Private Keep Your Eyes Peeled

[Niysha]

Aadihr's aura swirled with complex emotions. For more than a moment, he went to a very dark place, and it showed. Looming stormclouds, old, crackling pain and anger, choked down with practiced ease. Jedi were taught to suffocate their emotions; it was the one part of their methods that Niysha had always been so confused about.

She was going to ask about it for juuust a moment, before he moved on very abruptly. Clearly that wasn't a comfortable topic, so she wouldn't be bringing it up. There was no sense in stressing the goodwill of the chillest, most insightful Jedi she'd met to date while they were vibing over noodles and caff.

Change of topic: her research. Blast. He'd cleverly drawn her cleverly into oversharing about her special interest. "Spooky rocks!" Niysha replied with sudden, girlish verve. "There's an old redacted on this planet. Very, very old. Old enough that I've had a hard time tracking it down." She held her coffee in both hands and enjoyed the warmth as she gleefully explained her whole process, all of her motivations, and barely obfuscated anything. "Redacted don't normally settle down in one place for too long without leaving stuff behind. Spooky rocks, old data files, fun pyramid-shaped doohickeys, that sort of thing."

The most respect she could pay to poor, damaged Aadihr Lidos was to gracefully move on when he quietly implied he didn't want to talk about his dark, troubling past. Niysha understood; she wasn't going to be talking about her abandonment issues or feelings of inadequacy with a random stranger.

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr rested his elbow on the counter, cheek against his knuckles, and listened. There was something almost meditative about it—the way her voice shifted when she started talking about her "spooky rocks." No pretense. No caution. Just the quiet joy of someone in her element, even if she didn’t realize it. The embers of her aura brightened as she spoke, like a gust of wind revitalizing the glow.

His expression, such as it could be read beneath the fall of his white hair and blindfold, was relaxed.

He sipped his drink again. The mug was warm, but not as warm as the small, growing ember at the center of her presence.

“A lot of Jedi get nervous when you mention anything 'redacted,' but I always thought it was worse not knowing. Spooky rocks make more sense when you've at least got the footnotes. Do you chase these things for what they meant, or for what they might still do?” His voice was quiet—curious, not interrogative. “History and power aren’t always the same thing, but I imagine they buried in the same places."

He folded his arms on the bar, shoulders relaxing a touch more. His presence had settled again, his presence banked now, respectful of the way her light had unfurled.

"And I bet the Sight helps immensely digging through old rubble.”

There was no pressure in the his questions and speculations, just a space; one she could fill or leave empty.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Ah, now she had him engaged! Niysha continue along, happily blathering about all of her favorite things to her heat's content. If she could do Aadihr one service - to let him forget whatever concerns still lingered from whatever happened to him to cause that sort of aura - then she would happily go on for hours. For the moment, though, her tirade stopped long enough for her to take a sip of caff.

When she put her cup back down, she was nodding. "It seems that way, though I couldn't tell you how true that is. I don't have a data set to compare it against, as I only really engage in these things alone." The shorter Miraluka shrugged. "I haven't had much of a support structure since I ran off on my own, so I don't have a control group of 'people who know how to find spooky rocks' to test against."

But why did she do it? Niysha reached down from her seat and brought out her datapad from her bag, tapping across its surface to bring up her notes, research, leads... all of it. When she had about fifty-odd records of the Sith academy of Nar Shaddaa pulled up, along with her notes on the cryptex puzzle, the prison-tomb she'd been in with Serina Calis, and a few others, she passed it eagerly over to Aadihr. For once, she could leave the Miraluka accessibility app on, without any concern for vision strain of whoever was looking at it.

Her datapad's screen was set to the lowest, weakest electrical charge possible, with thin, extremely high-current neon letters, using electrical gradients to mimic the various shades and colors of the visible light spectrum.

"I mostly look for them just to have them," she answered simply, with an uncomplicated expression and a bit of a shrug. "I know that you're taught that possessions and attachments are moral failings, or something to that effect? But for us, greed is virtue. I like scary rocks, so I find scary rocks." After a moment, she did add in a concessionary tone. "Of course, if something in the redacted does still work at all, it'll be nice to have. But I don't think I'll be lucky enough to find a functional pyramid-shaped doohickey here, after thousands of years."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr took the datapad with both hands, his touch deliberate. The text glowed in thin, sharp gradients in the force —designed for someone like him. It was a thoughtful gesture, one most wouldn’t even recognize. And surely expensive.

He skimmed. Quietly. No commentary yet. Lines of site logs, burial charts, topographical overlays. Not scanning for espionage—he was simply fascinated by the interface itself. The accessibility setting didn’t rely on audio transcription. Names appeared next. One in particular, isolated without enough context for Aadihr to piece together anything meaningful. Just the name.

His eyes didn’t widen, his shoulders didn’t shift, but something passed behind the blindfold. The faintest stillness caught behind a thought.

"Knight Lidos, turn back."

"I didn't come here to harm anyone. I didn't come here to betray the Order."

