Private A Galactic Irony

[Efret Farr]

Deep in my structure /
I feel a rupture / . . .
I thought my demons were almost defeated​

---

Profound guilt had followed Master Farr from the Expansion Rim into the Deep Core, then through Mandalorian space to the doorstep of the isolated State of the Sith Order. It began pooling in her ever since she arrived at her destination—the Caves of Light and Shadow on Spintir—and knelt in one of the caverns some distance inside. It settled to the surface of her shins but refused to seep through into the rocky ground below, an emotional sepsis trapped in her body with no hope of resolution.

Except, she thought there was hope.

She thought this was her hope: being here, testing her conviction to the Light. Despite all that was happening, from her ethical dilemma regarding in effect encouraging the theft of Sith artifacts to dealing almost daily with the curse set upon her on Jedha, she was still a devotee to Ashla, just not a zealot. She'd surely win out against whatever Darkness still flowed through this cave system. Once upon a time, the cosmic balance here was skewed much towards the Dark side of the Force but, with the longstanding return of the Jedi Order, the scales were on a much more even keel.

Or so she thought they would be.

As she meditated, her presence in the empyrean flickered up and out around her as a flame from a wick, one that soon blew down to a smolder, unable to hold out against the breath of Darkness in this place. A memory that had implanted itself through her melded mind during the invasion of Coruscant flashed before her eyes:

—a small mammal lay dead on an altar, offal spilling from its belly and over the side towards the floor. She seemed to be in her own metaphysical body this time, free of the perspective of whoever had originally experienced these visions as reality. With her newfound mental control, she approached the macabre offering and noticed its deformed head.

Not mutilated. Deformed. Empathy still emanating from the corpse told her that it had been born rather than made this way.

Her heart began to beat against her chest in a way that it hadn't been yet, sending blood full of dissolved dread throughout her body. Something else in the air coaxed a chill down her nape and she whipped around to behold it.

Nirrah took the the air from Efret's shoulder as the human began to fall forward.

Fortunately, the icewolves left them both alone for now, the Jedi as she lay unconscious in the cave and Nirrah as she flew towards the exit, intent on searching out help in the form of something or someone.

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

F I N D I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

The crisp air of Spintir nipped at his skin, a constant reminder of the life he had chosen—or perhaps, the life that had chosen him. Once, he had been a name that inspired terror across the galaxy. His powers, fueled by the dark side, had been unparalleled. Now, the former Sith Lord lived in the shadow of his own legend, reduced to a humble existence in the mountains.

Marred hands plunged into the bucket, bringing a splash of ice cold water upon a weary face. He washed the grime away, as best he could, each movement slow and heavy. All days were long, merged together in a never ending routine of simple survival. In truth, it was all he had enough energy to bare. The man of the mountains had since become a legend on the farming planet. He no longer recalled how many years he had spent on the planet - nor did he care. It was silent, the dark musterings of his mind found it harder to catch up to him here. This was all that mattered.

He stood outside the cabin he had built with his own hands from the planet's natural resources. The walls were adorned with symbols and sigils, not of the dark arts he once wielded, but of protection and serenity—tokens of his feeble attempt to ward off the darkness within. It overseed the fields he sowed and reaped, encased by the forests he hunted and the mountains he had come to learn by heart. The dark tendrils of his very essence still stretched wide and far from his hulking body, but at least Spintir was not marred by it. Close to the Light nexus that resided deep within the mountain caves, nature would not fall beneath a darkness he refused to feed. He had allowed himself to be weakened by it, and every single day paid the toll that entailed.

And the hardest part of his day was still ahead of him.

Meditation.

Allowing himself to be alone with his own thoughts was a gamble the Seeker did not make often, for he had seen himself losing too many times. The call of the Darkside lulled him deeper and deeper until he was walking a path he could no longer steer from. The urges he was constantly trying to repress screaming until they could no longer be ignored, until they were satisfied. Even catching a glimpse of the scarred face he donned reflected in the water was enough to nudge the wrath - lying forever in wait for the slightest slip of his already fragile will.

He moved away, pulling the mask over is head until he was obscured again. Away from sight. He had to prepare to ascend into the mountains.

