Vincit qui se vincit.

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

One day Kiskla would break through to [member="Caid Centurion"] to the point of them being amicable. She'd managed before -- Marcello himself was a sterling example of how someone could flip from wanting to kill her to wanting to kill for her. Ya know? Anyway, that day was not today; as evidenced by the thirty minute hike in sullen silence. All the while Kiskla was observing the scape, wondering if this was indeed a path of curiosity she should pursue or if her talents were better used in the fray and jumping right back into The Republic and The Jedi. But then when else would she have the opportunity for this? She was a little selfish with her exploration, and knew her tether would be cut eventually.

Caid then offered Kiskla a name, an introduction before sight that would give her more context to what she was walking into. Well, not exactly. More who she was walking to.

A nod accompanied her vocal appreciation to the mortal Centurion, before turning to enter - somewhat apprehensive. It had been a while since Kiskla had ventured into a completely new learning experience. She'd been a teacher for a long while; and as much as she may have not liked to exhibit it, her expression betrayed her.

​

One foot after the other, the Jedi Master's frame became eclipsed by the cave's shadows. There was a feeling in here, weighty but Kiskla couldn't put her finger on it. The Force was certainly present; but in which form-- she couldn't identify.

Step after step, she encroached closer to the presumed Shaman's presence. As a rule, Kiskla usually liked to speak first --- but she was in the mind frame of trying new things; so the salutations was withheld. Mostly because she wasn't sure the customary way to address [member="Kytarra Hawk"].

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

A bony finger came from the darkness and lightly pointed at [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s direction.

"Hello young one," her voice was scratchy, like leaves fluttering against a strong wind. From the shadows of the cave from which the alter stood, Kytarra, shaman of Singing Mountain Clan. A shake of of her staff, and its rattles would jingle, following a chant that sent a nearby hearth ablaze. Firelight would flicker around, illuminating this particular abode and the two women standing therein.

She wore no helm, but her distinctive white blond hair interwoven with bleached bones, grass, and white clay marked her for her station. Milky-white eyes, almost as if taken over by cataracts, bore their cloudy appraisal upon the outworlder.

Her face was grimy, her feet sharing the same fate and bare. For all intents and purposes, it was as if the woman were wild, primal, savage. As if she'd given into the very same savagery and primitive roots as the wilderness around her.

"Hmmhaahaha...." came the rather low amused hum. Clawed fingers drew down her Nighthunter bone staff, her ring and pinky finger twitching as she spoke.

"Yesssssssssssss..... Dhey say you come." her voice was thick, almost scratchy yet decadent as a thousand whispers resonated within the cavern. "...Daughter of dha Light. One of dha Dark. "

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla was as leery as she was curious. the fact that [member="Kytarra Hawk"] indicated that Kiskla had been indicated that she was coming seemed relatively obvious to the blonde Master, considering Caid had sourced her having an audience with the wild mistress. Perhaps the integration of nature to the Witch’s aesthetic was a reflection of her connection to the earth and in turn, the power she drew from the lifeforce of every thing.

Still though, the daughter of the light was explanatory enough. Kiskla was an emblem of the Jedi, constantly forcing herself to follow an upright path — which is why the mention that she was one of the Dark cued a quirked brow from her. An expression that would not be hidden from the flickering flames, and the shadows that danced in the crevices of her sharp features.

Kiskla had no idea really what she meant by that, but she was on a journey of exploration; and most answers came when someone asked a question they didn’t know the outcome to.

“What do you mean?

They as in the clan warriors I hiked with?”

A little blatantly dubious, but it could serve the trick. Who was they and what did she mean by one of the dark?

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

The Shaman's blackened teeth would draw wide into a grin. Her staff made a loud thump in the ground as she drew nearer, peering up that the younger blonde woman with those milky white eyes.

"Ya carry dha blessings of the Winged Goddess." a hand would gesture to the fire, and she would shift in a jingle of bone and hemetite jewelry. Once by the hearth, she took a small pouch from her waist. Gathering a handful of a concoction from within, she suddenly blew it into the flames.

From her tongue came a thick chant, and the hairs at the nape of one's neck would rise as the flames burned a bright green. They would flare up, crackling within the fire, as if needing to be able to stretch out into the beyond.

A bony hand stretched out her knuckles, and with a play of fingers, the flames suddenly began to take shape. A feminine form curled up, flanking that of great winged creature.