Darth Virelia

Aadihr said nothing. Not yet. Just set the datapad down slowly, thumb tapping its edge once in idle rhythm.

“That’s… thorough. You could teach some Jedi archivists a thing or two about cataloging.” His tone was warm—genuinely impressed. “And if you’re chasing down one of these, er,
redacted, I suppose it helps to leave no stone unsorted.”

"Please, just… let me go. Let me figure this out on my own. I don't want to fight you, Aadihr, I don't want any of this. But if it comes to that…" Her eyes hardened, resolve clashing with the tears threatening to fall. "I'll do whatever it takes to survive."

His eyeless gaze returned to the display again, more for rhythm than insight. Then gave a faint, almost knowing smile.

“Possession isn’t inherently corruption. Attachment isn’t inherently weakness. We say those words, but I think half of us forget the rest of the lesson.” A pause. His thumb passed once more over the edge of the pad...

"You're a strange one, Aadihr," she murmured, voice low, edged with something between amusement and exhaustion. "Dragging me out of the ocean just to put me back together? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a soft spot for me."

"What happens when there's nothing left for you to give?"

“You like what you like. You’re honest about it. That’s more than most Jedi I know.”

He lifted his cup again—smaller sip, more habit than thirst.

"I will bleed because it is who I am. Because I can. If there is agony in the galaxy, I would rather take it for myself than watch it be passed to someone else; I doubt many would decline an offer. Fewer still that would understand this morbid greed that I possess."

"Self-aware madness," she said softly. "That's the kind I respect most."

A gentle rhythm. One that left space for her to keep talking. But beneath it all, there was a flicker of melancholy. The pain of the memories were balanced by relief from the subtle proof that the Sith still survived. Balance by contradiction.

Aadihr spaced out, just for a moment. Then the subtle shake of his head, like dust shaken from a cloth.

“Alone?” he echoed. His voice lightened again. “I suppose societies of like-minded archaeologists with a spooky rock fixation are hard to come by after cutting ties.”

The faintest grin touched the edge of his mouth.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Aadihr's aura was an absolute mess. It'd been deteriorating quite a bit over the course of the last couple of minutes, but now he was barely even there. He was a million lightyears away, and he'd left behind here were ghosts. Everyone had a few ghosts that they had to fight just to function, but Aadihr was holding off an army of them, all by himself. And Niysha was not a qualified therapist.

The quiet, subtle Sith took her time studying him. Her expression was hidden behind her caff for more than a few seconds, and when she put it down her smile was a bit more hollow. For all she knew this was normal for Aadihr, and she hadn't triggered any unpleasant memories or lurking shadows. For all she knew, one word in her notes had sent him into a spiral that he'd never recover from. Speculation was pointless.

Niysha tapped the counter again and left a couple of hard credits for Minwu on the bar. When the coast was clear, foot traffic was at a low point, and no one but Minwu was watching closely, she held out her hand on the other side of the counter and called her lightsaber back to it. With practiced ease, it was stowed in her bag beneath a spare change of clothes, the cryptex, and a medpack in seconds.

"I'm sure there are plenty of societies of like-minded archaeologists with a spooky rock fixation over in redacted, but it's been pretty hard to call home recently." The Blackwall had made a right mess of things for a lot of people, though it was actually a pretty mixed blessing for Niysha. As it turned out, "no one in or out" meant that she didn't have to worry so much about being tracked down.

After a moment more of consideration for the troubled young man affecting good humor in front of her, she stood and zipped up her bag. "I think I'm going to walk about a bit. Care to join me? It feels like you've got something to talk about, and we're abusing zero-context euphamisms way too much here."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr sensed a shift in Niysha's aura once more – a pattern he couldn't quite grasp, an emotion hard to identify with her carefully guarded presence.

Sith space and the Blackwall were fairly easy to pick up with the context she provided. What Aadihr couldn't guess at was the offer to walk away from prying ears, to speak plainly without double-talk.

An offer for him to speak about...
The pieces clicked into place. The 'dented metal' she described must be shifting with every stray thought or memory. He'd seen turmoil in others, but never quite had the chance to place an emotion to the pattern himself.

Even worse than her noticing his state of mind: how would Aadihr explain?

He downed the rest of the bitter caf and returned the cup to the far side of the bar.

"Sure – I could chat an ear or two off... though I wouldn't underestimate the resiliency of euphemism on Nar Shadaa."

He turned out his pockets and counted exact change for the caf – coming up a little short with what credits he had on him. After a brief pause, he knelt, grabbed a credit chit from the mumbling Rodian doubled over by a nearby booth, and set it on the bar for Minwu.

"After you," Aadihr offered, standing by the door that was hanging by a single hinge, moments before it fell with a loud THUD, drawing only a brief glance from the enforcers before they returned to... Whatever an investigation on Nar Shadaa entailed.

Probably sifting through the culprit's pockets.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

With a silent nod, Niysha took the offered door and led Aadihr outside, hefting her bag over one shoulder in the process. While it wasn't much quieter, there was privacy in being surrounded by untold billions. No one on the entire planetoid was really looking for either of them. Just two people wandering around the streets at night, talking quietly to each other with only a single visible blaster between them was possibly the least interesting sight on a very busy moon.

