Sleep, the alchemy that turns thoughts into nightmares.

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Sulon

Katarn Homestead

Late night

Mind drifted over thoughts of the days work. One of the few where work with Sulon Law Enforcement drew him away from the Homestead for several days. In excursion to draw out sources, in regards to recent demolitions and vandalizing of Baron's Hed infrastructure, he had spent several days stuck in town. Over desk, over paper work, someone was attempting to strangle hold the local water sources and thus, push up the cost per ounce sold by local vendors with personal access to Tap Trees. While the research hadn't discovered the perpetrators, investigation had helped fortify the notion that a local gang had moved in, under the guise of immigrants, fleeing the war with the One Sith. But there was nothing solid to go on, merely suspicion, that would need strengthening with increased endeavors.

He had come back late, dirty dishes sitting in the sink. Ava had made the boys dinner, by the look of mashed food cups on the island and dirty spoons in the sink. He smiled as he looked upon it, constantly grateful for her presence in the alliance and in the homestead. If he hadn't met her on Fondor, made friends with her on Sullust, he'd have no idea where he would be now.

She was the presence, willingness to adopt Destin and Armaud, that had helped motivate him initially to pursue such a home. He considered his friendship with the woman, its importance the majority of its toiling. Looking down at the utensils, he proceeded to sort out his life through the gaze of the window over the sink. It reflected a man, tired with eyes heavy, seemingly exhausted from several days of work. Yet sleeplessness roused a thoughtfulness to his expression, the sort he spied through reflection, as he opened the refrigerator and felt the cold of the interior of the appliance.

​He had mind for a sandwich. Nothing particularly complicated, bread and sliced nerf tongue, typical condiments with lettuce and tomato. He didn't have much thought for more and he didn't want to make too much noise. While the sleeping quarters were constructed to help prevent noise, to allow chatter and discourse without waking up sleeping children, he held a level of paranoia. There was nothing quite like being stirred in the middle of the night by the wails of children. Finishing the sandwich, he took the plate upstairs to the sleeping quarters of the homestead. His room wasn't far from where Ava and Stali had set up camp, hopefully he could tiptoe through without waking her up. Given Stali's schedule, he automatically assumed that Ava was alone tonight.

[member="Avalore Eden"]​

 

[Avalore Eden]

The door to Avalore's room was open. Not unusual - it was almost always cracked ever since moving the twins across the hall to what had now been deemed the nursery. Made for easier movement in the wee hours of the night or morning when one of them woke crying. Fully open was a good sign that Stali was, indeed, not home, and therefore any additional privacy was not presently needed. Avalore did not operate on a high level of shame and certainly she could not be described as shy. Short of when she was dressing the door was always open and so were the blinds. She preferred it that way, or so she told Gabe after moving in.

There were enough closed doors in her life as it was without having to close all the others, too.

At a bare, cursory glance, the Healer slept soundly. A single lone entity at the center of an oversized bed, blankets kicked to the end, sheet twisted at her legs. Were Stali there he would have known the warning signs of what was about to come. Would have been awaken by her restless stirring that often preceded encroaching night terrors.

But such was not the case tonight and Avalore walked those halls of the Coruscanti Jedi Temple in her sleep, attempting once again to find a path that did not end the same as the last time: in a terrifying holocaust scene memory.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He had never been one for personal boundaries or anything resembling such. Maybe it was because he had always, in his own way, been a gentle soul for those who he cared about. Or maybe it stemmed from trauma, life spent in a body without ever knowing where the line was drawn. In a life that preceded his descent into madness, he may have known. But now, he was in their home, where he felt most comfortable. Pressing a hand against a door, brown eyes peaked in as the dim lights of the hallway flooded the nursery in a singular band. Spying Armaud sleeping and Destin doing something similar, albeit with a face that told of some epic dream of a world taken over by a small green child, Gabriel smiled as only a father could. Slowly closing the door, his gaze shifted to the open one, leading into the room where Stali and Ava slept.

But Stali wasn't here, he must have been deployed again. The man kept to his work, Gabe would give him that. But for the mention of the relationship in the family room, he was concerned for the woman. She was strong, even fierce in her own way, but no one was meant to live alone. Not in the natural world.

Stepping forward, he pressed the plate against the frame and peaked in. He couldn't place it, but a sense of unease crept in. Eyes darted to find the source, like a mind searching for the origin of the smell, his nostrils flared in response. Holding a glass of water in the other hand, he walked slowly across normally quite boisterous boards of wood. But he had installed X frames beneath the sub floor, removing that old house temperament to stir in the night. Setting the cup and plate down on the side table, he pressed a knee softly against the mattress. Grabbing the sheets and comforter, he pulled them over the woman, that sense of unease creeping back in. With a quiet exhale, he pressed his hand softly against her forehead, attempting to discern sickness. Clammy, but nothing a good nights rest couldn't fix. Maybe he'd stick around tomorrow, call in sick, help with the children.

They were the world to her, he knew that, but everyone needed help now and then.

