Faction The Soil Endures: From Scars to Song || Sith Order

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Tags: Haro Aven | Leshanna Dromar

​

Chest tightening with every passing moment, the zabrak felt a mix of alarm and relief as Leshanna sprang to her feet. She'd fix this, right? Maybe she could pull rank… Maybe— Oh, he didn't know but maybe his fiery girlfriend had some pull on her Master's planet.

It wasn't to be so easy though and Naami's irrational hope, his bullish entitlement, were all dashed as his beautifully fierce partner made it clear that the military would have their way. It was the most rational way forward, and the zabrak hadn't truly acted in a way that could be held to a disastrous level of accountability. It was more that he had to be reminded that he was not yet above the rule of law.

When he was a Lord, he would of course be the one dictating law. But for now he needed to have patience and answer to his superiors. Particularly if he wanted to ensure his Lord Master Elmindra Xitaar wasn't overly cross with him. Naami sighed and nodded his head.

"Major… May I have just a moment? To pack my things, say farewell."

The hard borne man curled his lip in apparent dismissive impatience but ultimately relented.

"Two minutes, Zuukamano. I'll be waiting right outside. Dally any longer and I'll be delivering you there in manacles."

Naam's jaw clenched tighter but he nodded curtly in understanding. The zabrak waited only long enough for the military leader to step out of the tent before he turned to Lesh and Haro. Reaching out to her, he took Leshanna into his arms once more and kissed the side of her head in a rush.

"Sorry it's happening like this. I... really I did my best. M’sorry Lesh."

The words were clipped and his chest felt so tight. It's like there were iron bands about his ribs, squeezing tighter with every breath. Breaking the hug sooner than he liked, Naami stepped hurriedly to Haro's bedside and knelt beside the rather low field medic cot. His movements slowed enough that he wouldn't jostle Haro, cool blue eyes beseeching with unspoken apology. He hated this, having to leave — to be pulled away after what they'd just faced, what they'd just survived together.

"Yer tough, Aven. S'gonna be ok, yeah? Just… rest up lots, eat whatever food they can spare and do whatever physical therapy they give ya."

He wanted to say more, wanted to address the deep well of emotion which now existed between them, but didn't know how. There hadn't been time to fill Lesh in like they planned, it had all gone so terribly wrong and now they were all being pulled apart again. Words would surely catch in his throat if he continued so Naami merely leaned over the cot to hug Haro carefully where he lay.

 

[Haro Aven]

​

LOCATION: OUTER RIM TERRITORIES > SITH HOLY WORLDS > BROSI > FIELD MEDIC STATION​

TIMESTAMP: AFTERMATH OF THE SECOND INVASION OF BROSI​

TAGS: Leshanna Dromar | Naamino Zuukamano ​

Just like that, their bastion of peace was shattered by the gavel of the Order in the form of Major Vane. The grizzled old veteran's unshakable demeanor spoke to his experience keeping young soldiers in line, including the entitled and impassioned Sith within his ranks. Even before the reason for the Major's visit became clear, dread had begun to settle in Haro's gut.

Court-martialed? What in the seven hells had Naami done to deserve that? He'd saved Haro's life... but at what cost? Memories of the battle assaulted him—Viper's fighter falling out of the sky, the whole squad being swallowed up by the insect swarm, the communications black out, his crash landing, the pain, the fear. His body shuddered and he blinked hard, trying to focus and stay in the present moment. His head was still pounding, his eyes heavy, his thoughts sluggish. He was no longer in excruciating pain, no doubt thanks to powerful painkillers that reduced the grave wound in his torso to a disconcerting pressure, every breath tugging uncomfortably at damaged skin.

He felt Leshanna pull away and, for a moment, he thought she might tell the Major off, pull rank, or perhaps try to reason with him. But Haro was soon reminded just how much she trusted in the authority of the Order when she instead schooled Naamino, demanding that he comply, assuring him that she would personally ensure Haro got transferred. The rhythmic beep of the machine monitoring Haro's heartbeat notably increased pace as he desperately tried to think of something to say, something to do, some way to fix this. Naami couldn't leave him now, not on Brosi, not when he was so vulnerable and Madrona A’Mia was so close. He had blatantly avoided the neti's direct summons just before the Imperial invasion, and who knew what she would do if she found out he was injured in one of the medical facilities. But what could he say that wouldn't further compromise him? It was all happening so quickly, and his mind was moving agonizingly slow. Before he knew it, the Major was gone and Naami was embracing Lesh and saying his goodbyes.

