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I'd Never Thought I'd Have To Do This So Soon.

Jaxton Ravos

Mindwalker of the Outer Rim
Writer
It had been a rough past couple of days, truth be told. Jaxton wasn't the best of friends with Asha Seren, but he respected her, what she had done for Daux, and how well she had trained her two apprentices Jericho and Thurion. Not to mention joining him in this expedition, this Silent Crusade against the onslaught of the major powers. When she had left a week or so ago to talk to speak with her husband Jax had wished her the best, as did several others, but he hadn't expected to feel her presence in the Force extinguished, from such a distance, so far away. Jaxton and the others worked their contacts around Coruscant and discovered she had been found dead, a victim of an explosion. Between the various investigations and family members back at Coruscant, Jaxton knew the Conclave was never going to find a body, and thus he didn't press.

So outside the Temple at Teth, Jaxton had worked on making a nice graveyard, found a stone and with one of the smaller lightsabers he could scrounge up carved the woman's name into the large rock and planted it into the ground. Later he summoned the rest of the crew to the site, and they began their service of sorts.

"We're gathered here today." He began, his face noticeably distraught, as would his emotions be for the more empathic members, but not yet crying. "Well, we all know why we're gathered here today." He said, a bit shrugging as he went along. He had never held a funeral before, nor did he ever think he'd be in the situation, so he couldn't say he was prepared or ready for it. "I regret not knowing Asha as well as I could have, and certainly not as well as some of you all have." Jaxton continued, and thought of the apprentices she had brought. He couldn't think of how difficult it must have been for them. "If any of you wish to say some words on Asha Seren, on the life she lead and the lives she'd touched, I'd like to extend the floor. Anyone who wishes to speak may, and we'll continue on when everyone has said their piece."

@[member="Qae Shena"] @[member="Daux"] @[member="Thurion Heavenshield"] @[member="Jericho"] @[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Quinn Vos"] @[member="Boolon Murr"] @[member="Teynara Jeralyr"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 

Seydon of Arda

Raquor'daan
Writer
For the sombre affair, for affording young Asha Seren a modicum of proper remembrance, respect, and aggrieved thought, the lad arrived to attend. Jaxton had passed along word of the noted incident, when one morn Seroth had woken to find the temple and surrounding grounds strangely void of insect chatter and bird song. Winds blew down from the northwest, bringing a frigid gale that hummed between the branches in a mournful dirge. Despite an affinity for basic sensory expansion, touching out to disparate life forces proved too much for his blunt mind to tackle. A missive rang his comm piece: they had lost Asha Seren.

They were not welcome within the bounds of the Core Worlds. Coruscant offered too much opportunity for a guarded response by reactionary and alarmist Jedi to apprehend anyone venturing to see what precisely had occurred. There had been hints of troubled waters between herself and her estranged husband, the so-called 'noted' Tracyn Ordo. Perhaps Asha had found herself caught in a crossfire between Ordo and whatever enemies he'd earned. That he failed to see to her well being was beyond 'irksome'. Would what friends she'd earned within the Coruscant Temple halls be holding a vigil as they? The lad felt enormously small at the thought, staring upwards at an empty, grey sky...

Dressed in black slacks and tunic, buckled with silver with a mourner's cape of sackcloth tied close over his muscled shoulders, Seroth kept a still a collection of darkly violet and bronze red orchids he'd picked on the Temple outskirts. Clearing his throat, keeping to his spot in the tight circle, he spoke out a moment after Master Ravos' cue.

"She was kind, and charitable. I know not of what conspired to rob us of her presence, but I feel the Galaxy is diminished at her loss. I did not have the time nor opportunity to grow as her friend. For that, I too am diminished. She bore a teachers weight with dignity, respect, and no small amount of love. Though we must shoulder on without Master Seren, we will not forget Asha."

Seroth knelt and laid his picked orchids to the rough, mossy base of the marker stone. "If a wind blows, Asha, go on and ride it..."
 
