Private Legacies

[Tydeus of Tion]

Tydeus slipped through the crowded streets of one of Denon's skybridges, a massive structure spanning the distance between the tower spires scattered all across the city planet. He made his way through, aware that his presence in the Force might be impossible to conceal even as he sought to keep eyes on his target. Suppressing his presence proved an extremely difficult task given the nature of his... affliction. A walking wound in the Force. Best he had ever achieved was to dampen it slightly, so that rather than a ragged scream in the Force he was more of a... muffled shout.

She ducked into some sort of restaurant with a neon Bantha sign flashing out front. He followed her in. Nondescript in his loose, baggy black trousers and a gray poncho, the boy did not stand out much - save the burn scars on his face maybe. One of the passing waiters pushed by. He looked at her. She seemed to wither, hurrying quickly on. The boy grit his teeth. He seemed to have that effect on people.

The smell of cooked meats came from the kitchen. Tydeus glanced at one of the holomenus. A smokehouse. Not the first time she had visited this place, but the first he'd managed to tail her there.

Ahead, he heard her talking to one of the staff. Something about brisket.

The boy let out a sigh through the nose. She probably felt him by now in the Force, given her lineage. She likely felt his presence much further back. Waiting or playing games would backfire, he was sure. Moreover, such was not his nature. As ever, he applied the direct approach.

" Tansu Treicolt "

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

Halfway through asking if the brisket came lean or fatty, a sourness prickled at her molars and she froze.

"Now that's funny," she said, voice low and steady, not fully turning around yet — "Don't recall wearin' a name tag today."

Brisket order momentarily forgotten, she turned around and found no greater clarity with her eyes than with the itch in her gut. The voice didn't match any face she recognized, and the boy standing there sure didn't look like someone who oughta know her name. Scarred, tired-looking, dressed like someone trying not to be noticed. But Force, something wrong rolled off him. Like the air got heavier just from him standin' in it. Like the lights dimmed around him without ever flickerin'.

She tilted her head, squinting a little — not suspicious, just curious. Maybe a touch concerned.

"But..that's me, alright," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Sorry, stranger, have we met?"

There was something off. Not in a dangerous way, but in a blue-milk-a-week-past-expiry-date kinda way. She couldn't put her finger on it, but her skin seemed to buzz faintly. Might freaky.

Still, she stepped forward a little.

"Did someone send you? Or—" her smile faltered just a hair, "—you alright? You look like you've been through the ringer."

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Tydeus of Tion
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[Tydeus of Tion]

A frown drew the boy's raven brows together. Nothing but guileless curiosity in her sky blue gaze. He searched them still, his own eyes more akin to steel augurs, peeling away the layers of social niceties to delve deeper. Yet, for all his skepticism, she did not seem the hardened Jedi warrior, granddaughter to Grandmaster Grayson, whom he sought.

Instead, she seemed... kind. Something straightforward in the way she spoke. The way she held herself.

More in common with the fishermen of Tion, before the seas boiled and the boats burned and the fishermen too.

He snorted softly and shook his head, absently running a hand through dark hair shot through with streaks of gray.

"Perceptive. Apologies, I lost all my social graces sometime ago." Melted away by turbolaser fire and the months of incessant solitude, broken only by violence. "I am Tydeus. I've been looking for you. Well, really I was looking for your grandmother's holocron. The clues led me to you. I-" muscles in his jaw worked and he looked away, then back to her, "I need your help."

The boy looked beyond her to the smokehouse host, who was staring.

"Seats for two," the boy's lips thinned into a smile's ghostly resemblance.

Tansu Treicolt

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

Tansu's lips parted in soft surprise.

"Well," she said, after a beat, her voice lighter than the moment maybe deserved, and hands on her hips "—you sure got a non-dilly-dally way of introducin' yourself, Tydeus."

