Faction The Gathering of the Dead | CIS Social

[Cord Starfall]

Tag: Open

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Cord’s eyes where closed as she kneeled before a shrine she had constructed. Upon written in the ancient language of the Sith was the thousand names of those that haunted her dreams. Of course, she didn’t actually know their names she had just given each of the face in her dream’s names posthumously. More then this had died at her hands but these where the faces she could remember the ones she saw as she cut them down.

As she was there kneeling before the shrine eyes closed candles burning all around and the should of the waters nearby each of the voices spoke to her. Ever one condemned her for atrocities she had committed. They berated her for the wicked creature she was as each of the face spoke their words and remind her of what she did to them Cord whispered. “I am Sorry.”

She could live a time endless and not a signal one of those faces would grant her redemption nor did she even seek it anymore. She learned to live with what she had done but always vowed to honor and respect those lives she had taken with her own hands. People came to these things to remember and honor those friends they lost and could not save, the families they lost, and love that left this world to early. It was respectable and commendable but to Cord this was time to remember those whose lives you took. Those lives you took and had no one else to remember them.

She could feel all the others in the area as she listened to the faces in her mind, the sense loss heavy in the air. As she said her thousand sorries she hoped those around would find their peace in remembrance. Something she could never allow herself to find for if she forgot the monster might rise.

“You are gone by my hands and unbridled rage. Your vengeance unattainable and my Redemption undeserving. I will remember you for those who cannot and I will never forget what I did to thee for eternity.”

 

[Xevnlie BrightScorch]

Location: The Shrines at Vureshakkairn Castle's chasm
Tags: Cali Ziiva

Whilst she tried so much to keep her emotions in check whilst asking for forgiveness for not being there to save any of them, they were starting to break through. It was then that she felt a hand on her shoulder, it belonged to a women she had never met. Her words of comfort about how the spirits of those that have passed would forgive her because they were more free than us, to see all that they had done. Xevnlie's heart ached a bit when she commented about her meditating before the shrine. "I.... I....." Xevnlie started as her emotions started to get the better of her, "I wasn't there.... I wasn't there to help them in any way. And if I had maybe some of them could have survived." Xevnlie's voice had started to wobble a bit, the Force around her body looking almost more, Frantic? Emotional? It was hard to tell which.

"Why didn't I help them," Xevnlie asked the girl besides her as some tears started down her face. Since she wasn't wearing the mask she had on her ship, Xevnlie's face was free for all to see, as tears started to fall down her cheeks. "I could have if I'd been there. I could have done something.... anything," Xevnlie said, her silent tears becoming increasingly fierce as that last work shook with sadness.

 

[Luca Ioneşti]

Something had to give. Something had.

Circumstances, the truth, tore at him, worked to strip away reservations and preconceptions that held him so strongly. Reality demanded he set these side, responsibility as master to apprentice required it, but short of laying himself bare. It was more than a matter of personal privacy for Teyla Sal-Soren - she trusted him as far as their obligatory relationship within the Knights Obsidian, but the man underneath that? Secrets between them caused unnecessary trouble. Withholding could get someone killed. Carrying the weight alone could set one to ruin.

After paying his respects as he was wont to do, Luca waited at the edge of the foreboding forest, awaiting her arrival, watching the others who came to possibly experience a paranormal encounter, such as the Lord Commander, whom his eyes followed until the man vanished amidst the trees. It reminded him of that day on Krant, but that didn't low-key make his skin crawl. This place made him a mite uneasy; such things were far out of his depth, both man and Jedi, but it wasn't him he was here for, and he wasn't even sure it wold work the way he hoped. But he had to try.

"For feth's sake," he uttered under his breath, but the next words didn't verbalise: she sure is taking her time. Assuming she's on-world, that is.

He gnawed at the inside of his left cheek.

Wouldn't blame her for not showing.

It wasn't like you could call it being stood up, but after drawing her burdens out into the open, it seemed as if things had gotten all the more worse, and that made him question his very judgement with the ensuing lack of contact, until the Cataclysm. Until their decimated number gathered, and she showed she still counted herself among them, and he didn't seem himself, insofar as she had seen. It had shifted the souls of the few that remained, including his own.

He scratched at his thigh, where his hand hung. He could really do with a smoke. Curse being respectful.

 

[Abel Denko]

F E S T I V A L​

Tag: Fauvel Astier , Ashelia Solidor

There was a shadow looming over Abel's head.

And though it was completely justified, he did not realize that it was there. Despite coming to a festivity...a mystical festivity...his face had been affected by the thoughts rampaging upstairs. His opinion regarding the Nightmother and his aversion to magicks had caused his brow to furrel. His expression was the furthest thing from inviting. In fact, he looked much more akin to the skeletal confections that he was so averse of. It was not until the eerie chime of his student's voice that he was roused from the storm within. I would not object to leaving early if you wish, Abel. Decades ago, when Abel was but a lad, his mother had a wise expression for moments such as these: fix your face.

