that was before he knew she was alive in a certain manner of speaking. Maybe she could hear him, but Gerwald knew better now. She was trapped, fighting a creature of pure evil, and the one person willing to help lay dead surrounded by other Knights mourning his loss.​

Gerwald sighed. “Though I suppose you cannot… since I do not have the ring.”​

He would have been a better caretaker, he would have allowed Naedira the reprieve she needed to be free from her fight. She was the reason he sat in this meeting, the reason why he refused to let this slight go unanswered. Leadership was needed, and where a vacuum existed, Gerwald would fill it. ​

They would have their plan, and Gerwald would find the answers.​

 

[John Locke]

​

M O U R N

Location: The Funeral​

Wearing: This​

​

Tagging: Kyyrk | Vytal Noctura | Taiia Locke | Prennis Keeoli​

​

Pain.​

​

It seemed to be the one constant in the galaxy, the one familiar feeling that the galaxy never seemed to be able to get enough of. On every battlefield, every war, some loss of life was inevitable, from the meanest soldier to the most elite, most well-respected general. It was the tides of war, and no-one was safe from the spinning of the coin. John had seen it on every battlefield, that shellshocked look of the survivor, just sitting there watching the bodies of his friends, his comrades lying there in the dirt.​

​

It might have been someone who saved your life, shared their last ration bar with you, or a sip of water when you needed. It might have just been a shared glance and a smile, such were the connections forged in war. The brotherhood that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Such was the bond that he’d shared with this man.​

​

John wasn’t by nature a sociable person, friendships, connections, these weren’t things that came naturally to the man. He lived in a world where every admission of weakness, every crack in your mask was something that could, no that would be taken advantage of. It was an environment that made connections vulnerabilities, that made everyone you met a tool to be used, a potential ally or enemy but nothing more. There were very few people who managed to slip past the man’s defences to settle in a place where he actually formed connections with them. Gianna, was one, and Voph had been another.​

​

Connections he held closer than gold, than any of his inventions, more precious to the man than anything else he owned. More precious for its rarity, for the scarcity of those connections. A connection that was one less now, his life that much more empty.​

​

The fight on Atrisia had been terrifying, overwhelming and shattering, a million different skirmishes and cries for aid. John had spent the best part of the conflict barely conscious in the cabin of a cruiser, his mind stretched across the planet, weaving the disparate units of the Confederacy into one united whole. He’d been watching from a million eyes spread across the planet, a million bodies responding to his will. Yet not one of them had been there to see his friend fall. He’d been able to reach out to touch so many people but had been unable to defend his friend when he’d most needed it.​

​

John had been lauded for his role on the planet, promoted and told he was a hero, that he had saved a million lives. Yet, all those laurels sat uncomfortably on his brow against that one truth. When his friend had needed him he hadn’t been there. The Exarch stared down at the flower grasped in his hand, a million thoughts running through his head but only one standing out. Too high, the price had been too high.​

​

A glance up at the man resting on the table, the flower settling down to find it’s place.​

​

“I’m sorry.”​

​

 

[The Monster]

Sergei was on Monastery doing what most were after the battle of Artisia, trying to recover. For some it was a more simple matter, for others, he glanced at the large headquarters building where the vigil was taking place.

Not so much.

Sergei was being followed a fully clothed and helmeted figure behind him, his original reason for coming to Artisia in the first place. He hadn't the chance to bury his men. The only one he could find, having been burned to a bloody crisp. There hadn't been anything left. And while Sergei knew that was part of the job, the line of work he'd selected for himself, it didn't make dealing with all of this any easier. The feeling that he shouldn't have survived. That he should have died right next to him when things started going sideways. That the Sith Spawn he'd fought head to head should have killed him right then and there, that in all the battles that he'd fought over the years. He should be dead hundreds, possibly thousands of times over.

And yet he was here, and Connor was reduced to ash. He had managed to survive the pirates that raided the vessel out of Republic Space, and meet a veritable genius who was now laying inside that would be put six feet under soon enough. He couldn't go inside. He couldn't see another vigil. The last one he went to was over four years ago and he remembered it clear as day. It was for a man he'd killed with his own incompetence. He'd fumbled a reload, and a grenade went through his window in a house where he and two others were pinned. The captain threw Sergei out of the way and jumped on the grenade. Sergei knew without a helmet on to cover his face he wouldn't be able to hide the feelings that he'd buried for years over that.

