Private The Revival

[FN-1138]

​

LOCATION: Dosuun

A young man with blonde hair was sprawled on the ground. Saying he looked beat up was an understatement of the century. His armor was battered and covered in blast marks. The previously pristine white paint job was smeared with dirt and blood. His helmet was missing too. The young man's eyes fluttered open. He saw an overcast sky. It looked dreary and depressing. He could smell smoke and other, more unpleasant smells that are closely associated with a battlefield. Although that didn't make sense. Why would he be anywhere near a battlefield in the first place? Slowly, ever so slowly, the young man sat up to get a good understanding of where he was. His bright, ocean blue eyes widened in shock. Bodies. There were bodies everywhere. All wearing full armor with blasters by their sides. Well, at least he knew where the smell was coming from.

The young man stood up and the first thing he felt was pain. Unbearable pain. It was like he was stabbed by a thousand tiny needles all at the same time. He promptly keeled over and fell onto his side, gasping for air. When the sensation passed, he gingerly stood back up. He said to himself, "What happened here? What happened to me?" He needed to find a way out of this graveyard. Find a way off of the planet. He tried to remember what he was doing there in the first place, but it all came up blank. This concerned him. This concerned him a lot. But before he could think about his lack of memories, he needed to find a water source. Then he needed to get off the bloody planet.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The sharp crunch of broken ground swept over the dead. A lone figure slowly stepped around the fallen that littered the world. Glowing green eyes slowly passed over what remained of the corpses from the heated battle for survival. Every so often the woman paused, knelt down, and reached down to touch one of those that had seemingly passed on; she lingered for several moments before standing up straight and resuming her pilgrimage among the dead.

Red armor worn by the figure was a fitting color for the near-black life blood that had been splattered across the ground as a modernist painter might. Skin whiter than those whose ends had come so soon picked up the pale light cast through the overcast sky above. Dark lips retained a flat line, neither amused at such people being crushed, nor sorrowful for their passing.

It was the way of the galaxy to live and die in such a fashion. Endless bloodshed for countless reasons. To what end? The Nightsisters could scarcely comprehend such reckless and wanton destruction. Whose will governed this? Whose desires were sated? Vytal had come to accept this was the way the offworlders lived, and feared it would befall her homeworld some day. So she had come to the starts in search of answers and the means to defend her people. Yet sights such as those around her reflected little hope in sparing those she loved from the bloodshed. Perhaps, in the end, their magick was all they had -- all offworlders could not defend against. This did not settle well with her, however. For even magick and the blessings of the spirits was not limitless. Not at the scale and speed with which offworlders could deliver countless terrors.

Suddenly the figure stopped. Her eyes scanned the immediate area as a silent voice whispered about one that lived. Alive? Here? A survivor? Someone pillaging the dead?

Slowly Vytal resumed her path through ruin and sought out this life. Whoever they were was worth investigating. Perhaps they knew more of what befell this world, and how best to put the dead at ease.

Tags: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

The young man continued to make his way through the endless graveyard. There were so many of them. The odd thing was that he felt like he should know these people, but every time he tried, he came up blank. In fact, he couldn't even remember his own name. That was also concerning. The sky was still overcast, and he could hear some faint rumbling in the distance. That didn't bode well. He needed to get to some shelter before it rained. The blonde looked around and noticed another soul walking through the graveyard. Finally! Someone is still alive in this Force-forsaken land!

He was still limping, but he managed to pick up the pace. When he got closer, he could see a woman with pale skin wearing red armor. The young man faltered. He was glad to see someone else is alive, but it was like he could feel something...bad coming from this woman. A sense of wrongness. He could tell that this woman was dangerous. Even so, maybe she could help him with his little memory problem. Once the young man approached her, he said, "Um. Excuse me, ma'am? I don't know how to put this exactly, but I don't remember anything. Nothing about what I was doing here, not even my own name. Can you help me?" When he said this, he thought he could hear thunder rumbling. Only louder this time.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The Dathomiri woman stopped as the man approached. His gait suggested injury, and his appearance supported that belief considerably. Not robbing the dead then; this was good, as Vytal would not suffer their kind in her presence. Even if a soul had rejoined the collective whole of energy that surrounded them did not mean their discarded shell should be treated with disrespect.

