It had begun as a perfectly fine morning, Asher had been walking the forests not long before noon, the blazing sun cascading through the canopy of the Kashyyyk jungle as solitary beams of iridescent light pierced the umbral veil as Asher moved through them. His form breaking the patterns on the floor as he trespassed this long undisturbed land with his presence. Yet, as he did the chirping of native birds of paradise began to twist. Subtle as birds became blasters, bleating benign in the background. Asher didn't even notice at first, but belligerent. Asher would turn as the flashes that had crossed his face had become muzzle flares, supernovas sparking to life before him and tearing into existence, extinguishing life in single beams of energy which crashed into the bodies of the barely armed who opposed the Brynadul. Asher, wide-eyed would begin to shake, panic crossing him, looking down and seeing his chakram there in his hands, covered in the blood of something he was sure was living moments ago before he would look up from the weapon as one of the beasts, no more than a foot away from his face would let out a primal savage roar.
Asher would wake up with a cry, pulling at the implements that would restrain him. Rest had been uneasy in the eight months he had been at home here. But as he awoke a nurse that attended him was there to ground the panicking boy into reality. Hushed calm tones drew him in before she explained that he had another episode, asking questions like, was there anything he was doing that could spark his memories? Were you talking to someone about anything evocative? What was the lightning like where you were walking? etc. Asher would confirm that where he was going there was a lot of flickering light, and it was confirmed there and then that it was likely a photosensitive relapse. She attempted to explain how certain light patterns remind the brain of trauma and these things can happen, but they're very specific and don't happen often. A perfect storm kind of thing. Asher could only curse at his fragility, "Even the light is my enemy now?" he thought to himself as he began to dress himself back in his Jedi robes.
They'd given him medication, which meant that meditation would be all he could be capable of for the rest of the day, his senses disturbed by the medication to prevent chains of association that could potentially spiral out of control. The garden seemed like a good idea at the time, not wanting to disturb or be fawned over by others, there was usually a place or two in and around there that could be secluded. So, the boy, clad in fatigues of the silver service corps, open jacket over a slim fitting cream shirt and boots. He'd gaze over the people residing in the gardens and see that most places were taken, until doing around there was an out of sight location with a bench and a tree. There was someone there, but they appeared to be reading something for the most part. "Finally, someone has the right idea." he couldn't help but think to himself, simply approaching from an angle opposite the tree, basking in the serene calm as he would, wordlessly, take a seat crossing his legs and beginning to meditate in their presence.
All of the chatter of the order seemed so far away now, it was hard to hear over the ripple of the lake which pulled his focus onto the matter at hand. Inwardly he would reflect on his connection to the force and focus on his breathing, rhythmically through his nose and out his mouth trying to cycle it perfectly and beyond his own control. Whether she be there for moments, minutes or hours more. Asher wouldn't say a word so long as she read on the bench, not wanting to disturb her peace. When she was done however, Asher would feel the disturbance of her movements, opening an eye as he would take her in for the first time really aside from a distant glance.
"Oh, hey," He would speak in sombre tones "Thanks for being ok with sharing this spot with you... everything else here is just so loud. It's nice to get away from the business of it all. I'm Asher, Padawan i guess. It's a pleasure."
He would smile warmly, a half smile that would creep across his face, noncommittal, on guard, in case it was met with scorn or rejection. He was genuinely thankful for the most part, a little part of him hoping to reach out to someone beyond the usual circle of minders, carers and physicians would be a welcome change.
Eilara Nalle
