I Hold Myself in Contempt

[Keira Priest]

Music

Socorro​

-​

"Speaking of wagyx, I should walk behind you more often...Better view than the desert, that's for sure..." - Julius to Keira, upon the latter's insult.​

To say it had been awhile seemed too cliche a phrase to describe just how long it had been since the two had crossed paths, but it was adequate enough. Their relationship had begun and been over in the same flash of light, leaving both parties little time to process much else other than the fact that something had happened, and that it was a very influential something at that. Now that a few years had passed since their meeting, that flash of light had faded to a dim ember. And for some reason, now it was revived. Of course, things were never that simple, and this was no different. She had felt something in the Force, a sharp prick at her subconscious that spoke of a refusal to be ignored, and so she had tapped into a side of herself that was rarely ever acknowledged.

Meditation was a practice that Keira had never really bothered with, finding it to be nothing more than a waste of time. This time, however, that was what she had sought out in order to make sense out of a gut feeling she knew wasn't quite so coincidental. It had been difficult, at first, to manage anything resembling the inner serenity required, but she had made do. What had followed was best described as impromptu and sporadic, a stumbling haze of blurred imagery that dredged up an entirely new flood of memories, some of which she didn't recall in the least. Yet they still persisted, retaining a silent weight to them that wasn't immediately tangible but as stubborn as ever. One detail in particular stood out to her, and that was the simple ideal of home. Or what had once been so, though not for her.

It hadn't taken any further amount of soul-searching to know her destination, or who it was she sought out. By now that was glaringly obvious. No, there was simply hesitation. An odd feeling for any Corellian to experience given the numerous (often true) stereotypes attributed to the people, but one that had nearly overwhelmed her for what was the span of a few hours. Because, for once in her life, the brash, spur of the moment decision didn't seem like the best one. There was no telling how far he had moved on since they last shared each other's company, or even if he still made his home in the same corner of the galaxy. Hell, for all she knew he could have ceased to exist altogether, but she refused to believe that. She would have felt it.

Now the only sight to greet her was the blue whorl of hyperspace, and it was that she gazed into, seemingly lost in thought. In a way that was true. But mostly she was reliving the past. Suddenly she felt less and yet more old at once, recalling a time simpler and yet eons more complex than the present, a phantom pain flaring up in her left knee as if it had never really departed in the first place. Just like that, she knew this decision was right and wrong wrapped up in one, as had been the case for their interaction in the first place. This might not have been home she was heading towards, but it sure felt like it. Mayhaps that said something for the one she was seeking out in the first place.

Once the landing gear of the ship settled in the dirt she took a breath, releasing it slowly between her teeth as a sort of sigh. Well, there was no going back now. Pushing herself to her feet she absently palmed her lightsaber, hooking it at her waist and tugging at the lapel of her leather jacket. Booted feet scuffed slightly on the ground, landing ramp sliding up behind her, almost as if sealing her fate. Dark eyes scanned the horizon before she stepped forward, one hand reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket in order to thumb the dogeared corner of the intricately drawn Idiot sabacc card. He was here, somewhere. By all Nine Hells, Sedaire.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Training. It had consumed him since returning to the Alliance. Always, he was one of the best with the blade. From a Youngling with the Republic, to a Knight with the Fel Imperium, the word 'Prodigy' was whispered and bandied about where they thought the cocky young Corelisi couldn't hear it being said. But he had, and even despite his humble dogged mindset, he had let it affect him. But there was another level he was approaching after returning to Sullust. After the events at Coruscant, and after a dozen other small engagements. Something had brightened and bloomed in the Green Jedi, a purpose forged anew.

Growing up, some might call it, as they observed his more careful decisions and mannerisms. But they never caught him sneaking out to the cantina late at night for a drink, to woo a waitress, play sabaac or start a bar brawl. Regardless of what the others around him saw, at his core he was still the saber-jockey he had always been, even if they didn't know him as that. General, Master, and some in the League even called him 'Commander' or 'Commandant'... He refused all titles, even that of Jedi - even that one still made him uncomfortable. He was just as he was, and no fancy words were needed to describe that.

