Today We Remember {Nyx's Funeral, Ask First}

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

LOCATION: Ossus; Outside Jedi Academy
RECOMMENDED MUSIC: Nyx's Funeral Songs
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How does one cope with loss? With the death of someone they knew? What can, if anything, be done to erase the pain? To at least lessen it?... In the wake of demise, each affected individual finds his, her, or their own way to find closure. Their methods vary both in style and amount of success. One such way was to simply pretend that the person in question was not deceased. No, they were alive, not dead at all. That train of thought was usually checked at the door for the funeral. Perhaps people were experiencing that now. Hmm? Oh, you didn't know that it was today?... My sincerest apologies. Did not mean to burst your bubble... but the proceedings are about to start. This is your last chance to say goodbye to what's left of her. However little that is...

"We... are gathered here today to mourn the loss- no, sorry. We are here to celebrate the life of our dear friend, Private, or as some of you knew her, Padawan D.S. Nyx..."
THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER:

There weren't to many who felt the impact of her fall. A few dozen, perhaps, were able to notice her absence. Maybe that doesn't seem like many... but it's far more people than she ever thought would care. It's rather sad, though, that she never realized that. The Zorren had died thinking that only two would miss her. One was missing in action, the other to busy to place flowers on her grave, right? No. If the first was still around... Hmm? What's that now?... Oh! You think we're talking about Lydia Stone and Corvus Raaf? How right you are! Out of everyone who knew the ex-Imperial, those two know her the best. But they weren't alone. They did not suffer a loss alone. Oh, no, no one ever really did. Any time someone dies they leave a gap behind that can rarely be filled. Far more could feel the hole in their chests, the weight on their shoulders, then she could have ever anticipated.

Faal'en Alhdrich.

A man of rather average height stood quietly to the side. In front of him Jedi and Protectorate soldiers alike were milling about, setting the last few things up. No one had questioned the decision to hold the funeral on Ossus. That had been... her... home for the last six months of her life. It had been there that she had learned a great deal about herself, about others, about the universe. And so Omega and the Republic had worked to provide mourners with a joint event. Now, together, they gathered by an elegant cliff-side, hearts heavy, to remember a friend. Less than half of those currently present had actually spoken to her. Most had simply... witnessed her in action. A few were only there to comfort those who had known the woman.

Not Faal'en though. He was far to busy choking back tears, trying to fight the guilt gnawing at his chest, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. IT'S MY FAULT, he thought, WHY DID I HIDE? There weren't many people who walked away from Cularin alive. This particular soldier had- though perhaps 'limped' was a better term. Nyx's attempts to distract the Sith's soldiers had bought him enough time to find a place to hide. For six hours he had hid beneath dirt and rubble, sobbing the whole time, occasionally daring to try to contact the others. When he finally peeked out there were only fire and corpses to be seen. It took him another three days to slowly find his way off world.

Coming back to Ossus had filled him with horror.

Honestly the Firrere0 had been convinced that his friend, his comrade, was still alive. How could anyone manage to kill her? That woman had been made of phrik. Ending her existence... was a crime against humanity, against sentience as a whole! Gods, he thought, how could this be?... There was a new feeling arising in the pit of his stomach. Rage. Horrid, untamed, untapped fury. At [member="Vrag"]. At the Sith. At darksiders in general! But one must remember that anger is a secondary emotion. First comes something else. That then grows, develops, and transforms into the emotion most know all to well. For him, Faal'en the Republic Engineer, the source of his feelings was clear: Despair. Sadness. The same went for others there...

Merikudan "Miku" Walhart

Being raptured hadn't been fun. Crawling out of hell had not been fun. But watching your best friend try not to cry because he was stupid enough to think he had caused somebody's death? Oh, that was the opposite of enjoyable. What the frak was Faa's problem anyway? What bantha-chite had gotten into his head to make him think that he could have done anything to save the girl? There had been thousands of real Imperials coming down on them. Not to mention the karking Sith Lords who showed up! Had the idiot tried to help... Ugh, he would have gotten himself killed. Though knowing him, he'll probably find a way without her. Miku was considered a pessimist. That much was probably true.