So he waited outside, quietly watching people from a distance go into the monastery, supposedly some kind of school for people to learn this thing he was just starting to grasp called the force. He sat at a bench in some simple clothes that the infirmary had provided him as they had to sanitize his armor, which meant he'd have to get a new suit before heading to his next job. He watched John Locke enter, and place a flower on the pedestal, looking at the man keep it together if only just as he deposited a flower on the point where everyone was to pay their last respects. He felt the hand on his shoulder from the smaller figure behind him. His charge that he knew he couldn't really protect or raise, and so he needed to get him to someone that could. He couldn't raise this kid from one life of soldiering to another, not when that was all he knew. He needed a proper mentor, someone who something other than war, something to help give him peace.

The gentle squeeze was enough that Sergei realized he was letting his feelings get to him. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly to regain his composure as he sat at the bench, trying to banish the thoughts that haunted him. The nightmares he kept having. Connor's last moments, him literally unable to do anything to save the man's life. He was a trained special forces operative for god's sake, and he couldn't do anything. He'd had to perform battlefield surgery to save lives before, scale 200 meter cliffs with nothing but his bare hands, fired rounds from almost every weapon system he'd ever trained on at it's max range with an accuracy that was unheard of. He'd fought a Sith Spawn the size of a bloody building face to face with a small amount of help and bloody won! He could do all of this, and yet, he couldn't save Connor. He couldn't save Jones when he'd been pinned by Schmidt, and he couldn't stop the lives of them being utterly wasted to complete his objective. He hated that fact, that because of him taking the unnecessary risk of going in alone with only a gunship for support had cost him three damn good men and that without someone else coming in to save them they would have failed the mission. That it was his decision that had killed another three of his. His, and his alone.

Sergei wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fly into a rage and rip the bench off if it's foundations and throw it as hard as he possibly could. He wanted to tear something, anything, apart with his bare hands. He wanted to not be alive. He couldn't understand why, why did he always survive? What unseen force kept him getting lucky, while others died around him. Even people many times stronger than him with all of this force power that people kept talking about. How was he alive?

He finally managed to catch himself and restrain his line of thinking. He'd told John Locke and Gianna Aegis that he needed to see them when they got the chance after the ceremony. That he had a favor to ask, before he decided to go on another, more personal mission. He looked back at the figure behind him. The boy was maybe 18 years old, and while people couldn't see him through the heavy clothing he wore over his entire body and the helmet covering his face, he'd been through hell. And where Sergei was about to go, he could not follow, not until he was ready. Not until someone a lot more stable and knowledgeable than Sergei taught this boy what inner peace was. Otherwise he would always be terrified of what he once was. Just like Sergei knew he was, and still is. The boy needed a proper mentor, someone to teach him about life. Something other than war.

Sergei would breathe a sigh as the boy's hand fell and came to rest at his side. They wouldn't interrupt the Ceremony, as while Sergei knew the man in passing from his original armor upgrades, and from the other Exarchs he'd pulled out of the fire on Artisia, Sergei knew he had no right to be there properly. He was but a simple mercenary, and while he was damn good at his job, he held no rank, nor title. And judging from the attire of most people there, they were very, very high ranking nobility from around the CIS. Plus it wouldn't do for him to show up in literally what was a regular plain cotton t-shirt that barely, barely fit, some cheap pants, and a pair of shoes and socks that looked like they'd last maybe a week or so because there was literally nothing here that fit him. Like the things he was wearing was the purposely oversized so one size fits most style of clothing handed out at the camps, and that barely fit. He'd have to get some new clothes and armor when he got the chance.

But for now he decided he would just sit, and wait patiently for those inside to finish with their ceremony, saying his own words of reverence just outside.