And so he was alone again. What grievance did fate have with the poor boy, who had never hurt a soul in his life, nor would he? Another had left him, just like his parents, his brother, his friend Kära... and now it had taken Asha. Had she been there for him all these years, only to be taken away from him? She had been a mother, a master, and a friend. Nothing could ever have replaced her, and nothing ever will. It would forever carve a black hole in his heart, unable to be filled by anything but grief. Upon hearing the news of Asha's death, Thurion grew silent, and had trouble breathing. He panicked, started shaking uncontrollably, before collapsing on the floor while screaming and crying. His knuckles became bloodied and broken at him pounding the hard floor for several hours. But no Asha would pick him up to care for him, to cradle him in her bossom, to sing for him. And now, she never would ever again.

At the funeral, Thurion had been dressed in black ceremonial robes by the others, as he had no desire to even attend it, nor any desire to do anything at all. His life was now for naught, he felt. Just a few days ago he had shared with Jericho his willingness to offer up his life for Asha's, should fate choose between the two. In truth, he was furious at the fact that fate betrayed and stole from him the one he loved the most, as it had all his life. No more, he said to himself, clenching his fists. No more. The funeral began with Master Jaxton saying a few words, before letting those gathered share. What would Thurion say? What *could* he say, even? What could he possibly say to explain how his mother Asha had turned his life around completely, having found him more dead than alive at age eight? That was almost five years ago. Five years of overcoming the loss of his brother, only to be replaced by losing *her*, the one he trusted and would follow to the Abyss and back just make her smile?

Thurion could say nothing. They would not understand, nor could he speak the right words to make them understand, anyway. He instead looked up at Jaxton, shaking his head slowly as a lone tear made its way down his cheek. He would remain silent as the others spoke, and on occasion he would pay some attention to Daux' attempts to cheer him up, with her stroking against him, begging for his care and attention. But he could not muster indulging her, save for the stray pat of her head. Yet he did not look at her. He couldn't, not now. He knew she meant only well, but her attempts were all but futile. A huge thought process went on through the boy's head, about the future, the past, but most of all, the present. A flurry of feelings desperately tried to make their way to him, but he was instead left emotionless, a mere husk. He felt... he felt empty.

@[member="Daux"] @[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @[member="Jericho"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Qae Shena"] @[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Teynara Jeralyr"] @[member="Quinn Vos"] @[member="Boolon Murr"]
 

Teynara Jeralyr

Resident Sig Lord
Writer
Among the Jedi, it's said that death is an inherent part of our life's cycle, a conclusive end which never truly diminishes us, but rather returns us to the flow of the Force. As such, funerals were all treated in a manner stranger than those held by 'normal' people: as much a celebration of the cycle itself as it was the mourning of the passing of someone known and cherished. Grief was there, yes, but acceptance also, a recognition that events could not be changed, and thus had to be acknowledged, recognised for what they were.

Standing with the others gathered for the service, adorned in black robes not entirely dissimilar to those of the Force Users around her, Teynara listened to Jaxton and Seroth speak in that oddly hushed but nonetheless penetrating voice people used at funerals, as if to speak loudly or even in a normal tone might somehow be disrespectful to the dead. She couldn't admit to understanding it, but the blonde had always been fairly matter-of-factly about death. How not? To heal, you must serve life but also recognise death as a natural consequence of it. That simple morbidity had long since ceased to play a role in her life.

It paid to recognise that those standing here were no longer Jedi, too, now she reflected on it. If nothing more, Asha's death teaches us that: we grieve the way a family does for one of it's fallen kin, and we are all forced to acknowledge that we are set apart by what we experience here. It was a poignant moment, at least for her, forcing the young woman to recognise the fragility of what they were trying to build here. A splinter of a fragment of a greater whole, so delicate, and easily crushed if not balanced correctly. What could underline that point more than a death?