Thus, he drew a solid breath and balled his dominant hand into a fist. He hovered it over the young woman's head and lowered it, harmlessly giving her a "bonk." He even mouthed the expression, before offering a genuine smile. "Sorry, was all in my head." he explained, watching her indulge in a confection. While the skeletons were definitely not his style, there were at least some things that he could try, right? The Witches were on their side...they were Obsidian...surely he could trust their sponsored cooking. If nothing else, he'd make sure Fauvel had a good time. After all, it was both of their first times attending a Solanaceae event.

Thus, he plucked a simple sugar cookie up off of one of the trays and bit in. It was soft. Excessively sweet. Delicious. The low mmm that escaped him gave it away that he enjoyed the bite, but he would never admit as much out loud. Whilst he chewed over the confection, Fauvel remarked on how there were celebrations akin to these back home. But they were more...somber. Abel couldn't even imagine, nor did he attempt to, the extent of how somber they were. Rather, he gave her another bonk and talked with his mouth full, just like the savage he was. "Bac-th 'ome," he began, swallowing. "Ahem. Back home we didn't have much in the way of celebrations. Life Day was about it."

"Unless you counted the parties thrown every time a Hutt died. Those were amazing. He chuckled aloud before finding another cookie.

"Do you miss home often?" A seemingly random, yet loaded, question was posed. But, due to how much cookie he was stuffing into his mouth, there would not be much room to ask for clarification.
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[Ashelia Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Third Wheeling.
L O C A T I O N | Festival.
F O C U S | Abel Denko , Fauvel Astier ​

It had been many years since the last time she had felt so ashamed. On her home planet, Ashelia was less fond of dances and festivals than her sister, Lunafreya, she detested such large crowds in those days, for years she struggled to control her people's gift of strength and the sound of other people's thoughts filled her head like a beehive, where all the bees of the occasion buzzed at the same time. It was impressive the things that people could think of, be it their own, others or even hers, an unworthy infant of such contempt, freely offered by the nobility of her planet. She couldn't help but tremble like a stick on such occasions, as well as envying Lunafreya's confidence, the glow she seemed to naturally emanate from while Ashelia seemed to pale near the lighthouse her sister was. For years, she wanted to be seen with the same lustful desire through the eyes of onlookers rather than being referred to as the "flat daughter of the Solidors".

The looks that others gave her said what she didn't even have to try to hear from their minds, she was poorly dressed for the occasion, dressed in that dusty armor her father had made for her years ago. The elzeri didn't even know if he had any clothes for the occasion, Baboo would probably know to tell her, he knew the cabinets on her ship much better than she did. It reminded her of something that her sister had recited to her once, perhaps in a way of encouraging Ashelia in a humiliating way, as only Lunafreya knew how to do.

"I peek through blinds that are tightly drawn..." Her lips began to murmur almost in a whisper to herself, "Shocked by the glow of the breaking dawn. I shun the brilliance of another day. Enslaved and entombed, I stay hidden away."

When he finished reciting, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath and curling her lips in a calm smile. There was peace in that corner of the galaxy and she was grateful for that, almost tired of walking dirty streets with criminals, or traveling to distant planets in search of fulfilling what her father asked of her. There she was free, to live and breathe as she wished, without worrying about Iedolas Solidor's scowl on her. When she opened her eyes, Ashelia let the orbs turn to two familiar figures, letting the steps of their legs walk in that direction. Waving her head at both of them before she even got too close, her pointed ears dangling from top to bottom, curious, was she sensing something more between the two? Perhaps a desire for privacy?

"May the wind be always at your back, Abel.", The female said peacefully with her thick accent to him in the proper greeting of her people. Turning his gaze to the young woman next to the tall boy, waving her face warmly. "And who might your companion be?", She gave them time to answer as she took her conclusions regarding that. "May the road rise up to meet you, I'm Ashelia Solidor."

 

[Fauvel Astier]

FESTIVAL
Tagging: Abel Denko ~ Ashelia Solidor

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A small smile played on the lips of the young Lady, chuckling at the man's antics but pleased to know their current surroundings were not upsetting him enough as to want to leave. If there was one thing Fauvel was used to was people feeling uneasy about the esoteric and the unknown. Blood Reign was a land filled with myths - some truer than they allowed foreigners to know - and with people who followed the paths of sorcery and the obscure. Nothing less could be expected of the place that the Ashen Church called their home.

