First Reply Up on melancholy hill (Open to any)

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Open

Deep within she could feel it, a malice that curled and crooked. It yawned and would occasionally stretch, with that minor activity causing a surge in two important things... Power, and a fading of one's self.

It was all her fault really, she had been the one to make the deal, to sign the pact. For as smart as she thought herself, what fool takes a pact with something you don't understand? She was sure that her old academy head would know- An equally foolish mistake no doubt. That woman held a level of hunger that put any near her in danger, the girl knowing very well just how appetizing she would look to that lich.

So far the doctor had kept control, her newest accessory helping far beyond what the young Lutris had envisioned. It taught a valuable lesson, one she was taking to heart in this very moment.

Soft hands whittle away at wood, occasionally recoiling as a splinter poked into them. A calming of the mind, meditation through creation. This was what she deemed it to be, rather unnatural for a Sith- But was she even a Sith? No, her domain, while puzzling... Held with it distinct requirements. Her artform was not just some simple death craft, nor was it only the aiding of life.

She understood.

Kept between the veil of life and death, she saw the beauty in both of these things. Vitality and decay were the center of all things, the dogma of the universe. And it was through this understanding that these things would bend to her will.

What else did she understand? Each day is a gift, a vast array of lessons are to be taught to those with keen eyes and curious minds.

She understood the value in deception.

Not all things are as they seem, such was the way of things.

In a place far away from the noise of towns, miles from the smog filled air. A strange girl, snowy attire blending right into her features. Sat atop a little hill, surrounded by red lily flowers. Her hands, soft and surgical, carefully whittled while trying to avoid splinters. Mind kept in meditation as droids floated about, collecting flowers.

Her aura in the force blanketed the area, muffled as per the usual- Yet it haunted idly in the air, a static against the skin.

​

 

[Korda Veydran]

The wind whispered through the red lilies as the steady rhythm of boots pressed into the earth. The sound wasn't loud — more like the quiet inevitability of thunder long before a storm breaks. A shadow passed between the drifting flowers, steel-grey and heavy with the scent of dust and scorched ozone.

Korda Veydran moved through the field without hurry, the faint whine of servos in his armor fading beneath the sigh of the breeze. He wasn't hunting, not this time — merely walking, letting the silence stretch. It was the sort of place one rarely found in the galaxy anymore, and that alone made it worth noticing.

Then he saw her.
A girl dressed in pale hues, knife in hand, whittling wood while droids hummed in slow orbit around her. Her aura pressed faintly against his senses — a coiled tension, the residue of power and something darker still. The lilies swayed, almost recoiling from it.

He slowed, one hand resting on the Ashen Maw's grip before easing it back into its holster. The weapon locked in with a faint magnetic click, its pale metal vanishing beneath the folds of his cloak. For a moment, the air seemed to steady.

"Didn't expect to find anyone out here," Korda said at last, his voice low, metallic in its modulation yet edged with calm curiosity. His visor tilted slightly as he took in the scene — the lilies, the carving, the faint trace of blood where a splinter had bitten her skin.

He paused a respectful distance away — near enough for his voice to carry, far enough not to intrude.
"Seems a peaceful spot," he continued. "Not many left who look for peace anymore." A dry note of amusement slipped beneath the words. "Would you mind company for a while?"

He glanced once more at the wooden shape in her hands. "You carve to quiet the noise," he murmured, more an observation than a question. "I've done much the same… though my tools are less forgiving."


The last word lingered, his tone carrying the faintest trace of self-awareness before settling again into quiet stillness. The faint reflection of red lilies danced across his visor as he waited, the armored giant made patient by the moment, content to stand amid beauty and ruin alike.

Vakhari Lutris

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Korda Veydran ​

"Didn't expect to find anyone out here,"

His arrival caused the droids to gaze at him, perhaps he felt watched by a force beyond their bright red lenses.

"Olarom, nakar'ad."
"Welcome, stranger."

