Is It Real?

[Darth Caecus]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Md7a3qGfvI[/media]

Figurines that fall like leaves they disappear, keep calling

It was more of comet now, she thought absently, staring at the red corona around the great chunk of death as it hurtled through the sky. A tail spread for kilometers behind it, and Xyra decided to use that to her advantage. Though it would make the descent to the surface that much more dangerous, it would also shield her at least partially from detection. That and the perpetrators should be expecting Imperial reaction from the fleet, or from the surface. Not from empty space behind them.

The ship started to shudder as soon as she entered the moon-comet's tail....

Is it real?

Taris.

A petite woman, slim and wry, with short blonde hair and haunted hazel eyes walked the main thoroughfare of the business district.

The last time she'd walked these streets- they hadn't been streets. Twisted wreckage where any trace of civilization was detectable at all. She could still see the rubble, the shattered buildings, in some places the duracrete itself melted completely to slag from the intense heat. Those areas she had avoided; too dangerous, not useful compared to the ruins.

Zee looked around as she walked down the even street. The sound of speeders wizzing past, the shouting of a dozen voices, the shriek of children at play. A million voices spoke in some single susurrus, underscoring the living hive that Taris was now.

Dark machines that wheeze and breathe then mock the air, appalling

"Alright, Nomad, I need you to enter these coordinates." She read them off, her eyes on TK as she did. He would know that they were the same control commands he had also been given by the Emperor's hand. And yet....

"Actually... Nomad.... let me put them in. You're better with the security, and I need you to keep the controls unlocked."

Her hands moved, inputting the commands that would change the rogue moon's trajectory. It would no longer skip off of Taris's atmosphere. It would no longer miss, as the Jedi had always intended.

In the end, she hadn't been able to let him take the fall unknowingly. To deliberately allow him to become a murderer of billions of people. In the end, she taken that fully upon herself. If the Empire needed a monster.... then that was what she would become.
​
What is real?​

Taris.

She paused, backing up on her toes and pivoting slightly as a boy, no more than ten, ran past her, laughing. She looked over her shoulder, watching him skip and turn, sticking his tongue out... at her? No.

The force of the girl that ran in to her surprised her. She reached out, not thinking as the child ricocheted backward, not expecting the wall of stone that Zee was. Pale hands caught the girl before she could fall. Zee looked down in to the flushed face and mop of dirty blonde hair, her stomach burning. Very carefully, she set the child to rights, stepping out of the way as she started hollering at her twin brother, plump fists pumping as she raced after him.

Her eyes followed the pair until they were lost in the crowd. Her chest was so tight she couldn't breath. In a moment they were gone, vanished, and she just stood there, people moving around her like water around a stone.

​Set my mind for open sky, but couldn't fly, so sadly

The fanatic is incorruptible: if he kills for an idea, he can just as well get himself killed for one; in either case, tyrant or martyr, he is a monster.

The gravitational pull of Taris was already starting to break up the moon. Chunks of rock tumbled like sand across the surface, battering those trying to get to their ships. It was dangerous, it was deadly. The moon no longer would tolerate the presence of these interlopers as it seemed to take on a sentience of its own, lashing out against those who would be its death. Not enough to stop anything. But enough to make the surface of the moon itself the closest to hell that any of them had ever been.

Xyra sat back heavily, eyes unseeing. The ship rocked, metal screaming as a great chunk of the feral moon slammed in to it. She was thrown from her seat, the ship listing precariously. Her head struck the controls, bouncing back like a child's toy. She found herself on the deck, blood flowing freely from the gash across her forehead. Scrambling, she tried to lever herself up to see out the cockpit window. Her arms failed her the first time, the world spinning at crazy angles. In a detached sort of way, some part of her assessed the concussion, and judged it good in a self righteous sort of way. But it would be an empty moral victory.

She finally managed to struggle up to one knee. Just enough to see out of the cockpit clearview. She swayed, reaching out to grip the control board. Her hands were slick with blood.... where had that come from. One hand moved up to her forehead, the pain distant, but the blood she came away with very real. It was more red than it ought to be. Grey-green eyes cast up again to the sight outside, the blood all but forgotten.

Taris loomed. It filled her view. The vast silver blue seas glistened. Was it in her head, or could she already see the huge tidal wave building as the water drew back from the shore? Were they that close? Or was it simply that big? Millions of people would die, even before the moon hit the planet, covered in water, drown. The face of a water bloated corpse flashed through her mind. She flinched, almost losing her balance again.

Don't look away. You did this.

What am I?​

Taris.

Suddenly ill, dizzy, she moved swiftly to the edge of the sidewalk, against the wall of the nearest building. Breathing in deep gulps of air, as though it would somehow mean anything. The rough ferrocrete at her back caught on her clothes, her hair, but she leaned hard against it anyway, closing her eyes.
​She couldn't bear to see the juxtaposition of her memories and what now existed. But in the darkness, that left only memories.