Eyes wide with panic, Haro searched Naami's face as the big zabrak knelt beside his cot. He shook his head as Naami spoke, eyes suddenly growing glassy, so many words all jumbled up and lodged in his throat. Weakly, Haro clung to the embrace like he might otherwise drown.

"Thank you... Thank you for saving me," he rasped, voice trembling with the upwelling of emotion and gratitude. Cupping one side of his face, Haro nuzzled in closer, lips pressed close to Naami's tapered ear so he could quietly whisper.

"Come back n get me out of here when you can... Please... I... I don't wanna be on Brosi without you, not like this..." He pulled back enough to gather up Naami's gaze one last time, desperately searching for understanding and reassurance, hoping he trusted Haro enough not to be suspicious of the request.​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

​

Haro's panicked tone tore at his hearts, Naami hated how simple and hollow his words had been in the face of all they'd been through together and how much the roguish mechanic meant to him. It stung all the worse to see Haro so stricken now.

"Don't jostle—" he couldn't get the words out past Haro's fearful utterances, as Naami brought a big hand up to silently insist he not move his damaged form too much.

The big man froze, ears pinning back, worried eyes going wide as Haro cupped his face, as he pulled Naami closer to whisper. It very nearly broke his composure to feel the way his buddy trembled. He wanted to stay put, wanted to guard over Haro and make sure he had everything he needed, wanted to shout at Major Vane to feth off, consequences be damned.

As Haro let Naami pull back, as the zabrak gazed into those beseeching eyes, he very nearly made that disastrous choice. But Leshanna was right… that nagging, orderly voice in the back of his mind was right too. Now was not the time to go AWOL or on some kind of self righteous rampage. The hierarchy and its structure existed for a reason, Naamino was required to answer to the chain of command for a reason.

Until that day when he made the rules, the stubborn zabrak knew it was for the best — for the greater good of the Order, to fall in line as protocol demanded. Haro Aven was safe, he'd done what was necessary to ensure that much. Maybe the wily man was just particularly upset being on Brosi given it was a jungle world? After that unfortunate incident on Valrar, Haro had sworn off jungles, rainforests and the like. Perhaps the intensity of war mixed with that deep seated dislike was upsetting him so.

"Mhm," Naami managed with a nod, it seemed Haro's fear hadn't been intended for Lesh's ears so he said no more.

Squeezing Haro's shoulder so gently, the big man then delicately reached to touch his cheek too in a very rare show of tenderness. Swallowing past the lump of unsaid words in his throat, Naami gave Haro a smile that he hoped wasn't sad.

"See ya soon, Aven."

Then before he changed his mind, before the Major burst back in to haul Naami away, the zabrak turned on his heel to leave. He gave Leshanna Dromar a quick kiss, scooped up his datapad from the little bedside table, and marched out.

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Tag: Aerik Lechner
Others: Irina Jesart // Torvald ​

She could hear every sound that took place just out of sight; the cracking of bone and popping of muscle and tendon as Aerik’s form shifted from human and into that of his wolf form. The sounds were equal parts terrifying as they were fascinating, but what truly made the hairs over her body stand on end was the silence that came afterwards.

Then, something large and heavy-bodied shifted, and she spied from the corner of her eye the absolutely massive black shape that seemed to curl around the edges with smoke, and those eyes - they blazed as if they were nothing but hot coals set into the massive canine skull. The deep blackness of its coat seemed to swallow any and all light that dared to stray too close - making him to be a black void in the dark forest itself.

Skadi watched as the creature that was Aerik stretched almost lazily, watching how heat waves seemed to rise off its body and distort the air above it somewhat, as if its body was giving off heat from some internal furnace. She swallowed quietly, not moving a muscle, content to just watch for the moment. She was unsure of what he would do next, and there was the lingering thrill in the back of her mind that he could turn his fury towards her. But something deep in her heart told her he wouldn’t do that, not here - not with her.