"Until we meet again in Valhalla, safe travels friend. May your cup overflow and your strength never waiver,"

Vytal Noctura Gerwald Lechner John Locke Kyyrk Gianna Aegis

 

[Ciri Jade]

​

Location: Funeral
Tags: Kyyrk , John Locke , Gianna Aegis , Vytal Noctura , The Monster

It was the first time since Rishi that the woman had emerged from the shadows, and all it took was the loss of someone she had seen as a strong and great ally. In the recent month, she had been looking into everything she could learn about the Blackwing Outbreak on Atrisia and those responsible. Working in the shadows had kept her from the sight of many Confederates as the Raven kept busier in the last month than she had been in recent weeks. Though she came to Monastery for the purpose of attending the funeral, she kept her distance. She wasn't as close to Voph as others like John Locke were. Ciri had been one of the ones to lend aid when Vylmira needed it and had worked with him on a number of other occaisions. There were few in the galaxy that had gained a level of trust from her and she would admit, that he was one of them.​

Glances around the room, she observed those present for only a moment before turning her eyes away. Lips sealed tight as she enforced her own peace, not that there was truly anything she could say in a time like this. Better to let things proceed as they should and once it is done, return to the work and find anything that may aid in answering just who was truly responsible for this mess. Then, what must be done to see it never happens again.​

 

[Taiia Locke]

​

.​

​

​

Location: Funeral for Voph​

Armament: Lightstaff​

Wearing: [X]​

Objective: Say goodbye​

Tags: Kyyrk Vytal Noctura John Locke The Monster | @Anybody I missed​

​

​

​

Taiia stood in the back of the room watching the various people move through the procession to say goodbye to Voph, though time had passed and her emotion had become more controlled the loss of somebody she was a new emotion for her, no matter how close she had been to that person. It had taken a great deal of meditation to get what little balance she had now back. She sighed a moment, her eyes glanced to the Nightmother as she had said death is a part of the force and all life ends but nothing is ever truly dead in the force, of that she was certain though putting that into practice was far different than theory, the young redhead gripped the flower in her hand firmly and walked her way slowly toward the front before pausing in front of Voph, and laying the flower gently down and gently whispering. “Thank you for bringing me here Lord Voph. Rest now” the words were not meant for anybody but Voph but those close enough may hear, she lingered but a moment and moved to one side toward Vytal Noctura her emerald eyes starting to become wet. Inwardly she was furious at herself for losing control once again, willing herself to calm down.

She took a deep breathe waiting for it to be over so she could disappear for a while, one other feeling she was having to deal with was anger, a lot of it and she didn’t even have anybody to direct it at, nothing to take it out on, what had killed Voph was already dead so she couldn’t kill it herself, she knew it was wrong but it was all she could feel between hurt and anger.

 

[Kyyrk]

Councilor Daejin
​

Daejin turned her mantle towards Vytal as the nightmother addressed her. She inclined her head in a silent greeting opposite Vytal's verbal greeting. She was asked if she knew Voph well. Better than most. Or so she believed. "I should think I know him better than any of our kind. He was an up and coming student, before The Imprisonment. Trained under my brother. We all knew it was only a matter of time before he replaced his father."

Daejin smiled sadly. "But that was before the Sith took him from us. He has changed, greatly, from those days, but I do not believe it to be all bad." Daejin turned her head slightly to acknowledge Taiia as she approached. "He freed us. Rebuilt our home. And for that, I shall be forever grateful to him."

Daejin fell silent for a moment, looking at the body, and the line of people that had come to pay their respects. "It saddens me that the girl will not be here. He cared for her so. Not one to talk about his personal life, mind you, but...in his own way, he rambled on and on about her." Daejin grinned at the memory for a brief moment, before the sadness overtook her. "Came to me the day it happened. Said she had been made to forget. It was safer that way. And now...she'll never know just who exactly it was that saved her."

The slim woman fell quiet once more, thinking about something that had been bothering her since she got the news. She turned to Vytal and Taiia, and offered the younger a stern look to beg her silence of the matter, and hushed tones. "He trusted you more than any other, Nightmother. I don't know how, I don't know when, but I know Voph. And I know that somehow, he would have delivered a message to you. He knows the veil between the realms is thinner than one would think. He's traversed it twice before, I have no doubt he'll do it again. You are right. His death was unexpected. But he has always been a masterful planner. And I cannot help but wonder what plan he has put into motion..."