The strange girl spoke to him in Mando'a, making an assumption based off what she saw. His people tended to be warriors, hunters. Despite it looking as if she continued to pay him little mind while facing away, her guard was indeed high. She could think of many reasons why someone would be out here on this radiant field of crimson, almost all of them did little to ease her anxiousness.
​

"I've done much the same… though my tools are less forgiving."

Unseen to his eyes, the girl smiles a little.

"I find that a tool only tends to be as forgiving as the one who wields it, plus well- In my line of work you need a steady hand, and no I don't mean woodworking... I only just started this."

Far more handy with a scalpel as opposed to a carving knife, yet the motions weren't entirely foreign to her.

"We all seek our own quiet, a sanctum of silence to find solace in. What brings you here of all places? You don't look the type to pick flowers."

The girl says in an obviously teasing tone as the red lilies around her slowly creeped outward, their expansion overtaking the other flowers nearby. The wilt being consumed, reborn into new and shapely life.

The pale woman seemed ominous perhaps, but her size, softer voice, nothing the eye could see warned the mind of danger...




​

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda paused, noting the subtle shift in the lilies — life and decay dancing under her control. The droids' sensors whirred quietly, but he paid them no mind. He slowly reached for the clasp at his neck, unclipping the helmet. It came free with a soft hiss, revealing the pale lines of his face, eyes shadowed yet sharp, and the faint burn marks along his jaw from battles long past.

He lowered himself to one knee beside her, keeping his posture relaxed, non-threatening. His voice, quiet and measured, carried the rhythm of deliberate Mando'a.


"Ni olarom, sha'kajir."
[I did not come for flowers… though they are not unpleasant.]

He allowed a pause, watching her fingers work the carving knife. The way she moved — careful, precise, intent — drew a rare trace of admiration from him.


"Ni narir beskar'gam, a mhi verer sol'yc."
[I walk many paths… some quieter than others. Solitude can teach what others cannot.]

He tilted his head slightly, studying her expression, the small smile she hadn't thought he could see. His hand brushed a stray petal back from her workspace, careful not to disturb her arrangement.

"And you… you have found a quiet among the lilies. That is… commendable."


Korda's gaze softened fractionally, yet his presence still carried the weight of someone who had survived fire and shadow alike. He wasn't intruding — only offering a quiet companion, a witness to the balance she crafted between life and decay.

[OOC note: words like this are the translations for mando'a]

Vakhari Lutris

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Korda Veydran

"Quiet, yes I suppose. But the silence is more of a tool, just as these ever so graceful lilies are."​

Not all things are as they seem, such was the way of things.

The visage of the girl distorts into a fine static, soon showing that the man had been talking with naught but a log and some branches. It seems that some strange little creatures- or droids? Coated the object, producing an image that fooled the eye even down to the looping movement of the hands.

The real Vakhari had been hiding in the lilies all along, the girl wearing a wooden mask that seemed to hold the shape of a fox as she herself better came into view as those interesting little things molted off her like snakeskin.
​

She understood the value in deception.

"Apologies for my deception."

Vakhari lifts her mask, tossing it to one of the droids. She had been out here not just to learn how to whittle wood, but to study the nature around her in order to be as graceful as the crimson lilies. And of course to practice using her creation... Sly as a fox perhaps?

"How often do you think a doctor and a warrior end up meeting in a field of flowers? It sounds like the start of some story- Anyway, just here to relax then?"




​

 

[Korda Veydran]

The sudden shift made Korda's sensors flare, and for a brief instant, the Ashen Maw was free in his hands, swung from its shoulder holster with practiced speed. Every movement measured, every joint locked in combat-ready precision. His visor's glow sharpened as he scanned for threats, muscles tensing beneath the Beskar.

Then, the truth registered. The fox mask, the subtle distortion, the droids — not an ambush, but a clever illusion. His shoulders loosened slowly, the weapon lowering in a deliberate motion, until it clicked back into a resting position. The soft hiss of the holster echoed lightly in the field.

