They Say the Soul Don't Die, but Mine's Been Dead for My Whole Life

[Keira Priest]

Location: Aboard the Turhaya, nearing Socorro​

​

He had asked her if she'd been to the planet, and her reply had been negatory. That was just about the simplest exchange the two had shared throughout the entire evening, the rest comprised of half-conversations and almost-fights that never seemed to find a comfortable resolution. The both of them had still been uneasy about each other despite it all, though even that had shifted some, evidenced by his inviting her along to what had either been his next destination or simply a planet of choice. Now they were one step closer to friendship, or at the very least they could breathe easier now that the tension had been bled from their interactions. It was a start.

The two had sat in silence for the better part of the journey, but it was that of an easygoing sort, one that spoke of a degree of familiarity with one's companion. What scores that needed settling had been finished in the bar. Now each of them could simply exist as they were, not that anything would change the digs that would still likely be made, and likely purposefully. But at least now they both knew better. Of course, it had taken a brief spat of the physical kind and injuries on both of their part to realize that, but better late than never. She was nursing a damaged knee and he was dealing with some kind of internal injury, but neither was extremely worse for wear.

At one point Keira had deigned to close her eyes and drift into a semi-meditative state, a sign that she had let her guard down, even if she was still perfectly capable of sensing any disturbances about her person innately. It meant she trusted him at least half as far as she could throw him, and that by itself was a rare occurrence. That brief time of recompense allowed her to further quell the pain from her injury to nothing more than background noise, so she could focus on some kind of conversation and perhaps eliminate the silence between them for some few moments, not that they had overly much to talk about.

So she glanced over at him, not quite sure what to say that was suitable, and returned to gazing out into the cool void of space. It was better than looking awkwardly about the ship for something to fixate her eyes on, and for some reason knowing that it was just the two of them out there for the time being soothed her. It meant there was nobody else to watch out for, and no danger of being stabbed in the back unless he happened to get trigger-happy. And yet she still didn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' or 'Don't worry about me' seemed to formal or callous, both sentiments she was beyond at this point. So rather than put forth anything veritably worthless, she remained quiet.

A cigarette really doesn't sound like a bad idea right now. But that was just as unacceptable as anything, and wouldn't suffice. Stifling a sigh she finally decided to speak, her air and tone just as casual as they had ever been, hallmarks of a true Corellian. "Scorched earth. Is there a reason you chose Socorro?" With the name of the planet itself translating in the language they both spoke, it hinted at a meaning a touch more valid than something chosen on a whim. But she had to take into consideration that he was just as unpredictable as she.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Softly, he guided the craft down and towards the planet, nudging it slowly and tenderly. The YT-2400 was nothing to brag immensely of to any hardened spacers. I was no Gypsymoth, like the famed ship of [member="Jorus Merrill"] , or other such things... But to him? It was home when he was away from the sprawling ruin that was the former Academy on the planet they were rapidly entering the orbit of. Keira's question was hardly a surprise to him really. Very few would remember the homeworld of the mythical General Calrissian... Fewer still would remember it as housing the ancient and venerable Academy of the Jedi Guardians of the Old Republic. Not after the Old Galactic Empire had so thoroughly and without mercy destroyed and razed it root and branch.

Still, he owed it to her to explain the site of their retreat from the Galaxy at large and why he had chose it. So he reached up, smiling a bit as he thumbed a worn and faded sabacc card, specifically called 'The Idiot'. There was a significance for the card, and the look as he touched it was fond. He had won a very important game with that card, and though Marasun had never forgiven him for the misstep in breaking the Jedi Code by gambling, drinking, smoking, AND the admonishment against attachment by being found in bed by his Master with a very lovely young lady. Amusement and chagrin rolled from his aura in waves as he shook his head and finally spoke, keying up entry sequences.