Quite suddenly, the Black Wolf was leaping away and into the darkness. The Valkyri listened as branches snapped and brush rustled as something large thundered through the forest; he moved quickly, almost as if he was hunting something or perhaps tracking a scent.

Or maybe he was just stretching his limbs and enjoying the freedom that came with his lupine form.

Skadi took those moments of being alone to release whatever tension was left in her body and breathe in the misty night air, feeling it expand her lungs and chest. A smile formed on her face at the thought of just how freeing this was for Aerik. And he hadn’t turned on her - so that brought more relief to her.

Suddenly, the black shape returned, and her golden eyes flickered to the large form as the Black Wolf reappeared, stepping back into the small clearing where they had stopped. His orange eyes found her, cutting through the darkness like a blade. This time, she didn’t look away from him, meeting that gaze with her own. He approached her slowly, and the closer he came the smaller she became in his presence.

When he stopped in front of her, the Wolf practically towered above her - enough that he had to look down at her. His great head lowered until his muzzle was face level and warm breath washed over her face. It was at that moment she knew - if he wasn’t in control, or had wanted to kill her…she’d be dead.

The rest of her hesitations vanished as a more certain thought filled her mind: pain and rage made him lose control of his wolf side; but when he was like this…he was self aware. And that became clear to her a heartbeat later when she felt a presence brush against her mind, then a very familiar voice whispered to her telepathically.

< “Hi there…” >

Her smile widened, her gaze full of awe: he was utterly magnificent.

“Well hello there…” she breathed softly, aloud. “Do you feel better now?” She asked, then paused for a moment before asking another question: “Wait...Can - can you hear me talk when you are…like this?”

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Revna Marr //: Lunaria Talon //:

Her smile changed, eyes moving back towards the girl at her side. It softened; everything about the Echani shifted. The knowledge that was now known between the three of them meant that she didn't have to keep the boundaries up. Still, it was dangerous. Luna knew how dangerous it was, but perhaps she didn't know why. The why was something Quinn had to learn early in her life as well: the dangers and misfortune of being born who they were, instead of someone else.

Maybe that's why Quinn always sympathized with her younger siblings, why she always put herself first, and why she remained loud. It kept people from looking for them; she would lay down her life if it meant Luna and Sol could continue living their lives quietly.

The quiet voice that had spoken, telling Quinn the details of what was occurring, was in their tongue. The one that not many knew. Quinn hummed, thinking quietly at this revelation.

Quinn wondered if she had rubbed off a bit too much on her younger sister. The need to be seen was something that would protect her, but Quinn continued to smile.

The tone of her voice changed; it often did when she spoke their native tongue. Almost lyrical in her response to her sister.

"Ma sina i meril, selerinya?" Another gentle pet of the girl's white hair. This was different; it was familial, and she felt comfortable being able to express this comfort to her.

Despite asking, she figured she knew the answer already. Looking back at Revna, she smiled.

"The important thing is that everyone is safe and we all survived. Hopefully, this teaches the Imperials a lesson or two." Quinn nodded. She briefly thought about the time she attempted diplomacy with them. Too soon were they ready to take her head for just smiling.

Quinn couldn't help but laugh, remembering the mention of a boy. There was a glint of mischief in the Echani Queen's eye as she glanced back towards her younger sister.

"A boy… companion?" Her grin widened slightly.

"He sounds like a hero. Tell me all about him. Are you two close?"

 

[CT-312]

//: Darth Hydra | OPEN //:
//: Brosi //:
//: Attire //:

//: Objective II: The Living Grounds//:​

Passion. Strength. Power. Freedom.

The words spoken remained, settling into the quiet spaces of CT-312’s mind. “Sith Code…” Darth Hydra’s philosophy slowly circled, pressing against the habits of thoughts and protocols that were engrained in the Scout. Each part of the Code seemed to carry its own weight. It was not the kind of life she had been built around. There was no room for what he had spoken of.