What to many people didn't know was that he actually did have a heart. Instead of simply pumping blood, as that part of the circulatory system is meant for, his also worked hard on worrying about those he cared about. Such as Faal'en. Part of him had also cared about Nyx. Not because they were friends (she did almost steal his job from him, after all) but because she was Faal'en's friend. Such was the way things worked for the Cathar man. Now he stood among strangers, awkwardly sipping a glass of 'light' beer (he had poured his own concoction into a bottle of what had been provided) while trying to figure out how to comfort his friend.

All the while he felt a nagging feeling in his stomach. One he was trying so desperately to ignore. This isn't the time, he thought. Thinking, however, does not go hand-in-hand with doing. No attempts were made to push the sensation away. Miku let the discomfort sit. Let it fester and spread. What was it that plagued him? Anxiety. Worry. Extreme concern over the state of his friend. The friend who hadn't been able to save someone he liked (Faal'en insisted on calling it love). How could he not fret over this? Knowing the Firrerreo... trouble would be coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. Soon, though, soon the fighting duo would once more rush into combat in an effort to avenge someone neither of them knew very well. Such was the way things worked for Miku.

Vivienne Nevera-Zambrano

"Master Doiyei... I was wondering where my friend was? Nyx was going to teach me how to braid the other younglings' hair so you and her didn't have to do it anymore. Have you seen her?" The child, who was merely eight years old, had no idea why her companion visibly stiffened at her words. Nor did she understand why she had been asked to help out the old lady for a few hours. With the way everyone was acting, it was almost like they were keeping her away from something! That was a silly notion, of course. What could they want to hide from her?... Oh! Vivienne was certain she understood. Nyx was going to come home today! Yes, that had to be it, and they simply wanted it to be a pleasant surprise.

Suddenly her assignment didn't seem so bad after all. Even if Doiyei didn't answer her question.

Doctor Lydia Stone

She wasn't dead. Nyx was dead. But she wasn't. Why would she be dead?... Oh, yes, the Rapturing. That made sense. Many died in the Rapturing. Not her. No, no, never her. Sticks are fragile. Stones are not so easily broken. Yes! I'm still alive! Thought the Jedi Master as she curled up on her makeshift bed, eyes fluttering shut, starting to dream of the woman she had loved. Drapeam is dead. She knew. Though the Rapturing had left her lost on a world she didn't know... the force had told her of her friend's fate. It would have been cruel not to. I am alive. She repeated the thought three more times. But the one I love is dead. Once more. That is sad. Yes, Stone, yes it is. Hmm... There is no emotion, there is only peace... And for the seventieth time that evening she repeated the code that had been drilled into her head since she was young.
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There were others. Others who started wandering into the area, mingling quietly, waiting for the ceremony to start. Waiting to watch what little remained of a good woman to be put to rest. Did... did any of them notice the flickering blue form off to the side? The one with long, ginger hair? She with the thin limbs? No, it didn't seem like many were paying any attention to the ghost. They didn't know then. They didn't know that it was a vision of a younger Boomshot queen. A vision of a better Nyx. Before the wars. Before the death of Dromand Kaas. Prior to the events of peacetime. And long before she even knew she held the force in her hands. A better her for sure.

The ghost smiled sadly at the guests, never moving to speak to any, only watching.
Funerals are not for the dead. Funerals are for the living.
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ATTENDEES: [member="Corvus Raaf"], [member="Kana Truden"], [member="Uri Aureleos"], [member="Enigma"]
NOTES: I highly recommend listening to the playlist above. It's fairly long (26 songs), but I think it really fits the mood of the thread. Oh, and be warned, if you post a song in this thread, chances are I'll be adding it to the playlist.

 

[Onrai]

Why was Circe here?