The Illyrian spared her master a disapproving look, quickly rectified by another smile as he attempted to speak with his mouth full before correcting himself. Fauvel did not truly mind. Of course, acting herself in such manners was unthinkable to her but she spent enough time among the people to be used to them. However, he wanted to learn the ways of nobility and she happily served as the example - etiquette was tedious, but often required. One could only indulge in informality when among those highly trusted.

Then his question arrived and the Magnate took a moment to consider her answer. Her days in Blood Reign were nothing short of back-breaking. Problems upon problems with no solutions or respite to be seen. Clinging on to the minute remnants of honor and prestige that had survived the falling into disgrace of her house. Warding off threat after threat that intended to take advantage of her vulnerable position, all while trying to maintain the authority and whatever semblance of trust her people had for her family. "Every waking minute," But the sentiment went beyond missing being there. She missed what Blood Reign once was. What she wanted it to be.

She did not wish to sour the mood, and just like he had done - she allowed the more neutral and friendly, or as friendly as it got with her, expression to return and spoke once again, "That will change, some day. Then I'll just miss it occasionally," She took the final bite from the pastry she had just tried and took a handkerchief from one of her pockets to carefully clean her fingers from any crumbs or grease that might have remained in them before returning it to the pocket.

It was then that they were approached by a woman who seemed to know Abel. Fauvel knew the makings of a noblewoman when she saw one, and her curiosity was immediately summoned at the realization. Networking, one of the greatest and most important skills a noble should have. It was hard to shake off habit. Fauvel offered an acknowledging nod, "I am Fauvel Astier of Illyria, Abel's apprentice. A pleasure."

 

[Aadya Volke]

THAT WHICH WAS LOST​

Tags: Ty Sibo​

20 meters of white, patterned with grey wingspan stretched out as it beat against the currents of the wind. The beast flew high up above the forests while it’s beady red eyes looked for its prey through the trees. From time to time a clearing would be evident, only to quickly close up and hide those that dared to hide in the trees. Although they may not yet know that they were indeed hiding. For the CIS has thrown a party and who expected to be hunted at a gathering that was supposed to contain those who were friendly to each other.

Wings beat, only to stretch out and glide along the currents, as the beast slowly began to circle and it was that motion that gave off an indicator. An indicator to its rider that sat atop its back, dressed in black. Covering their face was a simple black mask, while a hood of a cloak was pulled up over their head. Any and all identifying features had been covered, so that the game that the rider intended on playing, could draw out ernest reactions. Was the rider friend? Or were they a foe? Only the rider knew who and what they were, but those below her did not and the rider leaned over sightly to view the ground below them.

They saw their victims and the rider gave a soft pat to the neck of the beast as if congratulating the fleft-wauf for its find. ”Good job, now time to let them know that we are here.” The rider said softly as the bird between their legs let out a terrifying screech. With a hand gripping a tight hold of the strap on the saddle, their right hand gripped a hold of a long handled scythe as they very much looked like a grim reaper in the sky. Wings tucked in to the fleft-waufs body just as it dived from high up and was aiming for those who were just barely hidden in the forest below them. Another screech announced their closer position and before they smashed through the trees, the beast flared out its wings to halt its dive and sent a barrage of wind down to the ground.

The wind forced the trees to open up and reveal their prey, but it also revealed the giant beast with its darkly dressed rider upon its back gripping a long handled scythe. Had Death come to claim them? The figure simply sat upon the beast, staring down through their mask at their intended target. Behind the mask, a smile curved their lips just as they slowly lifted the scythe up, only to point down at them with it. It was a motion that couldn’t be distinguished as anything but what it looked like. The rider intended on chasing them and the large bird that the rider had perched on, gave them a big advantage from the sky. However, the trees would prove to be a problem, but the claws upon the fleft-wauf reached out to attack the leaves. If they got the opening, they would snatch their prey up and a laugh peeled from the rider’s lips as they rose back up high into the sky.

Slowly, the beast dived once more, only to flare out its wings to push open the treetops once again with an onslaught of wind from the sudden halting motion. It was as if the beast was trying to create an opening that it could use so it could snatch up its prey. Another loud screech was aimed downwards, as its claws seemed to try to reach out towards Ty and it just missed as the trees returned back to their rightful place. Such an action forced the beast back up into the sky, but it stayed at its low altitude, as if biding its time. ”You can’t hide from me!” Cried the female rider from above as a maniac laugh parted her lips.

Spoiler: Side Note

Scythe is fake. It’s a prop for scare effect.

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[Ty Sibo]

Ty looked up when the loud screech shook the trees whoever they were they really knew how to make an entrance. Ty's pet made a surprised screech before retreating into his pants pocket with its battery snack. Ty started to give them applause for the entrance however from their height off the ground and them brandishing what looks to be a synth from where Ty's standing made his caress the side of his pocket "Stay put shadow this may get rough." looking up at this person "This your first time trying to go after someone? if you keep up the loud noises the witches are sure to come."