Everyone had been given the same goal. The same direction… the same answer.

It was not the first time CT-312 heard the idea of chains. The Dark Lord ( Darth Carnifex ) had spoken of them once to her as well in passing. His words replayed in her mind as if He had just said it. CT-312 found herself wondering for a moment, what path the Dark Lord had taken to become what He was. What shape did his interpretation of the Sith Code had taken. Whether He had always believed as he did now or had it been something forged by the journey.

The Scout’s mind wandered towards the Princess. She wore the word Sith differently than the Dark Lord and Darth Hydra. That much CT-312 knew without yet fully understanding it. The Princ— Quinn’s felt more difficult to name. How different was her Code from theirs? Her mind settled back on one of Darth Hydra’s words. Passion.

What was passion, was it the same thing as want? The questions unsettled CT-312 more than she had liked. Want was dangerous. It implied preference and desire. A hand reaching for something not assigned, nor ordered. She had not been raised “to want”. She was made to endure. To perform and obey, there was no place for personal ambition. Want was only something to suppress.

Were thoughts like these even permitted?... Or had she simply never had a cause to think about them before?

Darth Hydra’s ambitions drew a raised brow behind CT-312’s visor. A simple territory to shape. Modest ambitions by Sith standards perhaps. “Humble.” Her helmet tipped a fraction in his direction. “When you do, I’ll be sure to pay you a visit.” The thought of it all lingered. “I’d like to see what your kind of rule looks like.” Curious on how Darth Hydra will shape a society according to his interpretation of strength and order. “And Korriban Academy.” If Darth Hydra’s interpretation of the Code could differ, then perhaps the academies that shaped them differed too.

The next few questions asked, CT-312 did not answer immediately. The silence stretched out between the two. Sound was filled by the forest around them, rustling leaves and the distant noises of insects hidden somewhere in the glowing canopy. Her thoughts moved in fragments, old reflexes colliding with newer reflections. CT-312 never really had thought about it. Thinking had never been a forbidden thing, not exactly. It was her job to think tactically. To assess and calculate, to execute orders. This was different. Darth Hydra’s answers and questions slid into the instilled fractures of her mind over time, widening them without force.

CT-312 stepped off the path when she noticed a cluster of hanging seed pods from a curling branch nearby. Their outer shelling was dried and ridged. She reached for one, drawing her knife at the same time. Cutting cleanly through the stem, the pod dropped into her gloved hand. CT-312 repeated her actions, collecting them as she walked. BARCA sent out a signal.

Why do you serve Lady Quinn?

“Duty.” CT-312 said at first. The answer came automatically. Conditioned. “Because that is my assignment. My role.” As the words left her, they sounded… thin. Was that all it was? Had it been, even now? Lately, it had not felt that simple. It no longer felt like duty, nor merely doing her job. Just a title that no longer fit as it once had.

Fragments of loud and detached voices delivering corrections surfaced. A younger version of herself standing too straight and too still. The sting of punishment administered with the same reasoning every time— Procedure. It was: reprimand, punishment, isolation. Over and over until obedience stopped being a choice and became shape.

Her gaze was fixed forward towards the forest as CT-312 thought of when Quinn pulled her back from death’s door. Darth Hydra’s words surfaced with it.

If everyone was honest with themselves and had the Strength to do so they would follow their passions.

“Choice.” CT-312 spoke quieter, but absolute. “Lady Quinn… gave a reason that was mine.” Behind the visor, blue eyes softened by a fraction as they traced the long curve of a root pushing through the ground. “Even if it was labeled under duty, it does not feel like I am being controlled… It feels like choosing.”

A signal pulsed softly across her HUD. Distant shapes descended through the canopy gaps overhead. A low muffled thunder rolled through the atmosphere as drop pods entered from above. It didn’t take long for the distant impacts to resonate through the trees. CT-312’s grip tightened around one of the seed pods. Its hardened shell cracked beneath the armored pressure of her gauntlet. Tiny seeds spilled into her palm and onto the forest floor.

Would you still serve the Sith, were it not for her?

