Private In Her Name

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace’s lightsaber howled through the night, and the next Sister dropped before her lips could finish the word 'Weave'. His shoulders heaved with the weight of the swing, every strike not just a cut but an exorcism, his rage poured into muscle and bone. He didn’t just carve, he cleaved, throwing the whole of himself behind each blow, the fury in his chest bleeding into motion.​

​

They still whispered even as they died. "Final Weave". "The prophecy made flesh". "Her death crowns him". The words hissed around him, crawling like maggots through the air. Some fell to their knees in worship, arms lifted, faces lit with awe even as the blade came down. Others broke first, screams rising when they realized he would not stop. Their reverence dissolved into panic, but it was too late. He was already moving.​

​

The massacre blurred into a haze. His lightsaber burned a wide arc through the mist, leaving sprays of ichor to steam on the soil. Chains of magick lashed at him, green fire bit at his skin, but his anger cut through them. A body staggered, another shrieked, then silence as the lightsaber dragged them down. He lost count. Fifty? More? His arms ached, his lungs pulled ragged, but still he pressed forward, weight thrown into every cut, as if the violence itself could empty the fire inside him.​

​

Some fought with desperate ferocity, hurling fire and illusion, but their defenses only stoked him. His blade carved through shields, through pleas, through everything. Others tried to flee into the fog, yet he hunted them down, a wolf among shadows, his strikes snapping with cold, merciless rhythm.​

​

Against him, they were nothing. His power dwarfed theirs a hundredfold; every spell, every strike broke against him like waves on stone. To them he was no man but a god made flesh. And gods did not forgive. They would drown in his wrath.​

​

And then... stillness. The chants and screams guttered out, and Ace stood in the center of the carnage, chest heaving, lightsaber humming low. Around him, bodies lay strewn in heaps, their green fire sputtering to embers. He wasn't even aware Verse was close by, that she'd seen everything.​

​

Then movement lingered in the shadows. Small figures pressed close together, eyes wide, their faces streaked with dirt and ash. Children. A handful of them, tucked behind the huts, clutching each other. They didn’t scream. They whispered still, voices trembling, the same word spilling from their mouths.​

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Final Weave. But there was no reverence in their tone, only fear and horror.​

​

Ace’s jaw clenched. His grip on the hilt tightened. Slowly, deliberately, he turned toward them. His boots crunched through the soil as he began to walk, lightsaber dragging at his side, its blue light painting across their terrified faces.​

​

He closed the distance, the fire inside him still burning, a storm demanding more.​

​

Ines Pen-Ar-Lan Calyx Sundrift​

 

[Ines Pen-Ar-Lan]

Trust Fall
Acier Moonbound ​

Horror.

First his mother, then the Clan Elder and her fellow Witch. It was brutal but controlled - what followed, however, was horrid. Surprise coursed through her as Ace cut down a third Witch, it was evident in her eyes. Then, he swung again, killing a worshipper on her knees. The girl shook her head in disbelief but was barely given a chance to process it before the blue blade crashed down at another. Surprise turned into concern and would quickly fade into pure horror as she realised what was happening.

The hand with which she had checked Orryn's pulse slid down to grasp the woman's arm. Apologetic eyes ventured back to study her features as she let out a small whisper "I'm so sorry" left her lips before she let go of the arm and stood up. Analytical eyes scanned his movements and the looks he sent. Fury, rage and loss filled him to the brim. The strikes he produced were far from precise and well thought out - this was even more wild and uncontrolled than anything he had displayed so far.

Careful, doe-like, steps brought her forth as she followed in the path of destruction that he was carving through the village. "Ace, you have to st-" her words were cut short as the ashen-haired Rebel took down two Witches with a single wide swing. "Blast it, Ace! Don't you get it?! This isn't what-.." another swing brought down another, this time a lowly villager. It was becoming increasingly evident that he wasn't listening.

Verse did not come too near. Instead, she lingered behind him, at least seven steps. Agent Pen-Ar-Lan was well aware of how dangerous and unpredictable Jedi and their ilk could be - and for now, Verse was living in that reality too. Coming too close could mean that she'd get cut down herself. Still, she let out smal pleas behind him, doing what she could to make him hear what she had to say over the noise of Witches chanting or screaming in horror as his blade buzzed through them.

At one point, she saw a girl, far too young, staring at the man with the blue blade. A killer's intent burned bright in her eyes as green ichor flared from her fists. It was a death sentence: None of them had been able to even come close to harming the 'Final Weave' so far - and each person who had tried had been cut down. Sharp instincts and incredible reflexes had the blonde summon her blaster with lightining speed. Even firing from the hip, her aim proved to be extremely accurate: The stun bolt hit the youngster before she had the chance to go any further.

