Private Through The Quiet

[Briana Sal-Soren]

A world of breathtaking greenery, D’Qar was home to towering trees whose grandeur outshone those across the stars, even more so than her own beloved Naboo. Not that Briana would ever admit it.

No matter how far back she craned her neck, their canopy remained lost in the sky.

The Underground took painstaking care not to damage a single leaf of the ancient giants when setting down ships for the Vanguard. Lorn chose their base of operations well; the grassy mounds effortlessly camouflaged the hangars and ancient structures that'd rested here for over a millennium.

Being here stirred a swell of conflicting emotions, as though different chapters of her life were converging in a single place. The quiet early mornings, spartan accommodations, and rich, earthy scents hanging in the air echoed those early training years spent on Ossus alongside Lossa Aureus , Vizion Trozky , Justice Lesan , and so many others. But as those slow mornings inevitably gave way to afternoon, the camp stirred to life, and the growing commotion dragged her back to the war against the Maw. Technicians scrambling in every direction, Jedi huddled over holotables drawing out battle plans, and that restless energy of knowing there'd be another shoe to drop - but never knowing where or when. Knowing that the person you said hello to today, could be someone you said goodbye to tomorrow.

The biggest difference this time, was that she found herself alone.

Best not to dwell on it, she thought, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and forcing herself out from under the covers, rather than spending precious time thinking on what old memories the day may dredge up.

As she'd always done, since she was a small girl, Briana began her morning routines early.

Curato Salva was always first on the agenda, followed by relentless lightsaber drills.

The training kept her sharp for duty, but more importantly, it helped recondition the hand that was no longer made of flesh and bone. Rebuilding her form proved an agonizingly slow process, but muscle memory was returning, and every time she picked up her blade, she found it easier than the last. Soon, she imagined, she'd be back to full fighting speed. She had to be; they were far too few in number for anyone to fall short, and new arrivals would be looking to her, Lorn, and the other Veterans for strength and guidance.

A responsibility that was front and center on todays agenda.

She knew little of Acier beyond the briefest of summaries. A former Sith acolyte, recently sprung from a Republic prison, hoping to repent but struggling to find his center. A volatile combination, to say the least. Still, when Lorn asked her if she'd step in and help, she hadn't hesitated to say yes. Dealing with the dark side wasn't unfamiliar territory, though given the current state of her own family and her failure to keep them on the right path, she couldn't help but question if she was really the right person for the job to help another with their struggles.

If she couldn't keep her own blood on the right path, what chance did she have with a stranger?

Still... there was no harm in trying.

<6:15 am - Transmission>

" Acier Moonbound , it's time to begin your meditative instruction. Meet me at the training field just outside the camp in 15 minutes. Don't be late."

TAG: Acier Moonbound

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[Acier Moonbound]

Location: D'Qar

Equipment:
Vanguard Robes | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm | Tic

He didn't sleep well anymore. Most nights, Ace barely managed a few uninterrupted hours before the dreams found him again. Well, more like memories.

Faces. Screams. That sickening certainty that every decision had felt justified at the time. Every order carried out beneath the conviction that he was serving some greater purpose. Every time he'd end up looking into someone's eyes as the life left them... always waking before the killing ever stopped.

So when he received the transmission, he was already wide awake. Ace let out a quiet breath through his nose. Briana Sal-Soren. A friend of Lorn's and someone he trusted. That was enough for him to believe she knew what she was doing. Lorn never put people where they didn't belong.

His knowledge of her was sparse. Some big shot Jedi war veteran, and if he remembered correctly, a princess too, or Lady... whatever the proper title was. Ace never really paid much attention to aristocratic bantha crap. He knew a little more about her family than he did about her personally, but none of that really mattered.

She was supposed to help him. Or, more accurately... help him resist. Ever since leaving his cell behind and feeling the Force return in full, the dark side had grown louder than when he first departed his cell. There were moments when he could almost feel it sitting just behind his thoughts, offering shortcuts to problems that didn't seem as terrible as they used to. The edge returned to his instincts before he consciously invited it. Anger came easier, violence felt liberating and comfortable, in ways he hated admitting even to himself.

Some mornings he caught himself missing the certainty it brought, and that realization alone made his stomach turn. He'd told all this to Lorn, and he wasn't sure he should be accompanying the others into the field. Every mission carried the possibility that one wrong moment, one lapse in judgment, one desperate decision might drag him right back toward everything he'd worked so hard to leave behind.

Nothing terrified him more than becoming that person again -- Sith Knight. If meditation with a Jedi helped... it couldn't make things worse.

He pushed himself to his feet and quickly changed into his familiar navy clothing before securing the straps around his boots. Behind him, a series of cheerful electronic chirps echoed from the corner of the room.

Ace glanced over. Tic stood balanced atop a crate, happily sorting through an assortment of salvaged odds and ends he'd somehow accumulated over the last few days. He wasn't even going to bother asking. He summoned the little BD-unit, who hopped neatly from the crate and scurried after him.

The so-called training field wasn't much of one. It was just a broad clearing a short walk from camp. But when you were fugitives hiding from half the galaxy, you didn't exactly get to be picky about your accommodations.