Today, however, felt different. As he donned his worn robes and began making his way, a strange sensation gripped him. It was as if the very air had shifted, a subtle whisper carried on the breeze. He felt it in his bones, a gentle pull towards the mountain caves. It wasn't darkness, and it beckoned him. He had felt its call before, a faint, distant echo that grew louder with each passing day. But today, it was undeniable, almost urgent.

With each step up the rocky path, his body protested. The lack of dark side energy left him weak, trembling. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his limbs felt like lead. The journey was torturous, and the urge to draw on his old powers, to let the darkness flood him with strength, was overwhelming. But he resisted, forcing himself to press on.

As he reached the entrance of the caves, the former Sith Lord paused, leaning heavily on the rock face. The pain was nearly unbearable, a searing against the cold air around him. He closed his eyes, trying to center himself. The Light side's presence was stronger here.

For years, he had come to these caves, hoping to find some semblance of peace, to rid himself of the darkness that had consumed him. He had never succeeded; the light hurt him, burned him, and yet, he kept returning. It was a paradox, a cruel irony that the one thing that could save him was the one thing he could barely endure.

His fists closed as he felt a suddent tug deep within his core, eyes widening beneath the mask. A presence. This was what he had felt hours ago, beckoning him. Yet it lingered too deep within the caves...well beyond the limits he would usually allow himself to go to because down there, Darkness reigned. And he knew he would kneel before it.

Yet he still followed, for he might not understand yet why the Force would lure him towards one who had chosen to delve into the darkness nestled in the caves - but it was the very same feeling that had brought him to Spintir in the first place. He had to trust it, and hope it was not a mere delusion.

​

 

[Efret Farr]

Something feathered, colored in shades of sand, and relatively small whizzed past the former Sith lord as he braved the caves' depths. Though it did not literally strike him as it flew against the Dark current sucking into the tunnel, a thought may well have: whatever creature that was did not belong here.

Ironically, Nirrah felt the same, not about herself but about Zeren.

Her desperate momentum flung her from the caves' entrance but her curiosity turned her around and saw her soar right back in. She overtook him again, in a different direction and at a slower speed, and fluttered onto a rocky cag sticking from the cavern wall a few meters in front of him. She couldn't help but ruffle her feathers in reaction to facing his Dark aura, showing initial signs of decomposition as it was.

She tilted her head at him deeply, its angle exceeding ninety degrees as she tried to make sense of him.

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

F I N D I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

As Zeren ventured deeper into the caves, the darkness seemed to grow denser, pressing against him like a physical weight seeking to make his way beneath his very skin. Every step was a reminder of the power he once wielded, the power that now threatened to consume him and that whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Resistance was painful.

A sudden movement caught his attention. Something small and swift flew past him, a blur of feathers against the dim light. He stopped, watching as the creature disappeared into the depths. The thought crossed his mind that whatever it was, it didn't belong here—just as he felt he no longer belonged in the galaxy's shadows.

It soon reappeared, its path now more deliberate. She flew back into the cave, circling him briefly before landing on a rocky ledge ahead. Her presence was an anomaly in this place of darkness, a creature of light and life where only shadows should dwell. Zeren studied. The bird's feathers ruffled, a sign of unease, and she tilted her head at him with a quizzical gaze.

The former Sith Lord felt a pang of discomfort under Nirrah's scrutiny. It was as if she could see through him, into the festering darkness he struggled to keep at bay. And that festering darkness wanted to bare its teeth at her. His hand instinctively went to the mask covering his face, a barrier between himself and the world. He tightened his grip on the rock face, helping his legs managed the weight of his own body.

For a moment, Zeren considered turning back. The further he went, the closer he came to the precipice of his own destruction. Yet, the presence he had sensed earlier still called to him, a beacon in the murky depths. He couldn't ignore it, even if it meant confronting the darkness he had sworn to escape. He looked once more at the bird, who dared remain before him. Convorees lived in pairs. Perhaps what was lost within the entrails of the caves was this one's missing half.

"You're a brave one to enter here." he murmured, his jagged voice echoing softly in the cavern and a wince following soon after, as he tried to not interpret the bird's curiosity as a challenge.