Close to half a dozen lightsaber droid were weaving around the shirtless man as he spun a lightsaber pike with a brilliant violet blade in wide then tight arcs, twisting and contorting his body in impossible curves and bends through a mastery of Inertia few bothered with. A handful of probe droids fired mercilessly at him, and yet in the dozen or so enemies, he moved and flowed, feet bare to the black sands of his home-from-home, wielding his saber like a figure out of legend. Sweat poured, and his breath heaved in and out from ragged hitches.

Scars old enough to be faded and bright white in the tan skin, to still pink and puckered, with a nasty bandage over his left shoulder showing it still be bleeding, covered his body next to old tattoos in various styles, the one soldiering habit he had embraced. Every cause he had served was inked on his flesh, from the Fel Imperium and its' Knights to the New & Republic Jedi Order, and the Mandalorian clan he was almost adopted into. His eyes were narrowed in fury, black Corellian cut trousers flashing in the loose sand as he whirled in a blur, his feet suddenly hitching off the ground as he charged forward and rammed a purple bade set to stun into the droid, which fell over idle.

Speed blurring and whirling the blade, in a moments space he stood panting at the end, the droids deactivated.Twirling it up around and behind him he caught it in his off hand and it shrank with a shruck noise into a single hand, and was dropped to a bench near the hab he called his, grabbing a canteen full of water and chugging greedily as he plopped the canteen back down and turned to observe the sun setting on the horizon. There was not a chance of not feeling her presence, but he remained silent for a moment, still and unsure... Meeting her again, speaking again, had been bid adieu long ago. Even in his other lives where they had been closer, their history together was dangerous and painful. No matter the timeline.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4dewi7Ur9Q

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Moar music

This time there was no true acknowledgement of the other's presence, instead merely a shared knowledge that the both of them were present and within the same vicinity. It was as if the both of them were back to step one all over again, feeling each other out with no real idea as to how this would proceed. However, there was a distinct lack of any sort of conversation starter in the form of a drink sent her way, and an absence of the bar that had ushered forth their first meeting altogether. Instead there was just the planet where the two had truly begun to understand each other, and a number of years that separated that moment from the present.

Still, even despite these distinctions it wouldn't do to keep him waiting, and so she began to walk, holding his singular presence as her beacon. His strength had grown, that much anyone could inherently sense, the power he commanded now rivaling her own. There was something more beneath the surface, evident to her perhaps because she had experienced it herself, and it was that he finally seemed to have grown into who he was and accepted the reality of never quite fitting in. It was true of most who didn't subscribe to the classical dogma the majority of the galaxy held Force sensitives in, doubly so for those that always toed the line. For those like them.

His disappearance was still something she recalled with perfect clarity. There had been a moment or two of overwhelming chaos, and then silence where once his existence had ebbed and flowed in the galaxy as they knew it. And that had been the end of things, for too long a time. All had been silent, as if he had never really been alive in the first place. Moving on had come as naturally as anything, and soon enough she had mostly forgotten about the wayward Green Jedi that reminded her a bit too much of what she could have been, had life been kinder.

The return had been different. There had been nothing of note that told her of his eventual step into the galaxy again, but now she chalked that up to the fact that her life recently had been filled with enough chaos for the both of them. Now that things had at the very least momentarily settled, she was granted the opportunity to either sever or reforge an old bond that had been crudely formed in the first place. It only seemed fitting that she once again found herself aligned with the dark when that chance arose. That was more than symbolic of their relationship than perhaps anything else, though the exact meaning was lost on the both of them.

Her steps slowed as he finally came into sight, but she forced herself to continue onwards. Progress halted in full once they stood but a few feet from each other, nothing offered in greeting for those first few moments. She merely looked him over in order to do nothing more than assess his well-being, offering a slight smile. It had been too long. "Cjaalysce'l."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The voice... One he had laughed to hear at first speaking all that time ago. It still was the same one, but perhaps a little more weary and burdened with purpose, or duty. A tug he knew and felt all too well. The Darkness was still around her, that he could sense as plain as day. While this time, the Light shown a little more fitfully in him, a stronger shift towards it, but still with an inner balance that was better attained than the last time. Vapaad, and[member="Darron Wraith"]s teachings were helpful in showing him the first steps of the path he must tow. Of how to walk that fine line between things... That, and his study in things like "Form Zero" and deeper philosophies had molded his mind as much or more than the muscles of his body even.