Grief was palpatable here, though: she could sense it through the Force. Her own feelings were reined in for a change, given tight restraint by the analytical side of her mind which encouraged her to watch the world with more objective eyes. The feelings around her...there was that potent modicum of control which spoke of past allegiance to the Jedi not quite yet relinquished for true, since that simple training remained, but there too was a clear distinction: some were simply letting the grief touch them, their sorrow clear and apparent, experienced rather than merely acknowledged and pushed aside. Feeling embraced is not the Jedi way, she thought clearly. Ironic that a ceremony reflective of death offers us new life even so.

Not all, though: one within the room felt drained of it all, exhausted in a way she knew she'd have been able to sense clear across the facility. Teynara's penchant for healing had expressed itself in some odd ways, but the one she had always found most troubling was that which displayed itself now: picking up on emotional states as they tied into their corporeal forms and ultimately offered clear impression. It's weariness there, she thought reflectively. Sadness compounded by loneliness and a gaping hole that cannot be effectively filled. Grief could hardly be better expressed.

Stepping away from the place she had chosen for herself, turning away from the ceremony for a moment, the young woman moved with graceful pace over to that vast empty hole, Human-shaped though it was, reaching out a slender hand and placing it on a firm shoulder with a soft touch, reassuring but not invasive, a gentle touch of energy passing between her palm and the air between her, making contact with the young man she had reached out to. The Force cleanses us in many ways, she thought, her pale blue eyes calm but solemn as she looked at him. He simply needs the strength to put one foot in front of the other, and move forward.

"You're not alone here, friend," she said, pitching her tone low and quiet, so as not to disturb the others, merely seeking to catch @[member="Thurion Heavenshield"]'s attention for a short moment. "It's good to grieve and recognise loss, but remember also what you still have, and that we're all here to support you when you need us," the Healer added, punctuating her remarks with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

@Dauxhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/1757-daux/ @Jaxton Ravos @Jericho @Seroth Ur-Rahn @Qae Shena @Rosa Mazhar @Quinn Vos @Boolon Murr
 

Jericho

Tenebris In Lucem
Writer
"Deep inhale, long exhale, become strong with the force, become one with the force."

The padawan sat quietly meditating alone deep within the forests of Teth, thinking to himself that one phrase allowing himself to be shrouded in the force around the area. His mind was clear, he listened to what was roaring waterfalls but from a distance was but a gentle stream under the sounds of the more closer surrounding wildlife and breeze through the trees. What Jericho was feeling was serenity, peace, and calm. As he continued to meditate, he felt the signatures of the masters and padawan around such as Jax and Thurion. A person he was more familiar and connected to his master, Asha Seren, who went to the back to the order to speak to her husband about her leave.

On that day, they did not break words with one another. In fact on that day they didn't even meet, whenever Jericho went to the forests alone he stayed out with rations for days at a time, so he could become stronger in the force. Because of that and having growing up a good deal with her, he was more in tuned with her signature than anyone elses. It helped him focus on his force abilities as he constantly like to remind him to do so and not just solely master his martial skills and physical strength. Despite not seeing he he could feel her presence no matter how far she went and admittingly it was a good feeling to have even thought he felt like he was not close enough to really call her anything other than a master.

While meditating, he felt a difference in the force around him, the signature he was so familiar to had vanished. Initially he thought that she just hid herself as she often did when they did when she trained him the art of stealth and tracking. Though strange as it was, he put little thought as to why she would do so. And so he stayed in the forests for his usual duration to train without the presence of his master, as he did with most of his free time and continued to gather the energies around him. After more time had passed without feeling her presence, he began to wonder why she kept her presence hidden.

Even so, he continued to train until he finished off the remaining of his rations and once finished he traveled back to the temple. When enter the temple, it was quiet, well more than usual anyway. There was a eerie sense around the temple as he continued to walk down it's empty halls, for a moment he looked around and continued to wonder what was going on. There was no malevolent force, no energies of the dark side, Jericho took the time to feel the energy of everyone and went to where they were gathered.