Verse let out an innocent sigh of relief as it seemed like she had at least saved one of them. Her attention then turned back to Ace. Her free hand shot up to her mouth in a futile effort to cover up her distraught expression: The reason she had specifically noticed the young girl intending to attack him was because there were only young girls left. A brief moment of hope was quickly quelched as Ace slowly turned to face a little group of girls, huddled together in fear and horror.

The sound of her boots against the ground grew more intense as Verse picked up the pace. So far, she had been intentionally trailing behind him, now she seemed intent of catching up to him. Suddenly, her boot caught something, causing her to trip and fall into a frighteningly deep puddle of mud, dirt and blood. Her gaze shot back at the lonesome arm that had caused the accident. A heart tearing screetch left her to intermingle with the panicked screams of the small number of young survivors whom Ace was approaching.

This was unsustainable. Verse closed her eyes hard. Methodically, the girl recomposed herself. The screetch ceased, her breathing calmed and her hands stopped shaking. When she opened her eyes again, the innocent and horrified expression of Verse Melnau gave way for an equally horrified, but far more sharp and composed expression. Agent Pen-Ar-Lan shook her head in a decided "No"

Grace and agility brought her back up to her feet with one smooth motion. Drenched in blood and mud, she sprinted up to the murderer she had arrived with. This time, her steps were light and controlled, easily avoiding obstacles as she stepped between and over what Ace had left in his wake. By the time she arrived by his side, Ace would be but a few meters away from the young Witches.

Ines spun to walk in reverse ahead of him like she had so many times in the past. After using the back of her right hand to wipe some gore away from her eyes and mouth, she gently placed her palm on his chest. "Ace, you have to stop this." Her voice was not so different from what he was used to: It was pleading, shivering and unthreatening - but the brightness and joy he would have grown acustomed to was completely erased.

The way in which Agent Pen-Ar-Lan carried herself then made subtle shifts. Her breathing became slightly more laboured and her eyes lost some of their youthful glow as her eyelids seemed to fall a smidge. Few, if any, observers, even the most perceptive ones would be able to tell what she was doing but this was a deliberate manoeuvre on the Agent's part. The hand that had rested on his chest softly crept up to tug weakly at his collar, the exact same place that Orryn had held on to in her final moments. "This isn't you. You have a beautiful soul, Ace. Don't let them turn you into something you're not." Her voice bordered on sounding weak in its plea - another discrete echo of his mother.

It was a bold way in which she tried to calm him down. Chances were that he'd snap - but then, she worked with subtle hints rather than overt references; allowing his mind to bring him into the headspace she wanted him in, seemingly on its own. Still, Agent Pen-Ar-Lan remained careful and vigilant. Her mind was too clouded for a force user to read and her left hand was hidden under her poncho, gently gripping her blaster, aimed straight at his core.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

All thought narrowed to one thing: wipe them all out.

It was a single-minded, animal hunger that made the world thin at the edges. Every footstep was the drumbeat in his chest driving him forward. He moved as if drawn by a single thread, each step a promise to finish what had been started; to cleave, to scour, to end them all.

Then a palm landed on his chest. It was light. A small, human weight, soft against his chestplate. The contact cut through the tunnel of rage like a blade. For the first time since Orryn's last breath, something slippery and terrible that had been living in him slipped away. The feral focus that had narrowed his eyes unfurled; the blank, apathetic glaze in his face cracked into something like recognition. The monster receded, not with a roar but like smoke driven off by wind.

Ace's shoulders dropped. The lightsaber's hum under his fingers felt suddenly obscene. He blinked, and the village snapped back into awful clarity. Charred huts, toppled totems, bodies splayed and steam curling where blue had licked flesh. A child's whimper made the hairs on his neck rise like static.

Then he saw the children. Really saw them. They were crouched behind a splintered fence, faces streaked with ash and mud, eyes blown wide with something that was barely human anymore. They mouthed the single word like an echo of the night: Final Weave, but their voices trembled with fear, not reverence.

"Stop... stop calling me that..." He said softly, broken.

Ace's hand slid along the hilt until his thumb found the activator. He closed his eyes as if to steady himself, and then he killed the blade. The blue vanished and the hum died. His lightsaber hit the dirt with a thud and rolled away. Ace placed a hand against his forehead and took a step back but then his knees gave.

