Marked

[Dax Perl]

Dax felt as if he were sinking into the inky blackness that surrounded him. Gravity pulling him down towards...something....something with immense power, if only one tapped into it. A nexus of the Force. He couldn't see it yet. But he felt it. And that was enough.

Colors came first. Grey, black, white. A shape came into view. Black, and white slowly took definite features, the grey fading into the background. The elliptical curves bending into to take the shape of a body, out of focus. And then a woman.

The woman stood in some space station. It rang a distant familiar bell in Dax's head. He couldn't quite put a name to it. The woman's hair was as black as night, streaks as pale as the moon. And Marks.

Dax woke. Not with a start. But not with the calm sleepiness of rest. He tossed the covers off and grabbed a shirt, pulling it over his head. Vaguely he knew whereabouts to go. It'd all come to him in time.

[member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Blake Morrigan]

​

| [member="Dax Fyre"] |​

Eternity is very close...can you feel yourself slipping, young soul?

Slowly the shadows' whisper became a voice, a dark call, offering glories enough to make even the brightest Light wander. Some legends live forever. Others are overwritten - reshaped by the sheer will of those who believe that any ordeal can be conquered, any foe vanquished, any god cast down.But a sickness settled in the pit of the girls gut. The shame took hold of her. It shook her. Shame stole her mass and her resolve. Suddenly she felt like a feather, like a breath, like any small nothing ready to be lost in the first breeze. Very little was left, she was sure, because she felt insignificant now. The hard slick heart of her soul: That is what remains. A body small as a river stone, and just as simple. At this moment she pictured herself as a piece of indigestible grit, a nameless nothing hiding among other nameless stones. Perhaps she glittered like a gem, yes. Pride makes her hope so. But if only she could see herself. But she has no eyes, not anymore. Not the dimmest sense survives. What lives is memory, and what slim portion of these thoughts could she really trust?

Blake wasn't sure anymore. In a way things in her life had gotten better so the real question was why did she feel worse?

Perhaps it was because the truth was dawning on her...the truth of what she had done. Blake was a naive little girl who believed she was doing what she did for her people...to free them from tyranny. And in her heart thats what she really believed...and in the end that is what she did. But what happened after the fact was not something...she could forgive herself for. Her actions had cast her planet into a state of chaos and anarchy...without government rule and authority the very foundation of their world collapsed...things there had gotten 'worse' and it was her fault.

Her chest tightened, clenching her fist as her other hand clutched her other arm. The mark that decorated her flesh seeming to flux with energy as pain rippled through her body and traveled down her spine. Blake grimaced, staring out the window at the planet that rotated slowly before her...the girl leaned onto the rail a the emptiness of the halls rang in her ears deafeningly...

Only question now was...what to do next,

 

[Dax Perl]

The Revenant Dawn coasted into the docking station, the tractor beam slowly guiding the Corvette in safely, the hydraulic landing gear sagging under the weight of the vessel which it supported.

Dax leaned forward, his elbows resting against the navigation console before him, his head buried within his hands, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He hadn't experience much sleep since the vision. Maybe his sanity was slipping. He wasn't even sure why he as here. The vision was a blurry mess, with little meaning. The Force presence he'd felt, or thought he felt...it could be nothing. He wasn't a consular, or a seer. He was Sentinel. He relied on skills, not the Force's intervention.

And yet he stood from his seat and exited the starship.

He found himself on another space station, out in the fringes of known space. Perfect for those who wanted to hide or be forgotten. People like him. But he still had work to do.

[member="Blake Morrigan"]