"Socorro is an old Corellian colony world, as you might guess from the name. Home of Lando Calrissian himself as well... But more so than all of that to me, is one particular site. There was, before the Old Galactic Empire, a Jedi Academy there. Specifically for Guardians, warriors and experts of the blade and the like my first Master, and like I am training to be... They were there for centuries, millennium in all like... My master, when I was still a Padawan with the Republic, told me of it. Of how the Empire struck it almost at it's first onset, razing it in a base delta zero in their zeal to cripple the Jedi Order. I managed to find the site... Or, what was left really.. Brought in some good folks I know from my times wandering, and we opened up the underground portions, made a small hab and structure above... And slowly, I've been seeing what is left, and rebuilding. It's where I train and practice, where I bring my students to train them... And where maybe one day I will welcome others to learn at, and begin to gather those who wish to free Corellia..."

The gaze that flickered from the surface of the planet to the woman next to him was wistful, lost in memory, fingers flitting over controls with only a mild amount of clumsiness, which was odd for a Corellian. Most of his people were born with a spacecraft yoke in their hands and a blaster wrapped in their swaddling. Whilst the second bit may hold truth for Julius, the first was hardly anywhere near the facts of his life. Rather, he even had a pilot usually with him, though he had given [member="Kayleigh Tyven"] a sort of furlough, small bit of extra credits he had been socking aside, and told her to relax for a bit on some nice tropical world while he went home to do the same. Hopefully she had listened.

But that gaze lingered longer on his newfound companion than on the planet, wondering... There was a time not long ago at all when he had dearly wished for and wanted this woman's death. And yet? Now he was ferrying her about in his personal craft, divulging things hardly any knew of but those closest to him. Yet, it felt the natural and right thing to be doing, this sudden trust and faith. Whether for good or ill, Keira had broken through his outer reserves in ways he didn't really truly understand, and so he would believe.. Had to believe that she could be trusted with the things he would tell her now.

"For now... It is home, until Corellia can be free... Maybe even after then... Sometimes, when you save something...Maybe... It isn't for you that you save it... But for others who deserve it more than you... And in the action of saving it, you have to give up your own claim on it. Cruel twist of fate, that would be. More than loving another and making families being bad, I think the Jedi need to realize in this day and age that simple truth really... Sometimes we are not meant to have or be a part of that which we war for, because if we were... We could not do what is needed... And fighting against that is a true evil of attachment..."

As he finished, the turbulence of entry into the atmosphere began, and the landing computer took over from there, and Julius glance at a makeshift console where his lightsaber hilt lay amongst clutter and detris of the ship. The thing was a veritable piece of history and lore, and many would and had fought and killed for it, just because of who had wielded it in the past, and yet he most often found himself trying to distance himself from what such a weighty responsibility meant to him. Yet, more and more, in ways he never noticed, he was finding himself standing up and at the front of things leading. Maybe not in the way the New Order would like, but in ways still.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

As he spoke Keira looked out across the planet they were rapidly approaching, allowing his words to drift into her mind and settle there as she absorbed their meaning. Somehow she had a feeling these were truths rarely brought to light, statements spoken from the heart which scant few were privileged to hear. It was a strange sort of attachment that pulled them together, and she wasn't sure what his intention was in telling her all he had to say. However, as always, there was commentary all her own she had to present. "Attachment itself isn't evil. I really wish the Jedi would stop preaching that. The only time it becomes a problem is when you let it control you entirely. Then you have an issue."

There was a reason she never played well with many that called themselves Jedi, and it was only suitably ironic that the one she found herself accompanying made his home in what remained of a Jedi Academy that was slowly being rebuilt. Maybe she would grow to appreciate some of that history, or maybe this would end up as just another detour. Either way, she had a feeling each one would end up making a permanent imprint on the life and mind of the other. "You know, I used to train as a Guardian before I left the Republic. Some of this I did learn myself." Her tone wasn't admonishing in the least, rather lending a sort of teasing playfulness that had been present during their initial meeting.

