Private Murky Waters II

[Syreeta Ming]

Tirin Raene​

Syreeta stood in what had become her usual spot, peering into the bacta chamber from the other side of the viewing window. Most of the wounded from Moorja had cleared out, their injuries healed. The doctors had given them a clean bill of health, and they were released back to their old lives, changed but still alive.

In the weeks that followed the surprise attack, Syreeta had begun the process of joining the Jedi Order. She had faced Carnifex yet again. But the Jedi Knight she rescued that fateful day, Aria Chant, had still not awoken. While her mind remained caught in a trap of the Sith Lord's making, her body was unable to heal. Despite the best efforts of the doctors, her condition continued to deteriorate.

Syreeta pressed a small white hand to the glass, her expression tight with worry. She knew what had to be done, and yet she was afraid. The memories of her past life which resurfaced told her that she had once been able to dreamwalk—but she didn't remember how. The gaps in her knowledge could prove dangerous for Aria and herself. But she could no longer afford to wait, not while the Knight continued to waste away in the murky waters of the bacta tank.

Now Syreeta would have to turn to another for help: Tirin Raene, the Jedi who had assisted her in driving Carnifex out of the Naboo teahouse, was a relative stranger to her. But he knew things she didn't. His teachings would help to fill in the gaps of her memory, and together they would rescue Aria's mind from the depths.

Or so Syreeta hoped...

 

[Tirin Raene]

Tags: Syreeta Ming ​

Tirin peered past the woman before him, his heliotrope gaze lifting to the bacta tank. The sight drew to mind how often Braze and Loomi had come to stand vigil over Aliris Tremiru for more than a year. He was willing to lend what aid he could. Veridia held no gravely injured guests at present, so there was no pressing need for him to depart.

"Vigil is its own burden," he offered, stepping gently to her side as his gaze settled upon the tank's occupant. "When someone lies beyond our reach, the mind finds a thousand ways to suffer the same hour. Waiting curdles into anguish… and holding hope for someone who cannot wake has a way of hollowing out the hours. You've my symapthy for what you do. "

At last, he turned to the woman at his side. "What course do you believe is wisest to remedy this?" he asked, his curiosity quiet but present; he wished to hear what she believed should be done, and what further context she might offer as to how matters had come to this state.

 

[Syreeta Ming]

Syreeta turned as she sensed Tirin approach. His presence had become familiar to her after their meeting at the exhibition. He had a distinct appearance: an androgynous Near Human with purple eyes and long black hair. His features were youthful, yet he seemed older and wiser than he looked.

"Thank you," she replied after he expressed his sympathy. "To tell the truth, I don't know her. She was already unconscious by the time I arrived to rescue her. Yet I feel a kinship with her. We have both been the victims of Dark Siders who sought to rip our minds, our identities, our very souls away from us..."

She trailed off. Her petite, slender figure was clad in a white satin gown, the hood pulled back to reveal smooth black hair pinned in a simple, elegant style. A silver utility belt was buckled around her waist, a lightsaber hanging on either hip. Her little feet were clad in quilted white knee-high boots.

"What course do you believe is wisest to remedy this?"

"In order to heal her, we must free her mind from the Dark Side's clutches. The only way I know of to do that would be to enter her dreams and help her overcome her fears." She glanced back at Aria in the tank, her brow furrowing. "I believe I was once a Dreamwalker, but my memories were taken from me. I no longer remember the techniques they used, and because of that, I need someone else with more knowledge to help. Someone like you."

Tirin was brave and skilled enough in the Force to stand up to Carnifex alongside her. For that, he had earned her respect. She hoped that he could also help her with this endeavor. If they succeeded, she would be indebted to him.

Tirin Raene​

 

[Tirin Raene]

Tags: Syreeta Ming ​

Trauma bonding...

He drew a slow, heavy breath, then let it slip free in a quiet sigh as he turned over all she had said.

"I have spent some time studying a few of the Aelorian dream weavers… and I have viewed ancient data-crystal recordings concerning the Voss. Dream-walking, as they practiced it, was never some simple trespass into another's sleep. It was an ordeal of the spirit; one entered the mind and was made to face fear, hope, love, sorrow, rage… whatever had buried itself deeply enough to warp the soul.

There were older rites among them as well, 'forbidden ones', said to mend a fractured mind… but such paths were not gentle, nor were they meant to be walked carelessly. If your own mind is fractured, you may not be ready for what waits within.

The mind clings to what harmed it because it no longer remembers how to stand without it… and prying that loose may prove every bit as dangerous as the wound itself. Do you know who trespassed against your mindscape… and who left it wounded so deeply?"

Tirin knew some forms of the Dark Side had a nasty way of leaving lingering claws in the mind, buried deep long after the first wound was dealt.