Nary a muscle twitched as the man began to speak. With no hesitation at all, the man professed being a blank slate completely at her mercy and hopeful she might assist him. This could be an elaborate ruse, of course. If it were, Vytal would compliment him on his perfectly acted routine. "Nightmother Noctura," she respond after a moment. Slowly the pale woman lifted her chin to look up at the sky. Only then did her gaze fall back to the man in front of her. "I have a camp," she pointed off to the side toward a pile of rubble. "We can speak there. Can you walk that far?" Her right hand lifted slowly and a green mist began to coil about her arm. "I could ease your discomfort."

Tag: FN-1138 ​

 

[FN-1138]

He stared when the mysterious woman mentioned her name. Nightmother Noctura. The name Noctura didn't mean anything to the young man, but the title was another story. When he heard the title, his instincts started screaming at him. It was like they were trying to warn him of the danger this woman posed. He felt like he needed to run away from the scary woman in red as far as humanly possible. He would have obliged if he was in a healthier state, but he wasn't. Even if he was healthy and fully capable of fighting, this woman would have overwhelmed a mere trooper like him in seconds. Wait...trooper? As in a soldier? He put a hand to his head and grimaced at the ground. It seemed the mere sight of the woman in red who called herself Nightmother Noctura was able to shake a couple of memories loose. Even if they were minor ones, they still helped in trying to put together his identity.

The young man lowered his hand and looked back at the woman. He was still in pain, but he tensed up as if anticipating a fight. The Nightmother told him she had a camp and as she pointed towards some rubble, asked if he could walk that far. He said, "Yeah. I can keep walking. I got this far didn't I?" He frowned as he saw Noctura's right hand lift and a green mist started coiling around it. She asked him if he wanted his pain to be alleviated, but he shook his head. "While I did ask for your help, I'm still not sure if I can trust you yet. How would I know if you started to mess with my head in all the wrong ways?"

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal was patient. She held her ground and made no more toward or away from the trooper that seemed to have lost all sense of himself. Fortunately the man was too injured to do the exactly the opposite as the sudden, subtle tension in his body manifested. It wouldn't have done any good if he'd tried. He was the lone survivor among the dead; she would much rather speak with him than persuade a spirit to do more than ramble or rant. Death was a transition, and few weathered it well. It took time for them to calm down and accept the hereafter.

The faintest smile crept over the Dathomiri woman's lips at the trooper's question. "You wouldn't." A heartbeat let her direct reply set in. "However, despite what you have obviously heard of the Nightsisters," again a pause long enough for the smile to surface, "I have no reason to 'mess' with your head. Now, come with me."

She turned to lead the way back to her camp. Before taking the first step, however, Vytal looked over her shoulder at him. "Or do you prefer to wander among the dead as the rain creates a swamp of dirt, grease, and blood? A perverse form of entertainment for the deprave gods. They would be sure to enjoy the sight. I, on the other hand, would prefer you sit before a fire and recover from battle." The Nightmother began to slowly move forward. As she did so, she tossed back a final statement, "The decision is yours."

Tag: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

The young man grimaced as she said her piece. There it was again. Nightsisters. Did he encounter them before he lost his memories or something? The questions keep piling up. More so than answers. He watched as she turned her back to lead the way to the camp. But then she stopped and asked if he wanted to continue walking amongst the dead. He didn't know how long he walked through the endless graveyard, but he had enough of seeing dead bodies wearing white armor with strange regalia. He really wanted to see civilization again.

He sighed. "Well, you got me there. I'll join you at the fire. That certainly beats wandering around this Force-forsaken place until I die of starvation or get eaten by wild animals." He went to follow the Nightmother to her campsite. "Does your camp have a roof? I don't want to get caught out when the rain comes. It certainly sounds like it's coming." The thunder rumbled louder then before as if in response to his words.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

At least he was not unreasonable. Shame one of the first things he seemed to remember was his fear of the 'Witches of Dathomir.' Though her sisters back home loved how terrified the galaxy was of them -- it kept them from setting foot on their world. Vytal was, however, not the Nightmother of Dathomir, but of Ryloth. The Mandragora did not seek to frighten people away, but to draw close those that were worthy. To learn. To grow. Perhaps she would explain all of this to the male shortly.