When they were far enough away from the shop, Niysha finally exhaled a bit. She didn't feel the need to actively turn to face Aadihr like she had before; it was nice to be able to just talk without needing to worry about what her face was turned towards. "So. You went to some pretty dark places while we were talking back there. And I don't really want to ask, because it's not my business and also because, like, it might be super personal."

Their path took them along the edge of a skyway, the guard rails a thin, delicate protection from an endless fall into a very short and messy end. Speeders screamed by almost as loudly as an infinite wash of neon lights shrieked into the night. One such sign directly overhead was silently but somehow very loudly advertising an establishment with < FRESH GIRLS | THE LATEST SHIPMENTS FROM- > and then a slow strobe of three different planets.

"But also I kind of really want to ask. I don't know how common it is for Jedi to know names like the ones I have recorded in my notes," she continued. A larger truck sped by, and the jetstream in its wake battered her frizzy mop of hair into a wild bounce for a second or two. "In fact, I don't have a lot of names recorded at all. Which narrows it down pretty well."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr walked in step with her, one hand in his pocket, the other using his stick to navigate with tactile sense, leaving his Sight to wander. The soft tap of his staff against the ferrocrete walk was the only sound he offered for a stretch.

When she asked, he didn’t was still sorting out what to share in his mind. The glow of neon signage flashed, but he saw only the translucent tubes, devoid of force presence.
He exhaled softly through his nose. A slight sigh.

“I knew one of them. Before she turned. And... After."

His head tilted slightly, as if remembering the shape of her voice. His steps didn’t slow, but something in his presence wavered, briefly, like a ripple across still water.

“I thought I was helping – maybe I did, insofar as guiding the inevitable to happen without making it worse. Serina was a talented padawan, but was hiding something dark. I... I should not share what is not mine to tell. It was the firs – no, perhaps the second time that she died.”

The weight of it didn’t need more words.

The noise of speeders and smog-choked venting filled the silence between them, long enough for his voice to feel steady again when he spoke.

“But I appreciate the care in the way you asked.” A faint, dry curve to his mouth.
She had certainly made it easier to talk about.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

That was about what she expected. Niysha barely nodded and kept walking, past a large landing area absolutely packed with small stalls and kiosks. It was likely meant to be a municipal landing pad, but anything bigger than a four-seater would have difficulty finding anywhere to sit down with how packed it was with pedestrians and street vendors. The crowd was loud, of course, so she didn't try talking again until they passed through and out the other side into a slightly less busy skyway path.

"I don't know if this helps or not, but she's doing fine. Confident, content, in her lane," she eventually continued. Niysha didn't feel the need to regale some poor man she'd just met and thought was kind of cute actually that she'd gotten to know his old, "dead" friend pretty closely. On the other hand, she did feel obliged to set one record straight.

After a moment to sort her thoughts and clear her throat, Niysha continued. "And while I understand that you might not agree with where she wound up, I do feel like I need to take exception to the idea that she's 'dead.' She's very alive, making new decisions and learning new things. She's curious, self-motivated, even patient and careful, for a Sith." Which, if Niysha wasn't the gleaming example of that paradox, would've sounded a bit like describing Hoth's most cuddly wampa.

Niysha hesitated just a moment, finding a reasonably safe rail to lean against and moodily observe the infinite, choked, thriving, deeply polluted air of the Smuggler's Moon from a scenic overlook that neither of them could properly enjoy. "I realize that might sound a bit defensive. I may not have much pride as a Sith, but I wouldn't pretend one of my classmates had 'died' if they were taken in by the Jedi. Just felt like I needed to say something."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr didn’t bristle at the correction. His response came with a slow exhale once he realized he probably sounded like he was speaking in Jedi metaphors.

“Ah. I should have clarified.” His voice was quiet, almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean dead as in… ‘lost her way.’ I meant killed, biologically dead.”

He paused at the railing beside her, leaning forward on his staff as he glanced down at the unseen neon-drenched abyss below them.

“Serina died in the restricted archives under Coruscant. I triggered the alarms. I drew my weapon first.” A moment of silence followed—sharp, but not accusatory. “ Valery Noble was the one who struck the final blow, but I ultimately set it in motion. I had a vision at the time, that it was the only path to her becoming free of what trapped her. I suppose that came true.”

He lost himself in the memory for a moment.

“I don’t know how she came back the first time, but I have a suspicion.” His lips twitched into a dry, sideways smile. “She was in pieces at the bottom of the ocean on Woostri. Still not metaphor, very literally chum for the fish, but still very much alive, being pieced together slowly by something. I don't know if what I saw was true to what others would see, but it was darkness made manifest.”

He politely neglected to mention the multiple times Serina spoke as if seducing him would work. The corners of his mouth turned, just faintly.

“She mended me, the third time. Or maybe just made sense of me.” He tilted his head slightly, a quiet motion of amusement and thought.

“She asked what I would be once there was nothing left of me to give. And the answer was simple: I would give anyway.”