[member="Avalore Eden"]​

 

[Avalore Eden]

The emergence of Gabe in the proximity of her room did not register with the sleeping Healer. Not presently, or consciously. But in her dreams his presence signified an encroaching power, an unseen force looming in the darkness of the halls. The gentle clatter of plate and glass against counter became the thunderous sound of a building crumbling in the distance. His knee and weight on the bed were the shifting foundations of her world quaking beneath her. She began to run, but running only as if her limbs were weighted down - the blankets.

The growing power drew near, bringing with it the heat of a fire and soon it was upon her - a gentle hand to her forehead turned to a raging inferno, the Healer's greatest fear, implanted on her mind with the permanence of Force Fear so many years ago.

Darth Sidian.

A grimace of terror took her physical face as the flames snatched at her robes, roaring, eliciting a muffled cry as she flinched away from the hand on her head, rolling to press her front into the mattress, arms and hands curled before her. Whimper turned to whine, the fire engulfed her, biting furiously into her hands that quickly turned to corrupted, blackened flesh. Whine began to escalate into the sound of terror that threatened to shatter the peace of the night and the sleep of the twins across the hall.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He couldn't place the feeling, but whatever it was, it sunk into him. A sort of dread piercing physical touch, an expression of unease crossing the interface between forehead and hand just prior to her rolling away from him. He had never seen her make that sort of facial contortion, as if she had cried for so long, no tears were left to signify it. He was instantly racked with an indecisiveness as she rolled over on to her stomach, whimpers escaping her lips soon to crescendo towards a whine, ever climbing. He shook his head, wide eyed and set furiously into the fight of his fight or flight instincts.

Reaching forward with hands upon shoulder, he turned her back over, pulling her hands away from her mouth. He struggled, balancing his strength somewhere along the spectrum to prevent harm, he attempted to find equilibrium amid his expression of shock and disturbance. He had known the ache of memories, the pain of remembering them, but they had never brought him to such distinct physical pain. Only mental and here and now, he wasn't sure what was occurring. He just knew he needed it to stop, she needed it to stop. He let out a grunt, her arms flailing as she fought against him and herself. "Ava! Stop!" His voice was stern, but soft, ever thoughtful towards the children waking up.

Leaning over her, he placed his hand beneath her as she landed a punch hard across his face. Bearing his teeth, he lift her towards him in a forced hug, pressing her head against his chest with his free hand. "Shhh, wiggleworm!" Squirming about, struggling against some unseen entity that he could only imagine would bring such stable presence to exacerbation. Pressing his chin against her scalp, he yanked the ring from his ring finger and released one of her arms. Hand clenched, it loosened, it clenched again. He couldn't tell whether she was having a seizure or a terrible nightmare. Timing it perfectly, he slid the Annulum Ignis over her thumb, wrapping his hand around hers to keep her from flinging the thing off.

Curling around her, he breathed softly. "Shh...shh...come on Ava." The ring imparted feelings of reflection when it was needed, the kasha stones providing clarity. But that wasn't why he put the ring on her. In the midst of her turmoil, he'd hope the memories of his life would sooth her mind, his projected use of pyschometry in this moment. The thoughts of snow, children running softly about as the falling powder filled their impressions. The smell of apples and cinnamon, pastries being cooked in a small brick house, rising from a chimney. Dreams of fire might turn as the Heart of Fire brought about thoughts of happiness, memories celebrated for the life that led it. Of two faceless boys, running in the snow.

[member="Avalore Eden"]​

 

[Avalore Eden]

Columns of alabaster crumbling into blackened dust. Raging inferno hissing along walls. The ceiling caved in. Flames biting. Searing flesh. Heart bursting.

Snow.

The roar, deafening. Screams in the distance. A shadowed figure lurched, seized.

Pale skies, a chill breeze. Footprints over frozen walkways.

Avalore twisted, howled into his chest, face slicked with sweat now, heart hammering so hard the pain of it finally drove her from the ravages of subconscious.

The gentle clatter of a plate and glass on counter. Spiced something fresh from the oven. A lovely woman's face reflected in windowpanes stacked with frost and snow.

Face pressed into the material of his shirt, Avalore heaved for breath at the tightness of her lungs, hands wringing with the remnants of agony. The body might forgo the pain of dreams, but the mind did not. She sobbed, the sounds muted in his tight embrace, shivering with fright. Between the fading flashes of fire in her mind and the strange, foreign visions of a far-away place she'd never known, like some kind of invasive fairy tale dream, the Healer became aware that she was in the arms of someone that was not Stali - her mind hopeful it was him, secretly returned while she slept, but her body knew better. Wasn't the right feeling, these arms, and the scent was all wrong.

Different, but still familiar.

"Gabe," the Healer sobbed, incapable of calming her terrified quaking, "don't let go."

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

The last rattlings of a building following the quake, pieces falling from the mantle, he exhaled into her hair. He could hear his pulse in his ear, the thump of his blood pressure as he tried his best to level himself. A man hardened by combat, sent into a fright by the late night stirrings of a dear friend. He felt exhausted and restless all combined into an a form of grief, following the tremors and aftershocks of the episode. She sobbed into his shirt, his grip showing no intent to loosen. "Alright, bossy..." He spoke with a smile, placing a kiss on the top of her head. She was still troubled from the event, still trembling. Leaf clinging to branch, threatening to tumble once more. Scooting on the bed, he moved his back against the head board and got comfortable. Placing his cheek on her head, he closed his eyes.