He took a cautious step forward and then another until he could get moving again, keeping his gaze on the convor. "Who is in there?" He was not expecting the bird to reply, but the distraction of speech helped him. Perhaps it would lead him to were he was supposed to go.

​

 

[Efret Farr]

Perhaps she did not reply with words, but she did straightened and give a singular hoot before taking to the air once more. She traced another aerial path around him before flying ahead. She felt his fear, similar to that which Efret had been infected with on Jedha but had not made itself known until she returned to Coruscant before the invasion.

For that one feeling, though he was of some Dark genesis, the small convor was not likewise afraid.

Her Light side energy that was equal parts due to her species and her chosen affiliation would likely be even more noticeable to Zeren as she soared on into the depths lit physically only by periodic clusters of kyber crystals. Hopefully, it was enough of an aural anchor to coax him along, but, even if it was, they would have to move quickly. Every flap of her wings and each footfall of his would count in this race against time; if he fell too far, she would not be able to fend for the both of them.

Nirrah led them partway down a long corridor, flying only a few feet at a time before finding a perch on which to wait for him, committed to staying close. From her last resting place, she flew into a natural alcove opening from the passageway.

She alighted on the shoulder of the Jedi Master's crumpled form. When Zeren joined them in the room of rock, Nirrah hooted again.

The form of a brunette woman underneath Nirrah's gentle talons was definitely no convor—probably a human of some variety. Her lightsaber hilt was hidden from his current view, clipped to her belt but tucked under the fold of her body. However, what gave away her allegiance to the Light side was a dying aura matching Nirrah's except for its size, but not its intensity.

It was slowly but surely bleeding out of her.

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

S A V I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

Each flap of her wings, each delicate hoot, was a glimmer in the oppressive void, guiding him through the shadows. Yet, the deeper he ventured, the more the darkness clawed at him, whispering promises of power and release, made his blood boil.

Nirrah's presence, though small, was a beacon of Light. Her energy was wholly opposed to the malevolent pull he felt, and yet, it was not enough to drown out the chaos within him. As they moved deeper into the cave system, he could feel the tension rise—an almost tangible weight that threatened to consume him. The flickers of kyber crystals along the walls cast eerie, intermittent glows that seemed to mock his efforts.

The convor eventually led him to a natural alcove, where her flight path ended at a crumpled form. Zeren approached painfully and cautiously, his heart racing not from the physical exertion but from the palpable aura of the Light side emanating from the unconscious figure. As he drew closer, he could make out a woman’s form beneath Nirrah’s gentle talons—a Jedi, he assumed, given the faint aura of Light surrounding her. But it was...fading.

His first instinct was to recoil, to let the darkness within him extinguish this last vestige of Light that could so easily be snuffed out of existance. The presence of the Jedi Master, weakened and fading, was a direct challenge to everything he struggled to control. An easy meal for the starving. The darkness surged within him, a predator vying for the kill. He could almost feel the Dark Side’s claws scraping against his resolve.

But as he stood there, the internal battle reached its peak. The dark whispers grew louder, his hands grabbing the sides of his head as his nails dug into his own scalp even through the mask. He tried to stay as still as possible, for he knew not if his next movement would betray him and lash out. Yet, amid the turmoil, something cut through the chaos—a voice, faint but clear, another whisper that cut through the darkness. It was not his own, but it wasn't like the others either. This one vibrated with a faint echo of the Light side. It urged him to open his eyes and look at the woman before him.

It urged him to save rather than destroy.

Who was she?

His resolve hardened against the onslaught. He could not relent, not here, not now. With a deep breath, he bent down, carefully lifting Efret’s unconscious form. The woman was quite small compared to him, and once her form was secured over his shoulder, he made to stand. His strength was waning, but he fought through the weakness, guided by the flickering presence of Nirrah and the faint pull of the Light side.

Zeren navigated through the twisting cave system, heading back towards the corridors that were drenched in Light. Each step was a harder than the last. He pressed on, driven by the need to protect, by the need of redemption.