The wind from the wings of that creature and the noise was sure to draw attention but honestly, Ty was enjoying every bit of it it has been a long time since he felt this feeling...Adrenaline was exhilarating. As the beast dived again to attempt to snatch Ty up the trees would get in its way causing Ty to wonder how that was a fair chase. As the rider called out that Ty would not get away from them he would remove his hat and mask tucking them into his pants pocket before removing the loose cloth fabric folding it up and placing it on the ground revealing his ribcage and skeletal bones with a crackling red energy ever so slightly illuminating them.

crouching slightly he used the force to jump up the the highest branches of the trees. "That depends, think you can catch me miss reaper. mabie you can succeed were death failed. i even did you a favor and took a handycap." Ty stated mockingly jestering to the hight he's at before force jumping from tree to tree.

 

[Julra Repraj]

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Wearing: Julra's Refrain (Armor)
TAG: Caedyn Arenais | Open

There was a sudden shift in the wind near the chasm, the flow of the force altering slightly with that the only hint of a change save the sound of feet gently landing on the stone floor. Those without the force would notice little but one with the force it would be akin to tapping them on the shoulder. At the entrance stood a young woman with short shoulder length blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, behind her the remant of a portal faded into nothingness as quickly as it had appeared. To her surprise she was not alone, she took a few steps forward and rounded a corner finding a man standing near the chasm her eyes studied him. He was not known to her, Ryloth was of course open to travelers but very few came who were not part of the Confederacy. Inclining her head only slightly she regarded him a moment longer as if deciding something. The spirits whispered to her and a small smile formed upon her lips, a Jedi Knight one of the devout, those who seek to banish the dark as if it were possible, she had never met one only heard the stories, he was not the Knights Obsidian, yet still she stepped foreward.

"Master Jedi" she offered him a nod in greeting and she approached slowly as to not alarm, curiosity was her nature but so was caution. "Pardon the intrusion, I have come to pay my respects to the dead of Ryloth. Might I join you?" a moments study would tell him all he needed to know of the young woman. She wore red and black robes and though she was attractive she was no Jedi, she was a witch and at that born of Dathomir and even still the power she weilded did not fit one of her age.

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[Asaraa Vaashe]

Location: Ryloth | Vureshakkairn Castle Grounds
Wearing: Black Dress
Tagging: Caedyn Arenais

There were times and spaces in the galaxy that the walls between the world of the living and the world of spirits seemed to thin. Where you could hear the whispers of the dead, of those spirits who had passed over around you. Some people heard the voices of their loved ones, those comforting positive words that could lift you up and carry you to greater heights. Give you that feeling of contentment, that feeling of completeness as you felt your family wrap around you like a warm blanket.

Then there were the other voices, the ones that never seemed to leave you alone. No matter where you went, no matter what you did they were there, those whispers that pulled at the edge of your consciousness, the guilty consciousness, the voices of the dead, of the victims that haunted your every waking breath. The Jedi only had to close her eyes to see them, those dead, those killed by a Sith, those who the Jedi had failed to save.

The ghosts that haunted her every step, her every breath.

The pink-haired on bit down on her lip, blue eyes watching Caedyn’s back for a moment as she blinked slowly, sucking in a deep breath before letting out a soft sigh. No kid should loose their parents so close together, she knew he was trying to stay strong and not show any weakness, and sadness. Yet there it was, in the line of his shoulders, the way his eyes would take on that long gaze. She could remember her family…both of them but there wasn’t any real emotion attached to those memories. She could remember life day mornings, could remember going out to dinner…but none of it meant anything to her. It was as if she was watching a holofilm, watching someone elses life.

The memories that meant something to her…those were those that she’d made here, with the family she’d chosen. The young woman’s heels clacked against the floor as she padded up to stand next to the boyfriend, one hand sliding around his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Can you hear her?”

 

[Andromeda Malvern]

L O C A T I O N | The Road to Vureshakkairn Castle​

O B J E C T I V E | A Mixture of Everything!​

W E A R I N G | Dress - [X] Mask - [X] Hair Piece - [X]​

T A G S | Varn Barakis ​

Elation was the only word Andromeda could find that effectively described what she felt when Varn replied.

As she always did, she had taken serious note of the silence that stretched between them when she had asked her original question. Andromeda had not liked it. In her experience, a silence such as this one meant one of two things. Either the answer was too hard to find, or too hard to say. Neither outcome felt positive for Andromeda, so when he answered positively, elation was the perfect word.