He looked ahead, where the speeder lights blurred like stars in motion.

“It wasn’t compassion. Or guilt. Or even hope. It was... hunger. To take pain before someone else could feel it. A kind of madness, maybe. But mine.”

A pause.

“So, I am glad to hear that she’s alive, both in the metaphorical and literal sense. And thriving, it sounds like. Free."

Aadihr let out another sigh. It may have worked out for the best, but... Crossing blades with the blonde teenager, witnessing her aura snuff out, and knowing it was directly the result of his actions was not an easy memory to live with.

“I apologize for any confusion, it's... well, it's rather confusing to me too.”

Aaand now I'm trauma-dumping to the first Miraluka I come across. Maybe I should visit home.

Aadihr silenced himself before he rambled further. Surely the last thing Niysha wanted was to hear him tell someone else's life story from his fragmented perspective.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

"Oh. Huh." Niysha couldn't blink in surprise. Fortunately, she was talking to someone like her, so her aura showed the mild, hesitant confusion for her.

It took her more than a few seconds to piece together her thoughts. Her focus didn't seem to be interrupted much by the huge barge flying past a bit too close, or by the three siren-blaring speeders that trailed after it. She didn't flinch when there were blaster shots just on the other side of the exterior wall from where she and Aadihr were standing, or when three men started shouting and shoving each other only a few meters away.

After seconds, slightly less than a minute, Niysha finally spoke up. "That's not... entirely uncommon. For Sith." Her words were a bit more careful this time. "From what I understand, Jedi share the basic Miralukan belief that life returns to the Force when it dies. In general, Sith are excessively materialistic. History is painted wall to wall with stories of ancient Sith Lords who went to war with half the galaxy for immortality."

Logically, scientifically, factually speaking, Sith were cheating death constantly. While only a fraction of a percent of any given generation of Sith found ways to avoid their own mortality, that number was basically the highest in the galaxy for a single population. But hobbiest anthropology aside, that wasn't even close to the main reason that what Aadihr had said was hanging with Niysha.

Niysha considered bringing up their relationship with Aadihr... but she knew Serina Calis well enough to know that she would prefer discretion. So instead, she grappled with the fact that she might have had congress with a possessed corpse on her own. She couldn't think of a way that something like... whatever Abeloth was(???) would've been able to hide from her, but it was a completely valid concern. She absolutely needed to find time to talk to Serina about that one in the future.

"Thanks for the explanation, though. Sorry for jumping to defense so quickly." Leaning over the bars, Niysha turned to give Aadihr a calm, genuine smile. She'd long given up hiding her aura, but even without her intentionally burying it, her presence was mild at the best of times. Small changes in emotion shone through very clearly. "I'm started to get used to having calm philosophical discussions with Jedi, without drawing lightsabers or trying to kill each other. It's pretty nice."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr gave a soft chuckle under his breath. Not quite laughing, but his aura would reflect that he took no slight from the misunderstanding.

"No apology needed, I wax metaphorical too often as it is."

Her aura was no longer suppressed - muted as it naturally was, it made the cadence of conversation a bit easier for Aadihr. Though, he couldn't identify what the temporary shift was after her recounting of historical Sith's pursuit of immortality.

He was no empath, he could not read minds, but the only real comparison he had for that pattern was when Azurine Varek finished off the bantha milk Aadihr had in the in the War T.O.R.T.L.E.'s mini fridge—that is, when she found out it was two months past expiration date.

The memory caused an inadvertent chuckle from Aadihr. Not laughing at whatever Niysha was thinking about...
but he probably could have timed it better.

He straightened up from the railing, letting the ambient noise of the moon wash around them before continuing. His tone was warm again—centering.

"And you’re right. Our views of death, even among Miraluka, are hardly universal but generally trend towards one's spirit returning to the Force."

A beat. A deeper breath.

"I’m glad Serina has people in her life who would defend her." That part was simple. Honest. The Padawan he remembered was, frankly, snarky, a tad bit narcissistic, and an unrepentant bully who knew how to pay lip service to get out of trouble, but that was just part of growing up.

Hells, Aadihr had no right to judge anyone with how volatile he'd been in the past.

"I'm started to get used to having calm philosophical discussions with Jedi, without drawing lightsabers or trying to kill each other. It's pretty nice."

I'm not fit for the title.

"I'm hardly a good example of a Jedi. Not a big fan of lighting up the ol' kyber crystal,"
He said, tapping his 'walking stick', a simply veneer of a hollowed wood staff that housed the Phrik core and emitter of his lightsaber pike within. It might fool sighted people with a casual inspection, but the inner workings of the stick were probably just as transparent and visible to her as they were to him.

"I generally avoid diplomat duty. I think the service corps is beginning to suspect I only stick around the temples for the free room and board. I know my padawans have caught onto it."
He said, only half joking. Two-thirds joking?

"Honestly... I think I'm handier with a tusken cycler than a lightsaber anyway. Anticipating projectile arcs just kind of clicked for me."