Slowly, he turned and nodded to his old friend... Once, in their first few hours together, he had felt a spark for this woman... But now? Who could say, or tell? Who could love a man who didn't know what was real half the time? Whos' mind was jumbled across nearly half a dozen lifetimes in fragments, from his own arrogance. The Monks had warned him it was never the alignment of the Force that corrupted and unhinged, but rather the base emotions and actions. Use of the Dark Side, as Jedi and Sith called it, was not in and of itself inherently evil. The dogma had it twisted. It was the emotions and intentions, and application of that power. The Force itself was neutral, and the actions of the practitioner is what turned it and twisted it.

What did he say now to someone he had thought about probably too often for such little time together? If he had felt her on occasion across the distances they had parted, then surely one like her had felt it too. What it must have been like to feel him disappear when the accident had occurred in the Outback. What it must feel like no was anybodys' guess with how jumbled his mind could get at times. But regardless, now wasn't the time for blame and pointed fingers, but perhaps more the time for making up for lost time. What might have been, what was in other realms and lives... None of that mattered, and so he put aside the memories and potentiate. For now.

"Via Sanchec.... Figured i'd see you someday... Just couldn't stay away, could you? It's my dance moves, isn't it?"

The humor was there, but a little weak and fitful, as if strained and forced for her benefit. And looking at her, his eyes had a haunted reflection of sorts.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzvasAJIHb4

 

[Keira Priest]

Even moar music

Why was it that someone she had only known fleetingly could feel like something so close to home? It hardly seemed fair, and yet for some reason Keira was perfectly content with it. To survive in such a cruel galaxy every individual needed at least one other whose presence was intrinsically calming, and she had three: her husband, a rogue she considered to be her closest friend, and a man she had known but for a handful of hours. There was something to be said for Corellians in that moment, or maybe that was just her, after everything she'd been through in thirty-one years of life. At this point it was hard telling just what was responsible for her attitude and outlook anymore.

One thing she was certain of was that she had missed him. By all Nine Hells she had missed him, and there wasn't a feasible reason for it in the least. They had shared but a small portion of words and experiences in those few hours knowing each other, and yet for some reason she felt as if he was one she had known her entire life. That was why it had hurt so much when he disappeared, why she had felt that void of his presence so wholly and purely. The two of them were connected in a way most found nigh impossible, and yet they had managed it in the span of less than a day. That for a fact could be chalked up to one thing: Corellians.

When he spoke to her in their shared language she was given pause at hearing the syllables fall from his lips, and at his weak attempt at humor a small, wistful smile fluttered across her features. Still with that same nickname, persistent as ever, though his lightheartedness fell flat as they both knew it was forced. "You don't need the mask with me." Words once spoken to her in what felt like another lifetime. It seemed appropriate that they be echoed here, with one who was putting on just as much of a false face in order to keep up appearances, when he knew full well she could sense every nuance beneath the surface.

"I've half a mind to see just how well your dance moves have improved before this is all said and done." Almost tentatively she took a few steps forward, bridging the gap between them just a bit further. There was a willingness to move forward lingering there just beneath the surface, a want to leave the past behind while at the same time knowing that was impossible given just who they were. "You can stop the act, you know. I thought we'd passed that point already." Had they? It was hard to tell when it felt as if they had known each other for a lifetime in all but two or three hours. "You know you can talk to me."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8NmFrRE1qI

There wasn't pain in his eyes that crumpled him inward. Nor was there a flash of painful regret when his eyes flashed over hers for the first time. A period of weakness and hesitation, as if something were actively resisted. An impulse, a desire, a thought. What it was was never spoken of again, but in that time his presence, his aura in the Force, seemed to expand and shift, pure Chaos. From love to hate to anguish to peace and back again, hardly staying in one dimension of emotion before flickering to another. The lightsaber seemed to faintly hum in response, and he sighed and leaned a bit on the table as he finally faced her and shook his head. Couldn't avoid it now. No matter what life, she had always been thus to him.