Good question, but let's start by discussing something else. As it was, she was hiding her presence in the Force completely. Why so? Well, even though she was officially known as an individual within the Omega Protectorate - and thus someone who would be fine - her Dark Side aura being visible on a Light Side planet would utterly mess her up, and the last thing that she wanted was for that to happen. Then again, this funeral here was for someone who, while she had just met them, was a very intriguing individual.

She would show the proper respect.

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

 

[Kana Truden]

It would seem tragedy came in the wake of every encounter with the sith. [member="Drapeam Nyx"], though very much a stranger to Kana was a good friend of [member="Corvus Raaf"]. There was never a moment of someone’s passing that didn’t hurt. For each moment after a life had been taken there was the seedling of a doubt that somehow it could have been avoided or that it was the fault of yourself or someone around you. It was how Kana had dealt with the loss of [member="Flint Dexen"] after Kashyyyk, though to claim she had dealt with it would be wrong of her. The wound was still open like yet another spot on her guilty conscience. A burning ember that reminded her of the people she had lost to the war with the One Sith.

But this wasn’t about Kana, this was about D.S Nyx and the support for Corvus. Maybe Kana’s friend mourned differently or not at all, but in any case the least Kana could do was to be there for her. A hand placed itself on Corvus’ shoulder to provide some sort of comfort. There were no words necessary, no words to be said. Either they’d be out of place or ignored.

The ceremony was free to go on interrupted by at least Kana’s voice.

It was the least she could do.

[@Enigma]​

 

[Kian Karr]

Spoiler

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee." John Donne

There is no death, there is the force.

They seemed like hallow words and to some perhaps they were, often thrown out without much thought about them, without much care given to the meaning behind them. Kian would be the first to admit that he didn't spend as much time pondering the philosophies of the Jedi as he should or as he would like but that one statement he had focused on a great deal in his time among the Jedi.

Kian had pondered it for personal reasons, but also because as a young Knight one of the first things he had done was witness the offloading of two coffins. Coffins that contained the bodies of two Jedi who had fallen on Alderaan.....fallen right before Kian's own eyes. Only one of the coffins that day had been full of course. One of the Jedi had vanished, becoming one with the force in a similar way to many other Jedi had throughout history. Regardless of this however, both had joined the force.

Bodies were but flesh and blood. What we truly were lived on beyond us.....lived on in the atoms that left our bodies to form up as something else, lived on in the heat that we emitted that forever changed the way the world was around used, and most importantly, lived on in our connection to the force and through the force to all living things.

Kian didn't know [member="Drapeam Nyx"], but he didn't have to to morn her death. She was a Jedi, and even if she wasn't, she was a living thing that shared a connection to him through their connection to the force and her loss diminished them all.

[member="Kana Truden"] | [member="Enigma"] | [member="Drapeam Nyx"] | [member="Corvus Raaf"] | [member="Uri Aureleos"]​

 

[Corvus Raaf]

Location: Ossus Academy
Theme: I could never say goodbye


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3s5Hau6kes


‘I don’t ever want to believe
I don’t ever want to believe yeah
That when we all die
We all leave.

Your innocence is not forgotten
I hope you know that where you are I wish you well
I hope you sleep in a perfect memory.’

Corvus stood in silence. She was ‘home’ and surrounded by people she knew and places so familiar to her they were indelibly etched into her memory. But she wanted to be alone.

No…she needed to be alone. With her thoughts and her memories.

Failure was difficult to cope with for anyone. And Nyx’s death was a failure that Corvus had yet to come to terms with. She should have insisted that the Jedi that promised to accompany her to visit the enclave had gone. It was not their fault for not going to Cularin, but hers for not insisting. Had any one of them made that journey, she probably wouldn’t be here now.

And nobody could ever talk her out of that thought.

“We... are gathered here today to mourn the loss- no, sorry. We are here to celebrate the life of our dear friend, Private, or as some of you knew her, Padawan D.S. Nyx..."

Of course there were tears. She owed it to the Boomshot queen to open herself to emotion today. And there were smiles too.

But mostly tears.

‘Tell me... what do you think is stronger: The light or the dark? And don't worry, this is not my way of deciding which I'd rather follow. That would be silly. I simply... wonder what your opinion on the matter is.’