Korda exhaled, a rare, quiet sound. "Clever," he admitted, voice low but carrying a trace of reluctant admiration. "You hide well… and craft deception as much as creation."

He lowered himself to one knee beside the lilies once more, the Ashen Maw now sheathed and quiet. "A doctor and a warrior crossing paths in a field of flowers… perhaps it is exactly the kind of story that must be told. Though I did not anticipate the lesson in illusion."

His visor shifted slightly, reflecting the crimson petals around them. "Relaxation is… acceptable, I suppose. It seems even the most… disciplined paths require it."


Korda's gaze softened fractionally, though it retained the weight of someone accustomed to vigilance. "But I will remain attentive — for study and conversation alike. Perhaps there is more to learn here than from flowers alone."

Vakhari Lutris

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Korda Veydran

Due to her nature, she of course gets anxious at the drawing of the weapon... Up until the girl comes to the rather obvious conclusion that she in fact did deserve that reaction, if anything in his boots she would have either went for her weapon as well or every so bravely squeaked in fear.

"If it's anything I have learned, hiding while letting someone else clamor for attention gives you plenty of interesting opportunities."

So far she was proud of the results collected so far by her 'sensory dancers'. Two tests had been preformed thus far, maybe next time she would have them be some random object around the lab to test if anyone figured it out?

"It is relaxing out here indeed, however my goal being here was to both test something as well as learn how not to suck at carving. I spent some time trying to figure out what to even carve, searching around in my head to see if anything sounded amusing or interesting."

Typically what she did all the time anyway, an overactive brain that never stopped for a moment.

"We all learn something new each day, there is plenty to study so long as you pay attention. From simple things come wonderful creations and inventive plans."

She picks a flower, gazing at the crimson beauty while thinking about Valaine Valentine . The feeling of warmth inside her chest traveling across their bond, a simple message that traveled who knows how far. What was the message?

I love you.

"So what does bring you here? What about this place spoke to you?"

​

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda listened in stillness, gaze shifting from the flower in her fingers to the way her "sensory dancers" receded like ripples settling. Her explanation earned a faint exhale from him — not quite a laugh, but the closest thing he ever allowed.
"You earned the reaction," he said simply. "If I were in your place, I would have done the same. Deception is a tool… and you handle it well."

He sank back into a kneeling position, gauntlets resting over his thighs. The lilies brushed lightly against the plates of his armor, red petals trembling in the quiet around them.
When she asked her question, he remained quiet for a long moment. Not evasive — thoughtful. Choosing which pieces of himself he was willing to set down between them.

"Peace was… not something I learned from my people."
His hands tightened slightly, almost imperceptibly.
"When I was fifteen, I destroyed my clan. My entire village."

He spoke like a man recounting the weather — factual, not dramatic. But the weight lived in the pause that followed.
"I was young. Angry. And the fire inside me… burned too easily. Domina Prime found me after. Or perhaps I found her. Her cult offered purpose. Direction. A place where destruction was not a crime, but a tool."

His visor turned toward the horizon, following the slow swaying of crimson petals.

"I follow her still. Her doctrine. Her path. It is not one the galaxy forgets — and certainly not one the gods overlook. The Destroyer sees all who walk that flame."
Another quiet breath escaped him, steadier this time.
"But even blades require cooling. Even a weapon must rest, or it breaks."

He brushed a fallen lily petal off his knee.
"So I came here. To a place where I could be… unseen, if only for an hour. Where the galaxy does not ask for my fire."
His head tilted slightly, regarding her with a patient, almost curious calm.

"And you? You hide to study. I hide to breathe."
A beat.
"Perhaps that makes this field large enough for both of us."

Vakhari Lutris

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Korda Veydran

She pockets the flower for later, the girl already knew exactly who deserved such a gift.