"Light." Kytarra would explain. A rustle of her staff, and beside to the right, a darker hued flame would lick upon the feminine form. "Dark...Dhat of dha Fanged God."

"Both are within you..." her eyes would pan back to Kiskla.

"You carried both."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla could feel the heat from the visual enticement against her skin, yet she forced herself not to flinch. The allusion to the Winged Goddess was not something Kiskla was familiar with. More and more, she was wondering if this was a good idea. Especially when the curl and intwining nature of the Fanged God was referenced.

When [member="Kytarra Hawk"] indicated that Kiskla had carried the weight of both, it sounded as if it were in the past. This was something she needed confirmed.

Her adventure to Dagobah had expelled the spirit of the nefarious Force creature, The Son. She’d thought that to be her last exposure to something so evil and dank. She’d been optimistic about that, until her sufferings on Panatha. Still, the blonde Kiffar had been relentless in her preservation of herself; clinging to the Ashla that she knew and using it to thwart the machinations of [member="Darth Vornskr"]. Why then, did she not feel herself yet? Even after [member="Avalore Eden"] had done what she could to expel the demons from within. The idea of damaged goods was not one the Jedi Master would come to terms with. She was a beacon of the light, someone to look to in times of distress with nothing but regard and vigour for protecting those who needed it. It was true though, that both were within her. Both were within everyone -- The Force was as The Force was, a naturally neutral presence of life. It was how you spoke, interacted, demanded it, that forced either Light or Dark to exhibit.

Light eyes squared with the wild white-haired witch. One would assume she would, in time, come to know the references of the supernatural beings the woman referred to. Had that been Kiskla in the fire?

“I’m here to explore the other dimensions of The Force - the way you speak to it, and it reacts.” A scarred hand reached out, grazing the licks of the flames as the brilliant burning sensation reached out to her. Tutamitus prevented the woman from being burned, rather absorbing the energy from the fire to swell her muscles and imbue her physical strength. “To see myself from another view, so I can be effective once more.

I can’t go back yet."

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

There came the rattle of her staff, the seemingly cataract filmed white eyes boring their dead fish gaze upon the blonde. Blackened teeth would curve in a grin, and she would survey the woman with a slow appraisal.

Something she found there must have suited, for she gave a small click of her tongue. Slamming the end of her staff, she went back to the hearth. "To learn dha ways, one much first embrace what dhey are in dha eye of Allya." she would stagger over towards a table, the thump, thump, thump of her staff echoing in the cavern.

"You seek. I show. " she would grunt out in broken basic, her voice thick with her accent, coating her tongue. "Dhere you find dha spirits dhat surround you. Dha Winged Goddess and dha Fang God will guide."

A small leather canteen was taken, the horned cap pulled out. Pouring it into the bowl, would wave her knobbly fingers over it. Power ran down with thick spoken chants, turning the milky liquid into a glowing green.

"Seek dha visions.." the dreadlocked woman would turn, towards the younger blond, extending the bowl for her to drink,"...and know another view."

This is how she would start.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Caution to the wind now. If Kiskla wanted to reap any sort of benefits from this situation she would have to immerse herself in giving into the experience. She was wary of being exposed to light and dark at a single time again - it never seemed to go particularly well for her - but she was a guest to the spells tonight. She had wanted this, she would adhere.

“Thank you,” Kiskla commented. Even the two simple words she had said sounded more collected than [member="Kytarra Hawk"]’s thick accent in broken basic. Nevertheless, she didn’t dwell on their ability to converse or the potential language roadblocks. She had a feeling all that was about to be left very far behind. She cradled the bowl in her palms before tipping it toward her lips, the liquid spilling over her tongue and down her throat.

It tasted disgusting; and the fact it was luminous wasn’t satiating either. A cough emitted from Kiskla’s chest and she covered it with the back of her hand, wincing as the foul liquid swirled through her insides — looking to the woman over the rim as she sipped some more - fighting back her gag reflex as she did so.

The effects were almost instant, and Kiskla had hardly any time to sit herself down rather than continuing to stand awkwardly around the flames. She opened herself up, reaching and scraping for that which would come. She was suspended in nothing for a stretch of time, until the length of a white flame reached out to her metaphysical sense; the celestial presentation of Kiskla and looped it forward. At this point the Jedi Master surrendered any hesitations that could prevent her from seeing what the Witch Prophet wanted.

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

The drink was a hallucinogenic.

