Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Someone to Watch Over Me

Iston Voronwe

Guest
Subject 648 Slipknot Subject 648 Slipknot


It was dark, and the silent hum of the air circulating unit would be heard throughout the Jedi Masters quarters. Iston lay on the bed, sheet slightly pulled off as the old man muttered and moaned in his sleep, sweat soaked his brow as he twitched slightly, body tensing. Frequent were the dreams, frequent did the ghosts of past horrors visit the pilgrim — it was insanity. Iston shot straight up, as his hand came out, saber flying to it as it hummed alive, the yellow blade illuminating the room, Iston’s amber eyes seemed to be ablaze with rage against the yellow blade as he slowed to calm his ragged breathing. The saber disengaged with a hiss as his free hand came to his forehead. “Ashla, how long must I endure this?” Iston struggled, just like any other flesh and blood creature within Ashla’s lush universe — he couldn’t forgive himself; years of torture for the atrocities he had committed as a Sith, the friends and teachers he had betrayed, and slaughtered in cold blood. He had been redeemed to the light, he had found balance, but peace was far from his grasp it seemed. He swung his legs over to the side of the bed and looked at the time. “ Four o’clock?” Iston groaned as he let out a defeated sigh. He stood, his bones cracking as he stood at this full height, here, in this place, in his home Iston did not feel the need to continue the charade he put on in front of others as the “frail” old man, one he knew frequently helped during battle situations. He walked over, grabbing for a glass of water as he downed it, and proceeded to getting dressed, adorning his usual attire which consisted of his Jedi Robes, Tunic and Hakama Pants. He slipped his shoes on as he headed out the door. His hand came up as the lightsaber on the bed floated to him and he attached it to his hip... and like clock work his Beskar Cane floated to him as it thudded to the ground, the echo reverberating in the crisp morning air.

The thud of the cane was like a heartbeat, the cadence of Iston, the one thing he inwardly smirked at that almost surely signaled others his arrival. Iston arrived into the meditation gardens at the Sliver Rest as he effortlessly skipped across the stones arranged in the pond and onto the larger one as he took his usual seat. Here in this garden Iston has trained many a failed attempts at Padawans recently it seemed. None seemed to work, to fit, and to stay. He closed his eyes as he spoke, in a slightly hushed whisper, almost as if speaking to someone present in the room. “I thank you for the gift of today, for the life in my body. I thank you for years of knowledge and undeserving chances. Help me today, help me to know your will, help me to stay in balance.” Iston pushed outwards and up with his arms as his body moved to a hand stand, his concentration completely focused on the exercise.


”Flowing through all, there is balance

There is no peace without a passion to create

There is no passion without peace to guide

Knowledge fades without the strength to act

Power blinds without the serenity to see”

His breath was steady as his arms held his weight, small rocks and orbs of water began to circle Iston as he focused on the creed he chose to live his life by, the one thing that even in the turmoil and valley gave him strength, gave him resolve.

“There is freedom in life


There is purpose in death

The Force is all things and I am the Force”

He moved his left arm outwards as now his weight lay resting on his right arm, sweat forming across his brow as he repeated the last line, emphasizing the lines for himself, allowing the words to sink in as he pushed the memories that haunted him to the surface, seeking to bring balance to his past, bringing chaos to order. Stray strands of his silver hair wafted in the swirling force around him as he held himself, the Jedi Master speaking authoritatively


“There is freedom in life....”
He had lived when so many others had died.
“There is purpose in death....”
Their deaths, those he knew — shaped him, they were with him. They had never left him. Their memories, their love, they stayed with him, he kept them alive by following Ashla.
“....The Force is all things and I am the Force”

To a bystander, or anyone else, Iston almost seemed fanatical when he meditated or when he trained. Taking everything as a life or death challenge, never settling for an easy way out. This was who he was, he was disciplined, he was steadfast and refused to yield himself again to the man he had came from — from the youth that hadn’t listened to anyone, from the young man that fell deep, lost many and in the end was nothing but a broken shell, he refused to ever, go back. Iston continued in peace as he focused on the exercise, loosing himself in the moment.
 