No words were spoken, no sounds uttered, not yet. There was too much chaos in his mind, flickering across his state of being. Too much that changed too rapidly. Even a talented empath like Mara would struggle to suss out what was going on with him. Hell spiraled behind his eyes, and his sanity rode with it for a moment. Not Darkness, or evil, or anything of that sort. Just a slowly collapsing internal struggle. Doing what he had done in the Outback had merged several possible lifetimes and timelines into his memories... Some days, more often than not, he was able to keep himself anchored and forward, in this reality. But certain places, or people... They splintered his control. And it would seem that Keira was one of them. A moments more and he grabbed the canteen, feeling the world swim and he drank greedily, water trickling and sploshing down the tattoo across his chest that bore an old and now died off Mandalorian Clan sigil.

Just who am I anymore?

The question rang in his mind as he walked past Keira, patting her shoulder with a touch that lingered a moment with not a hint of awkwardness for the Green Jedi. Maybe there was for her, but in his mind he had done the act so many times it was casual and without thought or pause. It rested on an old wound, one he knew not many knew about, and pained her sometimes when memories or the weather turned cold. In another life, that touch was his way of saying he knew her pain, and wasn't afraid of it. He had used it to break her shell. There had been similar little things from her, but Julius doubted she would remember. Nothing real had ever come of their... friendship, was the word he supposed.

With the same easy gait, he walked into the open door of his hab, one she had been in once before, and quietly set out two shotglasses and a bottle of the best whiskey he could find.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Feels

Something in his eyes flickered seconds before his aura transmitted the same, and although she was far from capable of reading into other's emotions like a true empath, it wasn't difficult to sense the inherent chaos that emanated with him as the epicenter. There was no hint of malice from him, no indication of her presence not being welcome. If anything that momentary lapse only seemed to solidify something about their bond, making evident that to each other they were one of few people to be fully trusted or regarded as any sort of confidant. Even if their conversation rarely every transpired vocally, there was more to be said in silence than most ever recognized, and they had all but perfected such an art of communication.

His touch on her shoulder seemed to linger even after he had walked on, and for a moment she didn't regard it as anything other than another offhand gesture made by a man she was strangely close to despite a lack of time spent together. That is, until she remembered just where his hand had rested, and the old wound it had been placed directly upon. It could have been a coincidence, but between the two nothing of the sort rarely existed. No, the movement on his part had been intentional in its placement though casual in the gesture itself, as if it came second-nature. It spoke of a knowing, a certainty that unnerved her when it shouldn't have meant anything other than another facet of the oddity of their relationship.

She still remembered the day she had received the scar, that same pain resurfacing as if it had never really left in the first place. And then she was lost in the past, transported back to a time that felt as if it was eons ago but had really only been nineteen or so years. It had been a relatively quiet night at one of her usual haunts, nothing of note taking place. At that point it was getting late, and she was about ready to call a hovertaxi and begin her journey home across town. She was high, of course, flying on the commodity that was spice, not a difficult substance to obtain as a child of the criminal underworld. And perhaps that was why she still didn't recall the specific details, even to this day.

All that could be said was that somewhere along the line all the wrong people had gotten involved, and she had wound up making too friendly contact with a knife. There had been a fear of losing her arm at first, but as it happened the lasting damage wouldn't be entirely too extensive. Still, every once in awhile pain had flared up for months after the incident, as if the blade had never left her flesh. Eventually it had passed, only rearing its head on occasion. More than that, it was something no one knew about. Not even her husband was quite aware of just how she had gotten that particular scar. And there was no reason Julius should have been aware of its existence in the first place.

