Faction TDF - Evening on the Drift

[Braze]

TAGS: Kyric | Open to TDF

Most of the ship lay quiet, drifting through its sleep cycle. Lights were lowered to a muted glow, the thrum of the engines steady beneath the decking. While others rested, Braze slipped into the small dojo. He had chosen wakefulness over sleep, there was too much on his mind, too much weight pressing against his chest to allow for rest.

He bore responsibility now, especially for young Leos . Without a temple's walls to protect them, the burden of safety fell squarely on him. Out here between Ossus and Veridia, there was no council to turn to, only his own judgment. How could he protect some one if he couldn't protect himself?

The presence of Okuma Milogen left him unsettled, he feared he might pose a danger to others. For the you Echani, such thoughts were bitter and strange.

His mind wandered as he stretched, threading rope across the chamber. Bespin loomed close, and he still debated whether Leos should follow him there, so near the heart of Sith space. He thought briefly of Loomi , Jasper Kai'el , and Ko Vuto , wondering where they were now, if they fared any better. A sigh escaped him as he tightened the line, preparing for a moving meditation.

The practice had been absent for too long, but tonight it would offer a fragile echo of normalcy. Perhaps even the delay caused by Okuma Milogen 's injuries was a gift of sorts: a pause that allowed him space to breathe, however uneasily. Still, the questions pressed in the dark: Who might be hunting him still? Could forgiveness be found, if he carved a way through this tangled path?


He exhaled again, stepped up onto the cord, and began the slow balance of one foot before the other. Each movement a meditation, each breath a small defiance of the turmoil crowding his thoughts.

And yet… he was not the only one awake. Another soul had risen in the ship's false night...

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[Kyric]

Within the darkness of one of the Mud Duck's many lodgings, Kyric sat on the cold durasteel floor with his back pressed up against the wall. Held firmly within his hand was a thin holoprojector he casually tossed up into the air. It flipped like a coin as it rose, stopping a fraction of an inch from the ceiling in its fluid rotation, before it descended back down to his outstretched hand. He lost count of how many times he repeated the motion. By then, hours had passed. Rest eluded him on the Mud Duck no differently than it did Atrisia or Naboo.

Kyric considered activating the device as it fell flatly within his palm. The face that awaited him was the very same face he saw within his dreams when he managed to quiet his thoughts and drift away. Instead, he slipped the holoprojector into his pocket. A soft voice in the back of his head stopped him again, much like the last time.

Even separated by tens of thousands of light years the kiffar couldn't bear to look. He didn't deserve the privilege after the pain he put her through during the Kaggath.

"Stupid," Kyric mumbled. "Absolute fethin' fool." He climbed to his feet and made for the door.

Rest freely given was undeserved. If he wanted to sleep, it would come after he drove himself to the limits. He knew no other way to find peace since escaping the confines of imperial imprisonment months ago.

After several minutes of padding quietly through the Mud Duck's corridors, Kyric stopped outside what Braze dubbed "the Dojo." It wasn't exactly what the kiffar was used to when the word came to mind. Clan Ashina still favored a more traditional design others often called dated. To Kyric, their training grounds felt authentic—like home, really.

The door opened to reveal Braze walking the tightrope stretched across the facility.

Kyric said nothing. He watched for a moment, then wandered over to one of the many shelves forged into the wall. The kiffar didn't have anything aside from the holoprojector to store within them. He fished it out of his pocket and stared down at it for a long stretch of time. Again he contemplated turning it on for the hundredth time that night.

He eventually set it aside and quietly worked through his own stretching regiment for a warm up.

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Tags: Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Kyric

Braze didn't seem to mind Kyric entering the room as he arched backward, his spine curving into a controlled arch. The cord quivered faintly beneath him as he placed his hands along the tightrope, shoulders rolling with slow precision. Muscles along his arms and abdomen tensed like drawn cords, but the motion carried a dancer's poise rather than strain. With deliberate slow grace, he hoisted his legs upward until his feet pointed toward the ceiling, holding the position in stillness before lowering one foot, then the other, until he stood upright once more.

He paused there, those pale jade-green eyes settling on the raven-haired young man. "Can't sleep either?" he asked quietly. Then, sliding one foot back, Braze let himself descend into a split, the controlled stretch flowing as though his body was simply following the rhythm of the cord.

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