Upon reaching a secluded spot within the cave system where the Light side nexus was strongest, Zeren set to work. He was no healer. His hands were tools of death and destruction. But the woman's injuried did not seem physical. He pulled out a small vial of a rare drought he had carried with him—a remedy made from the essence of a Murakami orchid's roots, he had planted the things himself near the nexus to which they had bonded to. From them, he produced this drought, which he himself took to stave off the darkness. His thumb popped off the cork quite easily, and with trembling hands he pressed the vial's rim against the woman's lips before allowing its content to spill into her mouth. At best it would help, or buy her some time. At worst, it would only invite calmness and peacefulness into her mind.

He arranged a makeshift bedding with one of the fur robes from his bag, and used the only remaining one, made out of dark fiber, to cover her. Night was falling and the chill settled in quickly. After settling Efret onto the bedding, Zeren gathered some dry materials and kindled a small fire, its warmth a welcome contrast to the cold, dark surroundings. He couldn't do much more than wait.

His fiery gaze glanced around, acutely aware of the icewolves that roamed the night outside. He would need to stay vigilant, he did not think they'd venture this deep into the caves, but the echoes of their howls did not put his mind at ease.

Zeren took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the fire seep into his bones. He was weary, his body protesting with each movement, but he remained resolute. For tonight, he would guard this fragile light.


​

 

[Efret Farr]

Something in Efret's unconscious had thought it better for her to slip into unawareness in a place like this, under threat of an encroaching Darkness that she had no hope of stopping. Perhaps part of her brain had reasoned that as long as the master was asleep her Light would be preserved, perhaps her midichlorians had collectively decided that it would be a mercy to slip away without any further feelings one way or the other.

Either explanation proved a miscalculation that would have led to an early grave had Nirrah not found Zeren, and had he not heeded that one whisper in his head.

His draught drifted into her dreams, which had grown even darker than they normally were. In the minutes before, if she was anywhere else but a Force nexus that had almost exhausted her down to her bones, she would have begun to stir—even to sign—in her sleep. The orchid root had its best possible effect: it began to drive off the Shadows that had implanted themselves throughout her psyche. It eroded channels through the plaque for the tendrils of Light to reach deep and begin to replenish what energy she had lost.

The night terror she had been previously embroiled in was an extension of the vision she had before collapsing. Not dissimilarly to what had eventually happened the first time she had mentally been here, the series of horrific scenes finally gave way to another entirely more welcome, but, instead of being the gardens of the Temple at Coruscant, it was a riparian bank in Bepru. Every detail of her home province on Lorrd was perfect, practiced as her recreation of it was, except for one.

Something cast a shadow onto the sun itself.

In her mindscape, the blurring and blind spots present in her physical vision did not limit her. Nor did the rules of the real world. She looked up to the celestial sphere. What obscured it wasn't a cloud, but an irregularly-shaped polygon with dark opacity.

Curious, she stepped back—once, twice, seven times; then to the right. No matter how long she walked in one direction or the other, the obstruction did not move.

Despite this, what light did reach the surface of the imaginary planet wrapped Efret in its golden embrace. Then everything became dark and she began to feel her actual limbs.

Soon after Zeren had settled Efret into the makeshift bed, Nirrah had nuzzled into a curve of her torso above the acting blanket. The Jedi master now took advantage of this positioning, using one of her elbows hidden under the article of fur to nudge her convor friend. After the gentle pressure encouraged Nirrah to open her eyes, Efret tethered her vison to the avian's; when she beheld the hulking figure of a stranger staring into the fire their mismatched company shared, so too did the woman, even against the black of the back of her eyelids.

She stayed very quiet for some time, taking maybe half an hour or longer to ponder the impact of every option she had of what to first say. He felt and looked relatively calm sitting across from her. What was more, by giving her warm coverings but taking neither for himself, suggested that he had not brought her here just to kill her. Still, his goodwill likely had bounds. She did not wish to say something that may agitate his relative amiability.

Finally, she settled on a phrase. Her hands reluctantly slithered out from under the fur coat lightly tucked over her. As she signed, the feminine voice programmed into the interpretation unit clipped on her tunic's neckline spoke the movements' meaning.

"Thank you."

Only then did she open her eyes to look up at the man. His stature, even while sitting, reminded her at once of her Dark Side Demon, but the portion of the mask he wore visible under his hood calmed that fear, though she still had multiple to spare.