Of course Corvus had answered honestly. But she’d forgive Nyx if she no longer believed her. Yes, she honestly felt that the most courageous Padawan she’d ever met had joined the Force. And that didn’t make the Light-side weak and the Dark strong.

But then…they were just words, weren’t they…

[member="Kian Karr"] | [member="Kana Truden"] | [member="Enigma"] | [member="Drapeam Nyx"]

 

[Uri Aureleos]

Uri stood on the other side of his master [member="Corvus Raaf"] hands clasped behind his back. He couldn't offer any support in his mind besides simply being beside her. He didn't know what to do except for stand there. Master [member="Kana Truden"] seemed to have a better idea for comfort at least, but to Uri's mind it didn't seem to help. Nothing would except for time. Loss was an odd thing. Death. In this case, one would argue that the Sith stole this Jedi's life. He didn't have any experience with this kind of death. He had only ever been to one funeral himself that he remembered. It was when one of the older monks had died. The memory was faint but he remembers what the other monks told him. Uri may never see them again but that doesn't mean they're gone forever. From the force one comes, there they shall return. The force was with Uri so the monk will be also. D.S. Nyx as well. She may be part of the force now, but that doesn't make her gone for good.

He didn't see this coming however. He never expected to attend a funeral although now it seemed as though he should be attending more. Maybe his naïve mind forbade that thought before. Deep down Uri wished he had spoke to her at least once. He had never met [member="Drapeam Nyx"] or even shared a glance with her. He didn't know her, but he remembered her. He had seen her before when he was a youngling at least. He watched from a far as she braided the hair of the other younglings. Part of him wished he hadn't been such a shy little boy. If he had the guts to meet her then would he be the one crying now?

Difficult to see. Always in motion the future is.

Master Corvus seemed to enjoy quoting this at least. Uri still found it hard to believe. If Nyx wasn't suppose to die at that moment then why did she? If the future is in motion, then why didn't it move her death back so that Uri could meet this Jedi? Why didn't it move her death so that his master wouldn't take it as hard? He banished the thoughts of a time that never happened. A Jedi's place was not to dwell on what could have been.

[member="Kian Karr"] [member="Enigma"]

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

LOCATION: Ossus; Outside Jedi Academy
RECOMMENDED MUSIC: Nyx's Funeral Songs
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"Vanessa", Circe Savan:
Had Nyx not been actively looking for familiar faces, it's likely she never would have noticed the woman who stood near the back. Her presence in the force was clearly hidden (otherwise the dark side within her would stand out immensely amongst the crowd- all of whom walked in the light). For a moment the Zorren quietly remembered her one- and only- meeting with the lass. They had flirted at first, perhaps intending to enjoy single night of pleasure, before their conversation had turned south. If this 'Vanessa' (surely not the apparent Sith Lady's real name?) hadn't ended up being a source of information, it's likely that her presence here would have caused an outrage. But if it hadn't been for her... Nyx would have never learned the basics of her favorite force power: Stealth. Obviously that hadn't exactly done her any good in the end, but this wasn't exactly the end, and the end is never the only part that matters.

Briefly she considered moving to speak with her once-teacher. Maybe learn about who she really was. Surely now that she was dead she could be trusted with the truth? After all dead men tell no tales. Then again, she was quite dead, yet she was still telling many stories. The Zorren had no plans to stop anytime soon. Nor was she content with ceasing to write new ones when she wasn't busy! Life goes on, even for those who have no heartbeat. Even with that in mind she wouldn't consider giving up the secrets of another- those of friends moreso than those of strangers- unless the secret could hurt others. Could whatever 'Vanessa' was hiding cause harm to those she cared about?... She was a Sith after all. That, Nyx thought, was a thought for another time. With a quiet sigh she continued scanning the crowd. How many had come to mourn her? Plenty, it seemed, and it would not do well for her to dwell on thoughts of only one.