Sullen eyes shed teardrop lies then criticize, now laughing

She leaned heavily on the dash, legs like jelly and unable to support her. It didn't occur to her now to try anything else. The ship was dead. The damage was done. What were three more lives, in the grand scheme of things? Her ability to push through this had already been stressed to the breaking point, and this last set back was too much. She couldn't push through it. Three more deaths were nothing. Just barely, she managed to crawl back in to the pilot's seat, eyes focused the entire time on the planet she'd doomed.

This... this is a good death, she thought to herself. There is no shame in this. Yes, I wrought it. I am a monster.

She had given up everything for the sake of the Empire. She had written this story herself, and could blame no other. She made peace with her death, a strange calm coming over her. Nothing could change it now. And she was ready for it.

But the universe, it seemed, had different plans for her.

What is real?​

Taris.

Unthinking, she lashed out, closed fists striking the wall behind her. The pain of bone smashed against stone was enough to bring her back to what was actually in front of her. She covered her face with her hands, ignoring the bloody scrapes.

She didn't weep.

Slowly, her head tipped back and she let her hands fall again. Her hands.

Xyra Sizhran's hands.

She wasn't her. Just a copy. Her hands weren't the same ones that had input the coordinates. These weren't the same eyes that had watched as Taris had burned. But she remembered them as if they were. These copies, bloody and guilty.

A shadow crossed over her, and she looked up, hazel eyes dry but haunted. Bloodied hands held in front of her. The sun was directly behind the taller man's head, and she couldn't see his face. Did it matter? It would just be a ghost anyway. It was why she was here, wasn't it? To let the ghosts speak.

Little did she know how right she was.

I'm not sure what I should feel
I guess I've finally had enough
I don't know if this is real
I'm crashing in and out of touch
Can anyone please explain?

Is it real?

​[member="Ayden Cater"]

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Zee"]

Taris. A world that had seen itself rise to the most prominent world within the galaxy only to be torn asunder time and time again by the madmen that so often sought power. It was difficult to see, amidst the many smiling faces, bright lights, and busy skylanes, the destruction that had been wrought upon the planet's surface not even a thousand years previous. Ships winked into and out of existence, carrying people to and from the planet for many reasons. Activity buzzed over the ecumenopolis while untold millions of hearts beat. For a planet so full of life, there were still so many ghosts.

It was somehow fitting that the ghosts of the past were stirred by a man who, in many ways, refused to let go of the past. Or perhaps he was a man of the past who refused to let go of himself. Once upon a time, he had wandered the galaxy looking to make the hard choices that others could not, or rather would not. The galaxy had been much darker then, much less friendly to a stranger from another world struggling to not choke on the millions of dead every week. Still, he had done what was needed to guide the galaxy back to prosperity. So much sacrificed... Not just of himself, but from others.

"What have they done?"

He had risen to one of the highest levels of power within a healing, but still fractured, galaxy. At his word, a million starships could be set upon a world. Trillions looked to him for security, aid, and hope. He wielded enough military might to give even the Republic pause. Yet it was all undone by the stupidity of others who had neither the faculties or inclination to understand the true hand that shattered his beloved homeworld. The man frowned as he turned one corner, his hood obscuring the tops of his face from view. That bitter sting of betrayal had yet to fade. As far as he was aware, there was still the substantial bounty on his head. Centuries of practice had meant that few would even know how to go about tracking him, but it was the principle of the bounty rather than any real danger stemming from it that bothered him.

"We're getting off this graveyard."

The wounds inflicted upon Taris' being left echos, whispers of such atrocities that could be heard if one was still enough to listen. Ayden was not particularly surprised to be hearing whispers here, of all places, as he walked. After all, one of his ancestors had walked this very path, on this once-doomed world, and seen firsthand the destruction unleashed. Even after the Vongforming was done, and the planet at least physically restored, those invisible wounds still lingered. Though the planet had largely been physically restored, there were still long scars beneath the surface, hidden except through the Force, which continued to throb and darken areas.

Faintly a noise began to rise to the forefront of the din as Ayden continued his march. Curiosity got the better of the Corellian as he turned and found himself staring down at a woman. For a moment he wondered if she had been assaulted, but there seemed no other evidence to suggest such. In fact, as he took more time to look between her and the wall she was slumped against, he noted that there was blood on her hands, but also the wall. Had she done that herself? The more interesting thing though... He had seen a great many things in his centuries, but this face... There was something about it that stabbed at his mind, some knowledge that desperately wanted to reassert itself. Yet centuries were not very kind to all memories, particularly when things were not always cleanly passed through from one life to the next. Force Essence was not perfect.

After a few moments, he pulled the edge of his hood down to better reveal his face. "Something tells me you're not gonna be bringing this building down with your fist. Everything alright?"