Iston Voronwe

Slip had gotten up early this morning, ready to go about his day. Well, it was more like he had had another sleepless night, taunted and terrorized by the hallucinations he was so commonly plagued by. Last night had been worse than normal, the screams were louder, he had seen more shadowy figures, dancing across the walls, even more of the bloodied people, wailing and sobbing. He had seen the monsters, and they stared right back at him, even jumping at him, laughing manically.

Basically, last night had been absolutely horrible.

He hadn't wanted to stay in that room a second longer, so he got out early. But he was never able to outrun his own mind. The hallucinations followed him, everywhere he went. The pain never went away. All he could do was slowly let it eat away at his mind, slowly breaking down his sanity...

Other than that, he was feeling pretty good. Starting his day early allowed him to get all of his normal everyday training and other stuff out of the way fairly early, so he was pretty much finished whenever everybody else was just getting started. Maybe he would start getting up earlier. He did need less sleep than the average person, after all, being a genetically modified super soldier and all. He didn't actually need to sleep as much as he needed to, only needing 2.5 hours per day. Still, sleep was one of the few places where he wasn't plagued by all his pain, except for the occasional nightmare.

Slip was in the gardens because he was relatively left to his own devices in there. It gave him time to think, which was probably the reason for the gardens, to allow people to meditate and think in peace and to be by themselves.

Slip sat up in one of the trees, sitting back, looking out to the horizon, thinking. The shadow man sat at the bottom, leaning against the trunk. Slip could never truly be alone, with his own mind creating people and things to always be around him.

Then, suddenly, he heard someone chanting. Slip turned his head to where it was coming from. It sounded like one of the older masters, who would probably get peeved at Slip for sitting in one of the trees. Then, suddenly, a bird landed on his head, most likely mistaking his head for a part of the tree. Slip yelped and fell out of the tree, surprised.

He hit the ground. "Oof!" He groaned as he hit the ground with a THUMP. He tumbled down the incline, stopping at the edge of the pond, stopped by a rock at the edge. He laid there for a minute, the air having gotten knocked out of him. The bird flew down and landed back down on his head, intent on sitting there. It made a loud squawking noise, and Slip groaned.

"Thanks a lot, you little demon." He groaned.

He looked up, and saw Master Voronwe. Apparently, he was the one that was chanting while meditating. Slip had no doubt disturbed his meditation. "Hey, Master Voronwe." Slip said, still laying down on the ground. "Sorry for, um- disturbing you." Slip apologized. "What are... What are you doing?" Slip asked him, as whatever he had been doing was something that Slip had not been familiar with.
 

Iston Voronwe

Guest
Subject 648 Slipknot Subject 648 Slipknot


// “Hey, Master Voronwe." Slip said, still laying down on the ground. "Sorry for, um- disturbing you." Slip apologized. "What are... What are you doing?" Slip asked him, as whatever he had been doing was something that Slip had not been familiar with. \\


Iston’s concentration was steadfast, and unwavering. He had sensed the youths entrance some point ago, but never assumed him to stumble into his area of the garden. To Iston’s surprise however, Iston knew this one. His name was Slip, a rather peculiar youth he had met at a ‘meet and greet’ the enclave had held a few months ago, but it stuck Iston as odd that slip did not know, or seem to grasp the basics of meditating, this only meant one thing, potentially Iston thought; slip hadn’t manage to find a Master that suited him... or rather no Master had potentially given him the time of day. Iston sighed slightly as he focused on the force swirling around him and pushed off the rock, his body vaulting straight into the air as he straightened mid descent and landed gracefully on the rock, ripples in the pond descending outwards from where he knelt, the orbs and rocks dropping gently around him. Iston’s amber gaze met with Slips for a brief moment, a different tone seen in his demeanor now — almost one of frustration, but one also of sorrow, mixed with deep regret and loathing; and just like a vapor, it was gone and replaced with one of care, composure and a welcoming presence as Iston wiped his brow off, fixed his hair, and smoother his beard he chuckled. “Hello again my young friend, your no disruption, perhaps it was meant we should meet this morning? Maybe Ashla is dealt this meeting — ....” He spoke cryptically to Slip. “... At any rate, I ramble, come, come sit young one.” Iston’s hand motioned in front of him on the rock as he sat down, fixing his robes.