Vytal lifted her hand and the mists spiraled upward far above. Soon green energy mixed with the swiftly thickening and dark sea of clouds above. Her hand lowered as she continued to navigate her way back through the field of corpses. "It does. And the means for a fire for warmth. If you refuse to allow me to heal you with magick, perhaps a potion or bacta treatment will set your mind at ease instead. I have little in the way of bacta, and you will certainly retain many injuries by the time you leave this world."

"Tell me, Trooper, what do you remember? Your disposition toward me changed quickly, so something has returned." The Nightmother made plain why she asked. If he was truly wary of her, he might stall by claiming to be curious why she thought anything had returned. They had all the time in the world, but that did not mean Vytal wished to spend it on idle chatter. What purpose was there in dancing around one another? The battle was over. Though, this male may not be fully aware of that fact just yet.

Tag: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

The young man watched as Noctura sent some strange mist thing up to the sky. 'So this is magick huh? Pretty nifty.' He nodded his head slowly. "I'll take the bacta treatment, thank you. You know what they say, "Rule 39, never say no to bacta." Regarding the injuries I would retain, I wouldn't mind as long as I'm able to move quickly." The young man crossed his arms before he started to rub his chin in thought. "I'm not sure. When you mentioned what you were, I thought I could feel something returning. I tried to capture it, but it eluded me." He frowned when he felt water hitting his face in a soft drizzle. Hopefully that shelter isn't too far.

"You said trooper. You think I'm a soldier? If so, who was I fighting for?"

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Of course, Vytal mentally noted. She expected the man would take the bacta over even a potion. All the means in the galaxy to heal his wounds in an instant, leaving no scar, and requiring no blood sacrifice -- or whatever offworlders believed -- and they chose the 'naturalistic medicine.' It would take longer, and may not treat the full extent of the injuries, but it made the mortals feel warm and fuzzy using something familiar.

"Your rule should be amended. Never turn down a Witch's healing salve. It's faster and stronger," the Nightmother said aloud mirroring her personal opinion, which she'd mentally tossed about in a split second.

As they rounded the pile of rubble, a canopy could be found held aloft upon several poles. Anchored in the ground, if given a shake there would be little movement and would not lift from where it had been planted. A small pile of wood sat unlit at the center with several mats arranged around it for kneeing or sitting.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Vytal glanced over her shoulder at the man. "Please," her hand gestured to the mats, "sit." There was no need to be rude. After all, she wanted the male's company. Even if it would seem he remembered little to nothing of value. It would be a mistake to simply give up on him and let him scrounge a meager existence on a broken world.

With a snap of her fingers, a flame burst into being upon the tented pile of wood. "Rest." The Dathomiri woman strode around to the far side of camp to retrieve a small field kit. She brought it over to the mats and set it down beside her after taking a place for herself before the warmth of the open fire. After a moment, a bacta sprayer emerged and Vytal extended it out toward the nameless man.

"Water?" While she did not pad her words with unnecessary filler, the pale woman's tone was patient and this side of warm. Her eyes lingered on the battered figure awaiting his response.

Afterward, Vytal continued and explained why she had yet to answer his question, "Before we speak of what I know, I need you to think for a moment. Who are you? What do you believe? You have been given a second chance to examine the world from a point of view few others ever get. You could start over. Think new thoughts. Examine different points of view that once sickened you. And then, with those in hand, and the knowledge of your past, you can make your own path."

Tag: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

He took the offered mat gratefully and sat down with a soft groan of relief. It felt good to be off of his feet for a while. The drizzling intensified, and the overcast sky grew darker. The thunder rumbled even louder then before, and he could feel the chilly wind blow. If he wasn't injured or the land covered in bodies, this could've been a pleasant. When Noctura started the fire with her magick, he moved closer to the fire. He took off the dirty gloves and allowed the heat to seep through his hands. The young man nodded his thanks when the Nightmother gave him a bacta spray and he immediately applied it to his wounds. He could already feel some of his pain disappear, but he would need to spend time in a bacta tank for a few days.