"You're right, sometimes we're not meant to be part of the peace we help create through these constant battles. But there are other times when philosophy needs to be set aside so we can exist as people, not Jedi or Sith, or something in between. I think everyone needs to realize that at one point, otherwise none of us are going to move beyond this constant warring." So long as there was still fighting to be done she would remain committed to it, but for one so seemingly violent she exercised a certain passivity when it suited her. But it had the capacity to end just as quickly as it began, and oftentimes she was spurred into fighting without so much as a moment to contemplate. It was the thought that counted, mostly.

Taking a breath and releasing it slowly through her teeth she considered what more there was to say or offer him before deciding the answer was nothing at all. Sometimes mutual silence was the strongest bond there was, that ability to be comfortable with another and communicate without words. That was a skill they had seemed to master in their first meeting, much of that exchange taking place through gesture and facial expression alone, words only being traded when nothing else served. It was that nonverbal communication she utilized in that moment, studying him for a moment and offering nothing more than a crooked smile, one that was for once carefree and genuine in its emergence.

"Aanor ishiia zals. You find something you love, you fight for it, and it'll all work out. That's what we're always taught. But a lot of times that's not enough. Sometimes you have to reinstate yourself into things and make your presence known just so you can remain. Because you don't have to give up something you fought and bled for. Not entirely, at least, because that's nothing more than stupidity. If you put your life on the line for a cause, and you live to see it through, then you have a place within it. Don't let them take that away." After telling him not to bother with the philosophical side of things there she was doing the exact opposite. But there were things she had convictions about, and sometimes she couldn't bother.

She caught his gaze lingering on the saber that rested on the console for just a few seconds, and that was all she needed to make up her mind about what was going to be said next. With nothing more than a minor application of will she called the weapon into her hand, looking over that little piece of galactic history for a moment. "Forget about what they told you this blade means and make your own meaning for it. They can attach all the Codes and dogmas to it that they want, but it doesn't matter. You're not anything they tell you to be unless you believe it. You said you wanted to take back Corellia and rebuild, then do it. The Jedi can kark off." Once the ship settled onto the ground, her demeanor seemed to instantly change, turning more casual, and once again that smile emerged. "What do you say we get going, princess?"

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Silence. For the first time since they had met, he didn't really have a comeback, or a quip, or anything. He merely sat flipping switches for a moment, going through the post-flight check his dear pilot had been drilling him over in the past few weeks. Almost, he caught himself wishing she was here. Her jokes and quips would be welcome from the heady and heavy philosophy, and the uncomfortable feelings sometimes surfacing in his mind talking with Keira. But there was nothing really to say as he sat, the checks finally done, his eyes going across the weathered and wrinkled sabaac card, finger trailing along the dog-eared lower left corner. For a moment, he was merely lost in memory, in thoughts he didn't share even with a person he had found himself sharing things he didn't even know he thought.

Then, finally, he spoke. It was without a trace of humor, without a trace of regret. The tone was almost dead and heavy in nature. The dragging of unwilling feet across dried leaves and sucking ground, as if the speaker were inexorably drawn to the side of an open grave at a ceremony they would really rather not be anywhere near. There were truths he had faced, truths he had faced in the last few weeks and months, that had laid him low without realizing it. The pressures of the expectations of him were such that he had felt less than what he was, because he was not living up to the expectations of those put into place over him in command. Because try as he might, he was not the squeaky clean type the Alliance had shifted to being rabid about requiring. He was no dark-sider, but he did what he needed to do to get the job done.

"Might as well accept I'm not exactly their favorite son. Never have been, no matter the Order or who presided over it. Drifting from place to place, trying to find a cause that fit me. They all want me, for sure who wouldn't want someone who can take on Force Masters as a Knight with his blade? But they want the skill, not the soul. Not the person. That blade? No one in the Alliance or the New Order even knows I have it. I've not hid it, but I've stayed from them mostly since I got it... Every chance they'll try to claim it as an artifact of history. Jedi like doing that. But the truth of it is? It's just a tool, and a symbol of nothing more than a truth most of them would rather ignore... We all have a shadow-self, to deny that is to deny the nature of humanity. Even Master WIndu and Kenobi did... Both Grandmasters Yoda and Skywalker, especially Skywalker, suffered it. The important thing is to be of balance."