When Slip would sit, and get settled Iston cleared his throat as he looked at Slip.
“ You asked what I was doing, well... I was in the process of meditating. I may be getting up there in age, but that does not mean things stop — meditation quiets the soul, focuses it to laser precision and forces us to confront what we hide, and run from. I may be old young one, but I still have to be disciplined to walk in accordance with Ashla’s will.” He cleared his throat again as he raised an eyebrow to Slip. “Now young one, it’s awfully early for one at your age to be up, is something troubling you?” He spoke with genuine concern in his voice, skirting the remaining question of what Slip had potentially heard him speaking when he had been meditating.[/font
 
Iston Voronwe

Slip watched as Master Voronwe gave a small sigh, and then he pushed off of the rock, vaulting in the air and landed on a rock. Slip's eyes went a bit wide. Master Voronwe might be old, but he was definitely athletic. He was sprightly for someone of his age. So, yeah, Slip was maybe just a little bit surprised, but only a little bit, he kind of expected this from the old Master. As Slip looked up at him, he saw something in his gaze. Like he was... frustrated, but mournful and sorrow, and what looked like regret. But then, in an instant, it was gone, and it was replaced by his usual composure, a much more welcoming presence.

“Hello again my young friend, your no disruption, perhaps it was meant we should meet this morning? Maybe Ashla is dealt this meeting — ....”

Like usual, Slip had no idea what Master Voronwe was talking about. Well, then again, most of the Masters spoke cryptically and vaguely, almost like they had a language only they could understand, only someone who had lived that long and who had been through so much could only understand what the older Masters were saying. It was definitely weird.

“... At any rate, I ramble, come, come sit young one.”

Slip got up off the ground, and sat down in front of Master Voronwe. Voronwe then explained what he was doing. Meditating? That wasn't any sort of meditation that Slip ever heard. It sounded... much more energetic than a usual meditation. Weren't meditations usually quiet? That one was... way more enthusiastic than Slip had ever heard from a meditation. Maybe it was another old person thing that he didn't understand.

“Now young one, it’s awfully early for one at your age to be up, is something troubling you?”

"Erm- well..." Slip said, unsure. He supposed that he could tell Master Voronwe. After all, he hadn't gotten after Slip for interrupting his meditation, so he at least owed him that. "Well, I- You see-... I didn't sleep. At all. That's why I'm up so early, and I didn't want to be stuck in that room for a second longer." Slip told him. "I couldn't sleep, that's the problem. It's... it's getting worse. I keep seeing things that aren't there, feeling things that no one else can feel, hear things that I am the only one who can hear them. And... and it scares me," Slip continued. "I keep seeing horrible scenes, scenes either the depths of my mind made up, trying to frighten me, or it's scenes I would rather forget about. Memories, fragments, hallucinations, all of them."

"And... it hurts. It hurts tremendously. The pain... the pain never stops, it never ends. Nothing I or anyone else does seems to work. And it just gets worse and worse until I can't concentrate on anything else. I can't outrun it, because the pain is up here."
Slip said, pointing at his head.

"Last night was particularly bad, though. It hasn't been that bad for a while now, but last night it happened again. I can barely take it anymore. It just makes me burn." Slip told Master Voronwe. Treatment rarely helped him. The doctors at the Sliver Rest could barely figure out how to handle and deal with him. A lot of them were more trained for physical healing, and a rare few were trained in mental health. Hmm, maybe he should petition for more psychologists and therapists. The amount of those was shockingly low.