It would allow [member="Kiskla Grayson"] to float into a trance-like state. As the younger blonde woman swayed, Kytarra's staff would rattle, the tip beating a rhythmic thud on the floor.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

From her mouth came tumbling thickly accented chants; a lull as she called forth the summoning of power. It would trickle up the spine with a rasp, sending a chill and tingles down every nerve.

Go forth, child. What is it that you see?

It was to be her test in mettle. To determine what path the former Jedi would take. To see beyond the Force to what lay therein. Magick was a power fueled by Dathomir's own power. It was Kiskla's task to feel the Heart of Dathomir, to walk into the ether and see the young woman was able to connect with it in order to start the first steps of manipulating the spirit ichor that lay within Dathomir's depths.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Once again, Kiskla felt pulled from her reality. A feeling she was becoming oddly familiar with these days; shifting from entity to entity and yet remaining the same in the core all the while. Knowing who she was didn’t seem to be a problem for her ever - self doubt was not a barrier she often contended with and yet in this moment, things were heavy. Foggy. Almost misty. Her sense of self reliance elevated with the unfamiliar, haunting sound that permeated from [member="Kytarra Hawk"]’s lips. It was the only thing she could hear, as it completely drowned out the crackle of the fire. It was a ghostly kind of beauty, an addition to the ghostly vision and illusions that danced around in the Jedi’s mind’s eye.

It was dark here, very dark. Little glimmers of light flickered about here and there without much attachment to anything; like tiny fireflies that peppered the night. It was entrancing, and the more Kiskla focused on them, amused and somewhat delighted by their mere presence, each glow throbbed happily, beating around her before picking up velocity in their excited shakes, quivering with something before expanding, growing more and more until a flame-like wisp emerged and stretched toward her. In a stasis, Kiskla didn’t move; and the flame dipped angrily toward her feet and sprawled in another direction, deepening in colour to a dark, beautiful violet.

Amethyst amplified the calls of the shaman, deepening her voice to a heavy hum. Kiskla swayed gingerly, the beautiful richness of the smokey hue appealing to her; while the fireflies danced away to her right.

There was a sort of pleasantness to the scene, a serenity she didn’t usually feel in her dreams.

Enticed, she took steps forward between the growing light glows, and the twirling violet spirals; both creeping in toward her heels and reaching for her ankles with calming suggestions. The fireflies swelled, the pulsing emanation expanding in Kiskla’s vision and pouring downward until the circles took shape to a frame.

The shape was indiscernible. “Who..are you?”

Was this a transmutation of self here?

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

The thrum of the chant grew louder, in perfect unison with the beat of a heart. From within that shape the fireflies quivered, their lights matching the rhythm as that aura bloomed. A warm flame swelled around the blonde, filling the air with a shimmering, beating energy like the very sound of those firefly wings.

Power would roll in, and a glowing green mist would start to form. There were no words, but instead Kiskla would feel a gentle warmth, like the first breath of spring after a long winter.

The Winged Goddess.

For raw magick forms in the mind before it forms to the touch.


[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The fire reached out, light and cream in hue as the shape became more of a silhouette; curving at the right parts and expanding to manifest the glory of that which gave her the name winged.

“It’s you.” Kiskla murmured, the observation heavy on her lips; drawling through the barrier of illusion and reality.

The Winged Goddess — of course. She was a manifestation of the Force’s purity, one Kiskla had been associated with on an intimate level for years.

“How are you — I thought I destroyed you?” She hadn’t meant to, of course; but to completely eradicate the darkness from herself Kiskla’d had to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

The violet nearby began to coo in an undertone, slipping between the space of the proverbial ground and the soles of the Goddess.

This wasn't The Force, Kiskla realized. If it was- the daughter could not have survived the actions taken on Dagobah. This was something else.

And if the daughter survived, then her brother....

[member="Kytarra Hawk"]

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

... would exist as the paragon of the Dark.

Where the fireflies conjured together to form that bright manifestation of the light. The darkness left behind would permeate like a mist within that ether.

The Fanged God. Dark to Her Light. He was the greatest of tenderness and the greatest of destruction all at once.

He would be both tall and short, muscled and not, all men and none. He stood bare in all his beauty and terror, the manifestation of the Dark Side of the Force. And She a paragon of the light; all that was female, all that was woman, and all at once. Yet here they were more than just that.

This was the Spirit realm [member="Kiskla Grayson"] had entered, and within it she would find the raw, ancient representation of what they were at their core. The universal manifestations of male and female energy that maintained a balance.