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

​

Location: Vitalii – Monestary - Tavern Alleyway
Equipment: Full Beskar with weapons
Objective: Comfort and talk to Damsy
Tags: Damsy Callat (Any others who wish to join)



Allya stood in front of her sister. Different face, same soul. That same feeling. As the woman wrapped her arms around Allya, the armored girl’s strong arms wrapped around the woman and held her so close. “Did you think I wouldn’t know who you are? Regardless of what face you wore? Regardless of what else has gone on in your life? Really now?” Fingers went to Damsy’s hair and ran through it gently as the woman was rocked. “I only heard rumors. I don’t know what’s gone on, what caused all this. But it’s pretty normal for our family. Every couple years dad changes everything too, so have our uncles. It just happens. But, I will always come running to you when I feel you. Because no matter what, you are still you. And you are still loved beyond all belief."

There, on that light blasted world, in that alley in front of some dingy tavern, Allya comforted her sister. Helmeted head rested gently against Damsy’s. “But I’m here to listen. To talk, and to do all I can for you. I can feel so many grieving on this planet right now. It must have been terrible. But you are not alone. Never alone.”

While the sound was muffled, as it came through the voice filter, Allya hummed for Damsy, and rocked her ever more. However, soon a clear laugh came through as Allya played with her hair. “However, you look QUITE different. I almost didn’t believe it. Still beautiful. Always such my vod.”

The pushy teenage pulled Damsy close to the wall and leaned against it. Her arms wrapped around the woman’s waist and she pulled her close. Sensors, eyes and force all stared at the woman, and took in every detail. “Still hot Damsy. Sheesh, even now you make me feel self conscious.” The mischief and teasingness in her voice was still there as she attempted to get a grasp on the situation, to make it easier for the changeling to talk. As much as had changed, a lot had stayed the same. So...what had made this needed? Had she died and been brought back? Or had something else….

All other thoughts began to flow from Allya’s mind. What else mattered? She could beat herself up all she wanted. She could feel unworthy, and hate who she was. However, she could never hate Damsy, or take it out on her. The memories of their first meeting on Kamino...it seemed like a lifetime ago. Those gloves traced the woman’s face, and cupped her chin. “Hey there gorgeous. Can I get you a drink?” The Mandalorian’s voice was quiet, but sincere. Her other arm never let go, keeping Damsy safe. In an instant the hand removed from Damsy’s face and reached into her pack. She pulled out her hooded cloak and wrapped it around Damsy’s shoulders. The material would quickly begin to resist the force, making the light side nexus of the planet cause less influence, especially at this distance. The hood could also be pulled up to help protect her face from the city lights.

“Better?”

 

[Vytal Noctura]

R E S P E C T S

Equipment: The Blood of Dathomir Armor | Nightmother's Ward | Water of Life Potions

Tag: Kyyrk | The Monster | Mandragora | Knights Obsidian
​

The Nightmother did not interrupt the Councilor as she spoke, or inject when she was silent. In that time, Vytal observed John Locke , Taiia Locke , and others approach Voph's still form.​

​

Much was said, not all of good cheer. That the girl's memories had been suppressed or taken reminded the Dathomiri Witch of her Nightsister, Pom's, choice in doing the same for her thoughts of Hevn. They thought these things the best, to forget what brought pain or regret. Vytal did not agree, but she would not reverse the act unbidden by either party or lacking in necessity. As many spirits and as much power as she might have, knowing with certainty what path led to the best future remain out of her grasp.​

​

When Taiia drew near, the Nightmother's green eyes shifted to one side to regard the young woman. There was great turbulence surrounding the woman that sought understanding of all things. True balance was a novel concept, but far from easy to obtain. Most that sought it fell to one side or the other for any number of reasons. Vytal made a note Taiia might need help recovering from recent events before that balance became less than a memory. Her own intent might aid stabilize her, but there would be no small amount of danger -- especially if powerful emotions swirled about her.​

​

The Councilor spoke up once more, however, and drew the Nightmother's attention. "A strong soul can remain intact, just beyond the veil. They can watch over those they care for most, and to those with an ear for it hear their council. Dangerous as time passes, but to someone that has prepared themselves -- one knows when to linger, and when to pass on." A pause allowed Vytal a moment to sense the auras present in the room. When she continued, her voice was quieter than before, "The currents of the realm have been set in motion, and they can -- at times -- double back on themselves only to carve a different path."​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Aiesha Solari]

Location: Monastery, Open


Memories make us who we are, visual impressions of ourselves guiding our choices. Now she stands on the edge of a precipice, a double edged sword. One step into the force nexus the path less traveled, or remain here and fall into darkness. The room she was staying in was in complete and utter darkness. Aiesha kneeling before a hearth, its flames burned brightly eliminating her solem beauty.