Slip looked back up at Master Voronwe. "What about you? Why are you up this early?" Slip asked him. "Is it because of that thing where old people, for some reason, like to get up really early?" Slip stopped, then said, "I mean... not that you're old. Just... experienced." Slip said. He didn't want to come off as rude to one of the few people who was willing to listen to him.
 

Iston Voronwe

Guest


Subject 648 Slipknot Subject 648 Slipknot



Iston listened intently to the young man as he spoke. Fear, confusion, frustration, pain — it was amazing that he hadn’t gone insane at this point Iston thought inwardly as Slip did his best to explain what he was going through, but — it was concerning to the Old Master, knowing these were the exact things that lead to Bogans doorsteps, the way — to an early tomb. His hand stroked his beard as he closed his eyes and pondered on all that had been said, careful his words must be moving forward as Iston did not want to further exasperate the situation. He spoke, his eyes opening as Skip managed to steer the conversation back to Iston.



// Slip looked back up at Master Voronwe. "What about you? Why are you up this early?" Slip asked him. "Is it because of that thing where old people, for some reason, like to get up really early?" Slip stopped, then said, "I mean... not that you're old. Just... experienced." Slip said. He didn't want to come off as rude to one of the few people who was willing to listen to him. \\



Iston caught off guard by the comment, and pleasantly surprised by his save broke out in a deep laughter that surely emanated deep from within his belly.
“Old that I am Slip — but age only indicates luck with some, and true, I may be experienced — but, I must turn that into wisdom for others to benefit from.” Iston said, smiling slightly as he sighed softly looking towards Slip, and met his gaze, now with a bit more of a serious tone. “I must admit young one, my dreams were most troubling last night as well — which is why you found me out here. Ghosts from days past always have a way of catching up to pay one visit, Bogan sees to that.” He began stroking his beard as his gaze began to move past slip, now seeming to be parsecs away. It was uncanny, what Iston struggled with, and came out of, would potentially be of use to Slip — this, this was Ashla’s humor, and Iston saw it. She wanted him to be vulnerable, she wanted him to bear his soul. “When i was a young man, I lacked discipline within my own mind — every influence; created disorder and pulled me in several directions Slip.” He paused as he spoke again, doing his best to be transparent without divulging too much. “When I finally found myself again Slip ( when did he loose himself? ), I had to work daily at facing the things that frightened me, the things that haunted me that I didn’t want to talk to anyone about. I thank you for sharing with me.” Iston cleared his throat as he continued to speak. “Remember Slip our talk about Tython? The planet reacted to the imbalance in the natives ... tell me young one, have you spoken with your Master regarding this issue?” Iston asked earnestly, unbeknownst to him that no one had yet selected Slip to be a Padawan.
 
Iston Voronwe

Slip listened intently as Master Voronwe responded to him. At least he responded well to Slip accidentally calling him old, and his quick fix to it; Slip was glad he hadn't accidentally offended him. Slip wasn't all that great at interacting with people, so he sometimes could come off in a completely different way than he intended, or he just blurted out whatever came into his head without thinking.

“I must admit young one, my dreams were most troubling last night as well — which is why you found me out here. Ghosts from days past always have a way of catching up to pay one visit, Bogan sees to that.”

Even Master Voronwe had dealt with traumatic stuff in the past? Slip didn't know about Iston's personal history, so he wondered what this could be. Still, it was eye-opening to hear that even a Jedi Master like Master Voronwe had demons haunting him.

“When i was a young man, I lacked discipline within my own mind — every influence; created disorder and pulled me in several directions Slip.”

Slip nodded; he knew how that felt way too much. His head was a constantly changing landscape; an ever-shifting labyrinth. It was constant chaos in there. People told him all the time he needed to work on better disciplining himself, but the truth was that he couldn't help it. His mind was so broken that it felt like a monumental task.

