Private Stone and Silence

[Khasar Rist]

Location: Kyber Mines, Jedha City, Jedha
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn

The wind outside the mines howled like a wounded beast. Inside, the sound died, swallowed by stone and silence. Khasar stepped from the pale twilight of Jedha into the mine's depths, his cloak trailing behind him.

His gloved hand brushed against the wall, tracing the faint shimmer of embedded kyber. The crystals pulsed weakly, their light flickering like dying stars. He could feel them, each one a whisper of the Force, fractured and buried beneath centuries of dust. The Jedi would have called this place sacred. To Khasar, it was simply silent, untouched, and therefore honest. He crouched near a broken vein of crystal, shards glittering like glass in the faint blue glow of his wristlight. With a quiet exhale, he began to gather them, each piece sliding into the small bag at his hip.

Then, the air shifted. It was subtle, a tremor at the edge of awareness, a ripple in the current that threaded through all living things. The Force quivered. Something else moved within it. Khasar froze, his next breath soundless. His body stilled completely, his pulse slowing until it barely registered. When he moved, it was like a shadow turning its head, sliding deeper into the mine, his steps noiseless, his presence folded in on itself until even the Force seemed to forget his name. The tunnels twisted, descended, and branched. Dust rose in his wake, slow and spectral.

Then... there. A figure ahead, faint in the gloom. A woman, Felacatian. The faint shimmer of her form caught what little light dared survive here, her movements uncertain, unguarded. She was no mere pilgrim; too wary for that. Nor a Jedi; too clumsy in the currents she disturbed. Khasar watched from the dark, a faint smirk touching his lips, though his eyes remained cold. A predator, lost in another's hunting ground.

He leaned against the stone, watching her stumble, her ears twitching at every whisper of her own making. He let her feel the tension in the air but not its source; the faint breath of something ancient and watching. In the end, he didn't move closer. Not yet. He waited, patient as the mountain itself, as if the Force itself were holding its breath to see who would break the silence first: the Felacatian, or the shadow that hunted her.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

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Location: Kyber Mines, Jedha City, Jedha
Interacting with: Khasar Rist

​

Jedha was a graveyard where the bones of faith lay buried beneath centuries of dust and war, but Soah had not come for ghosts or scripture. She had come for what still lived below and to craft her own weapon, one that would not be forged from the pity of her masters or the scraps of others but from what she claimed herself.

The small shadow slipped inside.

The roar of the desert vanished, leaving only the distant drip of condensation and the hollow echo of her footsteps. The mine smelled of metal and old earth. Every step deeper pressed the weight of the mountain down upon her, but she did not flinch. The Felacatian's movements were careful, fluid, and predatory as the thick, dust covered braids swayed to and fro against her dusky face with every step.

Then her ears twitched.

She froze, amber eyes narrowing as those dark pupils slit thin. The fine points of her ears shifted, tracking the faintest disturbance, an intake of breath, the scrape of fabric, the subtle hum of life where there should have been none. Her tail gave a slow, deliberate curl, the kind that betrayed both irritation and readiness.

Her sentient ink stirred in response. It slithered beneath her skin in dark, fluid motions, reacting to her suspicion like a living tide. The markings pulsed faintly against her collarbone and wrists, feeding on the tension, whispering half formed thoughts to the edges of her mind.

The Force brushed against her senses, then with a sharp, metallic resonance where a pulse hummed deeper within the mine. Kyber. Its song thrummed faintly, almost drowned by the heartbeat she was trying to ignore. There were crystals here, and something else.

No...Someone else.

Soah sank lower, her cloak folding around her like a second skin. The soft pads of her feet found the dust with barely a sound as she began to move. One step. Then another. Her eyes caught what little light survived in the tunnel, reflecting it back in molten amber.

The Felacatian did not speak or call out. Instead, she only stalked forward quietly and deliberately, keeping her body nimble in the event she needed to be ready to strike.

Whatever was waiting in the dark would reveal itself soon enough.

 

[Khasar Rist]

Location: Kyber Mines, Jedha City, Jedha
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn

Khasar watched her move. She was silent, deliberate, her eyes cutting through the dark like molten blades. The tension in her form wasn't fear; it was readiness, and that immediately caught his attention. Most who wandered into these mines were pilgrims or scavengers, their hearts loud and soft in the Force, but she was neither. Her awareness brushed the edges of his presence, faint yet insistent, and he felt a flicker of curiosity stir in his chest. So she listens.