Shaking his head, he rose and took the saber back from her gently, looking at it in thought for a moment before he clipped it to his belt and smiled again at her, gesturing to the cockpit as he waited for her to go first. Whatever melancholy had taken him was for the moment suppressed and he slid on the long browncoat he was fast becoming constantly a wearer of, sighing as the sturdy bantha leather wrapped around him, and he grabbed a duffel bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder as he flippantly nodded, looking out at the landing pad from the main viewport of the cockpit.

"Well, my son isn't home at least. Probably a good thing, Darius can have funny ideas about me and women.. And about women in general.. No idea where he gets such ideas..."

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tja6_h4lT6A

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

It weighed on him to so much as consider where he belonged in the galaxy, that much anyone could glean from nothing more than the mannerisms that came forth as he spoke. Oftentimes those subjects that proved difficult to breach were the most worthwhile to mull over, but Keira wouldn't push the issue. At least, not right then. It wasn't her place to do so, not when he had so readily offered her hospitality when they could have simply parted ways at the bistro and never so much as traded a look again. She owed it to him to demonstrate some sort of mutual respect, and so she merely stood when he did, grimacing slightly as she gingerly put weight on her wounded leg. Still, a quiet laugh forced its way out of her at his final words. "No idea at all, huh? I've got a few theories myself."

A nod in thanks was her only response when he allowed her to walk out ahead of him, and she limped her way down the ramp, biting her tongue so as to not let loose a string of expletives. That didn't, however, stop her from having something to say otherwise. "You know, it figures on the day I'm out on RnR without my armor a wagyx like you comes along and decides to start a bar fight." The crooked smile that was displayed when she turned her head to him betrayed her lighthearted nature, traces of pain lingering in the taught muscles of her jaw. "Once this is feeling better I'd like a rematch, if it's all the same to you. No armor then either, but a second chance would be nice. You've not seen the half of it."

Lost in thought for a moment, she sighed quietly before she finally looked over at him. "Listen, when I was first accepted into the Jedi, my brothers got me something." From beneath her shirt a necklace was revealed, on its leather cord a pendant bearing the symbol of the Green Jedi. Below it, etched into the metal in Old Corellian, were the words 'Ol'val, min dul'skal, ahn guld domina.' She ran her thumb over the engraving, brow furrowing slightly. After a moment she pulled the piece of jewelry off over her head, tossing it to him. "I want you to have it. I know you don't like that word, but you're closer to that ideal than I'll ever be. Consider it a token of our friendship. Chakta sai kae." That was quite possibly the most sentimental gesture she had made in a long while.

Once again silence enveloped them, and she chewed the inside of her cheek for a short time, not making any move to diffuse what may have been an awkward quiet. There really wasn't any point to it, because anything she had to say likely wouldn't help in the least. "You don't have to be anybody's son, if you don't want to be. Not the Jedi's, or any Order's, for that matter. The only thing we owe allegiance like that to is Corellia. In that manner we're all wayward sons and daughters. Anything else, though, that doesn't matter. None of it. We're Corellians, right? Rocket fuel for blood, never tell us the odds. That's who you are. No matter what, that's always who we are, and who we're always going to be."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The gesture left him off-footed for a moment, and unsure of how to proceed or what to say really. Jedi Credits were priceless heirlooms to their people, even if to someone not from their planet it looked like more of a cheap trinket or random curiosity. Taking it from her, he traced the etchings and symbol, eyes sort of distant, and he seemed lost in thought yet again as she spoke, nodding with his eyes still fixed on the gift, wistful and sad all at once. Something in him was moved, that much was sure. There was little and more to say, but finally his mouth and brain engaged yet again, and he nodded to her as he pulled a chain out from under his shit, sliding the gifted credit from her next to one an acquaintance in the Alliance had made for him, the studded gems being soul diamonds from his own family estate. He dropped the chain and let both hang out from his shirt and nodded to a hab situated a bit away from the main building of the small compound.