He set down the spray can and took the offered water. "Thank you." The injured soldier took a few gulps from the container and sighed when the liquid traveled down his throat. He coughed a couple of times when he put the container down. He mulled over Noctura's words. "Who am I? I don't know. I was given a second chance at life you say? I want to use that chance to actually live it. I want to find out who I was before I woke up like this, but I won't let that define me. Maybe...see if I can find out if I have any family. But before I do that, I need something to call myself."

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Of course the man couldn't say who he was, but Vytal wanted him to try to comprehend the opportunity that lay before him. Those he served were not any more offensive than the Sith, but the First Order would not tolerate 'deviants' such as herself. The only valid extension of power was the Force in the hands of a very select few who could be more easily controlled. Witches would be nothing but a scourge to be eliminated. So, yes, Vytal had a personal stake in this male contemplating another path.

Vytal's hand passed over the flame before them and the flickering flames became a mix of green and black. As the pattered of rain intensified, the Nightmother's eyes were fixed on the flames. "Commander." As if bidden by her acknowledgement, a hollow, spectral visage of the man's superior from the shoulders up took form over those flames.

"Damn those beasts. We need to--" The spirit's head pivoted, drawn to the still living solider present. "F.N. One One Three Eight! What do you think you're doing? On your feet, Trooper! We need to kill them. Kill them all. Kill them before they break through. Break the line. Your blaster, where is it? We need to hurry and kill all of these..." The voice faded out as did the man's presence, and soon the flames resumed their orange-red hues.

The glow of the Nether burned in the Nightmother's eyes as they lifted to regard the man once more. "Typical, really. FN this. FN that. Impersonal. Lifeless. They always did prefer treating their conscripts as nothing more than expendable tools. Little more than droids made flesh. I think you should find a different name. A better name. For now, I'll call you Able."

"Welcome to Dosuun, Able." A mirthless smile graced her dark lips. "Graveyard of the First Order. For a time." She tilted her head back and peered around the edge of the canopy toward the skies and the stars beyond. "They moved on to a different region. Perhaps they'll return here one day to reclaim what they lost. I wouldn't wait on them." Vytal's eyes fell back to 'Able' once more. Slowly she picked up a length of wood and gently prodded the burning pile of wood. "So many people believe the world would be a better place if only it were more orderly, or more chaotic. More peaceful, or full of strife. They all think they have everything figured out, and every question worth asking is within their grasp. If there's one thing you should be mindful of when you leave this place, Able, it's that wise people understand that they don't have all of the answers; and there is no shame in that."

Tag: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

The young man frowned when she said the word "Commander". Then he saw a figure above the now green and black flames. He thought it was a simple recording, nothing more then their last memory or words before death. Then the spectral figure turned to face him. Then he called him "FN-1138", told him to get off his feet, and asked him where his blaster was. Next thing he did was go on some rant about beasts and how they had to kill them all. Then...the soldier vanished. He frowned and said, "Well that was something." He lifted his head when he heard Noctura give him the name, Able. Able huh? That's a nice name. It'll serve him for the time being.

The newly named Able heard the name of the planet he was on. "Dosuun huh?" After Noctura told him about the people that he apparently worked for, Able frowned. The First Order. Something about that named sparked something. A feeling of dread. He continued listening to her words and nodded in understanding. He then spoke, "Thank you for everything I suppose. You didn't have to do this for me. You could have just left me here to rot. But you didn't, and I'm grateful for that. Do you have any recommendations for where to go after this? After all, according to what you've shown me, all I've known was this First Order."

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

"I am Nightmother of the Mandragora, a coven of those that commune with spirits and delve into mysteries unknown to those trained in The Force. We work along side the Knights Obsidian as part of the Confederacy of Independent Systems," Vytal regurgitated by sheer necessity for the warrior whose memory had been lost. It seemed terms and names drew curious yet subtle reactions; the more he heard perhaps the more might be triggered. "While we do not recruit everyone we meet, I am certain you possess enough skill to find purpose among the Confederate forces as well. If not, then there will be many civilian or private employment opportunities to explore."

"I will not simply abandon you to a sea of unfamiliar faces with no finances of your own." The Nightmother paused to smirk in case the thoughts were stirred by her lengthy description of the many possibilities that lay before him. "I will see to it you are given a place to stay while you rebuild and decide on the path you wish to walk. I'm sure you will want to learn more about the Confederacy and any other faction in the galaxy. There is no need for us to hide anything from you. Loyalty is strongest when it born of trust, and we have no need for conscription like the First Order."