Mystied eyed memories dark and foreboding casting a veil of darkness in her mind, succumbed by all the loss she had endured. Her family, a husband her one and only love, a master she loved and respected, and now her first and only apprentice taken by the virus.
Aiesha was the virus had fully taken her apprentice, he changed before her own eyes. She saw the reflection of his soul vanish his iris’ became dark as coal, his flesh rotted away. All he was slipped into nothing and Aiesha meant nothing to him. Forcing her to draw her light saber in defense. Pain filled her heart striking down her one and only apprentice.
Kneeling, staring blindly into the flames, her saber she once held slipped through her fingers, the clanking sound when it hit the floor echoed through out the room.
Darkness began to envelop the room casting shadows where Aiesha now knelt. Trusting her intuition she knew she had to leave. The monetary was not a safe place to linger as long as she had been. Aiesha had to be careful, her mind had already seen enough anguish as long as she stayed here she might loose herself in her own mind. Reaching for her saber which slipped through her finger tips and latching it to its respectfully place at her hip, she rose from where she was and exited the room.

The monetary was a labyrinth of corridors and hallways, and if one wasn’t paying attention to the direction they were heading would become lost quite easily. Luckily for her Aiesha new exactly where she was going, she took notice of every book and cranny when she had entered the place. Her destination would now be the tavern, a place she knew would be safer than this place.

A left down a dark hallway would come to a double door, which she had now used the force to open before her, turning right would land her in another hallway which would lead to the outside world and down the street, about a five minute walk would bring her to the tavern.

This planet was new to her, this would be the first time she would have visited this place, and a light side nexus to boot. Pushing herself forward Aiesha entered the tavern, surveying the inhabitants she made her way to a solitary booth. Once ordering a drink she sat while memories flooded her mind, the past, present and sighing to the unknown

 

[Kirk Tektus]

Wearing: Officer Uniform
Tagging: Gerwald Lechner
​

Atrisia was a wake up call to a lot of the CDF, they were caught unprepared and relied on Dauntless, Mandroga, and the Knights Obsidian to carry them through. Kirk did his job in delivering the suppressant to Xam'Chi and distributed it to what was left of the population. Now that was done, and Kirk had to go into military politics. The Confederacy's major factions were present and Kirk was one of the few officers representing the CDF if in this meeting. He would mostly be speaking about the viral attack on the Life Engine installation, a huge concern right now for Kirk and something that he was responsible for, so had to address it.

As Kirk entered the meeting hall, he noticed most of the delegates had already taken their seats, Kirk had just showed up along with a couple of other CDF officers and took their designated seats. As he waited for the rest to show up Kirk went through his notes in his data pad on everything he was supposed to cover. Most if not all of it were notes on the viral attack on the Life Engines, what happened, who was present, and everything he needed to legitimize himself. Because Kirk knew just as well as anyone, that the attack on the Life Engines couldn't have been a random terror attack. Someone knew the Life Engine's software architecture and how to dismantle it but it they didn't know it enough to shut it down completely, which gave Kirk the time he needed to isolate and remove it from the system. Also it wasn't a secret that influential figures in the Confederate hierarchy were reluctant to establish a presence on Atrisia for its history of blight. But this was conspiracy levels of skepticism which was why no one really brought it up before and even now wasn't a good time after what had just happened.

Kirk looked to the viceroyalty who were sitting impatient and furious. They personally invested themselves into Atrisia and it came at heavy losses, they weren't the subtle types. Naturally the Mandroga and Knights Obsidian were present after losing Kyyrk and they were here to prevent another loss and what lead to recent events unfolding.

As a CDF officer sighed next to him, it was clear he didn't want to be here. He would probably want to be at one of the hot springs and do some R&R, as he and everyone here deserved. To be honest though, Kirk was a workaholic and couldn't see himself with such luxuries. Though he did need some showers, a nice meal, and actual sleep. If they all went through this efficiently without short cuts, they could be out before the day's over.