Horror came in a wave. This wasn't anything like Tessk, a flash: a fierce, sharp taste of the Dark he'd feared and loathed and briefly tasted, something he vowed never to drown in again. This was different. This was worse. He had not been overtaken, he had let it in. He had cupped the rage and fed it. He had called it up to solve a wound with a blade and then worked the blade until the wound was a field of corpses. And yet, the wound festered. Nothing had changed.

Shame burned within him. The knowledge of what he'd done hammered at him. He hid his face in his hands and let the sound of the night fill the space where his voice used to be. He only sat there in the dark, silent, every breath a small mourning, every exhale a confession he could never take back.

The despair was quiet and total. It was the absence of the thing he had clung to - pride, purpose, the illusion of being right. Replaced by a simple, terrible truth: he had become what he most feared. And there was nothing left to do but sit with the ruin he had chosen.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered.

Ines Pen-Ar-Lan​

​

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

The hilt was cold in his hand. The corridor blazed with blue light as he swung, every motion carving through figures shaped of shadow and smoke. Each flash of plasma revealed faces twisted in terror. Women. Children- he couldn’t tell anymore. Didn't want to tell anymore. The smell of scorched flesh clawed at his senses. And the sounds - oh by Surik, the sounds - of saber meeting bone, of flesh melting and cloth burning, of screams cut short.

And the rage. The pain. His own heartbeat thundered in his skull, echoing through the metal walls until it was indistinguishable from the screams.

Then, silence.

Calyx's eyes snapped open. Drawing deep, slow breaths, he managed to settle himself. His stomach was lead, and he was trembling. His sheets were tangled, damp with sweat, and clinged to his skin like accusation. But the walls were the dark brick of his hotel room. They did not echo violence and death.

He pushed himself upright, swallowing against the taste of bile. The echo of the nightmare lingered in the Force. Faint, but real. Calyx ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. The air felt too thin, his own heartbeat too loud. He could sense it again. That tangle of emotions pulsing somewhere beyond him. Manifesting as fear. Anger. Grief. Pain.

Not his.

Someone else’s.

It was as if someone had crawled into his head and taken up residence. If he could feel them this vividly, then could they feel him too?

Calyx drew in a long, measured breath and exhaled slowly. That presence, that was Acier. He'd become increasingly certain of it.

Calyx rose, bare feet meeting the cold floor. The shock of it helped. He crossed to the window, parting the curtains just enough to let the night spill in. Ghorman lay beneath him, a patchwork of lights and long shadows. The planet was his most recent hideout.

Acier.

He leaned his forehead against the glass. The chill sank into his skin.

Burn me Acier, what are you doing?

The only answer was the steady pulse of that other presence, faint but unrelenting. Somewhere far away.

And yet far too close.

Ines Pen-Ar-Lan Acier Moonbound

 

[Ines Pen-Ar-Lan]

Trust Fall
Acier Moonbound ​

[OOC note: Since the cut-off point of what was responded to didn't include the last two paragraphs I wrote in my previous post, I think we can ignore them in terms of thread-canon]

The cold empty eyes shifted and his expression softened. His posture deflated, going from an agile murderer to an utterly destroyed boy. Fear intermingled with sympathy in Verse's blue eyes as she looked to him with concern. Finally, he extinguished his blade and allowed it to slip out of his hands. The girl let out a low sigh of relief, perhaps the massacre had come to an end. At the same time, she shifted her leg in a subtle move to keep Ace's blade from rolling away. For a brief moment, her gaze shifted to the survivors, scanning them quickly for potential threats.

Ace turned to walk away and Verse would stay close to his side - after having scooped up his saber and clipped it to her belt under the poncho. When his knees gave, Verse rushed to steady his fall by slipping one arm around his back and the other under his shoulder. She was far from strong enough to keep him standing from her position - but at least he wouldn't hurt himself as he fell. Before following him down, she took her poncho off and wrapped it around his shoulders. It would reveal the contours of a knife she had hidden by her back as well as the entirety of a combat knife hanging by the back of her belt, right next to the lightsaber.

Having already taken a plunge into a gore-filled pool earlier, Verse only scanned the ground briefly before kneeling down next to her friend to embrace him, wrapping an arm over his shoulder whilst placing the other on his arm closer to her. While she gave him warmth and a sense of care, slowly using her hands to give him soft pats, her gaze lingered on an abstract point behind them, constantly scanning for threats.