“I— do not know.” Honesty felt exposed in a way that armor could never protect against. The Sith had not made her. But they understood what to do with something like her. They gave shape to violence. In that way, the Sith easily fit around what she already was. “The Sith gave direction.” Structure to instinct. “A place to point what I am. A simple task for a simple tool.” Her helmet turned back to Darth Hydra, this time only enough to acknowledge him in her peripheral view. “That is not the same as loyalty.”

CT-312 crouched beside a low mass of vines with the seed pods she had collected. With the tip of her knife, she pierced small holes into the shells. “Most of what I have seen is power taken until there is nothing left around it.” Her hand reached for the vines next, cutting several lengths free. “I think… without her, I would still know how to fight for them.” She began tying the vines around the punctured pods, tightening each knot until the makeshift dispersal shaker held firm. “But I do not know if I would believe in serving the Sith.” A final pull tightening the binding. “Not as they are.”

The brush ahead parted. A scarred frame War-X droid emerged through, followed closely by two Pred-X units behind it. Their quadrupedal forms moved in a low predatory strut. Halting as they reached CT-312, awaiting instructions without a sound. “I can understand serving something that intends to become more than just hunger.” The Scout rose to meet them. Her gloved hand brushed over the War-X’s metal head as she passed, then to one of the Pred-X units. Vines looped around the armored necks, securing the seed dispersers to their frames.

The words next left her before she could stop it. “I want more than that.” The admission hung in the air between her and Darth Hydra. CT-312 stilled. Want. The word felt strange spoken aloud. She continued, giving the War-X a firm pat along its scarred frame. Thunk. The battle droids launched forward all at once. Metal frames weaving through blackened trunks and broken terrain. The pods bounced around, rattling softly. Seeds began to spill free in the widening trails, tiny lives scattered into places still waiting for the forest to reclaim. CT-312 watched them go. “Would that make me Sith?”

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Skadi Lightbane | Irina Jesart | Torvald​

The great black wolf did not pull back right away.

His breath rolled warm across her face, a low huff escaping him as smoke curled lazily from his dark coat and drifted between them. The orange glow of his eyes held hers, steady and bright, though there was something looser in the way he regarded her now, as if the sharp edge of the night had dulled just enough to let something easier through.

The presence brushed against her mind again, more familiar this time, carrying that same crooked humor he had worn all night.

< A little. Head is still a bit… questionable. But not spinning like before. >

He shifted his weight and lowered himself slightly, more deliberate now, the massive frame easing downward while still towering over her. His tail swept once behind him, stirring leaves and sending another faint ribbon of smoke curling into the cool air.

When she asked if he could hear her, his ears flicked forward and his head tilted just enough to study her more closely.

< I can hear you. Not like before. More like… you are standing very loudly in my head. Hard to ignore. >

There was a brief pause, then the teasing note returned.

< Useful, though. Saves me from guessing. >

His gaze did not leave hers as he leaned in just a fraction closer again, testing the space with quiet confidence now instead of reckless momentum.

< You are doing very well, by the way. Most people run. >

The thought lingered just long enough to settle before softening again.

< You did not. I like that. >

Another pause followed, but this one carried a shift.

The wolf drew back slightly, then turned just enough to angle his body beside her instead of directly in front of her. One large paw stepped forward, then another, positioning himself with an almost deliberate intent. His head turned back toward her, those burning orange eyes catching hers again as the smoke along his shoulders curled and drifted in slow, steady trails.

There was a flicker of something unmistakably playful in the connection.

< Do you want to ride? >

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Mercy
LOCATION: Near the Fire "Celebrating"...But distant enough to watch the Drakes fly.

____________________________________________________

The reassurance was not expected…But not unwelcome. The pale Echani was unused to someone treating her so casually, especially, in a public forum. A kiss laid to eyes that were so demonic spoke volumes. Most would stay away. Most would assume that the Empress of the Order had made sort of deal with an eldritch thing, that she was possessed, but the truth was far worse. It was fused into her being. "…You enjoy things that are bad for you."

It was not an incorrect statement, though, it was hedged with a ghostly smile at the kiss of her lips. Distant and cold…But there. Mercy pulled out of her visional space and her head tilted down to allow the eyes of the beast to cool and fade, regardless, the proximity of the Star Arm. If they were going to fight together in the future, she had to learn to control it.