She glanced at the host, still gaping, and lifted a hand in a reassuring wave —just a few more seconds please — then back to Tydeus, head tilting to the side with the same curiosity that she'd opened with: "You're lookin' for grandma's holocron?" she repeated gently. "That's… mighty specific."

The words hung there while she watched his face for flinches or lies and found only raw fatigue and exhaustion. And a really sad excuse for a smile that made her flinch.

"I'll do what I can to help, seein' as you've already done some heavy lifting on the gene-ee-yology, but hold on, Tydeus — you can't just sit without ordering. You order up here. And I'm starvin'. If you're talkin' family tree, this could take a while, you should get somethin' to eat. I recommend the brisket, obviously, slow-roasted over coals, with a smoky bourbon glaze." Her pointer and thumb pinched together and she kissed the air in appreciation to the chef. "Or, if y'aint got an appetite, Krayt Jerky's just as good."

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Tydeus of Tion
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[Tydeus of Tion]

"I-" When was the last time he had had anything other than nutrient paste squeezed from a tube, or the tasteless styrofoam of a ration bar? After their failed raid, perhaps. His dinner with the Dark Lord, what felt like years ago.

Even when he had had the option, he typically turned down a cooked meal in favor of the expediency of paste. So much wasted time, eating. All he needed was the proper caloric intake to sustain his regimen. He did not give thought to the taste. It felt... wrong. Enjoying life, its finer things, after everything. He had his purpose. Any deviation felt like a betrayal of the lost.

Still.

This was not some act of hedonism, ordering a simple meal. Had he not suffered enough already?

"Fine. I'll have the brisket with the glaze," he nodded to the host. Ordering at the front. How peculiar. Tydeus supposed his depth of understanding was severely lacking in this area. He had grown up on personal chefs and the lavish establishments of the galactic elite, before it all came crashing down. Those days seemed so distant now. Summer dreams, just out of reach. He looked back to Tansu.

"You've heard of Tion?"

Tansu Treicolt

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

It was like she'd asked him to weight in on the morality of the Jedi doctrine based on the amount of time it took for him to make a choice on what to chew. She blinked at him once or twice, as if the non-verbal cue would hurry him up a bit. Finally, he spoke.

​

"Excellent choice," she nodded and signalled her fingers into a 'v' to the host who submitted their order. Swiftly, to defer any argument, she passed the credits over the table and pocketed her receipt and table number. They'd bring the orders to table six.

"And table six'll be our table for two," she pointed in the direction of a labelled area and nearly shoo'ed him along.

"I haven't, no," she admitted. "But I feel like I'm about to. Please tell me about Tion." She took a seat and pat the spot across from her to indicate a space for him to squat. "And I'm assumin' this'll also tie back to my grandma? Not to rush you, I'm just..I'm listenin', don't'cha worry, just mighty curious how this is all gonna tie together."

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Tydeus of Tion
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[Tydeus of Tion]

He watched the credits slide across and fought down the desire to protest, herded by her to a table, where he took his seat and paused to assemble his thoughts. Elbows on the table, hands laced beneath his chin, just covering his lips, he looked at her - evaluating. He had thought this would be simple. One warrior speaking to another. An exchange of information against a common foe. Perhaps it would be still, but... there was something about her. Wild, but not in the way of a lurking shark. More akin to a state of nature, some far off meadow. Unloading his trauma on her seemed wrong, the same way it would be wrong to trample through the meadow.

It did not matter. He would speak what he must, tell his story, and trust that her kindness did not serve the double to naivete.

The boy lowered his arms to the table.

"Tion was my homeworld. Was. The Kainate blew apart its moons, autoclaved the planet," he took a shuddering breath, struggling to suppress the surge of memories that welled from within whenever he spoke of this. To forget the feel of that skin cracking like parchment at his touch. Of the ashes that never seemed to wash off his hands. He blinked quickly, gray eyes stinging. "Millions dead," he finished hoarsely, trying to speak around the lump in his throat.