"Late night at the office, one of my deputies asked me about you and the kids and how this situation came to be..." He recalled it like it had just happened. As if they had just come back from the Convocation. In Mandalorian space, at the Yavin Jedi Praxeum, he recalled her surprising him at Port Spardock. "Do you remember that? I told the deputy I couldn't remember the exact circumstance...but that was lie." The painting of Arkania hung in the galley below, just across from the breeze way.

For all the talk and posturing the convocation had felt like an absurd waste of time. Except for the moments that occurred after. "I dreaded asking you to adopt the twins. Not because I didn't want you to. But because I feared you would say no." He paused, opening his eyes, realizing that he couldn't hear the whimpers of children in the distance. There were silver lining on the edges of every dark cloud. "You are a great healer, Ava. But you were destined to be the Mother for those boys." He felt no guilt or pain in giving his children away. They couldn't be in more capable hands.

He remembered their time in the infirmary, her anger with him over how stupid he could be in times of pain. He hoped that the same tactic would work here, to deflect her pain upon happy memories. And not his own, but those she had formed herself.

[member="Avalore Eden"]​

 

[Avalore Eden]

Avalore would later wonder just how Gabriel knew what to do. Not to question, but simply to talk, quiet-like, to help ease her mind from the hauntings. Was it instinct from his days as a father? Had he once experience similar events with his wife? Another friend? Curiosities she would want to pursue but would never fully be capable of asking if only for the same respect she wanted every other person she knew to show her.

Don't ask me about my past. I can't bear to think of it.

She didn't move for fear of losing contact with the man and slipping back into the dream. The gravelly tone of his voice spoke of fatigue but at the time she didn't notice as soothing as a sound it was to her and the images it helped bring in her mind to replace the flashes of horror on Coruscant. The Convocation felt so long ago but much like Gabe she remembered it, and would always remember it, with the greatest of clarity. Avalore had at first been shocked at the question and nearly fell over at the asking of it. The wave of regret had come next, her thoughts swimming through memories of her daughter and all the events that had revolved around her: the toppling of the Coruscant Jedi Temple where she'd given birth to her in the rubble; the days spent at the Sanctuary on Cato shifting between wanting to be a mother and knowing better of it; Diana's funeral on Kiffu; the trip to Corellia afterwards; the conversation with [member="Jorus Merrill"] in the diner; and the last fateful journey to the orphanage where she placed the first and only kiss on the infant's head before handing her off to the care of another.

The breaking of Corellia. The trip back in a vain search for the orphanage again to learn the fate of her daughter. The wreckage left behind.

And then...the chance for her own redemption.

She'd been in tears then, too, but for emotions quite opposite of what plagued her now.

Avalore's tremors slowly died away to be replaced with a heartache that spoke of how different her life would be right now had she not met Gabe and Chevu.

"Thank you," she croaked into his chest, fresh tears stinging in her eyes.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

A child lost, a feeling no parent should have to feel. In that window, in that brief passing of time and all the pain that follows, it might be better to not exist at all. He knew all too well the strife and hurt that he gazed through a shared memory, his children ripped from the world by his own hand. He could only imagine the blame Ava placed on herself, to feel the weight of potential loss and lay blame at her own feet. But it wasn't truly her fault, and maybe that was harder than being the one to blame. Knowing that when given the opportunity to make the right choice, the universe had thrown her choice back in her face. To send child upon soft footing, only to have it crumble beneath. Exhaustion, relation and understanding, he felt tears well up in view of the memories, perhaps understanding their friendship for the deeper meaning beneath. Two souls, tied in understanding through insurmountable tragedy, he shook his head.

"Thank me?" He laughed softly, hand once pressed against her scalp now rubbing the bottom of his eye lids. Pushing away the pain. He shifted against her, feeling subsidence in her shallow breathing, resting weary body from the affliction that just accosted her. Aquiescing to gratitude he didn't feel he deserved, he rested his cheek against her head once more."You're welcome, Ava."

No ones memory should be burdened with the aspect of child birth in such ways, that it should bring only misery. But with nothing to replace in the void, it's hard to not fall prey to its temptation. Sadness was a cruel being, a thing not sought but beckoned in a moments peace. As if longing to fill the cracks in a newly solidifying life, a place where she was needed more than she could ever imagine. Two small boys, just across the hall, depended on her in every waking moment. But she hadn't experienced the most important moment of their life.

And with bridge opened, he showed her what he had seen on that day in the delivery room. The relief of a young mother, two small children awoken with a smack and the sound of wails, filling the room with chaotic harmony and the noise she would soon come to cherish. He imparted the feeling he had that day, overwhelming joy for the new opportunity, love for something beyond himself, absent thoughts towards the taking so long ago. The expression of the woman, holding each one separately, to be swiftly carried off and later held by father. It was happy memory, one that he cherished, and one that Ava deserved to have. After all, they were her children now.

[member="Avalore Eden"]​