Private Soliloquy

[Ala Quin]

The wind screamed against the cliffside, its cry rising and falling like the sea below. Ala stood at the edge, robes whispering in the salt air, her hand raised in quiet defiance. Below, shapes crawled from the dark surf, half-formed things of shadow and smoke, clawing their way upward. Their eyes burned faintly, reflections of firelight where there should have been stars.

Behind her, the sound of the shuttle pulsed through the storm, steady and waiting. The air shimmered with its engines. Between her and that light stood Isla, her small frame silhouetted against the brilliance, the bundle in her arms wrapped in pale linen. The baby's cry cut through the wind only once before fading against Isla’s shoulder.

Ala turned, only for a moment, and their eyes met. Pride, sorrow, and understanding passed between them. The wordless acknowledgment of what must be done.

Then she faced the darkness again. The first of the creatures reached the ledge, and with a smooth motion, Ala sent a wave of light cascading outward. It didn’t burn them away so much as hold them back, a Force barrier. The cliff trembled. The shuttle rose. The light consumed the sound of the world.

When the noise faded, it became something gentler, the low hum of a fan, the chirring of insects beyond an open window. Ala’s eyes opened to the dim half-light of dawn.

The beams of their unfinished lake house crossed above her like ribs of a great ship. Beside her, Lorn slept, one hand resting loosely where she’d been. She smiled faintly, then slid from beneath the sheets without a sound, feet meeting the cool floor.

The house smelled of new timber, varnish, and lake air. Tools lay scattered near the door. Half the railing on the balcony still unbuilt. The kettle sang softly as she filled her tea cup, the steam curling like the dream’s mist.

She smelt her tea within the chipped cup — the one she had carried from temple to temple, world to world — and stepped outside.

Mist drifted across the lake. The water caught the newborn sunlight, turning gold at its edges. Birds skimmed the surface in silence. Ala sipped slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon where the light was gathering.

She felt no fear. The dream was a memory of what would be, perhaps — but it no longer hurt her. It was simply truth, carried on the wind.

For now, there was only light, tea, and the soft breath of the lake.

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn woke to the sound of wind moving through the beams. For a moment, he thought it was the sea again, the crash of surf against black stone, the echo of something ancient stirring beneath it. His hand reached across the bed before he could think, finding only empty, cold sheets.

His pulse quickened. A soft panic came fast, a feeling born of deep loss, more fitting for a man who'd already lost too much. He sat up, scanning the room. Light filtered through the unfinished walls, casting soft stripes across the floor. Her side of the bed lay undisturbed, save for the faint imprint where she'd lain. His breath caught, then steadied as he closed his eyes and reached out through the quiet.

There. Her presence glowed like morning sunlight over water. Still, the knot in his chest didn't ease completely. He rose, bare feet whispering against the floorboards. The boards creaked under his weight as he stepped out onto the balcony.

She stood near the railing, wrapped in the gold of dawn, her hair lifting gently in the breeze. A chipped cup of tea warmed her hands. The sight of her, real and whole, stilled everything inside him. For a while, he just watched.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough with sleep. "You should've woken me." Ala turned, her eyes soft but unreadable. He crossed the space between them, the chill of the air forgotten. "Was it a bad dream again?" he asked. The question was quiet, but the worry beneath it was sharp. He tried to smile, but it didn't quite hold.

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala did not turn immediately. The morning air had caught a strand of her curls, and it danced against her cheek as if reluctant to let her go. The lake below breathed softly, its surface touched with the pink light of dawn on high clouds.

Only when she felt him beside her did she speak, her voice lilting and quiet, like a smile he could hear.

“Bad?” She echoed, glancing sidelong at him. “No. Not anymore. The dream behaves itself these days. I think it’s learning manners.”

Her mouth curved, playful. She reached out and brushed her thumb along the unruly whiskers that the night had left strewn at unruly angles. “Besides, I couldn’t wake you. You make that little grumbling sound when I do. It's cute...but kinda scary." The humour lingered just long enough to soften what followed.

“It was the same,” she continued, eyes returning to the horizon, “the cliff. The child. The fight. But it doesn’t frighten me, Lorn. And not just because I am stubborn either..." Her eyes gave him a playful warning. "...but because I know that it means that life persists. And mine has purpose."

