Veyran Solis
Character
@Open
The light burned more than he expected. Not in the way of pain, but in the way of honesty raw, unfiltered. The sun was too bright, too clean for someone like him. Veyran stood there for a moment, barefoot on the edge where the sand met the tide, letting the heat crawl up his legs like an accusation. He should've hated it. The Sith in him wanted to. But today, he had decided against instinct, against training that hate would not rule him. Not for an afternoon.
He dropped the small bag beside him and sat down, shorts brushing against sun-warmed grains. Inside the bag, a datapad, a ration bar, a training crystal that hummed faintly with dark energy he refused to touch. He stared at the waves instead, their rhythm too slow to be useful, too patient to be conquered.
The wind carried salt and softness. It made his hair shift across his forehead. He found himself tracing the foam lines with his eyes, wondering if hate left him, what would be left? Power had always been the goal, vengeance the fuel, but neither had taught him what to do with quiet.
He took a long breath. The sea answered with another wave. It was a conversation of sorts—one that didn't demand dominance or blood. Just presence.
"Pathetic." a voice inside him whispered. The echo of his own hate..
"Maybe." Veyran murmured back, closing his eyes. "But it's mine."
The tide reached his toes and receded, and he didn't move away.
