Private I'm not my Season

[Bernard of Arca]

I'm not my Season

What felt like hours of wandering caught up with Bernard's limbs as he leaned against a tree trunk. The dull ache spread through his muscles, seeping deep into his bones. He was panting hard. The sinews in his legs burned with every movement, and his sides stung each time his lungs laboured to push out used up breaths. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stopped to rest since he left the small hut that was now his home.

The trees here were larger than the ones closer to the edge of the forest, and the underbrush less easily traversed. The treetops could barely be seen between the branches, and there was no trodden path was in sight for as far as the trees allowed eyes to see. For the first time in a while, birds sang and leaves rustled here and there as paws disturbed them.

The sounds were distant--Bernard wasn't as light on his feet as he used to be--but the knowledge they were there at all was calming. His previous residence, Tion's third moon, had been a barren world of ice and rocks, and some part of Bernard was more content for having left it behind in favour of New Holstice. A different part was more miserable for it.

The forest was alive, vibrant and verdant. It was an ecosystem in perfect equilibrium and harmony, where life breathed without intrusion. Save for Bernard, who now stood among it as a trespasser. He was not part of its balance anymore. He'd become an observer.

A voice called out a word just above Bernard. He didn't understand the meaning, but it got his attention. The voice was high pitched and echoed in a way that made it seem like the voice faded in and out of reality for the duration of a single word. Whoever it was, they weren't (near-)human. He shot a glance upward. There was nothing in the trees, save for a pale glow that belonged to a small, winged creature. It vaguely reminded him of a moth.

Another voice echoed. At first, Bernard thought the same person was calling out again, but it had come from a new direction. There, another one of the creatures drifted by on the wind. He recognized the word. It had been a name. Then another voice called out, and another, and soon Bernard found himself surrounded by the things.

The small swarm danced between the trees and around Bernard, seemingly spurring him on to follow. All the voices coalesced into an ethereal crescendo that rose and waned with their movements. They continued to dance around him for several moments, always flying off in a wide arc away, always in the same direction, only to come back to circle him before their dance started again. The pattern confirmed his suspicions. They were beckoning for him to follow.

With one hand on his hip-holster, Bernard kept resigned himself to their request. The swarm kept up a loose dance around him, though their numbers were so great that he could barely make out the trees ten feet ahead of him.

He walked for a few minutes, muscles still aching, until the sea of moths parted just as suddenly as it had appeared. The swarm dispersed to reveal the edge of a forest clearing bathed in bright light. A blue pillar of energy rose from a circular shrine of stone. Arcs of light played along its surface, and moths seemed to dance in and out of it at will. The entire place seemed to be full of them, their voices repeating names to an audience of none.

Bernard stepped clear of the forest edge, towards the light beam. He wasn't sure what to make of it all. What did these creatures want from him, and why did they guide him here?

Cotan Sar'andor ​

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Finding somebody halfway across the galaxy from where they should be was harder work than it should have been.

About a week ago, he'd set off in search of one of the New Jedi Order's wayward sheep, hunting down the Arkanian Marshal who'd just disappeared into the ether after their fighting on Korriban. Other than a short, somewhat frustrating distraction on Jakku, he'd spent most of that time hard at the search, avoiding a new Sith group that had popped up on Korriban with the larger empire having to retreat, and just generally reaching out through the Force for any sort of sign.

Sure enough, eventually, something had jumped out at him. A short vision; a memorial, one he'd not visited since he'd spoken his master's name to a memory moth and set it to join its kin. With that in mind, he'd immediately hopped to the cockpit, entered coordinates, and burned sky to New Holstice. He landed a ways out from the monument, hoping that, maybe, he'd find his quarry already waiting at it.

Instead, he was alone, so he sat to meditate next to the spiralling pillar of the moths while he waited. Reaching out, trying to draw the Marshal's attention somehow, in any way he could. But where he could normally sense somebody so powerful in the Force on a planet like this, especially someone he was familiar with, this time it was...blank. There was nothing to be sensed other than the constant backdrop of less-luminous life across the continents of this one world.

Perhaps he had arrived too early? The stars had seemed right for the brief glimps he'd gained, though.

It was only when a large swarm of the moths broke away from the monument, surging towards something only they could latch onto, that Cotan's efforts were rewarded. Against the backdrop of the moths themselves, each a shining mote in the Force just as in reality, the void that had suffused Bernard of Arca was more noticeable, like a silhouette against a spotlight. "Well, the Force does work in mysterious ways," he mused, frowning thoughtfully. If Bernard was cut off from the Force—beyond that, if he had potentially cut himself off—Cotan would be starting at a significant disadvantage for his plan of pulling the young man back into the fold.

And that was exactly what he was worried he was sensing.

After Bernard eventually made his way to the clearing with the monument, unable to see the master sitting on the opposite side, Cotan stood, stepping around the pillar and giving the Arkanian a friendly wave. "Well, Marshal, fancing seeing you here!" he called out. "Why're you looking so perplexed? What, don't recognize what this place is?"

 

[Bernard of Arca]

​

Bernard froze mid-step and dropped a hand to the blaster at his hip reflexively. His gaze tightened, and he had to force himself to relax his muscles.​

"Should I?" He replied. His tone was cold, assessing.​

The moths still circled the clearing, though they were now much quieter. Their echoes bounced between the trees as little more than sporadic whispers. Something about them still unsettled Bernard. The appearance of a stranger at a remote location like this one didn't much help alleviate his concerns, either.​

​

Cotan Sar'andor ​

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

So the man didn't recognize him. He supposed he couldn't expect too terribly much; the meeting on Tribunal station had happened a fair while ago, and that was the only time Bernard had ever even met him. Of course, between everything else Cotan had done and been involved in, and how many members of the New Jedi Order did know him at sight even before he decided to work with them, it was still a bit odd.

No matter.

"Well, now, Bernard, I can forgive you for not recognizing me," he began, smile remaining on his face as he drawled out the words like some low-life smuggler off of Zonju V just for added effect. "But, really, coming to New Holstice and not recognizing the significance of the planet, and what's on it? No, no, that just won't do." He shook his head, tsk-ing at the Padawan in faux-displeasure. Not enough of the students of the Jedi knew their history, both between the NJO, the SJC, and all the other, smaller groups through the galaxy, so some of the displeasure was real...but most of it was just to mess with Bernard.

Though, not as much as Cotan's following statement would.

"I would expect a Jedi to recognize a monument dedicated to every Jedi to die since the birth of the first Galactic Republic. Or have you completely turned your back on all of that?"

Bernard of Arca ​

 

[Bernard of Arca]

"Well, now, Bernard, I can forgive you for not recognizing me," the other started.

The congregation at Tribunal Station. That's where Bernard had met him. He recalled their brief exchange, though somewhere along the way the Judge had picked up the most obnoxious dialect. Bernard relaxed his stance and slipped his thumbs under the straps of his backpack, but he continued to give Cotan a suspecting glare.

"But, really, coming to New Holstice and not recognizing the significance of the planet, and what's on it? No, no, that just won't do," the Jedi Master continued.

Bernard cocked his head slightly.

"I would expect a Jedi," the word stung more than Bernard expected it to, "to recognize a monument dedicated to every Jedi to die since the birth of the first Galactic Republic. Or have you completely turned your back on all of that?"

A long moment of quiet settled between them. The muscles in Bernard's sides tightened and his breath fluttered the smallest amount. His breathing grew shallower. He glanced away from the Master.

"The Jedi don't need another murderer in their ranks," he replied, voice low but not timid. He sounded as though he stated an uncomfortable truth.

Cotan Sar'andor​