Master Kian Karr:
Had she ever met this one?... No. Never spoke to him. Didn't remember meeting him face to face or even seeing him in passing. Had she heard of him? Yes, yes she had, of course she had. The Kel Dor was practically a modern legend. At least among the younglings she often spent so much time with. Many of them had expressed an immense amount of respect for the alien, even if a majority admitted to once having been afraid of the man's appearance. Nyx couldn't help but be amused by this, as some of them were of species that were considered far more visually intimidating. Wisely she had kept that thought to herself. Another patient at the treatment center had once called him a high-champion of the shadows. That had understandably piqued her interest. She was a creature of dismal lighting as well, and enjoyed spending time with similar people, even if no words were shared.

Wordlessly the apparition made a mental note to speak to him at some point. Knowing her, it might take up to a year for that blessed conversation to happen, at least if it didn't occur within the next few hours. Ghosts are notoriously bad at keeping track of time! Nyx was no exception, by far. Honestly she didn't even know how long it had been since her decapitation. Part of her had been wondering if they had even had an opportunity to search for her corpse yet. Something told her that they hadn't. As she pondered the possibilities the realization that it was supposed to be her in that coffin dawned upon her. Was coming to her own funeral impolite? Wasn't that a compelling thought! Honestly she should either be long gone or letting them all know that she was still around. These things are for the living, not the dead, she thought, I should not be here. Wordlessly she moved her gaze to another.

Uri Aureleos:
Yet another soul whom she had never previously encountered. Despite that the childe was eerily familiar to her. For a splinter of a second she though upon the matter before memories came cascading down. Mostly they came forth as mere glimpses. A face here, a tuft of golden locks there. Indeed, they knew each other, having shared glances casually tossed over shoulders or from behind brunette braids. Neither had spoken to the other. Alas, Nyx hadn't even considered speaking to the boy, even though an informant of hers (a sixteen year old who stubbornly refused to learn how to take care of her own hair) had droned on about how wondrously adorable he so apparently was. Honestly she had never seen the reason for her acquaintance's attraction. One might accurately claim that it was because she was at least twice his age and was quite aware of that fact.

Others might simply say her feelings for a certain... individual masked any opinions of physical qualities. Even if she had no romantic interest (or any variety of interest, for that matter), she would still be able to confirm someone's pleasant appearance, yes? Generally one would be correct in assuming such a thing. Nyx, however, simply did not (in her words) 'give a flying chite' about how anyone she didn't consider alluring. Particularly if they were young! No matter how much the brunette had rambled on about her secret crush, Nyx had never once bothered to affirm the girl's feelings. If she found the boy good-looking, then so be it, that didn't mean that she had to acknowledge it!... My-oh-my we've certainly fallen off track. Scowling, Nyx turned her head, carefully avoiding the sight of the person she had been longing to speak to most. She'd be last.

Kana Truden:
This was the one. Previously Corvus had mentioned a gentlewoman who had been so crudely poisoned- mirroring what she had undergone herself, just with tweaked circumstances. Apparently… this was the one. Perhaps Nyx’s expectations had been raised above standard, but she felt moderately disappointed at this ‘grand revelation’. What had the aloof (and occasionally conceited) woman been anticipating? A drop-dead gorgeous lass with battle scars to match? Someone with a swollen heart and puffy eyes? Every passing moment brought more confusion. Why had she dreamed off vastly different things?... Our answer lies in the mirrors. Whenever Drapeam Nyx gazed upon her reflection she had seen a shriveled up warrior, an outcast, a pathetic being with crippling health issues. It was neigh near impossible to ignore the tell-tale signs of her condition.

And then you had Kana Truden.

Logic stated that it wasn't unnatural for her skin to seem so… clear. For it to be so relatively unscathed in comparison to that of the Zorren’s. Did that erase the jealousy gnawing at the pit of her stomach? The rage threatening to build up in her cranium? No it did not. Alas, even logic cannot break the symptoms of injury. Ripe with anger she turned away, desperate to rid herself of these emotions. Forgive me, Kana, I am judging you to swiftly. When the thumping of her non-existent heart lessened, and her sharp breathing gave wave to the gentle rustling of wind, she turned back to the lass that had unintentionally hurt her so. And while she no longer seethed with frustration, there was still an unhealthy glint of ire in her eyes. Or... perhaps... it was simply the envy one wouldn't find unsurprising at all.