 

[Syreeta Ming]

Tirin also had knowledge of dreamwalking, albeit from a different culture altogether. Syreeta felt relief. His familiarity was a boon for Aria, and for Syreeta as well.

But he also stressed a point which she had been avoiding, though perhaps without meaning to. If the dreamwalker's mind was wounded, it could do terrible damage to the dreamer. Syreeta didn't like to admit her shortcomings - no one did - but when confronted she had to acquiesce. Tirin was right; she couldn't risk causing more harm to Aria by exposing her to her fractured psyche.

"It was a cult which did this to me," she answered his question in a subdued, low tone. "They called themselves the Cult of the Brain Demon. Their goal was to spread the teachings of the Dark Side by seeking out powerful Force Users and absorbing their essence, forcing them to become part of a collective hive mind."

Before Tirin's heliotrope eyes, Syreeta's form began to shift, her flesh wriggling and reshaping. Various visages flickered across her body, male and female, humanoid and alien - the faces of those whom the Cult had assimilated. Finally, she returned to her original preferred form, the one who called herself Syreeta.

"I have dozens of personas in my head," she said, voice soft and vulnerable. "Most of them are fractured pieces, broken down and digested to just the parts the cultists found most useful. A memory of knowledge, a particular talent, an exploitable connection... I was saved by a Jedi Master who burned away the corruption within me. But the essences of the cult's victims remain. It is all that is left of them now." She bowed her head. "I know that I cannot hope to help Aria in my current state. That is why I have sought your help. I would have told you this before, but... I was afraid you would think I was crazy, or worse."

Tirin Raene​

 

[Tirin Raene]

Tags: Syreeta Ming ​

His gaze drifted back toward the bacta tank, toward the still figure suspended beyond the glass, and for a time he said nothing at all.

Tirin had watched her shift between forms with unsettling ease, displaying some innate shapeshifting ability. It gave him considerable pause. He had known one particularly vile shapeshifter before, one who seemed to strain beneath the weight of the faces he slipped into for deceit, as though each stolen visage left his sense of self a little less secure.

This revelation placed a troubling conundrum before him, one threaded with further possibilities that could complicate matters all the more. In some distant way, it reminded him of a person the small Jedi had once spoken of, someone whose mind had not remained wholly their own.

Nevertheless, the woman had asked for his help.

"Then this is not only a matter of healing," he said at last, his voice low and even. "It would be an intrusion into a wound someone else carved with intent."

His eyes lowered slightly, distant for the span of a breath as he grew pensive. "Dreams are not always gentle… A frightened mind can turn upon those who enter it; a violated one more so. And if Carnifex laid hand to her spirit, I would sooner expect snares than surrender."

Only then did he look fully to Syreeta again.

"But caution is not refusal.... who... should come first," Tirin said at last, "Whatever truths you carry, she is the one presently lost to us. I would rather risk the path that leads toward her than wander another blind..."

He stepped nearer the chamber, one pale hand lifting just enough that his fingertips hovered near the glass, not quite touching. "If she is still there, buried beneath fear, memory, or dark command, then leaving her to sink further would be its own cruelty."

A faint pause followed…

"I will help you… But we should do this with a very clear purpose. No indulgence in whatever the dream chooses to show us. We go in to find her, to discern what holds her, and to give her a path back to herself."

His gaze lingered on Aria's unmoving form before returning to Syreeta. "Tell me everything you know of the state she was found in, the impressions you felt around her, and whether Carnifex spoke or acted in any way that might have left a mark upon the mind rather than the flesh. If we are to descend into this place, I would prefer not to do so blind... I do not doubt your desire to help," Tirin said quietly, "but whatever troubles cling to you may also trouble the path itself. If your mind is unstable, altered, or divided in ways I do not yet understand, then trusting it as our road inward may place us at hazard before we ever reach her."

 

[Syreeta Ming]

Even now, Syreeta half expected Tirin to recoil from her in fear or disgust. Instead, he seemed to imply that he would try to heal her mind as well. She didn't know what to think of that. Her mind was no longer her own, but belonged to the many personas she had absorbed. There was no one mind to save... Perhaps he meant that he would try to remove the personas. But would such a thing even be possible? Was it something she wanted?

She pushed the possibilities aside. They needed to prioritize Aria, whose condition was more dire.

"I will help you… But we should do this with a very clear purpose. No indulgence in whatever the dream chooses to show us. We go in to find her, to discern what holds her, and to give her a path back to herself."

"Yes, of course," she agreed. "We cannot afford to delay or become distracted."

He wanted to know everything. Syreeta was eager to explain. "Aria and her Padawan, Dell Merrik, were part of the force sent to help evacuate High Republic officials trapped on Moorja. They encountered Carnifex and engaged him in battle. He killed her Padawan and cut off her legs. I was not there when all of this happened, but I sensed her distress and rushed to help. By the time I arrived at the scene, she was already unconscious. Carnifex had handed her over to his disciples. He commanded them to take her to 'the workshop'."

