First Reply Remember That Time Fonder

[Efret Farr]

Not too terribly long ago, she would have done nearly anything to know what became of the artifacts that she had hidden deep in the steam tunnels of Fondor for safekeeping as the Dark Empire had threatened Coruscant. Her plan had technically been successful—it had kept the New Jedi Order's collections out of the hands of that particular faction—but was a great failure when considering its holistic intent. The Dark side worked in many more organizations than just the one that had been currently terrorizing the Core.

Though the historic and ancient objects which she had been charged with as Chief Curator of the NJO had been protected from destruction or abduction by Dark side Elites, they had fallen to Imperial and Sith Covenant agent not long after.

Rumors of what happened that had found their ways to her and the many potential fates that she herself imagined had filled her lonely days in Lake Country like an unwanted house guest. It had come to outstay its very abbreviated welcome, but she found just as quickly that she hadn't known how to compel it to leave.

She had never encountered this kind of communication barrier. Every time she asked it to leave, it drew closer. When she tried to make it comfortable, she grew more despondent.

For all the languages both spoken and signed that she was able to comprehend through the Force, understanding of that of the heavier of the emotions had eluded her. Ironic. And that lack had sucked like a black hole in her chest, a monster with a hunger to know not how to ask emotions like dread and regret to leave, but how to control them, to channel them into outwardly erosive forces that could help her get whatever it was that she wanted.

She closed her eyes. Her world plunged back into blackness. On the blank canvas of her eyelids, she could easily imagine a temple guard standing vigil over the vault door that stood wide open in front of her now. She had put them them there, just as she had put away a trove of artifacts originating from all over the known galaxy to keep that wealth of diversity away from those the NJO had deemed undeserving.

And what exactly was undeserving about the Sith?

Were they not galactic inhabitants too? Did they not have the same right to a sense of place, as grand or minutely local as they desired, as any other being regardless of what they believed or followed?

Had it been right to rip their living culture from them and collect the bits into dank, sterilized vaults, even under the supposed necessity of war?

No. Not even then.

The idea, which had proven to be true, that this horde had been hollowed out, its contents redistributed, had bothered her as recently as a few months ago. But now, she felt happy. Swelling pride. A sense that the tides shaping the galaxy had finally smoothed over her missteps. Whoever the new owners of its artifacts were certainly more deserving than their previous, collective owner: a well-meaning but misguided Jedi Master by the name of Efret Farr.

[ Open to one Sith Covenant writer ]​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Efret Farr​

Lysander was seated on a narrow ledge, spine stacked like ancient Sith obelisks of Korriban. In the beginning, each breath was drawn through clenched teeth. Nearby, there was the sound of dripping water and mechanical hums, but they no longer distracted him. They all filtered into the tapestry of his intense focus. Though everyone's journey different, his meditation bore absolutely no resemblance to Jedi serenity. Personally, it was about harnessing chaos, and manifesting personal ambitions into power. As always, he nurtured that familiar heat. This was the same core that first erupted when he'd uncovered the deception of his padawan training on Naboo.

For a time, he followed those patterns, until a disturbance sliced through his concentration.

This wasn't exactly someone else's vision invading him mind. This was.. what? He recognized the difference between truths and illusions, but the mind failed on grasping control here. Like being pulled into orbit as a moon caught by a planet's gravity. He inhaled once, sharply, the body recognizing something before the mind does. The disturbance had no direction The Force seemed to fold, warping reality until he existed in two places at once? Curiously, he felt no threat in this violation of natural law. There was nothing to fight here.. only something to understand.

The young Sith's consciousness leaned into that pressure. One metaphorical foot was placed down, testing the stability of whatever space this was. Gradually, the rest of him followed. Only then, from afar, did the silhouette materialize, standing before some vault that exhaled darkness.

Diplomatic instincts became inadequate. He navigated social minefields with ease, but there was no map for this encounter. "I sense neither of us expected company in this space, yet here we stand, two strangers witnessing the same.. pattern. Or whatever this design is. Maybe there's wisdom in sharing what we each perceive of this vault.. what calls to you might just illuminate what eludes me, and we might better understand why the Force has.. connected us here." The words were clumsy, and he was acutely aware of his own discomfort.