Force users, even when young, could be far more dangerous than most. These witches were no different. When a couple of girls in the pack of survivors started to move and shift, her eyes snapped to their position. Her gaze was sharp and the shake of her head definite. There was little room for them to misinterpret her: They shouldn't come close. Fortunately, the two little witches nodded, indicating that they understood. Hopefully, her fellow Rebel wouldn't notice the little gesture behind his back.

For a brief moment, Verse allowed her gaze to wander away from the children who had survived, past the destroyed huts and murdered Nightsisters, settling on Ace as he let out a small apology. She let out a shallow breath and nodded. "That's a good start." she spoke with as much sympathy as she could muster and hugged him tighter. Agile legs then carried her to face him from the front, allowing her to keep an eye at both him and the children still lingering behind them.

"That's a really good start." she squeezed his shoulder before ushering him to get back up to his feet. "But we can't stay here, Ace. We should go. I know it's hard right now but you've this. Survivors like us, Ace, we've always got that little extra reserve to tap, right?" The girl couldn't muster a smile, but she offered him a firm nod and a pat on the back, encouraging him to leave the site of the massacre and the children who had survived as soon as possible.

If he did indeed leave as she suggested, Verse would nod to Tic, signalling for the little droid to lead the way back. Instead of following them, however, she'd let her footsteps fade from behind them as she turned back to the edge of the village where it had all started. Maybe Verse would have find the task too daunting - but Agent Pen-Ar-Lan certainly did not. With a good degree of care and reverence, she would pick Orryn up onto her back. The Imperial let out a breath, anticipating the task ahead, before starting an encumbered jogg back to Vinrol's hut and the ship.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Tic scuttled through the haze of smoke and ash, his little limbs splashing in shallow puddles. The droid's photoreceptor flickered between blue and anxious amber as he took in the carnage, and the hollow shell of his companion kneeling in the center of it all. A low, uncertain trill escaped him before he moved closer, nudging lightly against Ace's arm.​

​

Ace remained motionless. Barely registering Verse's empathetic embrace. He only blinked once, eyes vacant, the sound reaching him from a long way off. Verse's voice followed next, soft but firm, the cadence of someone forcing steadiness through the quake in her chest. He heard her words; they drifted through the fog in pieces about leaving, about tapping into whatever strength he had left. But his mind wasn't there.​

​

When he finally looked up at Verse, the sight cut deeper than her words. She wore control like a mask: the measured voice, the calm posture. But her eyes betrayed her. Beneath the blue, there was horror. Not fear for herself, but disgust at what he'd done. It wasn't loud or cruel. Just human revulsion she couldn't hide. And that made it worse. So much worse.​

​

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to his feet when she urged him on. Tic, bedient, led the way back but Ace remained. His gaze drifted to his mother and he knew what he needed to do next. It seemed Verse had the same ideas too as he saw her as she pulled Orryn's body from where it lay and eased it onto her back with careful precision.​

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"Wait." His voice cracked, rough and hollow. Ace took a few steps forward, every movement heavy. "I'll carry her."​

​

Ace stepped close and gathered his mother's body from her shoulders, lifting her as if she were weightless. He cradled her against him, one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back. Her head rested against his collarbone, the way a child might rest against a parent.​

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For the first time since the massacre began, Ace's expression changed. It wasn't anger. It wasn't grief. It was something smaller, fragile, almost reverent. He looked down at Orryn's still face, then toward the path out of the village.​

​

"Let's go." He murmured.​

​

Tic continued to lead the way, staying close toward both Ace and Verse. The walk back felt endless and he didn't speak. The only sounds were Tic's soft, rhythmic trills and the dull scrape of Ace's boots dragging through the soil.​

​

Orryn's body was still warm against his chest, though he knew that warmth was fading. Her hair, white and tangled, brushed against his arm with every step, and every time it did, something inside him twisted tighter. The same hands that had ended lives now carried what was left of the only one that had ever mattered.​

​

When the forest finally thinned, the hut came into view through the fog, Ace stopped a few paces short. Finally speaking up again as he stared ahead, toward the hut.​

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"This was the closest thing to home for mom. She should be buried here." It wasn't clear if he was speaking to Verse or himself.​

​

Then, he passed the threshold. Gone was the forest, and now what surrounded them was the boundaries of Vinorl's hut. Gently, he knelt and lowered Orryn to the ground near the roots of a broad, twisted tree. He brushed the hair from her face, his fingers trembling. For a long time, he just stared at her.​

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Ace exhaled, slow and uneven. His gaze drifted from his mother's face to the smoldering forest beyond. "She deserved better." He murmured.​