She tilted her head slightly, the morning glow catching her lashes. “You worry so beautifully,” she murmured, a quiet tease, and her fingers found the place over his heart where the rhythm had begun to steady again. “But I’m still here. Perfectly ordinary. Perfectly mortal. And completely unbothered.”

A breeze moved through the beams above them, and she smiled as if to the sound itself.

“Come on now,” she said, nudging him gently with her shoulder, “turn that frown upside down.”

She offered him her cup, steam curling between them, scented faintly of Naboo blossoms, and the look in her eyes was both playful and infinite.

“A dream is not a promise,” she added softly, “but me...here with you...now...that is my promise.”

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "You make it sound like worrying's a choice," he said quietly, taking the cup she offered, his fingers brushing hers. The tea was still warm, and the simple weight of it grounded him more than the drink itself ever could have.

He took a sip, eyes on the horizon. "You can tell me it's just a dream, that you're fine, that the galaxy's done taking pieces of us. But that doesn't change what's left in here." His free hand tapped lightly against his chest, just beneath where her fingers had rested moments before. "You were gone, Ala. I felt it. That kind of absence... it doesn't go away. It just waits."

The words came softer, too honest to hold back. He set the cup on the railing, close enough for her to reach. "You say you're mortal. Maybe that's the problem. Mortals break. And I…" He trailed off, jaw tightening. "I'm tired of burying what I love."

The breeze shifted, carrying the scent of her tea and the damp sweetness of the lake. For a heartbeat, he looked younger, unguarded, stripped of the commander's composure that usually kept him contained. Then she laughed, soft and low, unafraid, and the sound loosened something in him. He let out a quiet breath, leaning forward until his forehead rested against hers. "You call it beautiful, this worrying," he murmured, "but it's just the shape of fear with your name on it."

For a long moment, they stood like that, the world caught between one breath and the next. The sun crested the far ridge, light spilling gold across the unfinished wood and their skin. When he finally drew back, his hand lingered at her back. "I can't promise to stop," he said, his voice steadier now. "But I can promise to keep finding you. Every time." He smiled then, faint but real. "Even if you hide behind dreams or tea cups."

 

[Ala Quin]

Her smile could not help but falter. He was so earnest. It was beyond endearing. Her eyes glistened with tears formed in love she felt incapable of truly expressing.

His pain was palpable.

For a moment, she wondered if she was wrong to entertain love with this dearest of men. For had he not loved her, he would not have opened himself up to such possibility of pain.

Her smile quivered again.

"Oh...Lorn...you are so darn perfect," she said, before pushing her forehead against his arm.

He knew what it was to love her even without being told. Those that had loved her, those she had lost, they understood too. Ala Quin was always in need of a hero. In the arms of his hunk of man-candy, she had found the only hero she would ever need.

"I can't promise I won't get into trouble," she said, lips pressed against his arm and words coming out all smooshed, "I am a Jedi after all...occupational hazard...but just know I worry about you too...mhm...this is a two way street, Mister Lorn."

She turned her face, cheek again resting on his arm. The sunlight spilled across her face forcing her to close her eyes. The warmth of the early morning sun was negligible, but faint as it was...Ala cherished it. "I have been thinking about that place that Veré spoke of...Caer Valyn. It is a place of significance, Lorn," she said. Her words were sure, and confident, even if only slightly above a whisper. "Something to do with the Force. A place to learn. But a place to protect. I cannot explain this need...this need to find it."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn's brow furrowed, the words Caer Valyn echoing in his mind without any clear recollection. Yet, the weight in Ala's voice lent the name an unexpected gravity, as if the very Force held its breath.

He ran his thumb along her shoulder, a slow, deliberate gesture. "Caer Valyn," he murmured, tasting the unfamiliar syllables. "Never heard of it." His voice held not doubt, but the quiet caution of a seasoned warrior faced with an unexpected detour. "Veré spoke of it? What sort of place is it... a sanctuary, a forgotten place, or something more sinister?"

Ala's guarded expression offered no simple reply, a silence that gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over her face, catching the way the morning light caught the delicate sweep of her lashes. "You feel it calling to you," he stated softly, reading the unspoken truth in her eyes. "That draw in the Force."

He shifted his weight, giving himself a little distance to take her in fully. "If it holds significance, we will go," he declared, his words firming with resolve. "But not without support. Not repeating past mistakes." A subtle edge entered his tone, a phantom echo of past dangers and lingering apprehension. "If there is something out there that requires safeguarding, or something that seeks to find you, I will be there. There will be no debate."