Wordlessly she followed him into the hab, paying little attention to details and decoration that she was intimately familiar with despite having only been there once. "Julius." Only a name, yet it held all the questions, all of the things she wanted to say but couldn't. Everything that had crossed her mind since his disappearance was wrapped up in those three syllables. And somehow it resonated with another word in her vocabulary, one that hadn't been truly applied in ages. Home.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

It was something simple that she said, a quiet word, and a minor one.. But across the streams of time it had been said by the voice so many times that for a moment reality spun. Passion, rage, grief, and a dozen other memories flooded his mind, and only with a grit of his teeth that likely looked supremely odd did he regain control of himself. She always did bring out both the best and worst in him, this woman. With a steadying breath, he smacked the counter near the over-turned shotglasses, made of simple durasteel etched with a logo of a CorSec company long go. Cal had left them here, sometime after his reemergence.

Each one rather expertly landed on it's bottom, and he grabed the bottle, biting the cork and spitting it to the trash, pouring two heavy handed sloshes of a whiskey that smelled like pleasantly burnt herbs and the fertile earth of a farm, a dark amber in color. He had made this, hadn't even bothered to try and sell it yet, and the vintage surpassed most everyone. Those on Galtea had taught him very well the craft of being a Master Distiller, and he was very proud of this particular product. A right hand gestured to her as he grabbed his and raised it to the sky, waiting for hers in an obvious gesture of a toast, though to what wasn't clear until moments later, as a haggard voice spoke out.

"To the best and the worst. No matter the lives, no matter the distance, we orbit one another as planets circling a sun, forever passing one another but never closer than desires longing. Al Larel perti prehe Uhl lum de tal, Il memor nur Ehin Uhl nuanc de lunvril."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvTwBk82_Ws

 

[Keira Priest]

Music

There were no words that could properly respond to all that had been said in such a short span of time, whether in Basic or the language they shared and flowed between so easily. What had been spoken seemed to transcend beyond the realm of any argot, and all Keira could do for the moment was clink her shotglass against his own, knocking back the alcohol. The burn was slow and warm as it spread through her chest, and it was that she savored for a few moments, not quite seeming to acknowledge what he had said. In all truth she had, those words resonating deeply with her, it was just that there wasn't anything she could say that would mend that rift. At least, not entirely. As he had said, the two were always meant to be separate somehow, their orbits never quite intersecting.

Her gaze never quite fully met his, dark eyes glancing to blue but not meeting long enough to communicate anything through a look. Even still the sensation of that gentle touch across her shoulder persisted, her hand tightening about the shotglass. The muscles of her jaw ticced just slightly, those being the only signs of the emotion washing over her reminiscent of a tidal wave. For her that switch of feeling was either turned on or flipped off entirely, there rarely being an in-between. Except it seemed she had found one with him, and that alone spoke volumes. In some ways he was her safe haven even if he shouldn't have been, one of few things she could return to without fear of judgement.

"Julius, I..." Her voice was quiet, only a handful of decibels above a murmur, her gaze more focused on the counter rather than his face. Expressing herself was where she had always fallen short, a strange Achilles' heel that she always found impossible to mend entirely. But it was different with him, a sort of different that transcended even that experienced with those she was closest to. They both played by a different set of rules, abiding by unspoken guidelines that were ever-shifting. And right now those lines drawn in the sand had been erased yet another time over. "I can't be a hero without you."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The glasses were filled as soon as they were empty, and Julius knocked back the second shot with a ragged breath. He wasn't really sure how to respond, or what to say. Known all over amongst enemies and friends alike for quips and quibbles in the midst of a life or death fight, the Jedi was silenced for once. Couldn't be a hero? Without him? His bad decisions and poor thoughts had led to hundreds of deaths across each existence. Some more and some less, but in every life he was haunted by the knowledge that he was not enough to live up to the destiny he felt beckoning. The Monks would chastise him, they had done all they could to teach him of the rock and the ripple, as he called the philosophy. Of cause and effect, really. But here was someone saying they needed him?

Shaking his head, he wiped the sweat from his brow, stubble lightly coating his face. There were a few new scars here and there, ones he bore in training. And all between the tattoos stretched and curled a vine like set of lines, covering every free inch in spirals and curves that glinted almost like metal under his skin. In normal clothing they wouldn't have shown, but stripped down to trousers as he was for training, the artistry was evident. Tracing a finger along the Mandalorian clan symbol, his eyes glittered with amusement as he remembered the night he had walked drunkenly into a Nar Shaddian cantina with a tattoo shop above and declare what he wished inked, to the roars of the men in beskar'gam with him.