They were similar, but they held a stark contrast to one another. Truden was by means lacking in height, yet during her life Nyx would have practically towered over her, easily seeming to dwarf the female. Closer inspection didn't add much to the bonfire, so to speak. Both had suffered the consequences of Sith poisoning. What happened afterwards left them as opposites. Drapeam Nyx was a shell of her former self- she had been even in life- a physically corrupted woman whose very flesh had denied her will, refusing to stay strung together, instead slowly falling apart at the seams. How had this lass- a high-class lady of far less experience- managed to remain (seemingly) unscathed? Was she going through a single long-term affect of her injury?... Gods, these are horrendous thoughts... Such horrid things to think about someone mourning you. What terrible notions to murmur when the person in question is laying a hand on your friend's shoulder, trying to guide them through the processes of grief.

Nyx had rarely felt so guilty.
What had Corvus said about her companion again? All those months ago?...

"But my role here was to answer questions not ask them. But now you press me there are two things I have to know. Firstly, do you want to be helped? I don’t know if you came here of your own free will, so it is important that I ask. The second question is more personal. Personal to me at least. I have a close friend who was affected like this. She’s…very strong-willed and won’t talk about it. What I want to know is this…how does it affect you using the Force?" There had been a pause, a spot for more conversation, before one more thing had been said: "That was how it was for my friend I believe, but she won’t talk about it. But now she’d fully recovered and it hasn’t affected her ability to use the Force. Although she’s decided to become a Healer. Not sure that officially counts as a side-effect though." Truden was strong. That much was undeniably clear. She deserved to be respected. And one of these days, Nyx swears it by the force, one of these days she'll get that respect from the Zorren. Just maybe not today.

The One Who Was Ignored:
White, clear, pupilless eyes skimmed over the growing crowd one last time. Familiar (and worn out) faces were all around her. They had all been watched. Examined. Inspected. All but one. Her. I can't look at her. Already today 'her' name had been muttered, mumbled, murmured and mentioned dozens of times. But now, at the mere prospect of having to look her in the eye... Nyx faltered. The apparition desperately looked around, searching for someone else she had yet to acknowledge. There was no one. Only the one who was ignored. Only her. "You're on Ossus. And it's soup. I can get you a different flavour if you'd like?" STOP IT. "I'm a Jedi here." Damn it, so am I now! Even if I'm dead! Now get out of my head! "You are force sensitive." I can't be. I don't want to be! "Trust me on this one."

"I do trust you, Corvus. Sometimes I think that's the problem. I don't usually trust people. Why do I trust you?" Her voice came out cracked, forced past ethereal lips, exiting more forcefully than she had imagined. Were those the correct terms for this? No. Couldn't be. It had not been her intention to speak out loud. Inside she had simply hoped- nay, prayed- that her thoughts would remain as such: Thoughts. As usual, it seems, her wishes were to go out the window, never to be granted. The memories in her head answered her inquiry anyway: "Do you know what they call me around here?" A cold fish. Never understood why they did. You never seemed like a cold person in my mind. You cared, Corvus, and you showed me you cared. Did... did you not do that for other people?... "Even I need to open up sometimes. I'm not saying you have to, but..." Corvus...

"First things first, we need to get you fixed. It will happen, you have my word. And then you have to decide what you're going to do with this new-found knowledge. You may know already, but some people need longer to decide. Just about everyone has questions when they find out. Do you?" I did, Corvus, I had so many questions. How could I bring myself to ask them? There you were, a living definition of 'Jedi', and there I was, practically inanimate, acidic poison filling my veins to the brim, a hateful, ignorant woman. You didn't care about that. Your only concern was making sure I lived because for some ungodly reason you actually thought I deserved to. How many times did you tell me that I was going to make it? Honestly, I can't remember. Maybe it was only the one time. It felt like so much more than that.