There had been others in the vicinity who needed aid. Syreeta had chosen to save Aria, whisking her away from the battle. She was still haunted by the thought of those she had left behind, wondering if she had done the right thing.

"You were there when Carnifex appeared at the Exhibition of Light here on Naboo. You saw what he did to the waitress at the teahouse." The Sith claimed the poor girl would go mad and take her own life simply because she had looked into his eyes. Syreeta had thought the idea ridiculous, but now... She couldn't deny the evidence. "It may be possible that he did something similar to Aria. She is a Jedi; she may have entered a trancelike state in an act of self-preservation. But Carnifex's vile gaze is continuing to haunt her, using the trauma she experienced to torment her."

Lastly, Tirin expressed reluctance to let her help Aria. Syreeta nodded. "I should not be the one to enter her dream. It should be you, or someone else who is clear-headed. I am only her advocate."

Tirin Raene​

 

[Tirin Raene]

TAGS: Syreeta Ming

Tirin nodded lightly. "Do you have any of her effects? Anything that belonged to her?" he asked, drawing a simple leather satchel into his lap. The passage would be steadier if he had some sense of the woman whose dreams he meant to enter. He did not know Aria, not truly, but through a careful use of psychometry he might come to know her more intimately than either of them would have preferred.

Valin remained nearby, aware of what Tirin was preparing to attempt within the Halls of Healing.

It was hardly an ideal place for such work. These halls were meant for mending flesh… not for rites that brushed against the sleeping mind. Yet Aria lay wasting in the bacta tank beyond the glass, and necessity had a way of silencing finer preferences.

From the satchel, Tirin withdrew a simple woven blanket and a small object wrapped in resin-scented linen. He spread the blanket upon the floor with deliberate care, then set down a shallow metal tray before him. Into it he poured a handful of dark violet seeds. At a brush of flame, they smoldered rather than burned, releasing a pale purple smoke that curled upward in slow, wavering threads.

Tirin settled himself, posture easing into stillness as he breathed the perfumed haze into his lungs. His gaze lowered, half-lidded, while the Force gathered close in layers around him. What he began was one of the old Dreamweaver's rites: a careful descent toward the threshold where sleep, memory, and spirit bled together… and from there, if the currents allowed, the long walk into another's dream.

The Halls of Healing faded at the edges. The murmur of voices, the hush of bacta machinery, the weight of the room itself all seemed to draw farther away. Tirin followed that thinning seam of sensation downward, toward the place where another mind slept uneasily, and reached for the threshold…

 

[Syreeta Ming]

Syreeta reached into the folds of her robes and produced two lightsabers. "This one is hers," she said, presenting one of the weapons. "The other belonged to her Padawan."

Dropped during their battle against Carnifex, Syreeta had managed to retrieve them on her way out. Now perhaps they would help to save Aria.

Syreeta watched as Tirin prepared a ritual. She wasn't sure what purpose the blanket, seeds, or incense served, but she trusted that Tirin knew what he was doing. She stood back, giving him space to work, and kept a silent vigil over the dreamwalker and the dreamer.

---

Aria's mind was locked in a single moment frozen in time. She lay on the ground, pain radiating up her legs from where they had been cut off at the knees by Carnifex's blade. Dell Merrick, her Padawan, had picked up her lightsaber, adding it to his own as he continued the duel.

In her dream, Aria sought to do everything right. She reached out with the Force, desperate to protect Dell. She conjured up barriers that shattered beneath his red blade; she infused her Padawan with heroic valor, but he was still no match for their legendary foe. She tried to shove Carnifex backwards with telekinesis, yet he was immovable as a mountain. She even tried to stop Dell, but his final charge could not be broken.

No matter what she did, Carnifex always killed him. He did it with an ease that was both infuriating and heartbreaking, cutting off his head with a simple, almost lazy swing of his arm. Then, to add insult to injury, he reached down and ripped out his Padawan braid. To add to his collection of ruined lives.

She screamed in frustration and grief, her screams growing more and more agonized each time she was forced to relive this moment of helplessness. Her cries were those of all whom the Sith shamelessly robbed of dignity and agency. Her anger was righteous, yet it did nothing but feed the Darkness which Carnifex had inflicted upon her.

Tirin Raene​

 

[Tirin Raene]

Tags: Syreeta Ming ​

Tirin had taken the blades in hand and studied them before setting them down among the other objects, letting the impressions that clung to them settle against his senses.

He came to watching the scene unfurl before him…

For a time he did nothing but watch it play out. Once… then again… and again still. He let the image of it reveal itself rather than rushing to meet it. If the sight before him stirred some old and private hurt, Tirin gave no sign. The calm mask he wore did not shift from the austere nature it held.