"I didn't think you had a word for hero... But there's nothing stopping you... Not even I can hold you back... In every life, you've never needed me to be. Just to convince you that you were. This one is no different. I suspect you've managed just fine..."

A third shot poured for himself, this one he cradled in his hand and stared into, as if from the depths answers might come. Empathy was not an acute strength of his, but he had some skill in it. She was just a shade hesitant, withdrawn and weary. Hiding something. Instinct told him it was as some of his other 'memories' showed, that she had found another in this life when he had left. Which he could hardly blame her for, really. But the possibility, and acceptance of that possibility, hit him like a ton of bricks. Were it not for a mean stubborn streak, he might have even sagged a bit in posture. If ever there were a good time to drink, the songs would agree now was just such a time.

"The only one who needs the other is me... I've no compass... No rudder... No direction and no principles. Everyone and everything is as it was without me. I have lost a son, family, lover. What purpose is there to a warrior without a cause to fight for?"

[member="Keira Ticon"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72oJGTPSWIM

 

[Keira Priest]

Music

Just as he had done Keira opted to empty her glass a second time rather than offer her thoughts on the matter just yet, letting it rest on the countertop. Conversation seemed to come a touch easier, or at least he was able to say more than two or three words to her at a time. Maybe it was a sign that they were becoming comfortable in each other's company again, or perhaps it was two strangers relearning what it meant to know the other. "I'm not just Mandalorian. My blood runs just as green as yours." There was a difference between being born into a culture and simply adopting one, and while she knew full well that she may well have been born vode for all her people cared, she was and always would be Corellian at heart.

"You're right, we don't have a word for it." That sort of action was expected from any who dared to take up the mantle as Mandalorian. There was a reason being dubbed a coward was held in the worst regard by most: it just wasn't in their blood. They were a warrior people, and fighting was what they lived for. That brought to mind just what it meant now that she had begun to tire of the war. "The Mandalorians might not have a word for hero, but the bloodstripes exist for a reason. But I've never fit that ideal, anyway. That's not who I am. It's better suited for someone like you." Her tone brooked no argument. Whether he agreed or not, she saw him as the better version of herself, the Jedi she could never be. Mayhaps that was why they were always destined to be in each other's lives, one way or another.

All that he said struck a chord somewhere within her, as she had once felt the same. There had been a few times she was left with no purpose or direction in the galaxy, forced to pick up the pieces from rock bottom and fit them all back together somehow in some semblance of order. It was a feeling she knew all too well, and perhaps that was why the quiet sigh passed her lips at his final inquiry. "I've been fighting for twelve years. A lot of those wars haven't been my own, waged in the name of some power I couldn't care less about. In a way, I haven't had a cause for the majority of my life." Finally she looked to him directly. "You don't need to pledge yourself to anything great or monumental. The cause doesn't make the warrior. The ability to pick up and move forward does."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Shake of the head. He heard clearly his teacher amongst the monks.. Well, heard wasn't quite right for how one communicated with the Aing-Tii, but it was the best way he could explain it to others when describing it. The gentle, almost suffering patience of a parent. Whenever Julius was stubborn, Anciro was the one the sent. The one who could reach the mercurial Green Jedi. Maybe all of his lessons hadn't stuck, but one had, and in garbled form he tried to relate it now. The definition of a hero, of the quest, of purpose and drive. It was hard to communicate the lesson verbally. But he would try best as he might, for her sake.

"This is where our views on warriors and their purpose diverge. To me, and disagreement is fine, a warrior is not simply a blade and a kill. Any weapon only gains worth, and any warrior by extension, in the way that they are wielded. In their purpose. Morality as you and others know is a non-factor in this. It only matters that they follow what they view as correct. Their destiny, if you will. The Monks taught me this much... You and I could spend years debating it whilst we grow old. And never would we agree. Understand, maybe, but not agree. Not once in a dozen lives... In other places, we have had these debates, so trust me."