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

S A V I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

Zeren stared into the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across his features. His thoughts were a difficult mix of relief and unease, the darkness within him still coiling and writhing like a living thing. The Light side's presence in the cave was a balm as much as it was an affront, the Seeker had long accepted he could never truly embrace it. Every second he sat there was a battle against his darker impulses, and each heartbeat felt like a countdown to something inevitable.

The quiet rustle of movement drew his attention. He looked up, his gaze settling on the Jedi Master. Her eyes were closed, but there was a subtle tension in her form. Nirrah, the small convor nestled into the woman's side, stirred at her touch. Zeren's eyes narrowed as he watched her hands emerge from beneath the fur robe. His muscles tensed instinctively, the ever-present threat of violence a hair's breadth away.

The darkness within him surged, interpreting her movements as a potential threat. His mind raced, imagining her drawing upon some hidden reserve of power, perhaps to strike him down while he was vulnerable. His eyes darkened, and his posture shifted subtly, becoming more predatory. The firelight glinted off his mask, adding to the menacing aura that emanated from him.

Zeren took a deep breath, fighting to suppress the rising tide of aggression. His hands clenched at his sides, the urge to lash out almost overpowering. But then, he remembered the voice—the one that had cut through the chaos in his mind, urging him to save rather than destroy. He forced himself to remain still, to let the moment pass.

As Efret began to sign, the voice from the interpretation unit caught him off guard. "Thank you," it said, soft but clear. For a moment, he was taken aback by the simple expression of gratitude. His instinctual suspicion warred with the part of him that wanted to believe in the possibility of goodness, however faint.

He spoke, his voice low and rough, the words a struggle against his own nature. "You... you're safe. For now." The words felt foreign on his tongue, a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. He shifted his gaze to the convor, a silent guardian of the woman at his feet. The bird's presence was a grounding, not everything in this universe was tainted by darkness.

Zeren reached into his pack, pulling out a small canteen. He offered it to Efret, his movements slow and deliberate, as if to show that he meant no harm. "Water," he said, the single word carrying a weight of unspoken intentions, he had taken notice of her muteness - but her deafness he was still ignorant to.

As the silence stretched between them, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the distant howls of icewolves echoing through the cave system. The chill of the night seeped into the cavern, and Zeren felt it keenly, his breath visible in the cold air. He glanced around, his gaze lingering on the darkened corners of the cave, ever vigilant for any threats that might emerge from the shadows.

As he watched the woman rest, questions began to surface in his mind. Why had a Jedi Master ventured so deep into these dark, treacherous caves? The Light side had been fading from her, slipping away like water through a sieve. What had she encountered here that had drained her so completely? The irony of his situation was not lost on him; he, a former Sith Lord, now trying to stave off the darkness for another, while he himself remained tainted and corrupt.

Zeren's gaze softened, if only for a moment, as he regarded the Jedi Master. She was a symbol of everything he had tried to leave behind, yet also a reminder of the redemption he sought. In saving her, he had taken a step towards something greater than himself. But a nagging doubt remained: had she been tainted by the darkness? Was she struggling with her own demons, much like he was?

The thoughts gnawed at him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her presence here than met the eye. He found himself wondering what had brought her to this point—was it a mission gone awry, or a personal quest for something lost? The idea that she might be grappling with her own fall from grace was both comforting and disconcerting. It made him feel less alone in his struggle, yet it also meant that even the Light could falter.

As he settled back, his eyes remained fixed on the woman. The darkness within him still lurked, waiting for any excuse to resurface. But for now, he held it at bay, a fragile truce in the midst of the encroaching night. The fire's warmth was a small comfort, a fragile barrier against the cold and the darkness that surrounded them. He knew they wouldn't be safe here for long, the hour of the wolf encroched upon them, but for the moment, they had a tenuous peace.

"Can you stand?"

​

 

[Efret Farr]

As she silently sat up, cold rushed into the cocoon she had been made. She resisted shuddering as she arranged her legs to cross in front of her and placed Nirrah into the gap formed between them and her torso.

The metal canteen was cool to the touch as well, though surely the insulation offered by the other contents of his pack had staved off the worst of the environment. She took it, fighting hesitation to do so, giving him a small nod of gratitude instead. She didn't fear possible ulterior motives. Empathy told her that there was no reason to, at least not now. He was exhausted not just of this cold but of his life. Beneath that, an equator of repentance and regret bundled together many, many dreadful feelings that Efret refused to name lest she linger on them.

