Private Sigh On and On

[Osarla Ridor]

CORUSCANT || JEDI TEMPLE || MEDITATION GARDENS
|| Sion Lorray || ​

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Exegol was the opportunity for a change.

As Sion and Gabriel's master, she'd flexed and waned and pushed the boundaries of balance between being a Jedi Master to two pupils, and then just one, and the responsibility to the Defense Force.

Maybe if only Gabriel had been her student, she might have been able to sustain her career and drag him along. Raise him to grow into a shape of his father. Balance the duties of the soldier and the peacekeeper, all in the name of freedom. She could have done that easily.

But Sion was a different thing entirely. Sion was meant for a different path.

"Is a soldier not merely a conduit to overcome new challenges ahead? And as such, if Padawan Lorray presents you a new challenge... should you not be excited to meet it head-on?"

Sion was a different challenge.

She'd felt something on Exegol, distantly, that felt like him and not him at the same time. It had been one of the most complex sensations Osarla had experienced in a long time, across such a distance, and it was the final something she needed to make a decision on how to face the challenge that was Sion.

Even now, the fact she had to coordinate with her own Padawan after an incredible battle like Exegol felt inappropriate. Most every other Student-Master duo were together, facing the greatest darkness of the galaxy. But they hadn't been. She'd deployed Sion to a safety mission and he'd done something else entirely. And broadcasted it. They hadn't even talked about that! Because they'd returned to the core on different ships, and while he'd kept her abreast of his survival, the details were sparse. She'd taken the cue to let him decompress on his own, and given him this time, this location, to reconvene and debrief.

And the time it took him to arrive within the gardens rich with vitality and splendour, a stark contrast to the devastated desert of Exegol, Osarla meditated. With legs crossed at the side of the pond. For the first time in a long time, she patiently sorted through her thoughts and felt herself balance.

Not even the leaping fish disturbed her tranquility.

 

[Sion Lorray]

Osarla Ridor

And Sion came as soon as he could.

Did not rush, no, because his Master had taught him better than to rush into situations. But her presence always filled him with calm and after what happened on Exegol... what happened to Exegol? Sion believed he needed some guidance. Everyone around on Coruscant were celebrating. He could practically feel their joy seeping into the air.

The Maw were defeated.

Sure, that meant the real challenge was only starting ahead of them, but they were celebrating.

Sion's feelings were more complicated. Osarla would feel this as her student approached quietly and sat down in front of her, crossing his legs and assuming a meditation pose mirroring hers.

"Master Ridor. I knew you were alive, but I am happy to see it personally." A bit of a shy smile, a remnant of the younger Sion she had first rescued all that time ago. He wasn't that boy anymore. Not after all the war and misery and battles they had shared both together as well as separately. But it was a hint that Sion's softer side was still inside.

"But how do you feel? Exegol took a toll on us all, are you okay?"

Yes, definitely Sion. Immediately switching to her wellbeing and leaving himself aside for the time being.

 

[Osarla Ridor]

She felt Sion Lorray arrive, naturally through a bond that had been created over time that was intimate but remarkably unintrusive. Save for Exegol. That had been intrusive; like something echinulated spiked its way through that which kept them relative. Something that cast a shadow.

It was complex, varied, and far off from anything he'd exuded before. Complicated in its variance, it demanded that she pay more attention to it. Something she could not do without refreshing her connection or skillset. In a meditative state, she was more aware that a shape of that new thing still existed somewhere within him.

That was the curse and blessing of time, wasn't it? That nothing stayed the same.

At least for all that changed, there were glimpses of sameness — tiny slivers that only evidenced themselves if Osarla looked hard enough, or was open to them. One such sameness was her student's penchant for care. Self interest in the backseat. It made her chuckle, and the lines around her eyes creased. She felt excruciating tenderness.

Her arm streched out and she braced her palm on his shoulder. It was heavier than she meant it to be, because she felt heavier than she meant to be. He was maturer now, and she spoke her feelings as plainly as she could. Untangling them was a struggle, and she sounded stupid, but she honoured him with a truthful, unrefined answer.

"I feel heavy. I've written too many names that will never be spoken again." Letters to next of kin, filing deceased reports, taking tallies of rosters that had once been full but now suffered vacancy.

"Too many names who's lives have been given to war. And when I say that, I don't just mean those who have died. Given their lives means sacrificed all that could have been. Soldiers who'd had no good years or sad years.

All those who never found a partner, never got the chance to date, never saw their parents grow old and begin to fail or had to watch them die?

I took their youth, and robbed them of their age as well."

She sighed. Her meditation had made her realize she had survived with wrinkles, not wisdom.

"I will be okay. But only if I see what's plainly written out for me. That this balance, all those names, and all the focus that takes away from preventing that robbed life from happening to you, cannot be sustained."