Imparting Calm, Trust and Relief

[Amz]

In the nearby distance, against the backdrop of a fiery sun that had started to sink beneath the horizon, stood the derelict, Jedi Temple. It was almost as she remembered it, but now void of the warmth that made it one of the only worthy place’s on Yavin VIII’s rugged and cold terrain. Chiara stood there, solemnly observing the porous building as the wind howled through the structure. Everything she had ever loved or cherished lay in ruins before her. The purpose of the Force in that instant was impossible to discern or make sense of, but as she stood in front of the ruins of what was once her home, it was still the only life line she could hold to.

“Eight hundred years… huh? Heh.” Chiara whispered, and broke off her stare.

Her body trembled as she fought to still herself, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, feeling the chill start to seep in. There was no profound disturbance in the Force, nothing dark stiring it. Yet neither did peace come to her in this moment of loss. Frustrated, Chiara heaved in a weighted breath and turned, feeling the pressure on her chest as she trudged through the snow, lifting her eyes, but faltering in her pace as she navigated her way back towards the ship.

[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

The Force above all was his guide, and he heeded its instruction, followed its lead to many places. For the second time in his many years, it pulled him here to this often frigid place, where the snow receded only two or thee months out of the year. He too had found the ruins of the Jedi compound, and with them the emergence of memories he had not given company for quite some time and of the people with whom those memories were made. Tapas was a useful skill to have, here, and he applied it some as he trekked out to where the holding cells - the prison - were kept after reminiscing with the main ruins was done with, stopping along the way to poke his head in the tavern that used to be kept by a good-natured man by the name of Tom.

The holding cells were largely used in the process of bringing willing darksiders to the light. It was where each one was kept as they acclimatized themselves to the life of a Jedi, with chaperoned outings. Instructors would come to them, otherwise. It was a process that yielded success in many cases, though most notably (and without surprise) it did not hold for a certain Van-Derveld. It was of interest that these cells stood the test of time better than the other structures on this moon. After he was done with this, Ilias wandered through the trees to spots where he had trained with others, a certain rock, a particular clearing; his smile was solemn in remembrance.

Eventually he started making his way back around to where he had left his aged, well-maintained ship, but was pulled off course by the presence of a vessel that had not been in the vicinity when he went north. He was no longer alone here, as sapience went, and he took a gander over the small ship, curious as to whom it belonged, and who the owner was. Well, he could find out something, so he did, stretching out his senses over a broad area that encompassed the ruins of the compound, the tavern, and some of the forest, searching for the particular markers of humanoid life. What he found was quite the surprise. What he found made him wait by that ship, in the frigid air with only the Force to warm him.

She would come along, shortly. Of this he was certain.

[member="Chiara Viren"]

 

[Amz]

The heavy cloak she wore was drawn tightly beneath her chin, gloved fingers curled into the light grey fabric in hopes of blocking the chill, warmth guttering out of her as the day grew older, the sun inching down further and further. The trek back to her ship was mostly silent, except for the sound of fresh crunched snow beneath the heal of her boot.

The wind danced around her, seeming to shiver at first, then began to blow faster and faster. Chiara was burdened by what she had seen and experienced, both here and in her recent past.It felt like a dream, walking in two differing paths. What did it mean? Where did she belong now?

These thoughts continued to run through her mind as the sun continued on its downward course, soon becoming only a sliver behind the far mountain range. Her milk-white cheeks blazed a crimson red from the cool air, matching the strands of stray hair whipping against her face and neck, coming closer and closer to the silent clearing where she landed the ship.

At first it was difficult to discern as she closed the distance, and so out of the blue that she didn't recognise the tickle of a Force signature on the fringes of her mind. It did become more obvious the closer she came, but by the time she figured it out, the snow fog had cleared and the flesh and blood before her eyes was a testament of truth that didn't require confirmation. She released a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and gasped for the next. "...I-Ilias?!"

Normally graceful in her movements, Chiara's steps to him became uncharacteristically clumsy and rushed, both arms falling around him in a comfort-searching embrace.