Refraining from commenting until he was done, it was not hard to tell that there was something equally personal to Varn to be had from the ghosts that lay waiting in the forest. When he trailed to a slow stop Andromeda let the silence continue. It was a different kind of silence this time. The type of silence that two people who had known loss shared together. It was painful, yet comfortable. In those few moments of silence, there was a connection that only formed in these instances. In these moments when two souls met on the barren path of grief.

When Varn spoke up again, shattering the silence but not the bond, Andromeda found herself elated once again. Her rose-tinted lips pulled themselves upward into a radiant smile. Which she was all too happy to flash to Varn as he turned to look at her.

So many scenarios played out in her mind. The forest formed first. Shadows of trees enveloped in darkness by the canopy up ahead. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot. The soft shuffling of forest fauna in the distance… and then, the spirits. Nothing more than whisps of faint white shadow in Andromeda’s mind, but spirits all the same. What would her parents look like? Would they be as sad to see her as she would be them? Would they want to know of her life? Of her tormented past and her promising future? Andromeda hoped so. She hoped so with all her might.

As her attention returned to the shrine, and to Varn, she could barely contain her excitement. It was perhaps the first time in her life she had experienced true excitement. All the other times it had appeared, when she had been given a gift or been allowed to do something that was out of the ordinary, now paled in comparison. Her willow fingers reached out to entrap Varn’s. “Master Varn.” She spoke, in a tone that dripped with sugar sweet honey. “I would like very much to take that advice.”

Her grip tightened on his arm just a touch. Just enough for him to register it on his skin. She did not need to ask to know his pain, but she did need to ask something. “I would like it,” She began. “If you came with me.” There was no pleading in her tone, no begging or imploring. It was a simple request, and one she was all too happy to see denied if that was his wish. “I know not everyone would want to see and talk to the people they’ve lost. I have never met, nor seen my parents. I know and share the pain you feel. But I also know that loss is different for everyone.” Her lips managed to make a frown then, brief in its entirety but long enough to make lasting impressions on her cheeks.

“I would not be upset if you did not want to come.”​

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[Cali Ziiva]

The pink woman sought to pull Xevnlie in closer in the embrace. Obviously the woman was distraught. Survivors' guilt. Zeltron knew many things, not just how to party. One of the more difficult kinds of guilt too. She hadn't even been where these people had perished. Obviously no one could have expected her to do something. But then people wonder why they were parted, which only begs the question...when can you ever afford to be parted? Tragedies weren't predictable. Life wasn't predictable. Not much of a comfort though, so best not to dwell on it -- especially if you got too attached or became too afraid of losing someone.

Sometimes Cali worried about her Xobos like that. It was nice being looked after, but what would happen if Cali were hurt?

Right now, it seemed like Xevnlie just needed to get some things out. She must have lost someone, or several someones, important.

"You will when it happens when you're near. Your heart is what's important, and they know it." The emotional turbulence from the woman was quite strong and raw. Not what a Zeltron wanted, but sometimes you had to brave the currents to calm the storm. Right now, Cali hoped just holding and rubbing the woman's arms so she wasn't so alone would help.

Tag: Xevnlie BrightScorch

 

[Kyyrk]

THAT WHICH WAS LOST​

Voph continued on through the winding and twisting maze of stone in which he found himself now. He was aware, in the back of his mind that this was not real. And yet, it was not entirely a vision. The stone felt real under his touch. The typical fear and dread that permeated the halls of the Dread Palace were not present. Yet there was an unsettling presence all the same. That was, until Voph reached the first room. An individual throne room, akin to the ones present in the actual palace. Yet upon this throne sat a far different being. This was no Dread Master, but a Dark Lord all the same.

As the dark figure rose, Voph came to a stop. "You have grown much since our first meeting." Voph paused as he recognized the voice that had first spoken to him. "Darth Talak." The being lifted the helmet from his head, revealing the marred red skin of the Sith pureblood beneath. "I had thought once that you would make an acceptable addition to our ranks. Then I believed you may become the greatest of us all. Now I see you for what you are. A traitor." Voph held his head high. Talak was a Sith Loyalist through and through. Even after Ziost, he still believed. "And you are the slave of a madman."

A red blade ignited, and was held to Voph's neck. Talak, of course, did not take well to those insulting or questioning his loyalties. "You betrayed the cause. You are weak." Voph's head raised defiantly. "After four millenia, the Sith still persist in the same civil war that has always consumed us." The blade shook slightly as Talak yelled at Voph, "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL YOURSELF ONE OF US!" Voph smirked. "And yet tell me, which one of us sat upon the council?" Talak drew back his blade to slice Voph's head from his shoulders. But Voph stepped forward, his own blade springing to life and catching the former. "The Sith are weak, Talak. You know it and so do I. There was no hope for that nation. If the Sith are to survive, they must evolve. Unite."