Jericho stood alone from the patio of the conclave temple watching Master Jax use a short lightsaber to write something on stone. Everyone gather around, everyone but Asha, he looked to Thurion who stood silent in black robes like everyone around being comforted by the conclave healer. This was a 'funeral' as many called it and it was for loved ones and those who were close and this was a first for Jericho. He Listened to the words of the two masters taking the head of the speech for the fallen one. A light cool wind brushed through his hair, a calm look on his face, and his arms crossed he heard the name of who the funeral was for.

A cold reality hit as her name continued to be said at the funeral, not for Jericho, but for his younger padawan. He didn't know the boy's full history nor the story behind the love between him and Asha, but what he did know there was a lot of affection and love between the two not as master and teacher, but as family. Sadly for Thurion though, there was a realization he was going to have to accept no matter what. As grim as it was, as hard as it was, there was nothing to do but to accept it.

Asha Seren is dead.

But to Jericho, though Master Seren was dead in this realm, she will continue to live. She will live through every saber strike, every stance made, every action taken. She will live on through her teachings, by the impact she has made on each persons life. She will indefinitely and undoubtedly be one with force and the hearts of the students she trained for all these years. She will always be remember for the woman she was. Patient, strong, wise, and loving. No words could ever be said to explain just how she was to her padawans, even though they spoke so little. In respect, Jericho took of his mask, placing gently on the ledge and took out the lightsaber the two sabers that Asha taught him to make. Both curved handles, as a statement of the style he used and mainly trained with her.

Jericho raised his sabers as high as he could over his head. He angled his wrists so that when he unsheathed his sabers he would form an X. When he did it was reveal that, one was blue and the other purple and emitted a calm sensation of his signature from he people below. In Jericho's mind, action spoke more than words and as he stood on patio over head doing what he did, he hoped the others understood and knew what he was doing.

"This is not goodbye, Master Seren, nor will you be missed for you are now one with the force and within all of us and this will only strength us. I promise to follow your teachings and promise to pass along the knowledge to taught me to the future padawans and take care and teach Thurion to the best of my ability." Jericho thought making seldom promise. To Jericho this was another but last trial or rather a last lesson she was giving him.

A lesson that he will take to heart.

----------------------------------------------------------------
 

Rosa Gunn

Character
Character
Rosa watched the affair with glistening eyes. They had barely been together, barely had the chance to get to know each other and already they were grieving. Such was the way when you were caught within a galaxy at war. The newly signed treaty would keep the peace for only so long and when it broke there would be little they could do save ease the passing of those caught between and support those who lost loved ones.

Rosa knew that feeling all to well. She understood the black hole that was left in a heart when someone you loved, be it parent or child, lover or friend, was torn from your side. She understood the profound impact it could have on a young mind, more so that of a force sensitive. She watched Thurion closely, she had heard his screaming, felt his angst in the force when they had received the news. Eyes shifted up to the salute the Jericho rose.

Taking a deep breath she stepped forward, revealing a seed in her hand. She pushed it into the earth behind the stone and closed her eyes giving it soft whispers of encouragement in the force. Slowly it began to grow, light green stems and leaves flourished and grew, the centre stem darkened to a rich brown, stretching towards the sunlight as it reached the size of a small sapling, sprouting white blossoms among its delicate branches. She took a step back, unable to offer any words for Asha's passing that hadn't already been said.

She turned her attention to Thurion moving towards him she crouched in front of him and took his hands. There is nothing I can say, nor do that will help take away the pain that you feel Thurion, but it is not something you have to overcome alone. A hand gently brushed his cheek and she rose, placing a kiss a top his brow and moved to stand behind him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
 

Quinn Vos

Kiffar Warrior
Character
Silently she watched, unmoving for so long the others probably forgot the tattooed-warrior was there. Emerald-fire eyes remained vigilant, sweeping the area for potential threats. It was probably unnecessary, but it was ingrained in her nature.