After she took a small drink of water, Vytal continued, "Who knows, perhaps you will take up pottery." A slight lift of her eyebrows and a small smile followed. Undoubtful, she wagered. Even if he'd forgotten much, his muscles had not. Muscle memory would lead him down certain paths. Perhaps not the same ones, Vytal expected ghosts of the past would have their say.

Tag: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

Able smiled. "Confederacy of Independent Systems you say? I'd like to see what you guys have to offer." When she mentioned the Confederate forces, he said, "You know, I would like to find work that doesn't involve fighting. I could learn somethin' new that way. Although I feel like fate would say otherwise and force me back into a life of war." He took another drink of water and stared into the fire. He felt mesmerized by the flickering flames. It was almost if he could feel a connection with it. He pulled himself out of it and rubbed his head a bit with a frown. He pulled his hand back and saw some of the dried blood from his forehead on it. He hoped he didn't cause any fresh bleeding. In fact, he needed to clean up his face at least.

While the young man didn't express it outward, he felt excited on the inside. His savior and potential new friend in this world would not be leaving him to the jaws of populated cities alone. For the time being at least until she got everything in order. He nodded again in understanding of her words and said, "I'm sure you're probably tired of hearing me thanking you, but again, thank you. I don't know how I could repay you." He grinned at the pottery thing. "Who knows? I might just do that." After he finished speaking, a yawn snuck up on him and he let it loose after holding his hand to his mouth. A brief, but particularly strong gust of wind blew threw the area. The rain was very audible. "Ok. I think it's time we go to bed. Don't you agree, Nightmother?"

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

As Able stared at the fire, the Nightmother's eyes took on an iridescent glow. The moment his focused snapped the glow vanished in Vytal's eyes. A small smile surfaced on her lips in its place. "It may try. Part of life is learned when to surrender to the currents, and when to resist them. There are many skills you may yet possess the aptitude for -- if you have the patience for it."

"Perhaps," she replied to the endless appreciation, "someday you will find a way. Time is on our side." Vytal would not put a leash about the man's neck, but it would be proper for services to be repaid in kind. But there was no expectation it be done any time soon. This too was subject to the currents of existence; and like most things there was a season.

Her left hand gestured to a small tent deep in the cove where the camp had been set. "There is shelter, should you wish it. I could stoke the fire if you wish to shower and dry yourself first. A towel is just inside the tent if you wish to clean only your face before resting, however." Slowly she rose to her feet to tend to the camp and ensure the man had whatever he needed.

Tag: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

Able stood up and stretched carefully. "I think I'll go and take that shower." He limped over to the tent the Nightmother pointed to and once he got inside, he went to find that towel. Once he secured it, he moved to take off his armor. The young man started taking off the pieces. Next was the black body glove, and he slowly pulled it off. Looking down at his body, Able could see a mass of bruises on his chest and could feel some on his back. Underneath the bruises were the scarring. Some of them were old and faded, and some of them were fresh. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went outside to wash off all the dirt and blood. Once he did so, he immediately felt the chilly wind and the rain hit his body. The bruises especially started stinging and he hissed in pain. He quickly got over it and started to go through all the motions. Afterwards, he went back inside the cove and dried up as best as he can. In the tent, he slid the body glove back on and after trying to make his wild mane at least presentable, the young man went back to the fire and laid the towel out so it could dry.

"Well then. That sure was fun." He said this with a cheeky grin. "The armor's inside the tent. With the state it was in, it was getting uncomfortable wearing it for an extended period of time." The young man hovered his hands near the fire. Again, he could feel as if something was pulling him towards the flames. The connection he felt last time felt stronger this time around. At this he scoffed inwardly and thought, 'I must be losing my mind.' He moved to a laying down position on the mat and crossed his arms behind his head. Staring up at the roof of the cove, he could see the flames' shadow touch it and dance. He took one more look at the Nightmorher who was stoking the fire. "Well, I'm calling it a night. Good night, madam. See ya tomorrow." With that, the young man closed his eyes and slept. It was a long day.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal stayed by the fire when Able got up to disrobe. There was no effort to follow or mystical intrusion intended. Not that a Nightsister was above such things, but only when stalking one's prey. The most she did was lift her eyes to make sure he left and returned in one piece. After each visual survey of his well being, the Dathomiri woman's eyes fell back to the flames in the company of her own thoughts.