There was no other option.

"I am not certain it is possible…But we can come back to it. It sleeps, now."

They had two very different styles of leadership. While the Sith Covenant was full of wild ravenous Graspborn…The Sith Order was full of warring angry children. They all had their reasons, but the wintry soldier, had a full plate even on the best of days. She didn't want to push Brosi any further, not now, when the Hordemother had spent so much of herself to ensure this world returned to a garden state. It was her gilded cage, her eden, and Srina would not destroy it by releasing the Father of Devourers on it.

Certainly—Not while it was backed with her strength.

Srina reached down and picked of the Staff of Ascension that her daughter had stolen from Jutrand. It hummed in her grasp, almost cackling, with enjoyment at being set free by someone that should never held it. Lunaria probably thought that it had been her idea to bring the weapon of her fathers' creation. She probably even thought it was her idea to hide it from her mother—But that was the nature of this weapon. It provided great might but it was also powerful with a trickster persona. "Sometimes…Having a bomb in my chest is a good thing."

"I never know when I may need it."

If the Force Suppression dust hadn't shut her down on Coruscant there was a very real possibility that her self-imposed seal would have broken. The heat would have raced from her core and erupted with far more devastation than the attack from the Faithless. The Devourer was a destroyer just as much as it was a mental assassin. It pulled at reality while subtlety eating the memory of its victims, and the center of the galaxy, was full of potential meals.

They were kept in a dark dimension in the Nether for a reason…In a place where the atmosphere screamed with glass, bleak, and empty. Devoid of life.

They were starving.

Srina did not know how much of herself would be left behind if it ever came forward. All of her? None of her? Would she be able to put it back in the box? She had no answers to these questions and had no one to ask. There were theories…but it was only that. Theory.

She did not like operating with guesswork.

"I wait because I may still have use for it…Imagine, surprising the Faithless with one of those."

The looks on their faces alone should have been enough to make Mercy chuckle. They were trained soldiers, certainly, but most were flatscan. Implementations of the Force and creatures like the Nocna would always be out of reach of the rank and file of their enemies. They did not have the capacity for creativity or sacrifice…The willingness to die if it meant victory.

If it meant putting the enemy in the ground.

Srina turned Kalandra over in her hands, feeling it resonate, feeling her husband's soul echo from within. What was left of it, anyway. "I shall need to deal with the one who took this from its resting place. They are dear to me…But they have no sense. The older they get…The less they listen. What would you do?"

 

[Mercy]

"…You enjoy things that are bad for you."

"I suppose... but usually I am the one that is bad for others." It was said with... confidence and without any trace of guilt. Mercy knew that her presence was in some ways toxic. After so many years it would have been naive not to realize that it was her (her and Thronegrasp) that drew the worst out of people. Making them act on their darkest desires. Influencing them to be more ferocious, hungrier, slowly molding them into the mental shape that was so similar to Mercy's mental map.

Mercy was fine with this.

It made sense and as such it was disregarded as inevitable to her.

"I wait because I may still have use for it…Imagine, surprising the Faithless with one of those."

"You certainly surprised me..." Mercy said with a chuckle, thinking back to their first dance and how Srina's back had molded into her chest, before burning her flesh so beautifully.

The first of many times they had dueled around each other. Pushing and pulling at each other's boundaries.

"I shall need to deal with the one who took this from its resting place. They are dear to me…But they have no sense. The older they get…The less they listen. What would you do?"

Mercy thought back to the small exchange between Lunaria Talon and Srina Talon . Anyone else might have missed it, but Mercy had the benefit of several things: an upbringing on Eshan that allowed her to read body language like a book. And a complicated relationship with her own mother, before the latter's death.

She was not certain, not a hundred percent, but when had a lack of certainty evere stopped the mountain?

"I have no children." Mercy said then, making the assumption, allowing Srina to disagree with her if she wished. "And with the mastery I possess over my body I never will, unless I wish for them myself."