Asha Seren.

A woman she didn't know but one who clearly garnered respect from her odd, new companions. Strangers, really. Remaining rigid and back, she quietly touched three fingers to her plain lips. A sign of respect from her tribe, for those of the dead.

It was a simple gesture, one Qae would understand.
 
While he had stood completely still and remained silent until now, Thurion found it unbearable when the others would gather around him to console him, showing their respects to the loss of his master, touching him gently for comfort. They all came to him as family... a family? He had not been part of a family since before Asha had found him, back at the orphanage, and even that could not really be considered a family. The word now floating around in his head felt so strange and almost foreign at first, as he had never been a part of one. The two ladies @[member="Rosa Mazhar"] and @[member="Teynara Jeralyr"] both stood behind him, keeping a hand on each of his shoulders. It was all too much for the boy, and tears began streaming down both his cheeks. Sobbing accompanied the tears, his legs gave way, and before long Thurion had collapsed into a kneeling position before the headstone, weeping like a newborn babe at the loss of his mother.

What followed next was unexpected even to Thurion himself, as a broken, at first very quiet tune could be heard. The sobbing made the first notes difficult to carry properly, but as he kept going his voice became more stable, as did the tune itself. Perhaps he somehow thought it was Asha herself speaking through him, as the song he was humming, now loud and without hinderance, was the same she'd sung to him on many occasions, mostly to comfort him when feeling sad. Thurion had always found the tune hauntingly beautiful, almost putting him into a sort of trance each time he'd hear it. But this was not Asha that sang it, not this time. He did, and he did so to pay his respects to his dear friend and mentor. Words were not enough, he'd found out, but maybe she would feel proud knowing he'd carry on her traditions. The song was one of her homeplanet's, after all.

As the tune had ended, a ray of sunlight broke through the cloudy skies and struck the grave where the boy was kneeling. He raised his head to the sky and felt a soothing breeze pass through him. Despite his continuus weeping it managed to put a slight smile on his face, that his master would still be with him, to lead him through the darkness and guide his hand when he needed it the most. He could see her, he thought, standing before him in a ghostly shape inside the ray of light. She was smiling, the kind of smile that had melted as well as soothed his heart on so many occasions before. "Thank you, Master", he whispered, before he wiped away his tears and stood up to rejoin the others: his family.

@[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @[member="Daux"] @[member="Jericho"] @[member="Quinn Vos"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Qae Shena"] @[member="Boolon Murr"]
 
the bedbound bard
Writer
Daux was so confused, and it made her almost crazed. Thurion would hardly fuss her, and he refused to even look at her. Everyone was so upset and emotions ran high; with it brought a familiar feeling of loss to the wild child, of the day she had lost her brother to the scary-man, many years ago, of the day Jaxton had found her, when the rest of her kin, save she and one other, were too slaughtered... A low, mournful howl left her, chin settling to the floor, eyes held up to the sky. She wanted to make her Furry better, but how could she? He wouldn't even look at her. She knew what it was to feel loss, didn't he realise this? Instead she moved to rub up against his side, trying her very best to convey comfort, yet it was difficult... Very difficult.

"Fuuurryy" she finally whined, but at this point he was on his knees and humming... A song he had once sung for her, when she was sad and they lay together. She listened to the melody, but a few moments later she turned away and pounced through the trees. It was difficult to remain around such sharp emotions, too much for her little soul to bear. When she reached the edge of their area a slight rip could be heard as she transformed into her larger, yet still small, Daux-Form, the cat pacing the edge of the boundary. In truth this was very much a protective response, she wanted to help her Thurion, to make sure no harm came to him, and since her comforting wasn't working, well... Then she would have to guard him and make sure no more hardship entered his life...

... As best a little kitty such as herself could manage, anyway.

@[member="Thurion Heavenshield"]
 
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