"They did it on the orders of Kaine Zambrano, Darth Carnifex, whatever you want to call him." He stabbed a finger into the table, "It was on his command that I lost everything," he hissed these words now, long-dwelling rage stirring, stoked embers. "But he is immortal, or close enough. I've watched hundreds of hours of combat footage, read testimonies, dug up records. Only a handful have beaten him, ever. And only one has killed him."

Tydeus nodded to her.

"Grandmaster Kiskla Grayson. Your grandmother."

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

Tansu didn't speak right away. In fact, for once, she didn't speak at all. Her breath caught in the soft of her throat from the ache in his voice, and the simmer behind each syllable. She managed to listen unflinchingly through his anger, and not recoil from the jagged way he pointed at the table. Instead, she just… listened with a kind of reverence that tread the line of pity.

His words were heavy, emphasized with gestures and a firm point to what was stable between them, articulating a loss that had a shape and weight. It's like she could see it, and better understand the sour feeling that had itched her molars when he'd surprised her just moments ago. It was the kind of loss that clung to a person — she'd seen it before on Talsin. And right now, it was curling around Tydeus like smoke off a ruin.

She had a better understanding why he looked so tired now. Tansu sat back, took a deep, shuddering breath, and maintained her silence.

Nausea haunted the back of her throat.

When he said your grandmother, her expression shifted, softened. Something like guilt flashed across her eyes. She didn't really know her grandma. She'd died long before she'd been even a twinkle in her pa's eyes; but her mother had inherited Kiskla's power when she'd passed. But did that...pass to Tansu? Or Talin?

Is that the help he said he'd needed from her? She hated the idea of adding more disappointment to his heap of upset.

Without thinking, she reached across the table, gentle, steady, and laid her hand on his forearm. "I'm real sorry, Tydeus," she said softly. "For your people. For your home. Ain't no words tender enough for that kind of hurt."

She bit her lip and pulled her hand back to twiddle her thumbs uncomfortably on her lap. Best not to waste his time. He sounded like he was out for revenge, didn't he? And..she and her grandmother shared no actual information between one another.

"I've heard the story, of course. My Ma used to tell it 'round campfires back home—" it felt callous to speak of her mother and home so readily when she'd chosen to leave to seek adventure; a stark contrast to Tydeus who'd had no choice. "Can I ask somethin' bold?" She did not pause for permission:" Are you all....are you the only survivor? Are you Tion now?"

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Tydeus of Tion
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[Tydeus of Tion]

He stiffened at the touch of her hand on his arm. He'd made his mind a place of iron. Hard, yes, but brittle too. If he lowered his guard, even a little, even at all, he feared he might shatter all to pieces.

Am I Tion now?

Some survived. Some even tried to rebuild. He did not know how many in total. They did not carry this weight with them, the naked anguish of the millions dead hung around his neck like a loadstone.

But Tydeus? The Tionese boy? He had not survived.

"No, there are others," he rasped, fingers curling to fists. "I am just the echo of its death."

His purpose was not to rebuild Tion, but to avenge it. He did not need her sympathy. Her kindness. Her warmth. What use do the walking dead have for the living? He just needed the information she possessed.

"I need to know how she did it. Killed Kaine."

Tansu Treicolt

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

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That sour, prickling feeling that had itched at her molars when he first walked in she hadn't known what to call. It was damp and hollow. She hadn't realized until now that it wasn't just around him, it was him. The shape of something vast and terrible carved into the Force. It felt draining, the longer she let herself lean toward it. Like the space between them pulled at her edges, leeching some small shimmer of light she hadn't known she carried until she felt it flicker.

And yet, the wound wasn't gaping. It was bound up in bone and scar and exhaustion. A cage he carried with him, sealed tight and pressed so deep he probably didn't feel where it ended and he began.

She clamped her mouth shut tight and wrinkled her nose, all her freckles pulling taut.