Though the line was weak, its pulse was heavy.

He desired change, but it was driving him insane.

He scared too, she reminded herself in mental Sign. Alright, will-be. Her thumb and forefinger worked to unscrew the container's cap before raising it to her lips. As she took a drink of the water, she closed her eyes, an action of even more than trust, but faith. The liquid was warmer than it had been a moment before by the time it slid down her throat, but just a bit. Though there was plenty of Light side energy here to draw from, she had a limited amount herself with which to command tapas.

The heat remained when she returned the canteen by hand to Zeren as another thank you.

Every moment Efret tried to remain friendly and thus unthreatening encouraged her nervousness to grow. For now, it was hidden mostly inside, but she felt like she would burst sooner rather than later. She had grown proficient at recognizing when another person was speaking to her even if she was unable to see their lips, be that a trooper with his sunbonnet on, a protocol droid with a static faceplate, or countless other options. Thus, she was instinctively aware that her present company was trying to converse with her, going by how apparently intently he was watching her from behind his mask.

But she didn't want to say anything back, not really.

"Can you stand?"

The silence stretched on a little longer until Efret force herself to break its tension. She needed to be better than this sudden phobia.

"If you're speaking," she began, hands shaking with more than the amount of cold the fire couldn't cut, "I can't hear you. I'm Deaf." In this moment, she was ashamed of that for the first time in decades. Every source, Sith or scholarly, that she had ever read on the Force tradition clearly told her their definition of strength. There was no room for the diversity that stemmed from disability, only one ideal of the individuals that deserved survival.

She knew that she did not fit that in any way.

"But I can lipread," she added against the urging of her muscles to not offer the communication solution.

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

S A V I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

Zeren watched as the woman sat up, her movements slow and deliberate. The cold of the cave seemed to seep into every pore. His eyes tracked her as she took the canteen, her silent nod a small gesture of trust. It was a fragile thing, trust, he couldn't say anyone had expressed such a thing towards him before.

He noticed the subtle way she fought against hesitation, her fingers working to unscrew the cap of the canteen. As she drank, her eyes closed in a moment, and Zeren felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name. It was rare for him to see such openness, such vulnerability, especially from a Jedi in his presence. Her actions spoke of a quiet strength, a resilience that belied her current state.

When she handed back the canteen, Zeren took it, his gloved fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment. He drank, the contrast in temperature welcome, before he placed the canteen back into his pack, his gaze never leaving her. There was something about her presence that was... calming, despite the turmoil within him, and the former Sith Lord was trying his best to decipher what it was.

Her hands moved, signing words that Zeren couldn't understand. But the interpretation unit's voice filled the silence, explaining her inability to hear him. "If you're speaking, I can't hear you. I'm Deaf." The admission hung in the air, a revelation that left Zeren momentarily stunned. He had not expected this. Were he came from, one such as herself would not have made it past infancy. Not long ago he would have thought her faulty and perhaps even worthless, the whispers at the core of his corruption still did, but that was not his mind anymore. He found himself wondering about her journey, the trials she must have faced to reach this point.

As she mentioned lipreading, Zeren hesitated. The thought of revealing his face, exposing the scars that marked him as a fallen soul, filled him with an unfamiliar vulnerability. His mask had always been a shield, a way to hide the remnants of his past life. But in this moment, it was like a barrier he had no choice but to lower. He couldn't risk tapping into the Force and stirring his demons, even less so if he also had to try to reach her mind. He would not be able to control himself and knew it.

A moment of silence stretched between them, the weight of their respective burdens heavy in the air. Zeren knew he had to do something, to bridge the gap between them. But the thought of revealing his face, of showing the extent of his disfigurement, filled him with dread. The scars were not just marks of battle; they were a testament to his fall, a physical manifestation of the darkness that had consumed him. He hated his own image more than many other things.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. His hands moved to the mask, fingers trembling slightly. As he began to remove it, the air seemed to grow colder, the fire's warmth a distant memory. The mask came off slowly, revealing the ravaged skin beneath. His face was a map of pain, each scar telling a story of violence and darkness. His eyes, a vibrant yellow-orange, glowed with the corruption of the dark side. They were intense, almost hypnotic, unlike the rest of his appearance that would have convinced a ghost to run away.