 

[John Locke]

​

M O U R N

Location: The Funeral​

Wearing: This​

​

Tagging: Kyyrk | Vytal Noctura | Taiia Locke | Prennis Keeoli​

Interacting with: The Monster​

​

There was a chain John had felt weighing on him, ever since Atrisia, n no that wasn’t quite true. John had felt the weight of responsibility for a long long time, those dark terrible chains that wrapped around you till you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you couldn’t move. The splinter in your foot, the whip at your back that meant you could never stay still, could never rest.​

​

Torn between the two poles all you could do, all you could ever do was put your head down and press forward, do the best you could as that weight pressed down on you, always pressing down. Some people it broke, left shattered and ruined, some it turned. Some ran, and some some wouldn’t bow. Some took the weight and looked up, screaming at the universe daring it to throw more tat them, to hit them with all it could. His friend had been such a man…John, well John was different. He was the unbreakable line, that wouldn’t bend and wouldn’t bow. The quiet rock.​

​

The rock.​

​

He hadn’t bowed, hadn’t broken, couldn’t let himself and his reward? Even more chains wrapped around him until it felt like he was having to pull with everything he could just to inch forward.​

​

He wanted to stay, to share his loss with the other mourners, the shared grief an opportunity to remember his friend, all the good parts about him. That was, however, a pleasure that was denied him today. That would be denied him forever. Tonight though, tonight he would pour out a glass of Whyren’s Reserve and toast his friend. Tonight. Today, he had a meeting to attend.​

​

A soft bow of his head to the others at the memorial a sad smile reaching the cyborg’s eyes as he spun on his heel fingers tugging at his suit as he made from the door. Those invisible chains pulling him out on to the next thing, for a moment, dwarfed by the responsibility ahead of him. For a moment before he straightened his shoulders and lifted his head.​

​

Stepping outside John could feel the touch of the sun on his face, that warm caress that left him pausing, his mind drifting for a second. Travelling back to a well-worn path, the sound of the sea and the rustle of the wind through the branches of lemon trees. A place that like this planet wrapped around you and made you feel like him. A place that had drawn him to a planet, had helped him stop and settle those roots he’d wanted for so long. A soft breath, a single stolen moment for himself, to enjoy the sun and his memories before his eyes flicked open, settling n the man sitting, waiting. The man who he’d sent into death without a second thought, the man who hadn’t hesitated. That alone, if nothing else, entitled him to a meeting, to a moment of time. More than that, the man had made it seem important and John couldn’t just turn his back. He’d never been able to. That was maybe why he was here in the first place.​

​

“I’m sorry I was so long, we’re going to have to walk and talk today. There’s another meeting, an analysis of our action on Atrisia and how we move forward.”​

​

Dark eyes met Sergei’s with a wry smile.​

​

“Always another meeting right? So, how can I help you today.”​

​

 

[The Monster]

Sergei continued to sit patiently as he waited, his demeanor getting more calmed as he sat, allowing him to get his emotions under control as he focused on his breathing, and realizing what he would have to do once the meeting was over. Aiden needed a home, he needed someone to teach him proper. And that person wasn't Sergei, and the place wasn't with him.

He watched as Mr. John Locke approached him, dressed in an extremely nice suit and looking for all intents and purposes haggard as hell. Granted to the average person he would seem fine, but Sergei was a soldier, he grew up studying people. He knew that this whole ordeal had put a great strain on the man, and he could see it past the wry smile, using the man's posture, gait, and the fact that man had more than likely shed tears earlier just by looking into his eyes. Which didn't make what Sergei was going to ask any easier. He stood and politely bowed his head in respect before taking a stride alongside John, sticking to his pace as Sergei didn't want to rush him. He chuckled at the man's little joke before speaking.

"Yeah thank god I'm no where near important enough to warrant all that. I can't imagine having to spend all my time going from meeting to another to hear people talk, and that's all it's about," he paused as he collected his thoughts and then continued.

"Mr. Locke, I have a favor to ask of you. Back on Artisia, I wouldn't have been there if I hadn't originally come to give a message to Ms. Aegis. That you took the time to keep her safe means I can trust you with this, as I know this is something I cannot trust myself with. With me is my ward, Aiden Wolf. I found the boy as a slave to a band of pirates, fighting as a child soldier. He needs exposure to something other than the life of a mercenary, or fighting on a daily basis. He needs a home, and someone to mentor him until he's wise enough to make his own decisions-"

"What're you saying!?" The masked figure behind them suddenly spoke up.

"You know you can't come with me boy. The battlefield is no place for a kid, and I can't with good conscience bring you with me. Don't make this harder than it is," he paused as he regathered himself together to finish what he was going to say to John.