“Remember Slip our talk about Tython? The planet reacted to the imbalance in the natives ..."

"Yeah... I do remember that. I still barely understand how it's even possible. How could an entire planet react to the moral choices and emotions of the locals?" He asked. It just didn't make sense. How could a planet react to its natives choices? It just didn't make sense. "By all accounts, it shouldn't even be-"

“tell me young one, have you spoken with your Master regarding this issue?”

Slip stopped mid-sentence at this, stopping his logical thinking of the reactive planet. He... he didn't have a Master yet. Nobody had chosen him yet. To many, he guessed that he was, "unstable" and "Undisciplined" and probably "difficult", "nearly insane", and even "vulnerable". He was just too... excitable and unpredictable for many. Most Jedi liked to have disciplined minds, ones with a lot of control and balance. They liked having a clear head and clear thoughts. Slip wasn't like that at all. His mind was constantly spinning, thoughts and fragments rushing past him, thoughts seemingly coming out of nowhere, with Slip having no idea where they came from, and even wondering if they were from his own mind. Doctors told him that that was just a result of his psychosis, but he was still unsure. They felt like they weren't even from his own mind. Then again, he didn't even know his own mind all that well, either. That was the result of being that broken.

"Well... Um- You see..." Slip started. "I don't exactly... have a Master. They all say I'm too..." He continued, thinking of the word to use.

The bird, still sitting on his head, gave a loud squawk. "SQUAWK!" It cried out.

Slip nodded, seemingly understanding it. "Yeah, what she said, the word I'm looking for is eccentric. I'm too unpredictable and unstable for many of the Masters. They're still nice and helpful to me and everything, but none of them have really tried to go more in depth with my training by becoming my Master." He told Master Voronwe.
 

Iston Voronwe

Guest
Subject 648 Slipknot Subject 648 Slipknot

// "Yeah... I do remember that. I still barely understand how it's even possible. How could an entire planet react to the moral choices and emotions of the locals?" He asked. It just didn't make sense. How could a planet react to its natives choices? It just didn't make sense. "By all accounts, it shouldn't even be-" \\


Iston allowed the youth a wide girth as he began in his own train of logic, but once he had settled down for a moment and seemed to take a slight breath, Iston simply cleared his throat and interjected into the young mans sentence.
“Your right Slip — by all means, it shouldn’t react to decisions and imbalances within a single entity let alone the entire population — but, by all means, I shouldn’t be able to lift boulders with my mind, or persuade others to do my bidding by projecting my influence into them — OR — be able to do some of the things I do at my age.” He paused as he cleared his throat again, this habit was definitely an ‘old person’ thing — his throat always seemed dry; it annoyed the old man, but he continued on. “It is simply the force Slip — there is no explanation outside of that. Take it for what you will — we do incredible, and terrible things with the power that flows in ALL living things... but make no mistake, it has an affect when we do.” He stopped talking as he noticed a change in the young mans demeanor... but the words spoken at the end of the conversation stung Iston as he spoke them.


// “They're still nice and helpful to me and everything, but none of them have really tried to go more in depth with my training by becoming my Master."\\