Actually... with the way Niysha threw that plate, maybe it was a common trait for force-sensitive Miraluka?

"Still, not every day you meet someone who throws crockery like a guided missile. I’m starting to think projectile delivery might be a lost Miralukan art form.”
Enough curiosity tinged his voice that the banter could double as a legitimate question.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Niysha couldn't help but laugh. Aloud, for a given definition of "loud." Even during her little lapse in control, her voice never made it above the volume of private table at a cocktail lounge. "Aadihr, do you think I'm anything remotely resembling a 'good example' of a Sith?" Her grin was that awkward kind of jovial, self-depreciating and crooked. "If either of us were proper sectarians, you would have declared me a heretic the moment I went loud, I would've shouted back that you were weak, something-something won't let you harm innocents, something something foolish-Jee'dai-waaahrior."

That last little bit was clearly a reference to an old holocomedy.

The idiosyncratic Sith - as Tilon Quill had once put it - cocked her head to the other side and leaned around to turn to face her companion. The dramatic lighting framing the two of them from passing traffic below was wasted on both. "Face it, Master Jedi. If you're a proper misfit, then you're in fine company."

When Aadihr began recounting his non-lightsaber skills, Niysha nodded attentively and waited her turn. Like so very, very much else, this was something they had deeply in common. "I hate blasters," she replied with a smirk, shaking her head slightly. "I can use them fine within, like... I don't actually know. More than fifty meters, less than a hundred. I don't think I'm a bad shot, but I just don't like them. Trajectory is easy when it's coming at me, but pointed away?" She shuddered in the universal indication of "icky."

"For me it's electricity. I just kind of took it for granted that it was this visible to everyone without eyes, but-" Niysha stopped and indicated up to the flashing neon sign above. "It's not just that." Her finger trailed over to the mess of consoles and wires that made up a junction box a few meters away. "That right there? As bright as any soul. I kind of figured all of us were like that, but as previously established, you're the first one I've ever met."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr smiled at her laugh. Quiet, maybe, but genuine. Her whole presence tilted just slightly when she did that—like a reed shifting with the breeze.

"No, no, wait, I think the rule is: if you're a bad enough Sith, you circle back around to being a good one."

He paused. Grimaced.

"Wait—sorry. That sounded better in my head." A brief lift of the hand, apologetic. Why am I like this.

He leaned his shoulder to the railing beside hers again, picking up the thread of perception with a tilt of his head as she gestured to the junction box.

“I can see the... flows? fields? I think,” he admitted, nodding slightly. “Magnetic and... Electrical fields, right? The influence of particles motion through space. But the current itself? I can't see it clearly, at least not like you’re describing. It’s like hearing a conversation through the floorboards, but not quite being able to make out the words.”

He paused thoughtfully, then added with a dry tone:

“I’m incredibly bad at lifting things.”

That seemed disconnected for a second, before he clarified:

“Telekinesis, I mean. I can’t throw things or yank them around. But if I focus on something small – maybe not electron small, but particles?” He lifted one hand, pinched fingers together, and narrowed his awareness around a small knot of molecules in the air in front of them. Millions of particles in the space. Splitting his focus was never the problem, it had always been the mass he struggled with.

Aadihr stilled them, let them compress and settle, let the outside molecules rush in to fill the space, cooling as their vibrations slowed.

A brief, localized chill whispered between them—a concentrated thread of cool wind that brushed past, barely enough to tug at a collar or raise goosebumps.

“I’ve been working on stilling things. Holding them still in the air—molecules, mostly. It turns out if you can stop them from vibrating…” He trailed off, then gestured. “Cold. Slow them down further, they condense. Pressure builds. Thermodynamics does the rest.”

A faint grin formed. It didn’t quite reach his tone, which was still soft, but there was pride in the tinkering.

“Convoluted workaround, but it kind of lets me fake directly Altering the Environment. I imagine electricity’s not far off—just... smaller particles, moving faster. And more dangerous.”

He let out a slightly embarrassed laugh for a moment. It must seem a simple thing compared to viewing current directly.

His expression shifted again. Thoughtful. A touch hesitant.

“I’ve also been experimenting with, well, I don't know exactly what to call it
De-anchoring is what I've been using. Far-seeing, but... unmoored. Letting my awareness leave my body completely.”

He didn’t sound particularly proud of this one.

“It works, but it's not... its side effects are unpleasant. Nausea, disorientation. The worst part is finding my way back. If something moves my body while I’m out of it, or if I forget which way I came from I... get lost. It’s happened before.”
It was a unique kind of terror. Looking back to realize you were gone. Being in two places at once, almost - every sense divorced from your mind's sight.

He rubbed the back of his neck briefly, then. He didn’t elaborate. An explosion while scouting. A warzone on Iridonia. Auras of suffering and pain on a citywide scale. Transparent bodies devoid of life. Watching the light fade from the first life he took.

He shook away the memory. The third time he's done that in this conversation. A practical tic, if an obvious visual tell. Eager to redirect, his head tilted toward her again, curious.