But it was of no use. Talak was consumed by rage. The rage that he was being lectured by a lesser being. A mere non-human who he had once been gracious enough to lift from the mud into the realms of power. But now, this flea stood defiant. And in an instant, it was over. Before Talak could bring his blade to bear, Voph had already run him through. Talak's eyes went wide for a moment. Voph's blade died, and he stepped forward to lower Talak to the ground. "You set me upon this path. But you never controlled it. Nor were you ever meant to." Talak's eyes closed for a moment, then he simply said, "You have passed your first trial." And as quickly as he had appeared, the body vanished. But there was more to come. He needed to press on...

Chaos NaNo: 510 Words

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[Abel Denko]

F E S T I V A L​

Tag: Ashelia Solidor , Fauvel Astier

Every waking minute.

Now there was a sentiment that the Knight intimately understood. When he had first made the decision to get off of Nar Shaddaa, it had not been one made lightly. Upon until that moment, he had known nothing but the Hutt Moon. Sure, there were times that he had braved the stars as part of his Enforcer role. Yet, for the most part, the sordid streets were home. It was where he was born. Where his family once lived happily. Where he became a man. Without the harshness of the Hutt Moon, Abel would hardly be who he was today. And thus, he often found himself wondering how the old crew was making out. Was his neighborhood the same?

It wasn't a bad thing to miss where one came from, and thus Abel returned his fingers into the mock fist once more. A gentle bonk was rendered upon the woman's head once more, complete with a grin. "Well, we'll make sure to pencil in some more trips there. Work permitting." he said. Sometimes, their missions took them to the arse-end of Confederate space. But, if there was time permitting, there was no harm in taking their learning to the Blood Reign every now and again. After all, he was not tutoring her to be a Jedi, but a Knight Obsidian. Thus, there was nothing stopping her from maintaining those attachments of home.

In fact, encouraging them might be the play.

Abel parted his lips in order to stuff another cookie in when he heard a familiar, accented voice. He paused, right in the midst of decapatating a skeleton cookie with his teeth. Turning, he witnessed the form of an Obsidian Lord striding forward. May the wind always be at your back, Abel. she said. The Knight swallowed prematurely and did his best to stifle the dry cough. It was easier said than done, for the cookie had barely been chewed and down it went. He cleared his throat immediately and rendered a polite nod of his head. "Ah! Excuse me, was just choking on a cookie." he began, grinning. "It's good to see you Master Solidor."

She'd find nothing but appreciation in his eyes. For one, she arrived wearing an attire similar to his own. Whereas hers had clearly seen a longer life, both stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the casual population. Abel was a Knight. Proud of this fact. That, and he'd be damned if he wasn't ready for a fight amidst all the spooky scary skeletons. Edible ones included. Moreover, his first interaction with her was among the surviving members of the Knighthood following the Cataclysm. Her perspective was sound during this gathering, and thus she had earned the man's respect. Fauvel took the opportunity to introduce herself, and Abel bridged the gap.

"Fauvel, this is a fellow Obsidian. She is a Master of the Force." he said. His gaze then settled upon the woman whilst his chin moved towards the tables of sweets. "You should try a cookie...Well, not the skeleton ones. They'll choke you."

Literally.

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[Varn Barakis]

Objective: Honor the Dead
Tags: Andromeda Malvern

Grief lasted. ​

Varn had heard it said again and again that time healed all wounds. Perhaps that was true for some people; not so for him. Like so many things, grief was persistent. Once it made it's mark, there was nothing you could do to shake it. Sure, you could try to bury it, or hide it, ignore it even. Yet, still it remained, a stain on your soul, one that couldn't be washed away.​

The knight had learned that lesson early on, when the first of his clan fell. ​

Taking a breath, Varn closed his eyes. After all this time, he could still envisage his friend's face as it had once looked, before all the chaos and madness that had seen him struck from existence. The vision brought a smile to the Jedi's face. A strange mix of happiness, longing and sorrow, it soon faded. What he wouldn't give to see that face again, full of life and laughter and things that made his hearts grow warm. ​

A hand on his own forced his eyes open, made him turn. The voice that followed distracted him from the voices in his head, gave him much needed respite from the heaviness weighing on his soul. Silky smooth, the voice uttered an offer in lullaby tones, low, gently lulling his eyes to close once more.​

When they opened once more, it was of their own accord. ​

"It is less a matter of want," he replied, gazing intently at Andromeda. "But of need." Whether that was true for the padawan as it was for him remained a mystery. Freeing his hand, the knight clambered to his feet, barely stifling a grimace as his leg protested. He took a moment to brush the grass off his robes, before saying, "I think we could both do with some closure." Indeed, there was nothing he sought more on this night of nights than that. ​

