Mission One-Post Vision: What Do You See? (contest)

[Vodet]

As he watched, and waited, seeing this verdant world teetering based on the actions of a few, the Shaman was accepting the calm, and peace of it, breathing it in, simmering in it. He could feel the heat on his shell, warming his whole body.

Until the icy depth came in. This was not part of what happened before, this was deeper, submerged… He knew the feeling in his body, he knew it in the Force. Darkness, And suddenly… Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Crushing the Force around him, but he could still feel it, swim in it… See the light that was coming.

Someone was coming…

Would he have to stop it? Would him stepping change the course?

 

[Brooke Waters]

Depths.
She could feel the depths around her.
Here There.

Down…
The darkness, the light.

The R E M O V A L OF THE FORCE.
Suddenly, the pressure was gone, there was hope.
A world, gold, shimmering in the light of a warm sun.

Peace, freedom.

No concerns.

Changes in attitudes. How could she attain this?

 

[Kaia Starchaser]

Purpose.

Security.

She could see that from hyperspace.

Another leap.

A world, awash in life forms. As it moved closer.

Decay.

Spores.

Mycelium.

All was the same. No variety. No life but the one.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Endless seas stretched before him, crowned by a rising sun that bathed the waters in gold. The light felt almost familiar, yet it was a far cry from the red deserts of Cotellier. His fingertips traced the smooth, time-worn stones of the rocky outcrop, and for a fleeting moment, the mines called to him - Nova Crystals glimmering in the dark, the weight of those tools in his hands. A sharp breath, a panicked glance, and the memory shattered like fragile glass.

​

The salt on the wind was sweeter than sweat, the waves a quiet, graceful song that lulled his mind into ease - an ease he had not known since the day he dared to lay hands upon Fellsong. It teased a morose smile to the corner of his lips, a moment of peace stolen from a life where peace had long since ceased to exist.

Then, with a breath, it was gone. Snatched away in an instant. His eyes fluttered open to stale air and cold steel, the rough murmur of voices laced with growls and grumbles. The barracks of young Sith. A vision, perhaps. A dream, Rhyse would call it. And how desperately he longed for it to return.

Tough to judge! Some very strong descriptions in what's starting to look like the first round. Rhyse takes the prize for using well-chosen sensory details to describe key elements of the painting and expand it beyond the visual, while colouring it all with emotional resonance and personal significance through contrast. The whole thing reads a bit like Elric of Melniboné. Can I suggest browsing the Submission Grinder and seeing what transpires?

***​

Rhyse Calder , restless in the Sith barracks, might see a sign one night: a glyph scratched in the steel underside of a bunk. The glyph might turn out to look much like the floor plan of a training yard, and a certain crosshatch might correspond to a crevice between vast stone blocks. That crevice might yield, to the persistent, a rare and battered book: Secrets of the Lady: The Toxins of Valrar, by Velok of Toola.