Only after a small time of studying the loop did he step forward.

His hand lifted, and he pressed a measured stillness into the fractured core of Aria's mind, like laying both hands upon troubled water and bidding it go calm. The frenzy of the moment strained against him. Grief, panic, and helpless fury… all of it writhed beneath that gentle pressure.

The nightmare resisted, as the sensation thickened around him with motion blurring in to a dragged arc of color, sound dulled at the edges. And the terrible visage of Carnifex, so large within the wound her memory had carved, was caught and held with in a frozen moment of imposed hush, frozen where he stood as though the dream itself had been placed on pause with a resemblance of stasis.

"This moment has already passed," Tirin said, his voice low, soft and steady "Yet you are still trying to re-live it."
He moved to stand before her.

"Look at me," Tirin said gently, "Not him. This place feeds upon your grief...."

 

[Syreeta Ming]

Aria couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene, her gaze fixed on Dell's headless body and Carnifex looming over him. She heard Tirin's words, but they brought her no comfort. Her expression crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Then why am I still here?" she asked, her voice choking on a sob. "I can't... I have to save Dell... My legs..."

Though the nightmare around them seemed to pause, the figure of Carnifex turned its attention to Tirin. The spell contained an imprint of the Sith Lord's will - and it did not like to be interrupted. The figure stretched out its hand, seeking to force its way into Tirin's mind and make him relive his worst memories.

Tirin Raene​

 

[Tirin Raene]

Tags: Syreeta Ming ​

“You're denying yourself the means to let go…” Tirin murmured, his voice gentle as he spoke. “Because something in you refused to die with him, Aria. Whatever this pain has taken, it did not take all of you. You do not owe the dead your ruin. You honor them by remaining… by enduring… by rising when this thing would have you crawl.”

Then Tirin stilled as his eyes lifted toward the looming visage, before the dream split open beneath his feet And he was met with a scene not too dissimilar to Aria's own predicament.

Harsh cold rushed in swallowing his fragile frame in it's depths of ice.

A savage memory tore it's self in to the visual reality about them as cold wind knifed through him, snow driven hard enough to sting exposed skin, the whole world drowned in blinding white. The stillness he had previously pressed into Aria’s fractured mind strained as another wound tore wide inside his own. Ice and storm swallowed the dark around them in totality. A frozen lake stretched vast and glassy-pale beneath a sky choked with snow, its surface scarred and gnarled by spreading fractures and bursts of slush-black water. The gale carried the thin scream of the warbling hiss of sabers, and the ragged sound of someone fighting too long whom was left with too little.

Up ahead in the distance was Valin, having rushed before Tirin , as he always had when danger showed its face, surging into the fray of it without waiting, and unrestrained by caution, propelled by speed and fierce intent. Blue light carved through the whiteout in sharp, frantic arcs. Beyond him, half-lost in the storm, a young girl with long auburn locks had been driven out onto the ice and cornered there.

Three ominous figures in dark robes closed in around her. One moved like a gaunt specter wrapped in blackened rags and plates of jagged spike puckered armor, its crimson blade hacking low, to force her back. Another prowled near the edge of the broken sheet of ice, lean and quick wielding a hook-shaped weapon in its grasp as it slashed at the ice instead of flesh, breaking her footing and opening the lake beneath her a little more with every blow. The third stood further off, terrible in its patience, gloved hands alive with crawling violet light that threw a brief, ghastly color across the snow. Each burst struck the frozen surface with a concussive crack, turning solid ground to splintering panes of cracking ice and black water.

They were delighting in making sport of her.

The young girl fought like a cornered animal, terrified and furious with a violet blade jerking through desperate cuts as icy water gushed upwards to her knees, then u farther swallowing her thighs when the shelf beneath her gave way. Each time she clawed for purchase, another strike shattered what held beneath her. Each time she rose, shivering and gasping, they drove her back down in to the frigid depths. Her breaths came sharp and ragged streaked with cries of anguish, her free hand scraping at the ice, fingers reddened raw as the storm swallowed her cries.

Valin reached her first as he hit the nearest of them with all the force of rancor in a delicate dishware shop. Azure blue crashed against crimson red....

 

[Syreeta Ming]

As the imprint of Carnifex focused on Tirin, Aria was dragged into the man's dream. She lay beside Tirin, sitting up in the snow as the bitterly cold wind whipped at her hair and chilled her to the bone.

"What is this place?" she shouted over the roar of the wind. "Who are you?"

---

In the real world, Syreeta watched in alarm as Tirin's expression flickered. Though he showed little emotion, she sensed a growing distress in him. Reaching forward, she stopped herself from touching him. What good could she do, with her broken mind? She couldn't interfere. All she could do was hope and pray that whatever Tirin was facing, he would be able to overcome it.

Tirin Raene​