Private Midnight Temple

[Leon Gallo]

Aboard the Prosperity, one night ago



The flashes of blue filled Leon’s vision as he tried again and again to pierce the training droid’s defenses. It was set to the highest level--the kind some masters struggled with. Each strike of his flurry of blows was blocked, then he was smacked again with the droid’s lightfoil. Leon stepped back several moments, then launched again, willing the force to make him faster. Almost no one was awake, though the main halls of the temple were always lit. Another rush of blows, another failure.

Leon had been having nightmares almost every night lately. At first, he’d made another painting after the nightmare, then he’d decided to try and train. His failure on Korriban was the biggest motivator. Not only had he failed to protect the masters he had been tasked with escorting, he’d failed to even land a blow on the Sith. He was still alive only because the Sith had chosen not to kill him. But it wasn’t Korriban that woke him in a cold sweat…

“Gah!”

Leon stumbled back, rubbing his newly hurt wrist. Even though he’d been fighting the droid every night, he didn’t feel like he’d improved at all. When innocents depend on him to protect them, how could he trust himself to do so? With a sigh, the Padawan shut off the training droid, and turned to leave. It was going to be a long day…

Now​

Shouts filled the air. Screams and guttural cries joined them. He was there again, in that damaged apartment, trying to evacuate. He was cutting through the monsters that consumed Brentaal, with a family behind him. No matter how many fell, more were there, they seemed to just go through him, towards the family. Then he was somewhere else. He was flying away, seeing a Jedi dueling the titan who’d brought this devastation. All alone, surrounded by terrors. Another shift, and Leon was fighting that titan, surrounded by the swirling ghosts and the screams of the dead. A successful blow to the titan's mask, and behind it, his own face, eyes gold.


Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, Leon sat awake. He looked around, trying to steady himself, then rolled out of bed. He shuffled past the dozens or paintings that littered his room, each of them depicting scenes he'd dreamt. Hurriedly throwing on a shirt, the Padawan stumbled out of his dorm. Most everyone was asleep, but he knew there would be no more for him.

In a daze, he began to wander. He didn't know where, only that he couldn't try going back to sleep.



Auteme

 

[Auteme]

Leon Gallo ​

Auteme's mish-mashed sleep schedule was the New Jedi Order's worst kept secret. Despite how organized and energetic she appeared, there were few nights when she wasn't up late studying or working. Perhaps it was just to be safe -- Ryv had a habit of showing up at her door late at night. Or perhaps luck favored her when something interesting was happening long after the sun had set.

The Prosperity was a grand vessel and when the night shift was active there were few about in the halls. It was a magical time, in a way. It was always startling to see their creations without them. An abandoned city after some catastrophe; what they had made, without them, emptied of life. The dull lights of the hallways, dimmed for the night. The low thrum of the engine beneath her feet. The sparkle of the hyacinths in the artificial moonlight of the Prosperity's arboretum.

Though she was not reading she found a serene peace for a time. But as she feared, nothing lasted forever. It was broken as Leon wandered in.

Hell is other people. A quote easily misunderstood. To be with others meant having one's experience stolen away, a fragment of her universe taken as he arrived. The peace remained, but with two to experience it, it was not the same. Yet she was alive. Still moving, still breathing, still conscious. Her conscience told her there was yet more work to be done tonight.

"Leon?" She called from the bench she was sitting on. "Is everything alright? Would you like to come sit?"