Strong arms wrapped around her form, clad in soft,
pale-grey fabric. It was the shade of washed-out slate. Brittle. The typically emotionless woman found herself leaning gently back against the wall of the Sith Lord’s chest. Not enough to apply any real pressure, but enough, that he would know the truth of the admission. So very few words spoken—But they were stained through and through with quiet and uncharacteristic vulnerability. It was an obvious chink in her armor. The Dread Queen had no weaknesses. She was unmovable. Unbreakable.
Srina and the Dread Queen were not the same. Srina, could be injured. Srina, could be broken.
Imagining Voph laying still, deathly cold, and empty caused injury. Her anger was a response to that pain. The empty, sinking, cold feeling that made her feel nauseated. A soft breeze pulled at her hair and her chin fell low. She didn’t tear her eyes from the grassy knolls that lay before them.
It wasn’t fair. Why did worlds still turn, why did people go on about their days, keep moving, when it felt like the heavens were on fire? Did they not see it? First, Tellu. Ginny. Valina. Aryn. Her child. Her niece. And now—
This?
How was she meant to keep it contained?
How was she meant to keep breathing when it felt like her chest was made of shattered glass every time she inhaled?
Maliphant knew. Of course, he knew.
He didn’t seem to have a drop of Echani blood in his system, but, he knew her. Perhaps he was simply more observant than the rest of the world. Srina couldn’t tell. But, she had long ago learned to accept it.
She remained close, even after he released her, expression devoid of all things. The momentary blips of emotion were all she could afford in such a public venue. No one else could see. No one else could know. Srina had to keep her head held high. She had to be strong, always, because the Confederacy required it. Eshan was beyond her reach. Beyond, her. She could not be as her father was, to her own people, but she could do it here.
Srina tuned the small satchel of stones in her hand. Silly, little white moonstones.
In that moment—they meant
everything.
A lighter aura washed over her and a brief moment of peace allowed her to dig deep enough to find the strength to move forward. She could feel her sibling, always, like a second skin. She still held the thin vein of innocence that Srina had lost the moment she set foot on Coruscant so long ago. “Eira…”, she greeted the young woman, pausing only, to reach up and brush a few tendrils of wayward hair from an all too familiar face. Srina preferred it when her sister was this close.
Her apprehension was palpable. That, was why Srina would always be strong. Always.
Letting strands of silken moonlight fall from her fingers, laying neatly, over her younger siblings’ shoulder—Her face firmed. Her eyes grew hard, cold. A silent signal that it was time to make their way into the Lotus School. It was time. Time, to say farewell, safe journey, in whatever form her station would allow.
The Lotus School was easy enough to navigate. Srina had set foot here many, many times before. There weren’t many people in the Confederacy that didn’t know her face by now. She had grown used to it, even if, it presented a certain level of irritation. It was invasive. She didn’t want to speak about Atrisia nor did she wish to swim through shark-infested waters of a political kind.
She was here, only, to see her friend. For the last time.
Srina came to the hall, ensuring her advisor, and her sister were nearby. Her steel-toned eyes caused others that may have wanted to play twenty questions to give the trio a wide berth. Even if the sky started falling, suddenly, and without recourse—She would remain unmoved.
There were others here. Others, with pain, and loss that made her own pale in comparison. She could feel it echo in the Force in the same way a sound reverberated through the air. Srina swept inside the hall without a herald. No fanfare. Nothing, but sure footsteps.
“You may wait here—If you wish.”, Srina murmured to both
Darth Empyrean
and
Eira Talon. Neither had known Voph as she had. She understood the affair would be difficult. An act of empathy, but, distant.
It was an act of peering through the looking glass.
Her hand brushed against Maliphant, briefly, before it did the same to Eira. It was minuscule…But filled with layers. Affection, forbidden, and infinite understanding. Though Srina tended to miss every social cue in the land there were times when her actions set it all. Not the cold expression, not the sharp words. Voph had understood that as well as anyone.
Three women (
Kyyrk
[Councilor Daejin,
Vytal Noctura
, &
Prennis Keeoli
) stood near the somber display. She could see the outline of booted feet beneath the edge of mourning cloth. Srina had no wish to interrupt their own bereavement, and as such,
would merely offer a silent nod should they meet her eye. Off-white fabric followed her slow steps in a delicate whisper. The Exarch of the Confederacy seemed to unintentionally glide more than anything else.
The approach gave way to view the body in full.
That was all it was. Just a body. Flesh, bone, cloth, and flowers.
It felt erroneous.
Her hands clasped before her and her head bowed while a sense of wrongness permeated her senses. Behind a head of ivory, her gaze burned into the form that had been
Kyyrk
. The satchel that she’d brought the stones in felt heavy.
She did not know the most respectful way to apply them. Now that she was here—With the body? She felt small.
‘…Must we accept this, Voph? Must I?’
______________________________
