Breath deep of the mists, huh? Iris got down, seating herself beside the Wellspring, letting her eyes drift close. Breath in, breath out. Once, twice. .. The mist smelled weird. She breathed it in none the less, but there was something there she wasn't sure how to feel about. And then she was out. In a vision. She blinked open her eyes, understanding at once when she was gone from consciousness. The colors around her changed, drastically.
They weren't real. Not like what she usually saw. An echo? She didn't have words to describe what she saw, but she saw them none the less. The vague shapes of people, a slum. .. Her home? She tilted her head as she stood up, looking around. Colors were everywhere. People were little more than silhouettes. Right. This was what it was like when she couldn't see through the Force. When she was blinded still.
The images didn't make sense though. It was her apartment, she could recognize that much. The colors were all the same, but one was full of fear? Pain? Near the front of the building. Was it night? Her eyes narrowed as she tried to pull back the curtain, but nothing she tried would work. The only thing that was clear was.. A baby? No, her. Iris. Was this how she got here? Curiosity pushed her forward as she crouched beside the swaddled child. Bright purple and blue eyes stared up, lost in the sea of colors.
"Your earliest memories. All of them are like this." Amon-Le seemed to materialize in the colors, standing beside her. Iris only nodded, her gaze now on the figure that cradled her so close. Pain, fear, death. The colors stained this silhouette.
"Do you know who they are?"
"No." No matter what Iris thought through, she didn't know who they were. The calm smile on her face was gone, replaced by one of intensity. Concentration. Who was this woman? .. It was a woman. She blinked. The woman stumbled, fell. Cradled Iris close to protect her. Another flash of pain in the colors.
"She's dying."
"Yes."
Another color joined. One far more familiar. .. The man who took care of her? Pain and fear turned to desperation and sadness. The woman offered Iris up, begging.. Something. She couldn't hear the words, but she could see it in the colors. Desperation to keep Iris alive. Safe. Sadness. Love. Overwhelming love. Then nothing. Iris was taken by the man who'd raise her, and all the colors from the woman faded. Gone.
"Do you know who they are?" The question was repeated by the Mystic. Iris nodded slowly, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had started to form in her eyes.
"My mother."
"She died to bring you there."
"Yes."
"Does that upset you?" Amon-Le watched her closely. But where anger or misery could have been, Iris was smiling.
"No. My mother loved me. .. Thank you, for showing me this."
"I did not. This is the trial of the mists."
Iris shook her head. But didn't argue. She didn't know how these trials were going to work, what was going to happen next. More of her memories were on display. Her growing up, when she first found out how to paint, her days spent painting the slums to bring joy to the colors of the people around her. When she was found by the Jedi. "You have a lot of memories of painting." Amon-Le spoke with mild amusement. Almost everything had Iris painting in some way shape or form. Iris just laughed and nodded.
"Why?"
"It was the only way I could think to talk to people."
"That changed, why?"
"Because of the people I met. Master Noble, Domxite, Kai, Eliphas, Briana, so many helped me see."
"But they're not all with you anymore."
Her smile faded as she nodded. Something else flashed. The memory of when she felt Domxite bleed. Of her argument with Kai. The other argument with Kai. The more she started to see and learn, the harder everything got.
"Wouldn't it be easier to return to the colors and stop seeing through them?"
"No." She was adamant about that. Her expression hardened into determination as she saw those moments. Not in anger, not in hate or fear.
"I can still help fix things."
"And if you can't?"
"I won't stop trying."
"It will not be easy." Amon-Le raised a hand. Visions of the future. Of what might be. Of Domxite shattered, of people dead and gone. Of people hurt all around her. The Darkness she constantly found herself fighting against, the one that continued to try and consume the colors.
"I know."
"Then why try?"
"Because that's the person I want to be."
"Are you not now?"
She shook her head.
"No, not yet. That's why I'm here."
The mist swirled around them as the Mystic watched in silence. Iris in turn, met his gaze. Focused on his eyes for the first time since she'd actually met him. No longer distracted by the colors, though that could just be because of the visions.
"Very well."