Sometimes, Elise loathed being a shaman.
She loathed the psychometry, the Force Empathy and memory walking she could not control. She loathed the effects of the Mother's Root, and how she was unable to properly own it compared to her full blooded peers. She loathed the burden, the weight of being responsible for healing all harms but the ones she herself were afflicted with. - She loathed the plague of nightmarish visions, showing her futures she never wanted to see come to pass.
She had been watching the holonet for a while now. She clenched her buy'ce, her Mandalorian helm, in her hands as she sat up, back straight, with a sickened expression on her face. She watched as the Mandalorian Enclave, lead by her own grandfather, treated with the leaders of a rebellion they had successfully crushed.
As much as she loathed the deaths of her own vod at these twi'lek' hands, she could not blame them for revolting. Most of the Galaxy did not have the gifting she had as a Dreamseer, but even the twi'lek' populas had seen how dark the Enclave was becoming. A new generation of zealots were not only entertained by their elders, but encouraged in their ways of senseless violence. The elders, meanwhile, had meaning behind their actions; reasons Elise also could understand. And yet, watching this all play out before her, Elise shivered at the ruthlessness of a grandfather who had only loved her growing up.
Her throat felt tight and swollen. Her skin crawled, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Memories of a terrifying vision rolled on in her mind. A hellscape of flesh and blood stretched as far as the eye could see. A hot, humid atmosphere and a revolting, mushy ground beneath her feet. Mountains of bodies stretching into eternity, and the familiar grandfather holding his beskad... proud of the world he had created here.
Swallowing back bile, Elise forced herself to continue watching the screen. Why did it have to become this? Why had she not done more to stop it? Her mother had been wary of the new generation of vod, and worried about the Enclave's future - but she had never denounced the Crusades in of themselves.
"We die to live, we live to fight. I just hope this won't be a senseless cause we fight for."
The Enclave was her mother's home. There was no way she would ever turn her back on it, despite sometimes disagreeing with its actions. With grief, Elise wondered what her late father would think of all of this. What advice would he give her, if he saw her struggling alone in this room.
Elise's vision became blurred, watching the screen. Her own sister was on full support of this... madness. What had become of her? Elise remembered the timid, shy Chiss girl her father had rescued from Mawite remnant slavers. Teaching her to defend herself, playing with her, reading her bedtime stories of legends of ancient Mandalorian heroes. Now, Mevia was... something different.
Once again, her vision beckoned from her memory. That hellscape of carnage. Her sister had been there too, seemingly unbothered by that terrible place. Elise watched the screen as her grandfather punished rebels who had earnestly been fighting for their freedom. She had seen so much carnage in her dream, yet she distinctly remembered the twi'lek remains within all that slop. The twi'leks... she remembered Rodian remains as well. As she watched the live footage detailing her grandfather's treatment of the rebel leaders, horrified, she hated the realization she was coming to. With a grimace, Elise gritted her teeth as tears streamed down her face .
"Why... are you doing this?..."
She listened to the chants of her own people. Mandalorian brothers and sisters who were transforming into something darker. She heard their chants, and she saw a Mandalorian faction becoming the same type of monster it previously had fought against.
"Why... are you making me do this?"
Her vision, her nightmare, was coming true. The curse of being a Shaman, the curse of knowing an unchanging future, haunted her. Arr'huwal's words echoed in her head. It taunted and teased her with what she knew she had to do...
""But he made a choice that benefitted two peoples - though yours may force a dichotomous decision that may yet benefit one over the other....""
"Please don't make me do this!..."
Her shaking hands clenched her buy'ce, still in her lap. They also gripped a Mandalorian dagger. A Mandalorian dagger, which was stained with one tear that had fallen from its owner's eye.
"Be strong, Jac'Eli'Serum. You carry a heavy weight. But, you are not alone."
Elise closed her eyes. A sob escaped her, knowing fully well that soon now, she would be an exile from her own people. Soon now, she would be counted as a traiter - perhaps even dar'manda by some. Soon now, her family that she loved so much... would consider her the enemy.
"But Arr'huwal..." She cried out, lifting her hands and reaching out, dropping her weapon, "I am alone!"
Her buy'ce fell to the floor, the visor stained with streaks of tears.