"Mr. Locke what I'm asking you to do is give him what I can't. Ms. Aegis is one of the kindest souls I've ever met, and you are without a doubt a man of your own virtues here in these systems. Where I have to go to ensure this doesn't happen again, the boy cannot follow. He needs instruction. He needs a proper role model and someone to look after him. He needs to be shown what kindness really is, and that there's more to this galaxy than fighting your next battle. I can't do that, but you both can," Sergei was doing his best to keep looking ahead as they walked, he didn't want to think about what he was doing. He hated being the one who had broken the kid out of his brainwashing, given him the second chance to live, and now had to leave him behind.

"My company has to get bigger. Much bigger. That means I'm going to be spending the next few months training the next batch of recruits. It will be a grueling year as I need to make it into the most effective and terrifying fighting force to ensure this, never happens again," he paused as he let that sink in, on what his next mission was. His tone had gone from one of somber remembrance, to one of barely contained seething rage. His posture got extremely firm, his hands slowly unclenching and clenching as Sergei could hardly hold back the anger at what had happened. Which was why he planned on going back out so soon. "I can't do that and keep him safe. So do I have your word that you'll take care of the boy?"

Sergei had just dropped a lot on John's plate. He knew that following the mess of Artisia, it would take a lot of time to recover. Questions would be asked, and investigations done. And that was precisely why Sergei needed every minute he could devote to getting his Wolves ready to respond to the next threat. So that instead of just being a scalpel that could be applied to a problem, they could be be a proper blade, or if necessary, a sledgehammer. There would be no more wasting time on gradual development of his men. He'd seen the evil this galaxy was capable of and he wouldn't stand by when he was more than capable of not only fighting back, but training others to do the same. The events on Artisia had awoken a demon inside Sergei, and now come hell or high water, he would be prepared for the next incident. There would be no holding back from him anymore.

But he had to have that assurance that the boy would be looked after.

As even Sergei knew every single person deserved a chance to figure out who they were.

Gianna Aegis John Locke

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Monastery [Landed - Not far from the Lotus School]
Tags: Darth Empyrean | Eira Talon [If she wishes] | [OPEN]
______________________________
​

Of all the worlds the Confederacy maintained—This was the planet she hated the most.

The clean, clear, fresh air was misleading. Everything about this place was a sweetly, gently, wrapped lie. Silvery eyes surveyed the warm skyline with a distinct sense of hate. Everything she loathed held some sort of terrifying memory. Refugees, burned, bleeding, crippled and destroyed from both Eshan and Coruscant would always linger in her mind. Watching the man she’d loved, completely, crumble beneath the pressure while his nation fell into oblivion. Most importantly—Tellu.

Tellu had died, here, among those who promised to mend her.

Srina nearly snarled while she walked down the ramp of the Ferocity, steam, still rising from the ship. She paced. A small gift burned a hole in her pocket. A series of smooth, white, burial stones that she had collected from Eshan. They were imported regularly from Hapes. It wouldn’t mean anything to anyone, but, perhaps Eira Talon. She would recognize a Harterran Moonstone. It was a sign of respect, of faith, and a promise. That in his next life—His light would be returned.

Light did not equal the “Light” side of the Force. It was a euphemism. To restore the spark.

Srina hated Monastery. For such a beloved Sanctuary, it took, and took, and now it announced that Kyyrk had been taken too. He hadn’t died here. Essentially, it was an extreme case of shooting the messenger. Atrisia was the murderer. Monastery, was the messenger.

The Exarch tended to shoot the messenger. Why? Because, it sent a message.

A familiar presence caused some of her ire to cool. Srina had called for her younger sister to see if she wanted to accompany the rest of the Confederacy, however, it was a potentially dour situation. She wasn’t certain if Eira would want to participate. Especially, not since Srina had essentially forced her into quarantine. Darth Empyrean , though not fully recovered, had assured her that he was fit for the trip. He was certainly better than he was.

Still. Srina questioned the veracity of his claims. Fine, fine he said.

Was he really?

Her irritation seemed to erode while he came to stand beside her. The Exarch let her jaw set tight while her frustration boiled over, nearly, causing her to break. Her abilities were unstable when it felt like a storm was brewing inside. Silver eyes seemed to have their own light while the dark gray edges of her iris started to fray, showing gold, and with it—Her true nature.