He shifted slightly, a subtle movement that cost him nothing, and extended a hand toward the cold seam of kyber in the wall. The energy in the mine trembled, subtle as breath, and his will slipped into it like ink into water. The air shimmered, then fractured.

In her mind, the shadows deepened. From their depths, an old man emerged, bent with age, his cloak tattered and heavy with dust. The illusion carried the phantom smell of stone and oil, the sound of uneven steps, the weight of a heartbeat that wasn't truly there. His face was thin, features blurred by time, and his eyes reflected the pale blue of the kyber veins.

He ensured she would feel him before she saw him: a faint disturbance in the air, the scrape of a boot against gravel, the fragile echo of human presence where none had been moments before. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and weathered, yet calm. "Strange place to find a traveler," he said, his words measured, gentle, edged only with curiosity. "Few still walk these tunnels. What do you seek, child?"

From his vantage in the dark, the real Khasar observed the illusion's progress with focused intensity. Every flicker of her muscles, every change in her breathing, was a language he understood. If she believed the mirage, he would know her limits. If she saw through it, then perhaps this mine held something far more valuable than crystal.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Khasar Rist

​

The sound reached her first.

A faint scrape of boot against gravel, soft enough to blend with the echo of her own measured steps. Soah's head turned, feline and fluid, the subtle flick of her ears honing in on the disturbance. Her hand drifted toward her saberstaff, not igniting it yet, but ready.

Then she saw him.

An old man, shrouded in dust and dim light, his cloak clinging to his frail frame as if the mine itself were trying to swallow him whole. The lines of his face were indistinct, blurred by shadow and age. But it was his scent that made her nostrils flare.

Stone. Oil. Dust.

Not sweat. Not flesh. No trace of fear or blood or heartbeat. The air was empty, too clean. Her tail gave a slow, unsettled lash behind her, stirring the thin layer of sand that clung to the ground. Something in her instincts whispered wrong.

Still, she didn't move away.

"Traveler," she echoed quietly in that terse, deadpan tone of hers as it filtered through the rasp of her rebreather. The word came out almost like a hiss, both question and warning. The Felacatian's amber eyes glowed faintly in the dimness, their light reflecting like molten gold as she watched him.

Her sentient ink stirred beneath her skin, a faint ripple across her collarbones and down her arms, drawn by her tension. The tattoos seemed to listen too, the edges shifting, dark shapes pulsing faintly as though scenting the lie she couldn't quite name.

"Who are you?" she asked, not answering his questions yet as her head tilted slightly like a Nexu gauging warily a potential predator or prey. There was something odd there. The Felacatian's pupils narrowed, and she took a slow step forward, testing the space between them.

 

[Khasar Rist]

Location: Kyber Mines, Jedha City, Jedha
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn

Khasar watched her reactions with surgical precision. The subtle twitch of her ears, the low tension in her stance, the way her eyes tracked movement before conscious thought caught up; all of it spoke of instinct sharpened by survival. Then there was the ink, the living dark that rippled beneath her skin. It fascinated him, a responsive entity bound to her will, or perhaps the other way around, moving with her like a shadow trying to keep pace.

She was seeing too much, feeling too much. This was a rare quality, indeed.

The old man illusion didn't waver. He stood in the faint blue haze of the crystals, still and heavy, his cloak stirring as if with a breath that wasn't there. Slowly, his head tilted beneath the hood, the movement deliberate, almost indulgent. When he smiled, it was thin and knowing, a look that carried both kindness and cruelty in equal measure.

"A traveler, A Vagabond, A Derelict," he rasped, his tone curling through the air like smoke. "Just like you, it seems."

The illusion remained still as she approached, not flinching from the subtle challenge of her step. It was unflinching, and beneath that apparent frailty, something predatory lingered. Khasar allowed the silence to stretch, wanting her to wonder if it was hesitation or composure. The old man spoke again, his voice sharpening. "What do you seek?"

The air thickened as Khasar deepened his focus, threads of power weaving through the mine's stale atmosphere. The kyber crystals around them hummed in answer, light trembling within their cores.

From behind the old man, faint laughter broke the silence, another illusion projected. High and soft, it echoed from deep within the tunnels. Two small shapes darted through the shadows: Felacatian children, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Their steps left no sound, only memory.

The old man's withered hand lifted, pointing past her toward the fleeting vision. His tone grew colder, pressing, cutting through the phantom joy like a blade. "Why are you here?"

In the real darkness, Khasar's eyes narrowed. Her reaction now would tell him everything.