An unlikely scenario- children were a weakness that Mercy did not wish to afford. Pests at worst, distractions at best. The Sith Lord could never imagine allowing a spawn with her legacy to exist.

It was an unkindness to the Galaxy, which already had to suffer her. The least Mercy could do... was to not let more of her exist.

Her voice thoughtful as she looked over the fields, while her normal hand found Srina's, squeezing there as they laced into each other.

"But as far as I am told, sister, our children are meant to press our boundaries... and push past them... until they are more than we ever were." She thought back to Alcariel and Vestra Tane and Lysander von Ascania . Each one of them had surpassed her in one way or the other. Alcariel and the nightmares she created with just her mind. Vestra and her mastery of Sith Lore, shepherding knowledge that would raise new generations. Lysander and the way he shaped possibilities with just the right words at the right time.

Each one of them could do things she had never even thought of to do herself. It made her proud. Was that not what it was to have children? To watch them surpass you and find joy in it?

"Be proud that she had the spirit to disobey you and do what she thought was right. She is alive, her act may have very well saved the Tree when it needed it most." Mercy shrugged. "Death comes for us all, must we be so afraid of it, that we allow our potential to be squandered and shrunk to a candle light?"

Srina Talon

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Direct Tag:
Aerik Lechner​

Skadi sat very still, as the black wolf’s breath blew against her face. Smoke curled off the edges of his sooty fur, vanishing into the air as it drifted up and away from him. She had heard Aerik’s voice in her head, coming from the wolf, and she had felt relief.

Relief that he was in there, aware of himself, of his surroundings. The words that had poured out of her, came before she thought if he could understand her in his current form. His telepathic response confirmed that he could indeed understand her, and her smile widened further.

He said he was feeling a little bit better, or at least his head wasn’t spinning as badly as it had been.

The great wolf shifted his weight, then slowly lowered himself down before her - though he still towered over her. Behind him, his tail swept, rustling the leaves underneath it.

In response to her question on whether he could hear her, Aerik in his wolf form said that he could - only that she was very loud in his head and hard to ignore. Then he teased her and that made her smirk, more playful than offended.

His fiery eyes did not leave hers as his great face leaned closer in, as if testing the space with confidence instead of recklessness. His voice drifted into Skadi’s mind once more, telling her that she was doing very well, all things considered. Most others would have run by this point.

And he liked the fact that she had not.

Something close to awe, perhaps even reverence, glimmered in Skadi’s golden eyes. She felt the urge to reach up and stroke the smoking fur along his cheek, but she restrained herself.

But she couldn’t help a little cheeky response in kind. “I think we both know that running would be useless. You would just run me down…though now that I think about it…that does sound like it would be fun…”

The black wolf drew back, then shifted and turned so his side was facing her. Skadi watched as he positioned himself, one paw moving forward, and then another. His head turned back to her, those eyes of fire locking onto hers as smoke drifted up from the fur along his shoulders.

< Do you want to ride? >

Skadi blinked, her eyes growing somewhat wide as his playful thought settled into her mind. Ride on his back? Did he even have to ask her such a question?!

“What?? Really? Y-yes! I would love that!” ​

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Skadi Lightbane | Irina Jesart | Torvald​

Aerik did not move when she agreed.

He watched her as she stepped closer, letting the moment play out without rushing it. When she reached him, he turned slightly and lowered himself just enough for her to mount, the adjustment made without drawing attention to it.

He did not look back.

He waited until he felt her settle.

The shift came under his control. His form changed smoothly, the larger shape taking hold without strain. When it was done, he held still for a moment longer, making sure she was secure.

Then he moved.

He started at an easy pace, steady enough for her to find the rhythm. Each step carried them forward through the trees, the ground uneven in places but never enough to break his stride. As she adjusted, he let the speed build.

The forest moved around them as he ran. Trees closed in and opened again, his path changing where it needed to without hesitation. Roots and stone passed beneath him, the terrain shifting but never slowing him.

He felt the way she held on as the pace increased, the way her balance matched his movement.

He kept the run steady once it found its place.

He did not look back.

He did not need to.

He carried her through the forest with a pace that held, one that did not break as the distance stretched ahead of them.