Ace reached the clearing several minutes early. He preferred waiting over keeping someone else waiting. Finding a broad stone near the edge of the clearing, he lowered himself onto it, resting his forearms across his knees.

Nearby, Tic immediately wandered off in search of whatever forgotten treasures the forest floor had to offer, happily poking beneath roots and fallen branches with curious chirps.

Ace watched him for a moment before his attention drifted back toward the path leading into the clearing, waiting for Briana to arrive.​

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Briana wasn't used to others arriving before she did, or matching her appreciation for being timely. Punctuality always seemed to her a simple courtesy, one too often neglected by people who considered a few minutes here or there beneath notice. So, when she entered the training area and found Acier already waiting, one brow lifted in a pleased sort of surprise. It was a small thing, perhaps, but it made a favorable first impression.

"Good morning, Padawan Moonbound." Briana said, her voice carrying easily in the quiet of the morning as she approached, coming to stand a few comfortable paces in front of him and bowing at the waist in formal greeting. She held it for a respectful moment before straightening her spine to stand tall again. “Briana Sal-Soren,” she supplied by way of introduction, as a restrained warmth softened the natural authority that seemed baked into her bearing. "It's good to finally meet you."

The faintest curve touched one corner of her mouth, raising her lips.

"I hope you haven't been waiting too long," Her arms dropped by her sides, one hand falling to rest naturally on the hilt of her saber. "I'm not used to others beating me to the punch, though I can't say that I don't appreciate the show of initiative."

Unclipping her saber, Briana moved to join him and settled onto the ground close by, placing her blade to the side of her as she sat. “Lorn tells me that you’ve been struggling,” she began, her tone softening with a clear note of sympathy. “And asked me if I would help you. He explained things to me, a bit, but. Before I attempt to teach you anything, I’d like you to tell me about those struggles in your own words, and a little about yourself, if you don't mind. I find that it’s always better to hear these things from the person living through them, than to rely on someone else’s account.”

TAG: Acier Moonbound

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[Acier Moonbound]

Location: D'Qar

Equipment:
Vanguard Robes | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm | Tic

Ace sensed her before he saw her. Even though he'd never met her, he knew it was her. And Briana Sal-Soren's presence was... unexpected.

Steady. Not the rigid certainty he'd grown accustomed to from many Jedi, nor the sharpened edge of someone constantly braced for the next battle. Hers felt like an old tree that had weathered countless storms. Deep roots hidden beneath scarred bark. There was undeniable strength there, enough that he could feel it without even looking, but it wasn't forceful. It was disciplined. Purposefully restrained.

Beneath that calm, however, lingered echoes of old grief and burdens carried for far too long, worn not as chains, but as something she'd chosen to bear. The Force flowed through her with quiet confidence, touched by compassion, conviction, and the hard earned wisdom of someone who had seen war from the front rather than the holotable.

Only then did Ace lift his gaze. She was beautiful, but that was the first thing he noticed with his eyes. The second was the weight she seemed to carry despite standing so straight.

She greeted him as a Padawan. The title almost earned a sigh. Even now, people still assumed he was a Jedi. He didn't have the energy to correct her, or them anymore.

"Morning." He returned her respectful bow with a simple nod.

When she asked if she'd kept him waiting, Ace shook his head. His attention briefly drifted to the hand resting on her lightsaber before another detail caught his eye. The texture of the skin along one forearm wasn't quite right. Synthskin?... a prosthetic. Almost unconsciously, the metallic fingers beneath his own glove flexed once before falling still.

"I was already awake when I received your transmission." He answered with a small shrug.

As Briana unclipped her lightsaber and settled onto the ground beside him, some of the tension in his shoulders eased. Not entirely, but enough. She spoke of Lorn, of Ace's struggles he'd shared with her, and why she'd come. Then she surprised him. She wanted to hear it from him.

"Oh." Ace rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... I guess..." His brow furrowed as he searched for words. "It's just... always there. Like something sitting behind my thoughts. Some days it's quiet enough to ignore." His eyes dropped toward the grass. "Other days it feels like every part of me is reaching for it before I even realize I'm doing it. Like if I just... gave in for a second, everything would finally stop pulling."

A slow breath escaped him.

"As for me..." He hesitated. "There's a lot."

His shoulders lifted in a faint, apologetic shrug.

"I don't think any of it's worth telling."

Briana Sal-Soren ​

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Briana remained quiet while Acier spoke, intently listening to what he said with his words, but finding her real answers in the uncertain ripple of the Force and the tense set of his frame. When he spoke of the darkness, his gaze dropped to the dirt. When the subject drifted to his own journey, his shoulders hitched in a tight, apologetic lift, asserting that it wasn't worth telling. It was a lot to unpack — the multitude of ways he worked to try and smother his own story.

Briana knew shame when she saw it. Like called to like, that way.

But, naming it outright posed the risk of closing ranks, and then they wouldn't get anywhere.