​

As his gaze lingered toward the smoke that apperated in the distance, despite the shame and the guilt for losing control of himself. For the heinious act he committed. Another part of him felt apathy, joy even, joy that they were gone and in his eyes - had gotten what they deserved. And it was those dark thoughts that scared him, enhancing the existing guilt that gnawed within him.​

​

He stayed like that for a long moment, kneeling in the dirt, head bowed.​

​

Ines Pen-Ar-Lan​

 

[Ines Pen-Ar-Lan]

Trust Fall
Acier Moonbound ​

The wave of relief that had washed over her when he offered to carry the woman still echoed in her mind. His words brought her back to the present, just like they always seemed to do. Verse blinked a few times and allowed her gaze to settle on the ashen-haired Rebel. He concluded that his was where his mother should be buried. An eerie breeze, damp and cold, swept over them, causing small ripples across the otherwise calm lake. She nodded. It was both hard and inappropriate of her to have any thoughts on the matter. Instead, she simply placed a hand on Ace's shoulder with a light squeeze.

She deserved better? She offered him another nod whilst letting her hand give him a pat on the back "She did" Verse spoke with a soft voice, filled with empathy and care. For a bit of time, she would linger by his side: He wasn't alone. Despite all that he had lost, and all that he had done, she was still there. Steadfast and loyal. - And strong, apparently. She had seen and endured much and still seemed composed enough to remain present.

Eventually, she'd let out a low "I'll see if Vinorl's got a spade for us to borrow" giving him another pat on the top of his shoulder before turning to walk towards the hut. Tears which had been surpressed under a layer of strength and focus started to wet her eyes. But this was not the time to break down, Verse took a deep breath and clenched her jaw before she reached his side. It was a poor mask for the torrent of emotion that raged under the surface.

"Vinorl, I failed" a half contained shiver carried her voice in an unsteady rythm. She bit her lower lip hard, almost to the point where she could expect blood. Her head shook slowly and her voice was filled with a heartbreaking mixture of sorrow and guilt "I failed." Her hand instinctively grasped at an abstract point by her chest as if it would ease the pain she was going through.

"I hope whatever insight you were looking for was worth it, because-..." A distraught breath cut the sentence off and she turned to the lake as a hand shot up to her face in a desperate attempt to wrestle control over the tears and emotions threatening to boil over. With a spin, she turned back to him and let a hand, marred by blood and mud, form a small fist and grab for the collar of his robes "You feckless fool, you could've stopped this. I-..." It was clear as day; she held a grudge. But her tone and her body language did not speak of someone seeking to make any real accusations or to seek confrotation. This was a girl who was blaming herself and was desperately looking for someone to share the burden with.

Her shivering voice kept pushing - but it grew weaker and less intelligible by each word she uttered "Why didn't you come with us? Why didn't you act sooner? How could you be so apathetic?" She had tugged at his collar as she spoke - but by the end of the rant, the anger and blame was gone. Instead, she pulled herself close and leaned her forehead against his chest, hiding the tear that had started to roll down her cheek.

"I'm sorry" her voice trembled and her breath shivered dramatically as she shook her head against him. "I'm so sorry, Vinrol. I shouldn't h-.. it was my-.." Completing even a single sentence appeared to be a challenge. For a while, she'd give up on trying to say anything more. Small waves flushed against the rocky shore and hollow breaths steadied. Verse took a couple of deep breaths and used a sleeve to clean her face up before standing back up straight. Her blue eyes ventured up to meet his gaze and her other hand let go of his collar. It was obvious that she was putting a lot of effort into regaining her composure and it sure seemed to be working. There was a clear shift in her eyes, going from delicate and vulnerable to sad and sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lashed out at you." Something resembling an apologetic smile flashed at him. "Did you have that shovel? Ace needs us. Now more than ever. We should be at his side for this - but after that, there are some children at the village who might need your help."

A few more moments would go by, giving the girl a little bit more time to regain her composure. Finally, she returned to Ace's side. "Hey there" She sat down on the ground next to him and looked to him with caring blue eyes. "You don't need to say anything. I just wanted you to know that I'm here for ya. I'm in your corner." She leaned in to let her shoulder gently bump against his.

Dear Diary

Today's been a tough day. I'm still trying to process what happened. What Ace did, obviously, but also how I could let it get so bad. How I could make so many baffling blunders. It's still hard to come to terms with and I'm afraid of what consequences it might bring.