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala blinked at him. The corners of her mouth twitched before she gave him three light pats on the cheek — not quite a slap, but just enough to earn her that familiar, really? expression from him.

“No debate?” She echoed, tilting her head with mock incredulity. “Let’s ask the Grandmaster what she thinks about that.”

She paused dramatically, letting it dawn on him, and when it did, her grin spread wide and hopelessly smug.

“Oh wait. That’s me.”

Her laughter was warm, quiet, and entirely without malice, the kind that wrapped around the moment and softened the edges of his resolve. She leaned forward then, resting her forehead briefly against his chest before peering up at him again.

“Truth is,” she admitted, voice dipping into something more earnest, “I haven’t the faintest clue where Caer Valyn is. I don’t even know what direction to look in. I just…know it’s there. Somewhere. Like the Force hums a note I can almost catch, but never quite.”

She sighed softly and lifted her hand, brushing an unruly lock of his hair back behind his ear. The gesture was half affection, half teasing correction.

“You’re right to want support. I’m not planning to fly off alone into another cursed ruin. I need to talk with Sibylla Abrantes about it...Veré indicated that she might have insight, not that she may know it yet.”

Her eyes flicked to the horizon, where the mist still danced over the lake.

“So…” she mused, turning back to him with that soft, irrepressible smile, “we’ll go. When the Force points the way. And until then, Boss...”

Her fingers gave his cheek one last affectionate tap.

“...I hear the Grandmaster makes a kick ass omelette.”

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn blinked. Once. Twice. Then, with perfect deadpan, "I'm sorry... Grandmaster?"

Ala's grin widened, all mischief and sunshine. Lorn could only stare, the words short-circuiting whatever composure he'd managed to gather. "When exactly did that happen?" he asked, incredulous but not unkind. "And what in Shiraya happened to Briana?"

He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair. "Force help me," he muttered under his breath, though the corners of his mouth betrayed a reluctant smile. "You get possessed by a goddess one minute, and the next suddenly you're running the whole damn Order." For a moment, he looked genuinely at a loss, torn between admiration and mild existential dread.

Then, with a soft laugh, he gave a small shake of his head. "Alright, Grandmaster Quin," he said, the title sounding strange in his voice. "But don't get any grand ideas. You might be my superior now, but I'm still the one who makes sure you eat and sleep like a functioning human."

He leaned against the railing beside her, arms folded, expression finally settling into something more grounded. "And Sibylla Abrantes," he continued, voice dropping to something thoughtful, "what's her part in this? Last I checked, she was wearing a crown, not playing archaeologist." His gaze found hers again, steady and searching. "If the Queen of Naboo's tangled up in this... then Caer Valyn's more than just a whisper in the Force."

He gave her a wry smile. "So... Grandmaster. Omelettes first. Then you can tell me how the hell we got here."

 

[Ala Quin]

"Wait...how the heck snortles did you not know about this? Aren't you on the council?" Ala said, eyes wide with surprise, but with a quick smirk to follow it, "you were busy...Briana stepped away...the Council had a quorum and I guess they wanted a Master in the role...not many choices."

She shrugged, self-deprecation evident. "I guess we know what is at the bottom of the Jedi barrel, huh?" She rolled her eyes, "At least the barrel has a cute butt though. I am sure that is important as a Grandmaster."

She left no room or time for him to respond, but had grabbed his hand and was pulling him back inside. In moments, the kitchen was alive with movement. Ala could cook — "technically" — but her method was more improvisation than recipe. Spoons clattered, egg whites hit the floor, and she wiped her sleeve across it without hesitation. "Gonna wash that anyway..."

"Veré said that Sibylla Abrantes held the key. I am thinking that with our powers combined...or something thing like that," she said, only now realising that she needed to put the omelettes in the oven, "oh...hang on..." She stood, mass of curls bouncing irreverently with the movement. "...where was I...oh...powers combined and stuff. I think that Veré may have imprinted the location and purpose of Caer Valyn on the mind of the Queen. She just doesn't know it."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn stared at her, mouth slightly open, a dozen thoughts trying to line up and failing miserably. "Hold on," he managed finally, "they what? You, you're the Grandmaster? They voted without me?"