"Peace is misunderstood, it takes many forms. Many see peace as calming meditation in places such as this, perhaps a Jedi monk comes to the mind of a lot of people. But what is peace? It is so much more, peace is not something anyone else in this galaxy can fully teach you. True inner peace is the deepest connection to one's self, it has nothing to do with the peace of others around you. Whatever they consider peace, chances are it could be the opposite of your own."

The girl gestures out to the field of flowers, her hands forming a picture frame of sorts, a lense.

"Within the field of battle, a soul who feels the best during those times of danger, someone who couldn't see themselves anywhere else... They have found inner peace, the truth of yourself. You have seen- You."

This field within the painting she was offering could easily be naught but the dead, swords, fire. Chaotic to some, home to others.

"I find my peace working with my hands, conceptualizing ideas and turning them from thought to physical. I enjoy hearing stories from others, their culture, way of life. Many would view the things at do to be stressful at the least, how could they operate to save a life in such a state? They find no peace, only stress."

She had a strange way of looking at it, curious if this man could indeed learn from more than just the lilies. She was a teacher after all, didn't matter who it was.

"The name you speak of, it doesn't ring a bell for me."

That cult however? Another collective of souls that used destruction as their modus operandi? Vakhari hid her true nature as she did all the time, not showing just how much she enjoyed knowing about this cult. Another tool to bring an end, to unknowingly usher in rebirth.

She hid here to think and test, yes. But she was always hiding, even now. Remaining hidden is how she got her way, and how to best not get closer to death.

"I have no issue with you being here, if I did I perhaps could have been long gone."

It was sort of planned for him to be here, not him specifically but someone nonetheless. How else was she to test her gadgets and tricks?

"Say, what all do you do for work? Are you a soldier? A mercenary?"​

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda listened without interruption, the faint hum of his armor the only movement as she spoke of peace in all its shapes. When she framed the field with her hands, he followed the gesture — imagining not flowers, but battlefields. Flames. Bones. Ash.


When she finished, he said quietly,
"You speak true. Peace is not softness. It is truth — whatever shape that truth takes."
He rose slightly from his kneel, enough to shift his weight, visor tilting toward her with a kind of steady curiosity.

"You ask what I do. Whom I serve."
A pause; not hesitation — ritual.
"I serve the Mandalorian Empire. And the Destroyer God who guided me back to my people."
Korda's gaze drifted over the lilies, but the expression behind it wasn't peaceful. Something darker simmered — a reverence carved from fire.

"You see life and death as a cycle. Creation and decay."
He nodded once, slow.
"I see flame."

He extended one armored hand toward the field, not touching the flowers, only letting their color reflect in the black of his gauntlet.
"Fire is a truth-teller. It offers neither comfort nor deception. It strips away lies, flesh, walls, histories — until only what matters remains."
His voice deepened, quiet but full, carrying the cadence of a man reciting scripture burned into bone.

"When I burn a structure to embers…
when the air fills with smoke thick enough to choke memory…
when bone cracks beneath my heel and returns to dust…"
A faint exhale — not joy, not sorrow. Something heavier.

"…each act is an offering. A step toward repentance."
The visor angled downward, toward the petals trembling in the breeze.
"I destroyed my own blood. My clan. My home. Fire consumed them, and in its wake I was hollow."


He closed his hand slowly, as though gripping an invisible ember.
"So every flame I kindle now, every ruin I leave behind, is given to the Destroyer God as payment. A vow. A plea."
His head bowed a fraction — not in weakness, but in devotion.

"One day, my ledger will balance. One day, He may find my atonement sufficient."
He looked back to her, voice steady again, calm and grounded.
"Until then… this is my peace. The peace I understand. The only peace that fits my hands."

And then, softer — almost gentle for someone built of ash and iron:

"You carve wood. I carve worlds."
A beat.
"And yet, here we sit in the same field."

Vakhari Lutris