Maybe I'll just start this entry off with something easy. Vinrol. The old timer had my blood boiling from the first moment I saw him. He's not the worst Jedi - most of them actively do harm to the galaxy in the name of all things, anything, good and just. At least, this Jedi had the good sense to isolate himself. He's still just as hypocritical as the next Jedi but with a do-no-harm sort of appraoch. Although, for Ace's sake, I wish that he had done something about Orryn.

I knew that he was approaching his expiry date and that his vows kept him by his hut on Dathomir. Even then, I felt compelled to let Verse give him a piece of her mind. The self blame, the fear, the sadness - I think I conveyed it all rather well. Hopefully, that and the words between Ace and myself will help solidify my cover again, y'know, compensate for all the slip-ups I made today. There were some truth to what I told the old man, of course. Apathy really is one of the Jedi order's defining traits. Not all of them are like him, far from it - but if there's one group that can always be trusted to breed apathy, it's them.

Regardless, I hope Verse's words did him some good. I'm never too hopeful about making Jedi see the flaws in their ways but perhaps she could nudge him in the right direction.

[...]

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

From the edge of the fog, Vinorl saw them before they saw him. The old Jedi didn't need to reach through the Force to know what had happened... he could feel it in the air itself. The Weavewood had gone still, its rhythm broken, its song fallen into a mournful silence.

His friend, Orryn Vethrisa, was gone. He stepped forward, slow, when he caught the boy's expression : hollow, emptied of everything but exhaustion. Something inside Vayun fractured. Once, long ago, he had seen that same look on another face: his Padawan's, as life bled out beneath his hand. That memory had driven him into exile. He had sworn he would not make the same mistake again.

And yet here it was. The same outcome, the same failure, just shaped in a different face. When Verse turned toward him, her face streaked with blood and mud, he saw the storm coming. She reached him fast, eyes wild, words trembling but sharp. Her anger struck him like a whip. She told him that she had failed.

The old Jedi's throat tightened. His first instinct, the one trained into him over decades, was to offer stillness. To be the calm within another's storm. But her next words cut through that habit like glass.

"You could've stopped this."

Vinorl didn't move to stop her. The fabric of his robe tightened in her fists, and he let it. He deserved this. The ache in her voice wasn't just anger... it was grief trying to find a body to inhabit.

He met her gaze - blue eyes blazing, wet with tears. For a heartbeat, he saw what he had been trying to avoid for years: the cost of his vow. The cost of his stillness.

"I was wrong." He finally said quietly, the words trembling as they left him. "I thought detachment would spare the galaxy more pain. I thought penance meant absence... But it helped no one."

Her fists loosened, and her forehead pressed against his chest. He rested a calloused hand lightly on her shoulder.

"You did not fail." He said. "You were there when it mattered. I..." He stopped himself, his breath catching. "I was not."

Verse apologized. Her voice softened, and soon she was gone again, walking back toward the boy who had lost everything. Vinorl stayed where he was, gaze falling to the lake, rippling under the cold wind, and to the reflection of fire still burning faintly on the horizon. For the first time in years, Vinorl felt something stir. It wasn't the peace he had chased through meditation, but the raw ache of purpose reawakening. Verse's words, Ace's grief, Orryn's death... they had cracked something open in him. The Barash Vow had kept him from action, but now it felt less like enlightenment and more like cowardice.

He turned, took the shovel from beside the hut, and walked to where Ace knelt beneath the tree.

---

Ace didn't look up when Verse returned. Her voice was softer now, steadier, though he could still hear the break under it - the echo of everything she'd had to keep contained.

"I know." He said quietly. "I know you are."

The words were barely a whisper. His gaze stayed fixed on Orryn's still face. He couldn't bring himself to look anywhere else. For a while, he didn't speak. Only Tic's faint mechanical chirps filled the space, the little droid crouched beside Orryn's arm, occasionally tilting his head as if unsure what to do.

Vinorl approached quietly and placed the old shovel beside Ace. His voice was low. "The earth here is soft," He said. "She'll rest peacefully."

Ace said nothing, but he finally rose to his feet. Taking the tool, he then began to dig.

The soil was dark and wet. Every strike sank with a dull thud, small clumps of red earth sliding down the incline. Tic chirped softly, stacking stones into a neat pile near the roots. Vinorl stood a few paces back, head bowed, the mist curling around his boots.

