Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Taking a step back to take two steps forward.

The nice Vanagor died, now you get me.
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No Regrets
Yavin VIII
Students of the Light Temple Ruins





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Buster, don’t stray too far. Pointless commands falling on deaf ears. It made him laugh, but Connel had to say it. Buster was a good dog, so there was no question he would not go far, it was just fun to watch him run around and play in the snow.

That was not why he was here though, Connel was here at the start of it all for his father. Caltin started on the very steps he was standing on. He sat there for two days, almost ready to leave before finally being accepted in. It was a different time back then, from the stories Father had told him. There was something bringing him here. It was not just the Force, at least not that he knew, but something pulling him here.

So this is where it all started, huh, Father?

Connel was not wearing his gear, but in a cold weather robe over his silver and brown tunic. One thing he was carrying was a passenger that had resided here as well. Connel was on a personal mission of “willing out” personal items from Caltin, knowing the Boulder would have wanted it that way. He would have wanted things being used and not just looked at, it’s just who he was. That passenger? "CONSERVATOR" the Long Handle Lightsaber carried by his father for so long. This is one thing he could not pass on. The one thing he needed to keep himself, and like his father, Connel sheathed it over his back.

The Temple had shown its age several times over. The weight of time was heavy on these walls as overgrowth and degradation had ruled the dayThe Temple's once-grand halls now lay in ruin, its walls cracked and crumbling under the weight of neglect. Despite the decay, Connel felt a deep connection to this place, as if the echoes of the past still lingered in the air. The decay was a stark reminder of the passage of time, yet Connel couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the history that surrounded him. Each crack and crumbling stone seemed to whisper stories of the battles and triumphs that had once defined this sacred space.

Okay, why did you bring me here?

He spoke to no one in particular, not knowing who else was approaching.

 
ᎷᎪNᎥᏟ ᎮᎥ᙭ᎥᏋ ᎠᏒᏋᎪᎷ ᎶᎥᏒᏝ

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The wind whistled softly through the ancient spires of the temple, carrying with it a delicate shimmer of snow that clung to the broken stones. Somewhere within those half-lit halls, Ala Quin had found her way to stillness again, or something near enough to it. She’d been here for several days now, but in the kind of quiet that came after too many voices had lived in one’s head for too long.

The presence of the goddess Shiraya had left her, but the echo remained, a trace of divinity that shimmered like frost across her consciousness. She had not come here to escape Naboo, nor the warmth of Lorn and Isla’s company. It was only to remember who she was when all other presences fell away. The snow muffled the galaxy’s noise. That was enough.

She heard him before she saw him. Not through the Force, not through any supernatural attunement, but through the muffled crunch of boots on packed ice and the laughter that followed a simple command given to a dog. A smile tugged at her lips before she even turned.

“Buster,” she murmured softly to herself.

When Connel’s figure came into view at the far end of the courtyard, Ala was sitting cross-legged on a low stone step, gloved hands wrapped around a steaming cup. The steam curled like phantom breath between them. Her curls, typically wild and unconquerable, were mostly subdued beneath the hood of a rather ostentatious snow suit—cream and bronze with an unnecessary fur lining that glittered faintly with melted snow.

“You know,” she called out in that half-playful, half-teaching tone that only masters could manage, “I’m fairly certain these ruins weren’t designed for canine excursions.” Her eyes danced with humor, but beneath it was that subtle mischief she never quite managed to hide. “Though, I suppose the galaxy’s not designed for many of the things we find worth doing.”

She rose, brushing snow from her gloves, her breath forming soft clouds in the air. “You’ve come a long way to find what’s already inside you, Connel. Or maybe just to remember it.” A gentle grin followed, disarming the weight of her words. “Either way, I hope you don’t mind sharing the quiet.”

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| Outfit: Winter exploration suit (cream and bronze, fur-lined) | Tag: Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor |​

 
The nice Vanagor died, now you get me.
VVVDHjr.png
No Regrets
Yavin VIII
Students of the Light Temple Ruins





pHjD5Dp.png


Connel didn’t see her at first. It was Buster who did. The pup was prancing around proudly with a stick he had found, about to run up to the Shadow and show off his prize when he saw her. That is when the stick was nothing more than a piece of wood that he dropped and sprinted up to her. Buster wanted to jump on the pixie and lick the pigment off of her face, but he was too good, even knowing she would welcome it, he still sat (tail going a sector a parsec) and waited for permission.

That is when he saw her.

Master Quin.

Yes, she was still his “aunt”, still the dreamer who taught him how to get under Caltin's skin without getting in trouble and how to get out of doing chores, but they had not seen each other in a long time, perhaps she had changed, he sure did. Perhaps others were around, and did not know their connection? He wanted her to have the respect her station deserved. He would greet her formally, with respect due to her position, and keep his personal feelings aside at least until he knew “the coast is clear”, so to speak. It was a small gesture, but one that carried weight, especially in the presence of others who might not understand their history.

I don’t think the galaxy was designed for Buster. He smiled at his best friend. Instinctively, his right hand floated over a pocket, something was in it, and he would get to that, but right now he walked a little closer.

Connel was here to find what was already inside of him? What? He wanted to understand what was driving him, what had been buried so deep that even he couldn’t fully grasp it. Was it guilt, longing, or something else entirely? The answers, he hoped, would reveal themselves if he could just stay focused and keep moving forward. I’m willing… I don’t know if Buster is… but I am…

This was actually turning out to be a nice surprise.




 
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