“But you—youre the first Miraluka I've met since leaving home as well. Is there anything you always assumed we all saw, or did, or anything you have to repeatedly explain to the folks with eyes?”

He wasn’t teasing. The question was genuine. There was a quiet eagerness to deflect from the trains of thought his mind kept returning to. A quiet encouragement, like he’d be content to listen until the stars burned out.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Niysha didn't laugh this time, though only because she physically stopped herself. It took genuine effort, when he was once again describing something she assumed was a universal experience in a way that made it not sound like it was universal at all. The more she learned about her people, the more she began to realize what she had always known: her heritage had never defined her before, and it certainly wasn't about to start now.

If what he was trying to do wasn't farseeing, and she'd been doing it this whole time, then what exactly was it that she'd been doing?

Focus on questions. Maintain mindfulness of your surroundings and your partner. Niysha thought for a second before she found an answer, as she always did. No use in saying anything half-baked. "There are so many things I have to explain to everyone that if I were to start listing them, we'd be here until the moon's core destabilized," she replied with an awkward grin, then took a seat on the skyway walk. Her legs dangled over the edge into the infinite abyss, thighs straddling the guardrail. It looked plenty sturdy enough to support her, so she wasn't exactly worried.

"Describing auras is always a bit like when they try to describe color. I can use every Basic word I know and the best I can come up with is similes. They say red is hot, blue is cold. I say light is a fire, dark is a stormcloud. Basic wasn't made to describe it." She leaned her chin on one of the crossbars, pressing forward over the endless drop into lights and traffic, all the way down to the undercity. "Sith are big about masks and costumes. It's legitimately funny, sometimes. They're all awful at manipulating their presence, so they try to compensate by wearing more clothes. It barely even works on humans."

After several seconds of just sharing the vagaries of her... condition was inaccurate. She wasn't disabled, she was literally biologically different from the standard she had to compare herself to. After several seconds of just sharing things, Niysha's lips melted into a slightly less joyful expression. Neutral? Her aura was definitely frowning. "Have you seen many people like me before? Back home. I - we? - can see light and dark in everyone, and I know that I'm not nearly as terrifying as a lot of my kind, but I'm still..."

Deep breath. Find words that aren't self-abusive. "...I met a Jedi padawan, and she was warm and comforting. I met a Jedi master, and she was blinding and fiery, but I only felt like she was dangerous because of what I am. And now I've met you - a Jedi knight. And you may be a little damaged, but you're soothing to be around. Marble; cool and smooth, with cracks that make you feel more alive." Now she was absolutely frowning. "I'm not like that. I'm not like any of you. How do you live around people like me?"

One of the many failings of Basic was that there wasn't a color association for every emotion. What would In or Leos have said that "ostracized despair" fell under? Probably some kind of blue.

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr stayed standing, at first. Let her speak. Let the ache settle and breathe without rushing to patch it over. Her aura dimmed, not in strength but in something subtler. Timbre, perhaps. He couldn’t name it. But he recognized the patterns of someone feeling outcast, or some pain of isolation. Maybe not literal, maybe emotional, or perceived. Aadihr couldn't pretend to know exactly - he wasn't an expert at reading the auras; he just relied on pattern recognition. His capacity was imperfect at best, so he tried to assume as little as possible.

He leaned his arms over the guardrail, close enough to hear, far enough not to crowd her.

“When you say ‘people like you’... do you mean Miraluka? Sith? Force sensitive Spacers out on their own?” He kept his voice soft. Curious, not probing.

A gust of air screamed past—speeder traffic below. The vibrations rattled the rail under his arms.

“Because to me, it doesn't feel like I have to live 'around' you. Not in the ‘tolerating you’ sort of way.” A small shrug. “I listened to you speak about cataloging tombs and puzzles and ‘spooky rocks’. You didn’t look like dark storm clouds then."

He turned his head slightly, a subconscious courtesy from being around sighted folk.

“I think the difference lies not in what we see, but how our minds interpret the force. Exactly how others cannot truly describe color I dont know if there's any true way to share how one interprets their surroundings."

Aadihr furrowed the brow above his covered eyesockets.

"I do see light and dark in everyone like you describe. For me it's... like drops paint in water from how others have described it. They mix and swirl together to various degrees. Sometimes it's hard for me to identify the individual components if they are too blended together. There's turbulence and tone in the 'water' which I guess is closer to stress and disposition. And then there are 'hues' that are more complicated emotions. The more muddled the hues, the more muddled or conflicted the person is, in my experience. Clearer emotions are more like a... What was the word... Kaleidoscopic blend? Distinct colors and patterns - easier for them to identify and easier for me to see. But just because I see it, doesn't mean I know what it actually means. Like body language, it's only a guess. For me, at least."

Aadihr sighed. This was probably more along the lines of what she was asking.

"And then there's alignment. The gradient of light and dark. I've stuck with the paint analogy, but it is more complicated than that. A Jedi having a bad day is darker than normal, same as a sith feeling calm."

Aadihr remained silent for a moment, feeling like he's rambled like a madman, speaking incoherently to everyone except his own mind.