Ines Pen-Ar-Lan​

 

[Ines Pen-Ar-Lan]

Trust Fall
Acier Moonbound ​

Soft waves splashed against the rocky beach. Long thistles sounded as the breeze rustledthrow the dark woods. A distant howl echoed through the valley as a beast made its way through the treelines. The ground, coloured bronze under the thick red Dathomiri atmosphere, yielded as Ace planted the spade in it. This was a strange planet - it was eerie by design and somber without even trying. But then, right at that spot, by the old Jedi's hut, there was peace. Verse's gaze rested on a fallen tree by the waterline, it's bark worn smooth into two shallow hollows; seats made by time.

Her eyes ventured over to the Jedi and her lips formed a thin apologetic line. She had snapped at him, but chances were that he was heartbroken over the loss of Ace's mother too. She'd linger in the background silently until her friend's fight against the soil started to look increasingly heavy. A few careful steps carried her close enough to lean down to make eye contact. "Hey, wanna take a lil' break? I'd like to help if you'd let me." The words came soft and sweet.

He would probably rather complete the process himself but she'd gesture towards the fallen tree regardless along with a nod to the elder a few meters away. One did not need ISB-training to realise that Vinrol probably had a story or two to share and some wisdom to impart. Even if Ace wasn't receptive now, just hearing the words could probably help.

***​

[...]

Enough about Vinrol. I gotta get to the part that really matters. Ace confirmed everything they said about the Jedi (he's as close to a Jedi as you can get without wearing the badge) back at the Academy. They're all nice and good on the surface but when they snap, they are more brutal and deadly than any Imperial. And don't even get me started on the hypocrisy. "Fighting the evil yoke of the Empire" yeah, right - only to turn around and slaughter a village of primitive witches? An entire village - how could he even-.. I know that I wouldn't be able to do it.

What's weird though? I felt sorry for him. Here he is, the Jedi scum, dashing around between huts and cloth lines, killing mothers in front of their children and grandmothers trying to shield their loved one while fighting back tears - and I was actually hurting for him. Man, these people, they're the ones who deserve my pity and I do, I do pity them. I just didn't know them - not like I know Ace.

Only the stars know how I'd feel if I were in his position. To meet a parent? That's a big one. I could literally see the moment he realised how much he urged for his mother's love. How he still hungered for it, even when she was right there. ___ An' his expression when he lost her? It haunts me. I see it whenever I close my eyes or when I stare into the datapad for too long. But it's not just that, it's also him killing all of those women. I could hear their screams when we got onto the ship and the engines roared to life. I could hear them when I flushed. I can hear their limbs splatter to the ground now, even as I type this entry. I dunno what to make of this. I hope it's just because this is all so fresh, cuz' otherwise, I might go insane. Verse is fine though. Mostly. She'll bounce back. She always does, she's great like that. But me? I guess I'll just have to tough it out. I'm sure it'll go away after a week or two.

Something that won't go away though: I broke protocol so many times today.

• I rushed up the mountain when I should've taken it slow.
• My explosives worked way better than Verse's should have.
• I took more than a few hunting parties on a wild chase through the forest.
• Took a couple of their magick wielders out when he wasn't looking.
• I even kept his back clear when he'd calmed down.

Blast it all, I even pushed on to save the girls when I know that Verse wouldn't have been able to summon neither the strength nor the courage. And all of this: For what? What interest does the Empire have in keeping his mother alive or making sure that he doesn't kill the kids? What interest does the Empire have in making sure that Ace doesn't break? None.

It makes me wonder.

If I had a supervisor around, they might've pulled the plug on this operation after today. But I've got to believe in myself. All of this, it strengthened my cover. Ace has even more reason to trust me Verse and she'll be by his side as he recovers. Maybe the others will-...

Looks like we're nearing the HQ. I think I'll just sign off here.

Ciao

***​

After many long hours, they would arrive back at Odessen. So much had happened and so much had been said already. What awaited them now was a well deserved rest. Verse was exhausted physically and had seen and done far too much - but she carried on in a desperate attempt at normalcy. Her smile did not quite reach her cheeks but her friendly blue eyes ventured to greet her friends and fellow rebels as she walked through the hangar, into the corridors leading back to her room.

Inside, she methodically stripped off her gear - the jumble belonging to Verse tossed in a heap by the door while Agent Pen-Ar-Lan's equipment was neatly tucked away where it wouldn't be found. Verse's datapad was thrown onto her bed while the Agent's identical datapad was hidden away.

Stepping into the bathroom, the girl brushed her hair back as she looked into the mirror, her face still half-covered in dried blood. With a soft, almost careful flick, she turned the tap on. Her entire being shivered as the water flooded down the sink. Jaw clenched and back stiff, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Momentary calm was replaced by images and screams spinning around her mind in a brutal torrent. While her eyes shot open, her discipline and training kept everything else in check. For a while.