He blinked again, running a hand through his hair, leaving it in a worse state than before. "Shiraya, Ala, I take one sabbatical. One. We fight half a war on Atrisia, and I think, 'you know what, maybe I'll go breathe for a few weeks.' And in the meantime, Briana takes a break and they vote without me?" His tone was all mock accusation, but his eyes were soft, showing disbelief and affection.

He followed her as she moved through the kitchen, the chaos of her cooking like a small weather event. Every clang and sizzle punctuated his pacing steps. "Bottom of the barrel council member," he muttered under his breath, lips twitching. "Guess that makes me your charity case now."

Then, pausing near the counter, he leaned back against it and gave her that faint, crooked grin, a mix of teasing and surrender. "But, hey… surely knowing the boss has its perks."

He watched her whirl through the room, the whole storm of her energy moving around the eggs and laughter. Something eased in him, some private corner that hadn't relaxed in years. Then she mentioned the Queen, and the soldier in him reemerged, the humor fading to a sharp focus.

"Sibylla Abrantes," he repeated, frowning slightly. "Why her, though? Out of everyone Veré could've chosen, why imprint it on a spoiled Noble girl?" He crossed his arms, thinking aloud.

 

[Ala Quin]

"Knowing the boss in a scriptural sense," Ala said with a wiggle of her eyebrows, waving her wooden spoon and inadvertently flicking ingredients across the countertop. She didn't notice.

Truth be told, Ala had really missed Lorn on his brief stint away. Having him back was more than thrilling. It made her feel whole. It was more than just someone to talk to. "OH! Grab me that new seasoning from the cupboard...the one with the Elyisian spices...the...ah...the blue one...the one with the blue lid..." She waved her hand in the general direction of the cupboard.

She bent down, eyes narrowing as she examined the food inside the oven as if it were a criminal that would crack under the interrogation of her intense stare.

"Sibylla Abrantes is not a spoiled rich kid. She is a noble and upright citizen of Naboo and you had best appreciate it. The likes of Sibylla Abrantes are the very reason we have the freedom to start and maintain the Order in Republic space. They are not perfect...but the space to breath and rebuild...they buy that with their hard work."

She finally looked over at him. "NOT THAT BLUE LID...THE OTHER ONE."

She went back to musing over the slowly browning omelette.

"Abrantes has a heart that is true. She cares deeply for Naboo and has an appreciation for its history. I think Veré found in her a kindred soul..."

Ala bounced back up to her full imposing hieght.

"...and I...like her."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard fyi Sibylla Abrantes |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn plucked the wrong seasoning off the shelf, paused, sighed, and returned it. "You know," he muttered as he rummaged for the other blue lid, "most Grandmasters don't wield absolute power over spice selection." He found the correct one and held it up. "This one? Or is there a secret third blue lid I should be spiritually attuning to?"

He leaned one hip against the counter, watching her interrogate the oven again as if the omelette were plotting treason. Her defense of Sibylla, softened something in him. "Alright," he conceded quietly. "Maybe 'spoiled' was unfair." He lifted his hands in a small gesture of surrender. "You trust her. That's enough for me."

"But," he added, crossing his arms, "what I don't understand is why Veré chose her. A monarch with a target on her back. Someone surrounded by politics, advisors, protocols... none of which mix well with Force visions." His gaze flicked toward Ala, steady and thoughtful. "If Veré hid a piece of Caer Valyn in her mind, she did it for a reason."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "So are you going to tell her about this?"

 

[Ala Quin]

"You can't be spiritually attuned to seasoning...Lorn," she said with an expression that said, "are you crazy?"

"You are thinking of marinades. Marinades are a spiritual connection...by the way...I should do my Ethalian marinade for you some time...oh...wow...just wow..."

The omelettes were already in her hand. The sound of the oven opening and closing more of a deja vù style memory than an actual event. And the food was slid onto the table. She snaffled up the spice mix next, slid them onto the counter, and completely forgot to put any on the food...

Distracted.

"I already told her. And...I think...we are going to get some really good info when I do a mind probe..."

She was already sitting at the table, eagerly waiting for Lorn to join her.

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn sat before he realized he'd moved, fork already lifting a too-large bite to his mouth. He chewed once, paused, and glanced at the unseasoned omelette like it had personally betrayed him. It definitely needed spice, but he kept eating anyway. Her words caught up with him, and he froze mid-chew, swallowing hard.