"Your presence doesn't pain me, it doesn't burden me to sense you nearby. It doesn't hurt to look at you, if that makes sense."

Another beat passed. He could’ve stopped there. Maybe he should have.

“There is no one like you. There is only you. And every other person, every single one, are living lives as distinct and vibrant as you are, and they're all too busy worrying about the small things in their lives to be watching you, waiting to burn you at the stake, or whatever it is you fear of us Jedi.”

His brow furrowed again. Too much.

Aadihr exhaled gently. He didn’t say anything more. The moment was hers if she wanted to run with it. He also wouldn't hold it against her if his guess was insultingly far off. He could hold the silence. After all, focusing on helping others kept his mind from straying into unpleasant places.

After a little longer of a pause, Aadihr tentatively asked, "Do you wish you were? More terrifying, I mean. Like the rest of your kind?"

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Hmm. That was a heavy question. Niysha answered briefly and immediately, offering Aadihr a wonky grin as she did. "Sometimes, yeah. A little."

After that answer, she trekked deeper into herself to find a more complex truth. That was how thoughts and emotions worked. At first blush they were very simple, and with anything more than surface thought they became layered and complicated. After a few seconds of contemplative thought un-staring out over the busy expanse of the smugglers' moon, Niysha finally found all of the words she wanted.

"I've been in situations where, if I could radiate power to the point that it made normal people legitimately uneasy, I could've avoided a problem or two," she began, then punctuated her explanation with a shake of her head. "But most of the time, being that loud just seems like so much hassle. I'm largely convinced that the majority of Sith treat violence as their first resort because screaming 'I am Sith' to the unfeeling heavens tends to make the galaxy respond in kind."

Niysha cocked her head to the other side, tapping one finger gently against the railing. "We tend to think of complications borne from being so powerful that people can feel it from across the room as a beneficial side-effect of that power. Someone who's strong has overcome countless trials, and if their strength creates more trials for them to overcome, then it's both natural and good to tackle them head-on."

She shook her head and stood back up to join the other Miraluka. "I don't see it that way. We're all given challenges, and we find ways to conquer them. A challenge for a mighty and dangerous Sith Lord might look like four armed men facing him with hostility when all he did was walk in the room. A challenge for me is avoiding any hostility from those same four armed men."

Turning so she could lean against the rail with her back to traffic, Niysha felt the rush of wind blast at her chaotic mess of hair when five speeders zipped by. "I think most Sith put way too much value on power. There are three lines in the Code after 'I gain power,' but I haven't yet met a Sith that doesn't treat it like power is the final goal. Wasteful and shortsighted."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr listened.

The way she articulated her values wasn’t what he expected from someone who called herself Sith. Then again, he was never a believer of labels defining people. Nor was he sure what he expected anymore. The ones who impressed him rarely fit in their boxes.

"That makes sense," he said softly. He stood beside her now, still leaning slightly on the railing, posture relaxed.
He smiled faintly, at no one in particular.

“In truth, while it may be nice to feel safe through Power... I’ve never really cared about how big someone’s presence is. Whether it makes a room tense, or calm, or spins the air sideways. What matters more to me is whether that person’s is being something they chose or becoming something they built around a wound.”

He felt out the next thought before he gave it voice.

"I don’t really care if someone’s Sith, Jedi, something in-between. I care if they’re free. And happy, I guess, though that’s... harder."

There was a long pause after that. The word sat in the air, as if he was still measuring it. His fingers tapped gently against the railing, once, in thought.

“That last line of the Sith Code?” His voice lowered slightly, curious and cautious in equal measure. “‘The Force shall free me.’ or something along those lines?”

A small shrug, almost self-conscious, he didn't exactly study darksider's religion. He barely studied his own.

“Maybe some people get lost chasing it. Maybe they think if they scream loud enough, they can coerce the Force to liberate them out of fear. I don't know – I think freedom can also be wanting peace on your own terms - freedom from one's self, I guess.”
Freedom from one's past.

He looked toward her again, or at least gestured with his awareness, anchoring his attention.

“If your version of strength is surviving without needing to cast a shadow over others, then that’s a kind of power worth cultivating. If it makes you free and makes you happy.”

"... I haven't yet met a Sith that doesn't treat it like power is the final goal. Wasteful and shortsighted."

A soft exhale.

"I think I have."

A small smile.

"You don’t strike me as wasteful. Or shortsighted.”

Just a quiet offering of reassurance. Not from a Jedi, or even a Miraluka. Just Aadihr.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Deep philosophical conversations with the opposing sect were the sort of thing one would expect to happen on some kind of spiritually important world. Tython or Korriban, maybe Dagobah... something with a presence that you could feel just by existing on the planet. The one thing Niysha hadn't put her money on when she woke up this morning was eating noodles with a very hot Jedi on Nar Shaddaa, then talking quietly and peacefully about the Sith Code with him.

"I guess you have," Niysha replied, giving Aadihr an appreciative smile.