Iston had been guilty of the very same thing these other Masters had done to this young man, even at the dinner, where he had originally met the boy — Iston had found him peculiar, but realized, he was merely being nice as a show of position — this caused great guilt in the old man. He sighed, as he spoke with a heaviness that hadn’t been there prior.
“I can’t speak for others Slip, but I am sorry if we as Masters have not done more to help you young one....” He paused pondering as silence crept into the room. True, Masters typically wanted more of a ‘model’ padawan to train. They wanted them young, wanted them to be the best of what they were — not a mirror image nor a time bomb on a train wreck. But — Iston looked at Slip. Slip was, odd that much was for certain, but the boy exhibited desirable traits that Iston actually admired. He was gentle, he was hungry for knowledge, be was patient, he stood in the face of his demons but never wavered and gave in, taking the easy way out. In all accounts. Slip never once became discouraged as other younglings got Madtees when he didn’t, he continued and hoped — he was a light that wouldn’t easily be snuffed our — by all accounts, Slip was a very promising Padawan, and that was when he felt Ashla speaking — she wanted this, she had set this moment in time up, and so, it was decided as Iston rose his hand to Slip, signaling for Slip not to interrupt him. “Your right Slip —we as Masters sometimes want an easy sculpture to work on... but you made me realize something just now Slip... that’s not why I’m a Master... I’m a Master because someone before me took the train wreck of young man I was, and gave me the chances and direction, and love I needed to grow.” He paused as a smile came across his face, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes showing as he thought back to his Master. She was harsh, strict, and had a temper like a Rancor for a Jedi... but she never once gave up on Iston, even when he denounced his title, when he fell to the dark side and did what he’d done... she welcomed him back with open arms, saying nothing and always reminded him of who he would be, not who he was currently. He spoke after a moment of being lost in thought. “I would be honored Slip, if you would accept me as your Master, so that I can be that person for you as my Master once was. One you can come to whenever you need, and one that can help you grow you into the Jedi, I know you’ll one day become.” Wait, did Iston just ask for permission to be a Master to a Padawan? Did things work that way?.... Iston knew they didn’t, but this wasn’t about his things shouid work, rather how they must work.
 
Iston Voronwe

“Your right Slip — by all means, it shouldn’t react to decisions and imbalances within a single entity let alone the entire population — but, by all means, I shouldn’t be able to lift boulders with my mind, or persuade others to do my bidding by projecting my influence into them — OR — be able to do some of the things I do at my age.”

Slip listened to Master Voronwe. Well... He was right, by all accounts. The Force didn't really make much sense, it seemed to violate the laws of the universe by any means. Urgh. Why did the Force have to be so bloody confusing and complex?! Why couldn't it just make sense? It really should, it would make his life a whole lot easier.

"Why can't the Force just be simple and easy to understand? Why does it have to be so confusing? It just makes me confused..." He said.

“I can’t speak for others Slip, but I am sorry if we as Masters have not done more to help you young one....”

Slip shrugged. "It's fine, there isn't really much anyone can do to help. Unless you can cure whatever's wrong with my brain, there isn't much else that can be done." He said. Sure, doctors had tried, but there was just too much broken in there to fix without breaking anything else. And trying to use therapists for talk therapy didn't help either, nobody really knew how to deal with him. Jedi weren't all that great with mental illnesses, they were seriously lacking in that department of health. Hmm, no wonder so many Jedi had PTSD.

“Your right Slip —we as Masters sometimes want an easy sculpture to work on... but you made me realize something just now Slip... that’s not why I’m a Master... I’m a Master because someone before me took the train wreck of young man I was, and gave me the chances and direction, and love I needed to grow.”

Slip listened to this. So Master Voronwe had been a train wreck, like Slip? Huh, you wouldn't think that looking at him now. "You were a train wreck?" Slip asked. "I've been called that plenty of times, and many many other stuff. Like timebomb, and public safety hazard. Especially public safety hazard..." Slip said. It was true, in multiple reports, he had been called a public safety hazard, like when he accidentally started a fire in the hangar bay. He had been in mandatory therapy for weeks after that incident.

“I would be honored Slip, if you would accept me as your Master, so that I can be that person for you as my Master once was. One you can come to whenever you need, and one that can help you grow you into the Jedi, I know you’ll one day become.”

Slip blinked when he said that, shocked. Wait... did he really just ask Slip to be his master? Was that how it worked? Slip had no idea, to be honest. "Wait... You mean it? Really? Of course! That's awesome! I finally have a Master!" Slip exclaimed. The bird on his head squaked in celebration.

"So... What now?"
 

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