"A mind probe?" His tone wasn't sharp, but it held that quiet Lorn alarm. "Ala, she's barely holding her crown together. You try to dig around in her head and she'll think you're confirming every nightmare her advisors whisper about the Jedi."

He set the fork down, leveling her with a look both gentle and exasperated. "She trusts you, not the Order. And a probe feels…" He hunted for the least incendiary word: "Invasive." Lorn leaned back, arms folding loosely. "Why not start with letting her tell you what she knows? Veré wouldn't have hidden something in her mind if it would shatter her the moment we touched it."

 

[Ala Quin]

Half way through her third mouthful, Ala realised her error. "Bah." She nabbed the spice shaker and swatted Lorn's hand aside. "Move it or lose it, bugga-lugs," she said, mouth barely containing the mouthful she munched on so vigorously.

She swallowed. And paused to respond to Lorn's line of thinking.

"You are too suspicious, Lorn. If the people of the Republic are going to learn to trust the Jedi like the did in the first High Republic," she said, fork stabbing and swishing through the air like she was parrying off his words with cutlery, "then it will take leaps of faith like this."

She shovelled another mouthful in, and chewed...and spoke...at the same time. This was what Lorn got now that she was entirely at home around him.

"She already told me what she knows, and it is all jumbled up with her own dreams and memories. She needs someone to figure it out for her," she said while chewing, then swallowed to continue, "I have done this before...quite experienced at it...shall I try on you first?"

| Tag: Lorn Reingard | Equipment: Sauce on her nose |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn's sigh was a mix of giving in and genuine fondness. A small smudge of sauce sat right on the tip of her nose, and before she could again push his hand away, he leaned in and wiped it clean with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"You're right," he admitted, the words clearly tasting bitter. His eyes drifted toward the window. "I am suspicious. And I have good reason to be. Naboo isn't so far removed from the days when an anti-force group was among them. One wrong move with a queen's mind, and that same kind of fire could easily ignite again."

He picked up his fork again, nudging the now seasoned omelet around his plate before taking another bite. It was better, but still not spicy enough. He continued eating regardless.

"But," he added, turning to look at her. "If you're convinced this is the best way to help her, I won't stop you." He paused, his jaw tightening briefly, clearly against his better judgment. "And… yeah. I'd feel a whole lot better if you tried it on me first." He jammed another forkful into his mouth, mumbling through it, "Not that I'm exactly eager to have you poking around in my head."

 

[Ala Quin]

He soft gaze watched him as he spoke, and played with his food. She didn't mind not eating. It wasn't actually very good anyways. She took another bite in spite of that fact.

"You know. It would be nice to be the one poking around inside of you for a change," she said while munching, barely finishing the thought, and standing with her half finished meal. She walked, more sauntered, back to the counter, dropped the plate with a clank.

"So...I have a heap to do today. I am checking in on Isla's meditation progress...Balun wanted to see about doing some work with Makashi, I am not super familiar myself so we both signed up for a class...and I have to talk with the new head of the Agri Corps...he said something about grain shipments not getting to the right destinations, apparently Port Veruna is having issues...anyways...a bunch of logistics for figure out for that...oh and the Genarius thing...need to organize a mission for that. So...perhaps I can try the dreamwalking on you...when I am done tonight..."

Her pace and activity never ceased to be a whirlwind, until the moment she looked up and saw him again. Her smile returned, and stress frown faded.

"...about 9 pm?"

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn took a long pull from his glass to wash down another bite, then immediately choked on it. He turned away, coughing, shoulders shaking as he tried not to actually spit water across the kitchen. Her words echoed in his skull like a thermal detonator going off in a small room.

Force help him. No matter how long he spent with her, her directness was something he would never quite build resistance to.

By the time he got himself under control, she was already rattling off a list of responsibilities that would flatten most Jedi, moving through the room like a storm front in human form. He watched her, a mix of exasperation and awe, and let the last cough fade. "Alright," he said quietly. "Tonight. Nine." The thought tightened something in his chest, but he managed a small nod. "I'll be ready."

He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with the rest of his day; probably lurk, wander, and overthink, his specialties. But he could wait. For her, he could always wait.

He rose as she stepped away, reaching for her abandoned plates. "Go on then, Miss Grandmaster," he said, tone dry but fond. "You've got an Order to run. I'll clean up." He stacked her dishes with his, glancing back at her with that softened, crooked half-smile.