Standing with a big, overhead stretch, Niysha turned back to the other Miraluka and crossed her arms, one hip out in contrapposto. It was time to take the dive, though she absolutely had to hype herself up for it. "So," she began with a slightly more resolute tone than before. "We've both outed ourselves, overshared stuff we had no business dumping on each other, picked at scabs that probably should've healed by now... discussed high philosophy with the enemy?" She shrugged. "It's been a busy day, I guess."

C'mon, girl. Get the lead out. "...And I was wondering if maybe you were free for caff. Or tea. Whatever your drink is."

Yes, that was absolutely "asking him out," but Niysha did immediately mentally kick herself for ambiguity. She would not let any misunderstandings stand. Bogan, they were adults and she was going to talk about her feelings like an adult. "To be clear, this is a date. I am asking you out. I think you're kind and smart and very, very hot, and I'd like to maybe go chill with you in a less... religious-debate-y setting." Excellent. Shot fired. Much better.

Her aura wept anxiety like she'd just been shot at. Self-mastery was the goal of any Force tradition; Jedi wanted it because it powered them, Sith wanted it because the way they achieved power tended to make them especially vulnerable to losing control. It was one thing that Niysha was exceptionally good at, far better than most of her peers. In this moment? The seconds between casting her line and waiting for a bite? She felt every bit a nervous, idiot schoolgirl half her age.

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

He felt her aura shift even before she spoke again.

A spike of anxiety. Rising. Tense.
It was enough to jolt Aadihr from the calm rhythm of the conversation—subtle and silent, like hearing the string of a bow drawn somewhere behind your back. His breath caught just slightly. His posture didn’t change, but his mind was already running.

She’s leaving? She’s angry? She’s—no. No, she’s just winding up for something. But what?
And then—

"...And I was wondering if maybe you were free for caff. Or tea..."

Relief.
Easy.
Aadihr’s shoulders softened slightly. Of course. Just caf. Just two Miraluka in a city
He parted his lips to agree—

"To be clear, this is a date."

And just like that, he short-circuited.
For a second, he just stood there.

For at least 5 seconds. Ten?

Then, all at once, the awareness of Azurine Varek flooded into him, the little purple sphere in his mind that was the connection to the bond the Iridonian woman accidentally formed with him through the Force, still new, still fragile, but ever present; growing day by day. A quiet, tidal pull in the back of his soul that pointed in one direction.

He still was not used to being wanted. Not like this. And he didn’t dislike her. Not at all. In another life, maybe—

His mouth opened again. Nothing came out.

“…Oh.”

A soft sound, halfway between realization and apology.

He glanced down. Shifted his weight on the railing. Fumbled for a second. He had to physically stop himself from turning and running as he discovered an entirely new form of social anxiety.

But he didn’t.
Because he’d spent years running when things got hard. And Niysha had mustered the courage to ask – and clarify – and that deserved better than a juvenile retreat.

A hand lifted to rub the back of his neck—bashful, sheepish, his face tipped slightly downward, his cheeks flushed bright red, blissfully unseen without eyes, or so he thiught. His aura was was conveying all of this and more, more clearly than any blush could.

“That’s... I mean—thank you. Genuinely. It was brave And I’m...”
Aadihr grimaced at himself. Took a breath.

“I’m kind of... already with someone.”
He winced. He hadn’t meant for that to sound as awkward as it did.

“It’s... recent. We haven’t even had the what-are-we conversation in a normal context yet, but...”
His hand lowered, and he managed to look in her direction fully now. Not hiding anything in his aura, hoping that whatever she saw could convey what he failed to find words. Warmth and apology. Care and conviction.

“You’re thoughtful. You’re sharp. You’re... Clever, and bold, in a way I admire, not the 'I Declare I Want This' way-" he said, doing his best pantomime impression of Connel Vanagor 's huge dad, with a stereotypical conquerer-king voice (Aadihr wasn't sure he'd actually ever heard Caltin speak) "-but the seeing the risk and taking the leap anyway sort of boldness. Courage, I guess. And if things were different, maybe I’d have said yes..."

A pause...

Nice going, Aadihr. Go on. Make it worse. Try to 'fix' what you've done. 'Heal' it. Rub salt in the wound and call it Bacta.

Another subconscious shake of his head. The fourth, expelling the thought.

“... But I’d still like to share a drink. Caf, tea, you name it. No pressure. No mixed signals. Just two non-dating people and no eyes watching the galaxy spin from a better view than usual.”

His hand lightly tapped the edge of the railing once. By Ashla, he was nervous now.

Maybe you should have run, do the girl and the galaxy a favor. Kark off to the outer rim for another five years, that'll fix everything.

“And, to be selfish... You’re the only other Miraluka I’ve met since I was ten. I don’t want to lose that."

Great, show off some more abandonment issues and self-pity, women love that.

Aadihr forced his shoulders to un-tense, leaned on the rail a bit more than necessary. Prepared to flinch, or flee. Expecting some uncharacteristic violent outburst, subconsciously wrapping himself in Tutaminis, as if he could deflect emotions.

Not because of Niysha, not because she was a Sith.

Just an old reflex. Because of a Jedi he hadn't seen in years.

Niysha​