He looked down at his padawan expectantly. ​

"Well? Are we staying or going?" He asked, offering her his hand.​

 

[Xevnlie BrightScorch]

Cali Ziiva

Hearing the pink woman's words after she pulled Xevnlie in as her sobs became more and more prominent was nice. She hadn't really thought about it, apart from when she arrived. With Cali's words of comfort starting to chip away at the raw emotion Xevnlie was going through, she slowly started to lean into her welcoming embrace to ease her internal struggle. Xevnlie kept quiet as she half knelt, using Cali's shoulder like a pillow to cry into. She wanted to be determined enough to save others, but she found herself doubting every aspect of her abilities. Xevnlie's body slightly shook with each exhaled breath as she tried to calm down.

The soft rubbing of her arms reminded her of when she was a child, hurt or extremely upset by something and being comforted by her mother. It at least helped her calm down a bit more, however, her emotional storm was still in almost full effect. She hadn't cried even when she heard about the mass slaughter of their members. It was no surprise to even herself that those same emotions would finally raise their heads here of all places. Xevnlie wasn't even sure that she could be free of these emotions, but hopefully one day, she would be.

 

[Andromeda Malvern]

L O C A T I O N | The Road to Vureshakkairn Castle ​

O B J E C T I V E | A Mixture of Everything!​

W E A R I N G | Dress - [X] Mask - [X] Hair Piece - [X] ​

T A G S | Varn Barakis ​

It was in times like this that Andromeda found herself wishing she were an empath. Wishing she could tell exactly how and what people were feeling. It did not help that she could not see their faces or make out the finer details in their expressions. Often, people’s voices did not give away enough of a clue. Some people were exceedingly good at hiding the emotion in their tone, which made it twice as difficult for Andromeda.

She wanted to know how to comfort Varn. He had already done so much for her, the biggest of which was taking her under his wing in the first place. Andromeda owed him at least that. However, the sorrow seemed to fade, or at least Varn seemed to tuck it away. She allowed her grip to be unfurled from his robes, her sightless gaze following his shadowy form as he rose from the shrine.

Andromeda was all too eager to take his hand with a smile that made her skin glow. “Going.” She said as she pulled herself up. “Definitely going.”

Then, she did something strange. Something not Andromeda like at all. She looped her arm through Varn and began to lead them up the path to the forest. Up to now, the Diathim had been true to her ancestor’s stereotyped nature. Coy, shy, quiet, naïve, innocent. During missions, when they were training, even when they had slipped out to Jutrand market to get something fresh to eat. Andromeda had always followed Varn’s lead.

Now she was practically dragging him down the path.

While they walked, she spoke. More than she had done the entire time she had known Varn. “When I was a baby, I used to live in a palace. With marble walls and columns and golden curtains and crystal chandeliers.” It was a little childish, but Andromeda did not seem to care. It seemed as though she firmly believed it. She did believe it. The only memories she had of those days bubbled to the surface when the sun had gone and the last voice on The King’s Collar had drifted into a drunken sleep.

“There was a fire one day.” Her voice dropped a little. “That’s when my adoptive father said he found me. In a crib that was almost ready to collapse, on top of a pile of a pile of ashes and bones.” Morbid though it was, it was the same way the story had been recalled to her by her “father”. “He’s a crime lord.” Those words were blunt, as blunt as she could make them. Up to now most in the Silver Rest had assumed her rich. Her clothes certainly spoke of riches, as did the way she spoke and carried herself, but she was far from it.

“We lived on a pirate ship called the King’s Collar, or sometimes we would stay in hutt space. My brother was the captain.” Andromeda finished there. She did not really want to talk about the betrayal, or her subsequent escape from punishment. It was obvious enough that she had left, or she would not be standing here talking to Varn. “I always knew I wasn’t like them. I was different, but my father never mentioned my real parents much. I suppose he didn’t want me to be upset, but I was more upset with how little I knew about them.”

Andromeda cast a glance at Varn. What would he think of all this? So far, she had been exceedingly tight lipped about it all, but he was about to meet her parents. He was about to hear the whole story from start to finish in far more detail. She did not want him to be surprised by anything. She did not want him to think that she had been keeping secrets.​

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[Damerous]

That Which Was Lost...​

His mother had taught him that the Force was an ally, a companion, not something to be dominated or controlled...if one were to surrender to the will of the Force...things would all work out in the end.

As he opened himself to the Force, the darkness around him began to shift as the sounds of klaxons grew closer, increasing in volume until he realized where he was. The ground shifted to durasteel deck plating under his boots, the surrounding walls and ceilings replaced with light gray durasteel plating and orange paint, as white and orange armored soldiers materialized out of the mist and began to run past him. Damerous reached out towards one of them, only to feel nothing as the soldier passed through his hand.