The shotglass sat idle for a second, and he heaved a sigh. His tongue and mouth had ran ahead of his brain. So far, only Darron really knew what had happened in his mind during the accident. Mara, he knew, suspected. And if he ever spent any time around the Rekalis, specifically [member="Alec Rekali"], she could probably figure it out. Anyone with talents in the temporal sectors of the Force and reality could sense the odd flucuations in his aura. Not quite as odd as Alec, but something different than the normal. Looking at her he waited for the inevitable, breathing deeply and raggedly, thinking and considering. And deciding to do what their relationship had always done. Not to misdirect, or conceal... But to just be honest. If she wished to know, she would ask.

"Well... Maybe in a few of them we agreed.... But never completely. Not really. In the one we came the closest to doing so, complete agreement would have killed the kids."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHkozMIXZ8w

 

[Keira Priest]

Music

It all came crashing down at once, the sheer weight of the truth he hadn't admitted to her until that moment, the words tumbling forth almost unbidden and seemingly without thought. There had never really been true boundaries with them, merely fluctuating limits, and even those had disintegrated as time passed, baring them to each other regardless of any inherent disagreements. And those disagreements inevitably came about in philosophical discussion such as this, beginning with the way she shook her head in derision at the simple mention of 'destiny'. "Don't start on me with that 'fate' skrag. We're Corellians. We make our own, we don't let it be decided for us. I know you haven't become that much of a Jedi."

The words put forth were intended in part to respond to what he had said, but also to give her time to process everything else. Where were you supposed to begin when a man you felt you'd known for a lifetime in the span of a few hours began spouting off about past lives and children together? If one thing was clear it was that she was far too sober to even begin considering such a thing, but it would do no good to look on all of this with a mind riddled with intoxicants either. "I need you to take a few steps back and explain just what in all Nine Hells you're talking about." To her credit her tone was far more even than she had anticipated, though there was something simmering beneath the surface. Then again, that was always the case with her, and the two of them.

Her hand reached for the inside pocket of her leather jacket for the typically present pack of cigarettes, only to find it absent. Instead her fingers traced along the edge of a worn playing card, and instead of withdrawing she pulled it out, laying it down on the counter with the intricate drawing face-up. No matter how convoluted his mind was with all the past lives floating around within, there was no doubt that he would remember this and the significance it held. It was the only piece of him she had been able to hold onto since his disappearance, the one thing that had made her think that he was alive somewhere even when most would have insisted otherwise. "You can't just say things like that and move on, Sedaire. That's not how this works."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

There was a hesitation, a tremor in his jaw and arm. Suddenly it was as if he were nervous. Something, a memory or a choice he was anticipating. Her words rang within an often unexplored part of his mind. Memories he tried to keep buried, hidden and suppressed. Reaching out, he placed his hand gingerly on top of hers, the tremors still evident in the calloused grip. Patting her hand, he drew in a deep breath and shook his head, sweat dried hair shaking down into blue-grey eyes. The harsh light from the hab bulbs overhead, the sun, and the shadows from where he stood highlighted his jaw and eyes like a classical sculpture for a moment. Determination sat in in that moment.

"I can show you, rather than tell you... If you trust me.... During my time with the Monks, I learned abilities and such from them. One of them allows me to show others my memories and the future. Or explore it myself. I was in an accident whilst meditating on the future, and I glimpsed the pure time-stream itself. A dozen possible lives all burnt into my mind, oft times unable to separate which is real and which is a possible future."

His hand remained, and he looked at the whiskey bottle for a moment. Then, as if thinking better of it, he shook his head and did nothing. Waiting for her response and ideas. No forcing of the process on him, but he would gladly. Whether she wished to know or not, no matter his wishes, he would make it so she would understand. This was just the easiest way he could think of to explain what he saw and knew. What burned in his brain and soul. What killed his soul and drive to live some days.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7G8QItjTSDA

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Music

Suddenly he trembled, just as encumbered by the burden of this all as she was, and even more so given it was one he'd been bearing for Force only knew how long. The distinct gentle touch that settled to rest on top of her own hand surprised her and yet was an entirely natural thing all at once. The roughness of his hands matched that of her single organic limb, the underside having grown callous while her knuckles were crisscrossed with scars from years of brawls. This moment was telling, as Keira rarely let anyone get so close to her without immediate retaliation. That he was able to lay a hand on her to boot meant something even more. She was comfortable with him, in a way only two others before him had achieved for any long-standing period of time.