"I noticed the way you reacted when I called you Padawan earlier," she began, her lips ticking up slightly at the corner. "I had an Echani Padawan for a while, became pretty good at learning to read her body language when we were getting our footing together. Kind of had to, since it's how they tend to communicate." Realizing that she was babbling on, Briana brushed a stray strand of hair away, and deliberately let the rigid command bleed out of her own shoulders as she tried to move on with her thought. "If that isn't what you are, or maybe not something you're ready to accept, I won't call you that again. I've had enough titles placed upon me throughout my life, to know how uncomfortable it is when one doesn't fit."

Her steady blue eyes drifted toward the clearing, watching his little droid chirp and explore the undergrowth, granting him the grace of a moment without her eyes pinning him down. "And, for what it's worth," she continued, her voice dropping to a softer register, "I've told myself that my own life wasn't worth speaking about, too. Usually because naming certain things out loud meant admitting how much something I wanted to forget still controlled and hurt me." The thought of her father drifted in like a ghost, sweeping through her memory uninvited. She turned back with a soft expression. "I know I'm virtually a stranger to you, so you don't have to tell me anything today. But I hope, eventually, you'll choose to."

The door was open, whenever he wanted to walk through it.

"As for what you're experiencing with the darkside... it's clever that way. A brilliant liar that tempts you with relief. Whether that relief looks like rest, strength, clarity, or an end to the fight. It's good at trying to convince you that giving in is the only way to attain that. But, there are always consequences attached, and the extracted cost is steeper than the peace that's promised."

She shifted slightly, settling her hands against her knees.

“When you feel it reaching for you, what does it promise, what stops? And what methods have you tried to drive it back?”

TAG: Acier Moonbound

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[Acier Moonbound]

Location: D'Qar

Equipment:
Vanguard Robes | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm | Tic

Ace let out a dry, humorless breath through his nose, his gaze dropping toward his hands. His fingers shifted idly against one another, not quite nervous, but restless enough that he needed to give them something to do.

Briana was more observant than most people he knew. The mention of an Echani apprentice suddenly made a lot of sense. If she'd spent any real amount of time learning to understand someone who treated movement like another language, then reading someone like him probably wasn't particularly difficult.

"I'm not a Jedi." He said simply, following it with a small. "But it's fine. Call me whatever you want."

The answer came with his usual nonchalance. He'd been called worse things than Padawan over the last year. But there was something unexpectedly nice about someone noticing his discomfort and deciding not to press an identity onto him. Most of his life seemed to involve people deciding what he was before he'd been given the opportunity to figure it out himself.

Briana continued, and Ace glanced sideways at her while his fingers remained occupied. He listened, movements slowing when she spoke about her own life. About convincing herself certain things weren't worth speaking about because saying them aloud meant acknowledging they still hurt. That despite however much time had passed, however deeply they'd been buried, they still possessed some measure of control.

Ace caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth and his gaze drifted away. There wasn't much he could say without admitting she'd struck closer than he wanted her to.

He wasn't particularly surprised by the admission, though. Ace knew almost nothing about Briana beyond the barest details, but he'd noticed the synthetic prosthetic. He knew better than most that losing a piece of yourself usually came with a story, and stories like that rarely existed alone.

When Briana steered the conversation back toward the dark side, Ace finally looked at her again. Something about the way she described it caught his attention. It didn't sound like distant philosophy or warning repeated from some Jedi lesson she'd memorized years ago. It sounded intimate. Like she wasn't describing something she'd studied.

Ace gave a small nod when she finished, then turned his attention toward the clearing ahead. Tic remained somewhere among the undergrowth, his occasional chirps carrying through the quiet as Ace considered the question.

"It..." He paused, searching for the right way to explain it. "I always saw it as a tool. Like a lightsaber or a spike. Something that helps me get where I need to go."

His fingers finally stilled.
"So what does it promise?" His brow furrowed slightly. "That I'll be more effective, I guess. That I can stop holding myself back and be the strongest version of myself."

Ace knew it wasn't true. Logically, he'd understood that for some time now. The dark side didn't make bargains where someone took what they needed and walked away afterward.

But addiction wasn't logical. In quieter moments, when frustration crept in and the memories got louder, the thought would surface. During a fight, when someone was in danger or an opponent pushed him far enough, it became louder still.

Just give in once. Stop restraining yourself. End it.

He knew how much easier certain things became when he stopped fighting himself. How much harder he could hit. How much further he could push.
And he knew there would never be a just once.

Ace sighed, leaning forward slightly as his forearms settled against his legs. "I just do my best to ignore it. Fight less aggressively. Try to disconnect myself emotionally from whatever outcome I'm chasing. But I know that's hindering me too."

That was the contradiction he hadn't figured out yet. He didn't want to become passive or fear of himself to turn into hesitation when someone genuinely needed him. Yet every method he'd found for keeping the darkness under control seemed to involve cutting away something useful alongside it.

For a few seconds, Ace simply stared ahead. Then his head turned, brown eyes settling on Briana again, studying her with some of the same quiet attention she'd been giving him since they'd sat down.

"Earlier... you talked about the dark side like you knew it. Personally."

Briana Sal-Soren​