She was Sith. Monastery, was designed to kill her. She really, really, hated this planet.

Silence reigned between herself and Darth Maliphant before she carefully let her anger drain. It was slow. The anger hid her sadness. She needed it to survive. The body that she had come to say farewell to no longer housed the Miralukan man she had known. He had been one of the first to challenge her, though, he was also one of the first to support her. He spoke when he needed to. He was loyal. Strong. What she came to say goodnight, and farewell, she would be releasing a collection of elements that made a corpse. Oxygen. Carbon. Hydrogen. Nitrogen. Calcium. Phosphorus. It was just a body. It wasn’t Voph. Just like it hadn’t been Tellu.

If that remained true, why then, did it matter so much?

The Exarch signed when she realized she’d been staring daggers into nothingness while Maliphant waited patiently for her to come to grips with whatever it was that left her aura entirely out of sorts. Mercurial eyes swept the ground, while darker lashes dusted against overly pale cheeks, and a forbidden admission poured from pale pink lips. It was soft. Near silent, but the white-haired man would hear her all the same. Why was she truly so incensed?

“…He was my friend…”

______________________________

​

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

{ Location: Outside the Lotus School }
{ Wearing: This }
{ Tag: Kyyrk + open }
{ Post: 01 }​

~ † ~​

Sven's Boarding Home had been rented out by the Confederacy and repurposed by the local Mauriussian government into a refugee shelter. Ever since, the inn had been bursting at the seams. Accommodating the influx of afflicted from Atrisia, wounded either physically or emotionally, sometimes both, was proving hard enough for the School; temporarily rehoming and caring for the rest not gripped by such medical crises, displaced or missing loved ones courtesy of the Virus - still an overwhelming number - was a like challenge. But that wasn't the reason she had yet to enter Voph's wake.

To the contrary, actually. Her fellow volunteers had more than understood and, with them, she secured time enough to slip away towards to Lotus School. Then she had made her way, inappropriately dressed of work, stained in sweat and tears and a little blood, almost all not her own, about ninety percent of the way. A liquid burning up her throat stopped her at the base of the temple.

And thus began the hardest battle she had ever partaken. Verily, she tried, but every move made up the steps sent her retreating again to solid ground. The world spun as if she had been drowning her sorrows at a local bar rather than the newest shelter. Her memory, though fully restored, didn't yet make the sense it had before he had taken it, but, if one thing still meant the same to her as it did that fateful day on Coruscant, it was how she felt about Voph.

Something like fear or guilt told Prennis to flee, not even back to Sven's, but offplanet. Neither could she do. Both attending the funeral and then returning to the refugees would be the beginnings of this new chapter. Would encourage her to move on, down the trying new path before her.

In spite of the bile threatening to escape already, she began her assent. After the first few steps, it got easier. Soon enough, she stood on the landing, pushing her way into the main hall.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Maliphant moved slow, ever so barely behind the Dread Queen as they moved about. The wounds he carried were not entirely healed - but he had made due, driving himself onwards through the means of the Force to keep with Srina. She needed him more than he needed to rest, and knew more than ever she needed him with her.​

​

Another loss, and even if she hadn’t spoken anything of it yet - she had grown so slightly closed off, hidden behind that wall of dark anger she brought up whenever the cruelty of the galaxy decided to rear its head. She wanted to kill, though what exactly she had in mind slipped by Maliphant, and the most she seemed to offer was righteous, unfocused anger focused somewhere in the vacuum.​

​

She came to a standstill not far from him, and her hands nervously twisted about the burial stones she had brought. Amidst all the quiet, he heard her speak; painful and forced, but something she couldn’t hold back any longer.​

​

Maliphant quietly wrapped his arms around her, and whispered back -​

​

“I know.”​

​

It was all he could offer. The grief she felt was not something he could take from her - as much as he wanted to. Perhaps he wasn’t close with this ‘Voph’, but he could be empathetic to the strain it had put on the Dread Queen; and through her, he would feel sadness - expressed in his own way. More than anything, he had to try and help her - whatever way he could.​

​

As he slowly let the hug loosen at her pace, he stood to the side and hid the physical pain his wound still gave him - waiting for Srina to be ready to go inside.​

​

Srina Talon​