Life and Death. Light and Dark.

A balance governed on the spiritual plane of Dathomir by these two deities.

They were immortal in that sense. One could not survive without the other.

Kytarra's voice would rasp in Kiskla's mind. It was the voice of every mother, every big sister, every aunt, every teacher, all rolled into one echo.

Dead no. The spirits bestow fertility upon our tribe and visit us when sickness and death come upon one of our sisters as well as to claim the spirits of those who have fallen.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Spoiler

Inspo song

Darkness and light swirled about her, twisting in a kaleidoscopic presentation of their essences. Wondrously intrigued, the blonde Jedi remained transfixed

A spread unraveled before her, presenting the appearance of a location she should venture.

“What am I supposed to find?” Kiskla asked the echoing voice of [member="Kytarra Hawk"], hoping for some sort of guidance here. In the meantime, she walked toward the inner glade, exposing herself to the feeling of absolute serenity amidst the two extreme feeling. Kiskla had always been an ethereally serene individual, but in her core she was a warrior. A low hum hummed in her ears, this cold realization gripping her veins.

The shadows and light turned into layers of silhouettes, taking the shape of bodies. The crowd of persons reaching toward her and light taking one hand, while dark slipped palm against palm with her other. Entranced, the blonde walked hand in hand with the godly siblings.

"Where are we going?"

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

What would she discover?

That which she most fears and that which she most loves. What she is truly searching for. The heart of the matter was to delve deep into oneself, into the Heart of Dathomir and find communion with both sides of the whole. The Fanged God and the Winged Goddess were two parts of a whole. They were something primal that went beyond mere Jedi or Sith, it came from a place within that few are able to truly understand and unlock.

There is always that sense of mysticism, and in this, Kiskla had to learn to distinguish it from the rest.

A question would be posed to her instead.

/ What is it that you are looking for? /

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

What Kiskla was not looking for, was nowhere to be found. She had been prompted here because [member="Darth Vornskr"] still haunted her thoughts. When she called out to the Force, she still felt tainted by his malicious touch. Infected by the poison of the dark side she had been exposed to in the Panathan reach. It was an eerie feeling, taking a sentient's life with your bare hands. She had never felt so powerful, so reckless and uninhibited. Her pure thoughts had been soiled to vengeance, and she had destroyed that palace brick by brick, bringing it down with little consideration for those inside or what ruin her destructive hands may reap. That was not the Kiskla Grayson the Jedi Order knew. She had been conditioned since childhood the necessity of kindness, gentleness, and the Jedi Order had put her on a pedestal of ethereality; cloaked her in white and christened her with a name worth sanctifying. The Redeemer and yet, there she had been; in the depths of her own despair and unable to rise above and turn the other cheek.

But that would have made her a pacifist. The darkness within that realm would not have been squished, and would have continue to cling to her heels; that mountain wanted to eat her alive.

Vornskr needed to die. He was a thorn not to her side, but an seed that spread like a weed to the soils of the galaxy; casting a shadow that slaughtered without thought. The work of her hands was not idle, nor was it selfish. The face off had not been to protect herself, had it been, she could have slinked out without confrontation. What she did was necessary. She hadn't really reflected on it, herself, like this, in total clear vision since her escape.

Sure, she had spoken with [member="Marcello Matteo"] about it in candour and he hit her with the logic, but she hadn't felt satiated. Kiskla's person wasn't sacrificed with her imprisonment and the murder of Vornskr. She did not give mercy, nor sacrifice, she gave deservedness. Redemption was offered -- and though it was the first time Kiskla had failed to reroute darkness to a path of the light, it was not a failure as she had felt it to be.

That's where the weight was from.

She had felt like she failed, an impure form of pure light, turning to bloodshed rather than promises for alternatives. And that was the reality that had to come to fruition. Retribution had succeeded redemption in this instance.

All the while these thoughts were passing through her body, she realised they were the whisperings of the daughter and the son. Each diety dancing the story out before herself and [member="Kytarra Hawk"] in intricate patterns.

"Confirmation." Kiskla finally whispered, finding a satisfaction in her voice as the Jedi Master turned to look absently away from the fire. "The Force isn't punishing me, I was punishing it for thinking I was so volatile to one or the other. Balance isn't just in the light or the dark - but in actions and words." The young woman blinked heavily, lips separating slightly and exhaling.