As the explanation poured forth she listened, all of it making a fraction more sense. She hadn't been able to feel his presence because it had been scattered, in some way, throughout these lives he had living in his head. There had been no concrete remainder of who he was because there was nothing to remain. That is, until he gained better control and a grasp on who he was. At this moment his distinct aura was present and had been, and it was something she took comfort in enough with its fractures and rifts. It was so uniquely him that there was no other way to describe it, at once whole and cracked in key places but still held together seemingly by sheer will and determination some days. It struck a chord with her, because it so closely resembled her own.

There were a few minutes where she seemed to deeply consider the choice he had presented her with, mulling over the pros and cons of such an action while in reality having long since passed the point of deliberation. In her mind there was no other option. It was best to know, and some part of her felt like she did already. This would just be the completely removing of the wool from her eyes. Slowly her fingers intertwined with his own, two simple syllables passing her lips, "Show me."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Without any delay, he reached out to touch her cheek, the contact almost perfunctory. There was a sort of shimmer to the air, a heat haze... And then they could see copies of themselves, but aged a few years less. There was also two rather smaller forms, roughly the size and shape of five-year-olds. Their faces seemed to shift and warp, as if in constant flux, but they were in the midst of arguing over who would get to go with Julius on his next trip to visit an 'Uncle Stali', possibly referring to @Meeristali Paerdun. The only indication beyond their voices that they were speaking of Julius was the one pointing to him while talking about 'Dad'.

Watching, Julius smiled, shaking his head as the vision-Keira watched from the sidelines, almost like a referee at a ball game. Amusement and the need to be authoritative warred in the younger Mandalorians eyes. Julius watched the scene play out, utilizing the Force to not quite Flow-Walk as many would know it... This was similar, but was also different... It was using the theory and technique behind the teachings of the Monks to bring to life a memory, of sorts. One of the possible timelines that had been seared into his mind during his accident. The vision played on, younger Julius behind a counter with rolled up sleeves, seated on a stool and overlooking several dataslates showing locations on Corellia.

The present Julius spoke, his contact maintained for the moment. The scene around them seemed to jump and pop like an old holovid on a faulty projector.

"This is one of the dozen or so... It is one of the most fragmented and spotty, and therefore to me what I believe to be one of the least likely alternate timelines... But it is one of the more pleasant ones..."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Music

Back in reality her hand tightened just slightly around his own, everything the both of them knew fading away to be replaced by a false world that wasn't as out of reach as it seemed. This here was the life Keira had always wanted, one seemingly out of the way of everything, tucked into an out of the way alcove with her family where they could simply live their lives. After a lifetime of playing things out on this or that major galactic stage she wished for nothing more than a quiet, nondescript life. It brought about some kind of comfort to know she had achieved it somewhere, even if this wasn't reality as most would see it. All of it was real enough to the two of them, and in that moment that was all that mattered.

To hear one of the children - their children - call him 'dad' was somehow a natural thing, perhaps because this sort of future hadn't really been all that far away from them, at one point. Back when they had first crossed paths, ending up like this had been just as probable as sitting together in his hab on Socorro, reflecting on what could have been. This felt right, even more so than her current reality in some facets, and it ached to know she could never really have something like this where she stood now. The choice had been made far too many times over for her, the life of a warrior persisting no matter how much she wanted something as peaceful and easygoing as this. It wasn't to be, and she hated that.

Once the kids ceased in their bickering, she looked to him where they stood as outsiders peering in on their own lives. "They take after you, you know." Something that was natural to say, a remark that had no doubt been spoken one too many times in other lives. She looked over the scene before him, her smile soft and sad around the edges. "This is what I would have wanted."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]