 

[Darth Caecus]

She squinted, trying to see his face, but the shadows from the sun's backlighting made that impossible from this angle. The voice was just on the edges of familiar- a jarring experiences when everything else here looking nothing like it should have.

Except those kids. Were they real? Of course they were. But they aren't mine. I gave that up. She gave that up.

Something darker shifted in the dregs of her mind. Disturbed and dissatisfied by the regret that was curling through her. It rubbed in the raw places until she shoved it back down, a deep part of her psyche understanding where it came from and why- this man's voice.

Frowning she stepped away from the wall, trying to get the sun out of her eyes.

"I hope the building is made from sturdier stuff than that," she replied, but the joke fell completely flat.

After all, it wouldn't do for it to fall down. Wouldn't that just be what you need? Come back to Taris just to break things? I thought you were better than that?

As she shifted her view, his face coming in to focus, she got her second jarring in regards to this stranger.

Because he was eerily familiar. She didn't know him. That wasn't in doubt. But his face looked like- like she ought to. Was it a failure in her copied memories? No, this felt different. There wasn't an emptiness, a gap like a missing tooth that her tongue would find again and again once she was aware of the lack. He was just.... familiar.

With all of the linguistic weight that word held, even if she didn't know it.

She shook her head, trying to physically shake off the strange feeling, but it settled like a weight at the base of her throat instead. Still, it was better than cluttering up her head. She realized, belatedly, that she was staring and she looked away, focusing on the part of his question she hadn't answered yet.

"I was looking for something." Sh*t, that's no good. "A bar I used to go to. I guess it's closed down now," she lied with a deliberately casual shrug.

[member="Ayden Cater"]

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Zee"]

Ayden stared at the woman for a minute with a look of studying and contemplation. He could tell that he was being lied to. The question in his mind was... did he care? There was a lot going on in the galaxy, and he hadn't the time or resources to stop and help every pathetic lifeform that fell in front of him. If she didn't want to tell him the truth, he wasn't particularly charged with grilling her like some law enforcement officer until he was satisfied. He could turn around and walk away now, go back to his ship, and he'd likely forget all about the strange woman with the bloody hands before his ship even made the jump to lightspeed.

So why did he care?

A man who built most of his reputation on top of a great many lies was hardly on the moral high grounds, let alone a man who lied so readily and easily one would think it a vital function of him simply existing. Were they to ever find out, of course. And yet it wasn't the knowledge that he was clearly being lied to that kept his mind from turning to other things. Ayden knew well enough to know a lie when it was thrown at him. He didn't care about that. There was something about this woman that immediately ensnared his attention and refused to release it.

After that stretched silence, Ayden suddenly whipped the bottom of his trenchcoat back. Utilizing the temporary freedom of movement granted by the removal of his lower coat, Ayden suddenly squatted and began to stretch his legs. It was an odd thing to do, to be sure. But, then again, Ayden was a bit odd. "If you don't care to tell the truth, that's hardly my concern. But anytime I see someone on the verge of breaking down... Well, call it a soft spot, call it a Hero Complex, but I can't help but check on the poor soul."

That wasn't entirely a lie, but nor was it the whole truth. Still the nagging belief that he knew this woman from somehwere continued to plague his mind. For a man like Ayden, a man who prided himself in knowing the important details and never forgetting... well, this was a maddening thing to forget. Someone worth remembering had to have done something of note. Pausing in his stretching, Ayden took a brief snapshot of the woman via an occular camera lens and gave a tapped command relaying it back to the ship. Roland would process the image and cross-reference with Ayden's database. If he had any info on the woman, perhaps it was there.

 

[Darth Caecus]

She couldn't have explained, if someone had asked, why she answered him truthfully this time. She wanted to argue, that she wasn't about to break down. In essence, she had never been more grounded than she was here, in this moment. But that was because the weight of it all, every single death, was trying to bear her down to the earth. Press her face there. Suffocate and blind her until she wept. Or bled.

Taris reached out to her, but not as a lover or a friend. It reached up as the hungry ghost of an angry victim. And she wanted to let it drag her down in to hell. She was already there in so many ways. So why not just let it have her?

Perhaps she answered truthfully because it was too hard to accept kindness from anyone in this moment. She saw the truth in such ragged, cutting terms, it was impossible to see it from any other position. The knives were out. And they filled her vision.

"I came here looking for ghosts. And I found more than I bargained for," she admitted, looking away. "Taris has.... changed. Since I was here last. It looks.... good."

The way she said it, the weight, the lack of bitterness but the overlay of self loathing. It held all of those deaths, even if someone else couldn't parse it out. All of this was surreal, and she didn't know what to do with it.

For a moment, a flash of broken duracrete and still glowing slag superimposed itself over the street in front of her. She shook her head, a hard, violent motion, as if she could physically dislodge it.

Of course, Taris, as it stood now, was exactly the same as it had been for some time. And Zee looked to be in her early twenties.

[member="Ayden Cater"]