The stick she had used to stir up the fire's fuel was laid across her lap when at last Able returned to the circle. A small smile graced the Nightmother's lips at the amusement the man had found in bathing. Whether it was fun or not, she expected it was at least pleasant. There was no need to sleep in the filth of the battlefield. No enemies pursuing them or planet-wide disaster making haste. She could do without the odor at least. So it had been well received that he'd accepted the offer, and they had plenty of water around them for it.

Once Able found his place and sought to doze off, Vytal resumed tending the flame. A brief look up at him followed with a glow to her eyes once more before the fire took them again. There was potential there, she thought. Potential for more than hauling blasters around a battlefield and hearing the deafening thunder of grenades and mortar.

A soft shifting of dirt behind Vytal followed the slumber of the male. The Nightmother didn't stir at the sound. Lylek. One of the three Great Spirits that made up the tenants of the Mandragora religion. She spoke to each, as she did many Great Spirits (those with more 'personality' than the host of lesser spirits -- fragments of what they once had been). Lylek, however, seemed taken in ensuring the Nightmother's well-being. It would be a trying night... whether that was long or short, they were yet to see. Vytal's eyes lifted to Able's form once more.


After the cresting of the dawn, Able would find the camp empty with a smoldering flame that kept a brew warm. It was only a few minutes before the pale woman calmly strode back into camp, however. "Drink. It is more filling than you think. Then we will douse the flame and depart."

Not far from the encampment, through a small line of trees, sat the SJ-X22 multi-role two-prong vessel with a rounded aft section. It was not a large ship, but it could house six occupants if necessary provided overly luxurious of plush accommodations weren't necessary. Vytal would lead Able to this vessel and invite him aboard. "I would offer to take you to Geonosis using magick," she commented off-handedly as she strode up the ramp, "but I feel your mind and body have been taxed enough as it is. Perhaps I will impress you another time." That might be a joke, though all Able would see would be the back of her head.

With a few practiced flips and presses, the Nightmother prepared the vessel to lift off and ascend back to the stars. It had been some time since Vytal had left Dathomir. Each time she piloted one of these ships she remembered the first. It was not natural, flying in such a manner. Levitation, on the other hand, or disappearing and reappearing out of thin air those were natural. "Hold on. There will be turbulence." The quake of exiting a planet's atmosphere was a good thing; otherwise they would be falling.

Tag: FN-1138​

 

[FN-1138]

When Able's internal clock started ringing shrilly in his mind's ear, the young man opened his eyes and sighed. He pulled himself up and got the sleep out of them. He looked around the empty cove, and didn't see Noctura in the area. This didn't concern him though as she was probably packing stuff away . In fact, there appears to be some kind of brew going. He leaned in to take a sniff, and Noctura came in telling him to drink. The young man did so and drank the brew. It tasted...odd. Like...it was sweet as it went down, but left a bitter aftertaste behind. He immediately felt rejuvenated and like the Nightmother said, he felt full. As if he ate a full breakfast. Although an actual full breakfast would have been preferable, the brew was a pretty good pick me up. He stood up and stretched to get all the kinks out without causing any new injury.

They doused the fire and packed up the remaining items. When Able stepped out of the cove, he was glad to be greeted with a clear sky and the shiny sun. He followed his companion through the trees and smiled when he saw the ship. Finally! He was going to get off this rock! Able stared at Noctura when she said that she would have been able to take him straight to this Geonosis via magick. Whatever this magick was, it must be extremely powerful if it can allow instantaneous transportation. "I'll definitely take you up on that! That sounds like fun." He followed Noctura onto the ship. After the remaining stuff was stowed, Able followed her straight to the bridge. The young man immediately sat in an empty chair and put on the belt. When the ship ascended to the stars, Able felt the turbulence and despite that, he smiled. He was going to be in space! A whole galaxy full of oppurtunity. Knowing this, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to explore.

(End Thread)
Vytal Noctura