So...a vision then? Of the past? The armor seemed to match the images his father had shown of Republic troopers. As he came around the corner, black clad Imperial troopers pursued the Republic soldiers down the corridor, both sides trading green and red laser fire as the sounds of lightsaber combat began to grow louder. Damerous broke into a run, moving through the crowds of soldiers and turning another corner before he saw it.

Mother...

Father...

The two of them were locked in a deadly duel of lightsaber combat, Jihanna Hazic’s azure blade moving in tight defensive parries against the quick, lighting attacks of Kyrus’ crimson blade. Despite himself, Damerous broke into a sprint towards the two figures, but before he reached them, Kryus managed to break through Jihanna’s defenses and landed a glancing blow to her right arm, causing her to drop her lightsaber and fall to her knees in pain. As Kyrus brought his knee up into her jaw, Damerous skidded to a halt in front of the image of the pair...his attention drawn to something else.

Jihanna’s lightsaber had dropped to the durasteel deck, clattering and rolling off to the side as history played out in the background. Damerous approached the shiny cylinder and dropped to one knee, reaching out his hand to touch it before it suddenly levitated up and through him. With a start, he turned back around and saw his father catch the weapon in a gloved hand. Two Sith troopers carried his mother away, but Kyrus seemed to pause before following them, his head cocking to one side for a long moment. Then he turned and followed the troopers down the corridor.

Surprisingly, the corridor stayed visible as the rest of the ship disappeared back into the gray swirling mist. Damerous paused, when a voice came out of the mist. “Go...” it whispered, to which Damerous moved down the corridor to see what else the Force wanted to show him.

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Cali smiled as she kept the other woman tucked in close. She wasn't happy that Xevnlie was distraught, of course. A Pink Person was never happy at negative emotion. Just that the woman had relaxed just a bit and let out all that pent up emotion. A Zeltron knew when someone was holding back, and if Xevnlie carried that around all the time it'd only cause all the more harm later.

It didn't take a Jedi to know repressed emotions weren't healthy.

Then again, some people -- like certain Sith -- went way overboard in letting out their aggression.

Not like the Zeltron at all. They had it just right. Endless happiness, creativity, and fun! Hadn't hurt anyone yet.

They'd sit there together for as long as Xevnlie liked. Cali wasn't in any hurry. Well that wasn't true -- she was always in a hurry to help someone in need. Seemed like Xevnlie was just the person the Zeltron had been looking for. Even if all the woman needed was someone to hug her and keep her safe while she let it all go.

Not let emotions go though. Like, Cali would totally have been against that if Xevnlie voiced the idea. Dispense with emotions? Where was the fun and the joy of that? No, no, what Xevnlie needed was plenty of people to support her when she was hurt. Much better option in a humble cutey's opinion.

Tag: Xevnlie BrightScorch

 

[Ashelia Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Having fun.
F O C U S | Fauvel Astier , Abel Denko ​

“Fauvel of Illyria.”, she repeated that name with caution, Ashelia heard something regarding that same planet a while ago but she could not remember what it was. The elzeri tried focusing on something else than trying to remember things forgotten at this joyous occasion, the sounds of laughter could be heard not far from where they stood. “Austere is it? The meaning behind your surname, Miss Austier.”

Foreigners were a greater mystery than the ones the thing called the Force had to unfold before her eyes, especially humans. She traveled places, not many places but at least quite a few to understand how the galaxy really was, and at first, she could admit how scared she was of all those new things happening at once, but now, Ashelia was much more comfortable with how odd aliens really were, even humans. If it were his sister, she would probably puke just on the thought of eating one of those funny foods they called ‘cookies’. The female reached out with her eager fingers towards what was offered to her by the blond male, calmly she grabbed one of the skeletons shaped pastry and brought it back to her mouth, smiling as she bit off a piece.
“I take pleasure living dangerously, sir.”, slowly she chewed off the odd piece inside her mouth, feeling as her face wrinkled like a rotten piece of fruit left in the open, amused on going through that sort of situation. Ashelia rocked her own head as she swallowed the piece of cookie. “Well... It’s... a very human thing.”, she smiled at him. “I wouldn’t know any other way to put it, I apologize for it, it could be said that I have a very sensitive gustation.”, she gave him a moment, “Either that or is it that I’m too full of pomp. Do you humans like this sort of meal often?”

She asked both of them, her eyes rolling from Abel’s kind orbs to Fauvel’s bright hair. For a moment the Solidor had the nostalgic feeling of eating the nimbus cakes that the cook in her family’s state baked every now and then, almost bringing back its taste to the tip of her tongue as yet another way of making her feel homesick.