"Hmm." Breathed out through her nose and she flattened her hands on the table, studying the back of her hands rather than looking at him while she considered the gravity of his question.

"…You ain't just some echo," she said, brows pulling together. "Y'seem more like what's left after the echo fades. The quiet part. The part folks try not to sit with too long." Like her not wanting to sit here much longer. He made her uncomfortable. But she paused, thumb brushing her palm absently like she was trying to rub away the Force-tingle still lingering under her skin. "I ain't never felt nothin' like what you carry. It's heavy. Hollow. Like the Force looks at you and don't quite know what to do."

Her eyes lifted to meet his — steady, but softer than before.

"But I gotta ask... why's it matter so much? How she did it. Killin' Kaine." A beat. "You look like someone who already knows what he wants to do. So what is it? You hopin' to do it the same? Or do it worse?"

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Tydeus of Tion
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[Tydeus of Tion]

"I want to make it permanent," he hissed, leaning forward. "I-"

A waiter arrived with food and Tydeus leaned back, muscles in his jaw writhing with lingering anger, though he eyed the food suspiciously in the basket before him. The aroma wafting from the meat was... his mouth watered. Tydeus' brows drew tightly together.

"This smells nice," he muttered, an unwilling concession.

He picked up a utensil and prodded at the brisket. Shockingly, the cooked meat pushed at his poke, peeling away. Huh. He stabbed a piece and put it in his mouth. Chewed.

The flavors overwhelmed him. The tenderness of the meat, basically melting in his mouth, the hint of bourbon in the glaze. He swallowed.

"It's... It's good," he said sheepishly, feeling foolish as the anger began to ebb. He thought more about her words.

"Being around me. Just talking with me. It's draining you isn't it."

Physically. Emotionally. A literal sapping of her essence. As she grew weaker, he grew stronger.

She will leave soon. I am alone. I will always be alone.

"I am sorry."

Tydeus bit the inside of his cheek and looked away from her even as his eyes stung again. He bored a hole in the far corner of their booth with a stare. Some part of him - some part that had not realized he was dead - ached for companionship. For company. For peace.

But there would be no peace for him.

I can rest when I'm dead.

Tansu Treicolt

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

Permanent. Even if she could help, and share what her grandmother had managed, Carnifex had still somehow undone the deed enough to destroy Tion. She thought about this while their plates set in front of them, and stared at the steaming meat. Her thoughts cut short when Tydeus made an observation that didn't seem seeped in despair and she flicked her eyes back up.

"It tastes even better," she encouraged.

Normally, she dove in thoughtlessly, eating as though it was her first meal in days (which was never the case), but today she picked at it and watched her companion across the table with muted curiosity. "Toldja." She beamed triumph, and poked at her first slice, taking her own first satisfactory bite.

"I dunno about what people say about revenge being served cold. I feel like warm is always better."

"Being around me. Just talking with me. It's draining you isn't it."

"I am sorry."

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and after she swallowed, she nodded slowly.

"Yeah, but it's alright.

Nothin' to apologize for. It's only been a few minutes and realistikully, we're just sitting here. Not like I need a bunch'o energy on a battlefield right now or anythin'. You can't help it. Yer probably supressin' what you're usually dealing with too, aint'cha? So thanks for that."

Her fork set down and she leaned forward on her elbows, running her fingers around the brim of the basket shyly.

"Look, Tydeus, I wanna help you. You look like you could use some help. And you obviously put a lotta thought into finding me so I don't want that to be a dead end.

I'll tell you what I know, but I gotta be forthright. I ain't super up and up on the Jedi stuff lately. The last few years my sister and I have been a little more run amuck than anythin', and Denon ain't a place my grandmama frequented. Her Holocron is on Coruscant probably. And she's a ghost in The Force now. Maybe could contact her directly?" She shivered at the thought. Something about speaking to the dead seemed so eerie.

"I ain't super sure how we'd go about that, but worth tryin'."

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Tydeus of Tion
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