Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Like a Bat Out of Hyll

While the caf brewed, Thirdas stood leaning over the counter as he stretched the night's stiffness from his body. His shoulder was still sore, but it was healing thanks to the bacta. His head snapped to the left, then immediately to the right, stretching the joints in his neck and making the pair of dog tags rattle against his chest.

The brewer clicked off as it completed its task, just as Kyra appeared from her quarters looking more like herself. He poured a pair of mugs and slid hers along the counter before claiming the other. No milk, no sugar. Black and bitter.

Then came her question out of the blue. He sipped his brew while thinking of an answer.


"Once, when I was little. Back in a time when my dad thought I'd grow up to become a Jedi like the rest of my family. He sat me down and explained the concept to me. I was four so, most of it went over my head."

He took another sip.

"It... didn't end well. I closed my eyes, and after a while I was just sort of... swallowed up by the Force. I experienced terrible visions. I saw my father die, my mother, my siblings. My people, my home was in flames."

Staring down into his mug, he caught his shadowy reflection in the dark liquid.

"After dad got through to me and managed to bring me back, I wept for hours. You'll forgive me if I didn't feel like giving it another try after that traumatic experience."

Raising his mug, he downed all that remained as if it were an alcoholic beverage rather than hot caf. He put the mug on the counter and eyed Kyra suspiciously.

"Why?"


 
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Kyra sat like stone under his story, his experience a fair share similar to what he had supported her through yesterday. Not that she was thinking of that, because she was thinking forward, not backwards.

"Well," she said simply, pouring half the sugar container into her cup. "You're not four anymore. Sit on the floor and cross your legs."

She dipped her pinky into the mug, unflinching to the heat as she dissolved the sugar away. She glanced up at him, a mirror image of Joza as she waited for him to obey.
 
Thirdas blinked at her request-- no, command, that he sit down and assume meditative stance. She was a stark difference to the frail girl he'd comforted the night before, as if Joza herself had taken possession of her daughter's mind and body.

Reluctantly he did as told, stepping over to a more open area to take a seat on the floor, crossing his legs. Even now his father's lessons came flooding back; the Jedi tenets, the old Code the once-united Jedi Order would adhere to, their history... Stuff he did not think he would ever have use for since casting aside any notion of becoming a Jedi himself.

Yet here was Kyra over a decade later, demanding that he resurface those old memories.

"You gonna tell me why you're making me do this, Pinky?"

 
Kyra closed her eyes, her hands wrapping around the mug.

A deep breath in .... then out... the steam dissipated off the top of the mug, the drink brought down to a palatable temperature. "Nida is a sith by choice. That means she can no longer be trusted." She opened her eyes, staring blankly down at her dim reflection in the mug.

"She tried to corrupt me." A beat. "She would have, too, but you got in the way." She looked up, leveling severely. "You can no longer trust me, or your own mind when we're around her. Not until you can guard it." And her her own.

"Close your eyes. Drown out the rest of the world and focus on my voice."

Thirdas Heavenshield Thirdas Heavenshield
 

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