"Tell me... what do you think is stronger: The light or the dark? And don't worry, this is not my way of deciding which I'd rather follow. That would be silly. I simply... wonder what your opinion on the matter is." Her answer had been well-spoken, thought out, but inconclusive. Or had they been? Understandably she had refused to claim that her kind could easily conquer their foes, nor had she sobbed out muddled words of 'they could crush us without effort'. Neither side was truly more powerful than the other. Even after being blown off a roof the Zorren held that belief firm within her chest. Nothing could sway her. Not even a quick blade to the neck or stab to the side. Victory wasn't possible- there was only a balance maintained over millennium. For every candle extinguished, a new star is born, ready to shine it's light for years to come.

Drapeam Nyx opened her eyes and turned straight at the one who had inadvertently caused her death.
For a moment she smiled, albeit sadly, glad to know that the friendship she had felt so unsure of was, after all, real.
Then she relived the last of her waking seconds. Hearing footsteps. Staring up at that blank helmet. Coughing. More footsteps, in the distance, getting louder. Blood. So much crimson. And then...
She remembered her last thought, and it burned her, burrowed deep within her soul, gripping onto her, refusing to let go. How had she forgotten? Her last words, even if only spoken to herself, hadn't been about the woman she loved.
They had not been about Stone.

Letting herself start to 'cry' she echoed her last moments, turning away from those gathered, unable to look at them.
Corvus... Corvus... Corvus... Corvus... CORVUS... "Corvus... I'm so sorry... you never got to see me get better..."
=================================================
ATTENDEES: [member="Corvus Raaf"], [member="Kana Truden"], [member="Uri Aureleos"], [member="Enigma"]
NOTES: The official start of the ceremony should be in my next post. I just want a tad more of this quiet part where everyone is just sobbing grossly or trying really really hard not to sob grossly. In case you were wondering, I'm in the former group, not the latter. *SOBS*

 

[Kana Truden]

There were no tears and there was no joy, there was nothing. Kana wasn’t a battle hardened soldier, but she had her scars. Not physical but mental. There had been enough loss around her that she simply took it in stride at this point with a growing acceptance of death and the causes of it. At first these things terrified her. The sight of the dead and charred remains of soldiers and civilians alike on Zeltros, Manaan and Kashyyyk were all etched onto her mind like stills from a holovid.

The dead pleading eyes, the men and women whose lives ended in chaos and destruction. The unlucky masses who died alone in the streets of a city or field that was slowly turning into rubble. Then there was the widow who never asked for any of it and whose husband or wife had become nothing but a statistic or a name in a history book without them by their side.

No, Kana had to shake it off. This time the deceased and her had something equally grave in common yet they stood so far apart. Corvus had talked of it, tried to get Kana to open up about it but even then there was little Kana wanted to say. She never spoke of it, because at the end of the day she was still terrified of what could have happened. Perhaps that's what made[member="Drapeam Nyx"] different. Whereas Kana’s dose of the poison had been small it felt fair to assume the girl’s dose would have proved itself far more potent.

To withstand that took more willpower than even Kana could have mustered.

She dreaded to even consider the terror of knowing that thing still ran rampant in your system. Did the woman have the nightmares too or was that just Kana? Was death the final piece of calm or was the imagery of being stuck within oneself and not being able to regain control one of many images that would last for as long as Kana lived? Would she ever forget the feeling of the dark as it seeped into her mind which slowly told her to surrender?

Did Kana truly want to know that?

Setting the fears aside Kana was still left with the one thing that plagued her mind.

Why didn’t she feel anything about this woman dying?

 

[Onrai]

Circe was the first one to notice the distinct presence - the disturbance in the Force that was Drapeam Nyx's ghost. Stepping over, she eyed the faintly visible bluish figure, raising an eyebrow at the ghostly woman before choosing to step directly inside her. She paused, waiting for a brief moment before doing so.

"Boo."

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]