Her reflection in the mirror looked small and kind and vulnerable. Like a joyful sould brought down by the weight of the events on Dathomir. This was Verse. The Agent loosened her jaw, causing it to shot forth a smidge. Her brows fell just a little. The subtle, but ever present, hint of a smile that her lips carried faded. With a few splashes of water and a wipe, she brushed some makeup away, altering the appearance of her cheeks just a little. It was as if she had just taken a mask off - or put one on. The person looking back at her was desperately clinging onto discipline and professionalism like her life depended on it. Sharp eyes looked weary and exhausted. Ines shook her head disapprovingly before raising her chin and straightening her back.

Ines swallowed hard. An involuntary frown cracked through her disciplined surface before she finally took the lenses off. The grey eyes that looked back at her from the mirror shivered. The girl was absolutely miserable.

The Empire. Her home and her family felt more distant than ever before. Among the Rebels, she had noone to turn to. Not truly. Increasingly heavy breathes brought her chest up and down at an uneven pace. She tugged at the shoulder straps as if loosening them up would help - but it didn't. The horrors of Dathomir were still fresh in her mind - but that was not all. Agent Pen-Ar-Lan was not even close to admitting it to herself, but she knew that her bonds to people like Ace were affecting her. In the eyes of the Empire, and herself, it would be an unacceptable failure. Despite being surrounded by people who saw her as a friend and ally, with an entire Empire supporting her from afar, Ines had never felt so lonely.

Another shiver. Horrified eyes were accompanied by a trembling "No". This was real. Little by little, her control seemed to slip away. She swallowed hard again and squared her shoulders but it was only a momentary relief. Grey watery eyes watched as her chin trembled and her breathing lost it's even pace. The Agent shook her head, making one last valiant attempt to stay professional. But it was to no avail - the rush of water from the tap drowned her ears in the fantom screams and wails of Dathomiri women.

Uncontrolled tears broke and to flood down her cheeks. Her knees buckled; the wall caught her, then let her slide to the tile. Ragged gasps and a running nose conflicted with her every breath. Ines was fighting a losing battle. Every attempt at regaining her composure failed. Eventually, she'd find herself curled up on the floor, sobbing and holding her hands over her ears, wishing for the screams to stop.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Odessen - Odessen Outpost

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

The funeral was quiet. No prayers, no rites. Just the sound of shovel meeting soil and the wind threading through. They buried Orryn beneath the old tree. No words were said. There were none that could fit.

When the last of the dirt had been pressed flat and the grave was still, Vinorl had placed a weathered hand on Ace's shoulder. The old Jedi's voice had been low, steady, threaded with something he hadn't heard in him before. Conviction. He no longer wanted to stand by, he wanted to involve himself in galactic affairs again. Ace had only nodded, the words landing somewhere deep and heavy.

The journey back to Odessen was quieter still. Verse had a thousand yard stare. Vinorl sat cross-legged in the cargo hold, lost in meditation that felt more like mourning. Tic stayed near Ace's feet, chirping softly once or twice before falling into silence himself, as if even the little droid could sense the weight of it all.

When the Flickerfox finally docked, the hiss of decompressing air was the loudest sound in hours. The others left, Verse without a word, Vinorl trailing after her with quiet purpose.

The viewport stretched ahead, reflecting a distorted image of his face: pale, lined with grime and exhaustion. Outside, Odessen's forests glowed faintly. Beautiful. Indifferent.

Ace leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped beneath his chin. His eyes found his reflection again in the transparisteel, and for a heartbeat, he saw not himself but the thing that had stared back from the Clan Mother's vision.

The silence in the ship pressed against him. He thought of Orryn's last breath, of Verse's look when she saw what he'd done, of Vinorl's eyes when the grave closed. Each memory scraped raw against the next until it all blurred into one slow ache.

He'd thought vengeance would make the pain smaller... that the fire in his chest would burn out if he gave it something to consume. Instead, it had left him hollow. He'd killed the ones who took his mother from him, but what was left was worse. The silence after. The echo of her voice in the dark. The knowing that when the rage came again, he might not fight it.

Tic chirped once, a faint, questioning sound. Ace didn't answer. He just stared. The guilt didn't fade. It clung to him, whispering that this was who he really was. That maybe the monster hadn't left Dathomir at all.

He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. Outside, the rain began to fall, tapping against the hull like quiet applause.

And for the first time since Dathomir, Ace didn't know if he wanted to leave the silence behind.

-END-​