"Thank you... I'll keep it close with my own...Over there is my place. I have some less harsh bacta and aid treatments there, should take the pain off your leg. If I had used my battlefield kit, you might be in a bit worse way. You'll still need to rest for a second though, eat and maybe a quick sleep, and then maybe we can talk about a rematch. Just don't mind the clutter, I don't typically have visitors here."

The statement was odd, particularly in closing...Julius began to walk with her, this time on her weaker side, and matching her patch, if slightly behind her. He offered no hand or arm of aid, for that would insult her he suspected. But concern was evident, if quiet, and he watched her gait closely in case she should stumble and need a steady shoulder to lean on. Mind ticking to and fro, a smirk crossed his face as he recalled her calling him an ass, and as per usual, his mouth opened and sound came out before his brain had properly really filtered the thought through standard process and censored it. So as he opened the door to a sizable, but not overly lavish hab, he waved her forward inside as he spoke. She could see, even from the door, that while not messy, the walls seemed to be decorated with various trophies and displays of armor, weapons, book shelves next to a window where the sunset would be visible, and a rather well-equipped kitchen for a bachelor.

"Speaking of wagyx, I should walk behind you more often...Better view than the desert, that's for sure..."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

A single nod that held more respect than she had ever demonstrated him in their hours of knowing each other was the only immediate response offered, there being no words to say that were capable of encompassing the truth depth of that brief moment shared. "Don't worry about it. Besides, it's not the only thing my brothers gave me." Her shrug was far more casual a gesture, the crooked smile that manifested shortly after it seeming to cement the return to a much more lighthearted mood. "You have them to thank for my shining personality, for one." Perhaps not entirely, but being born and raised in the Corellian criminal underworld did leave one with an impression and outlook on life that was impossible to shake completely.

Surprisingly enough there was no immediate and volatile retaliation to his final statement, though something in her stance changed just before she turned and looked at him. A pressure surfaced on his rib cage should he not prevent it, one immediately visible but not entirely threatening to his health. It would be held for as long as it took the both of them to completely enter his abode and be released shortly after. "I don't think that view is worth your personal safety. Keep that in mind the next time." The statement was serious but her expression spoke of a casual air, one that many would find disconcerting given the threat she had presented in such a nonchalant and offhanded manner. For those that knew her, however, it was normal.

Despite his advice to rest and take the weight off her wounded leg she instead set to work investigating the few artifacts and bits and pieces of his personal life scattered about the room. "You were an Imperial, huh? I don't think any of our people were ever meant for that way of life. Kas tulisha abia al port." There was a reason Corellia had been and still was notorious for being a rebel world, even in its current state. That sort of strictly organized lifestyle never lasted long for any of them, and eventually that inner fire would burn through and shrug off any remnants that remained. The reputation their culture had garnered over the millennia had to originate somewhere, after all.

Her gaze traveled over the image of him as a Jedi Padawan, proper braid and all, but she didn't comment, finding herself standing in front of the CorSec uniform with what looked to be a fatal wound inflicted on the right side of the chest. Fingertips trailed across the picture of him and what appeared to be his younger brother, the corners of her mouth tightening just slightly. Loss was something she knew all too well, having experienced the abrupt death of her parents at a young age. This was something that struck a chord within her, for certain, though she had a feeling any sympathetic words or statements put forth wouldn't mean much of anything, and so kept silent.

Finally turning to face him, she managed a small smile that seemed to be subdued in nature, though her voice showed no signs of the same. "You're quite the man, Julius Sedaire."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]