The P Word

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The tomb had called to him. His presence this far out in Ancient Eye space had been of pure coincidence; a job had taken him out on a run to this derelict section of space. At first he'd expressed a bit of trepidation about making his way to what was essentially cult space, but the credits promised were a sizable amount. The trip had gone surprisingly well, and the drop itself was uneventful.

Anderit had been content to return to Coruscant.

But something had pulled at the edge of his consciousness.

Rather than leave, Anderit had chased that calling. His vessel absconded to the far reaches of Nibelungen's deserts, its access permitted by codes sliced for him weeks prior. The temple he'd been drawn to was an ancient structure of sandstone and obsidian. It was a ziggurat of some sort, though Anderit could not tell its origins from the outside. He drew his hood over his face as he stepped down from his starfighter, his hand falling to the sidearm at his belt.

In silence. Anderit stepped out from the evening sun, and through the entrance of the decaying structure.

 

[Celeste Cavataio]

Her presence with the Ancient Eye was... Interesting. The heavy influences of the Darkside's teaching were evident everywhere, decreeing many of the choices and decisions made by the leadership and trickling down to others who were not part of that elite group. She herself had to sift through it all, blocking parts to avoid them from taking her own existence over. Celeste was many things, but this or other version of a Sith was not one of them. Hers had been a more delicate education, filled with the opportunity to make choices at every turn. Balance had been her choice. Always, and forever. The Ancient Eye chose to dabble with things that, to be frank, were much beyond their power. This would normally not be a problem, but this time their mistakes could cost the galaxy many lives. Too many lives. And thus, here she was, dancing their dance, careful with every step she took.

It also meant that she had to open herself up to the call of the Force. That... Had been slightly harder. In her centuries of life, she had learned that the Force always bloody called you. There was always something wrong, there was always a threat, there was always something that needed attention. Once she had realized that, still as a young woman, she simply closed herself off to it. And now... Now she had to open herself to it completely, and learn almost from scratch how to decide what was important and what was not. Most things were not.

But this was. She had felt the tug, the call, calling her to come to this planet, leading her directly to the temple, making her wish she could have a nice long conversation with the Force over tea and biscuits.

She could sense someone approaching before he was there, close to finding her within the first few feet of the structure. Turning around, Celeste wore her usually serene expression, waiting to see what the Force had in store this time.

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]