Zeren's voice was low, almost a whisper, as he spoke. "You can read my lips, then." His tone was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, a hint of vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show and could not contain now. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, but could not meet it with his own. It made him acutely aware of his own appearance.

He leaned back, giving her space to process what she was seeing. The fire's light flickered across his face, casting shadows that accentuated the lines and contours of his scars. He knew he was hard to look at, and yet, there was something almost captivating in the way he carried himself.

The facts of his current situation kept replaying in his head. He was watching over a Jedi. The thing he had hungered for the most. And she was just sitting before him, being polite, despite his very essence being a homage to everything she stood against. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with her, a shared understanding of the struggle between Light and Dark.

He glanced at her again, tentatively, his expression softening. "Why did you come here?" he asked, his voice quiet but filled with a genuine curiosity. "What were you looking for?" The questions were simple, but they carried a weight of unspoken implications. He wanted to understand her, to know what had brought her to this place. He put the matter of moving aside for a moment, too focused in trying not to let his discomfort and vulnerability call upon his more terrible coping mechanisms.

For the first time he took a moment to really look at the woman, taking note of her features. And as they sat together in the flickering firelight, Zeren felt a strange, momentary sense of peace. It was fleeting, fragile, but it was there. This was the first time in a long while. And it felt so foreign, he couldn't help but sabotage it all on his own.

"We should not stay here much longer."

​

 

[Efret Farr]

He was hard to look at, but Efret didn't notice entirely, not yet. The practical need that was her listening style drew most of her attention to his lips. Though she could see the rest of his facial features in her peripheral vision, her focus was understanding what he was saying, not judging his appearance.

"Peace," she responded to his second question before answering the first. "I came to test a crack in my spirit, but it would seem I only made it worse." Under any other circumstance she could imagine, she would never entertain a Sith's questions, except...she might. No, she definitely would. Her training as an anthropologist demanded her to, if for no other reason than the hopeful give and take nature of cultural exchange. There were so very many questions that were well worth her life. If only she might understand another people, one that had confounded her for so long, she could die happily.

Well, not entirely—mostly.

"Very good." Nirrah, sensing the Jedi's movements before they became pronounced, took to the air. Efret unfolded her legs then stood, and the convor fluttered onto her shoulder. A lightsaber hilt wrapped with leather strips swung gently on Efret's belt. Its dull grey metal finish was not very reflective but caught some firelight. "Where shall we go?"

As she waited for an answer, she did two things.

First, she shrugged the darker fur robe on. After she had rolled up the sleeves that swallowed up her lithe arms, she stooped to pick the other article up of the floor, shook it off, and folded it rather neatly.

Second, she held her breath. She assumed he lived in some structure near enough, and hoped that he might tolerate her company for some time longer. There was no way that she could reach the capital of Reles tonight or even tomorrow in her current state. It was enough to be alive and relatively well, but it would be better yet to have a chance to recover more fully before making the journey.

She still didn't fully register the horrors of his visage as she waited, watching his mouth for an answer that would either condemn or continue to protect her.

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

S A V I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

Zeren watched Efret carefully, noting the way her attention focused on his lips rather than his scars. It was a small mercy. Her answer to his questions stirred a mix of curiosity and concern within him. Seeking peace in a place like this was a perilous endeavor, and her admission of a crack in her spirit was something he could share, even if his was shattered rather than cracked. He understood all too well the struggle to mend what was broken within oneself.

"Peace," she had said, and the word lingered in his mind, echoing with irony. For him, peace had always been elusive, a distant dream. But here she was, a Jedi Master, striving for something he had long believed unattainable.

As Efret stood, Zeren's eyes followed her movements, taking in the sight of her slight frame wrapped in the oversized fur robe. It engulfed her, and she looked almost fragile. It made him think about her vulnerability, Spintir was not always kind. He couldn't help but once more feel a strange, protective urge, to ensure she was cared for. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that both unsettled and intrigued him. Zeren had tried to help some in the many years since he had renounced his title and power, but it had always been with great difficulty. Now, because of her, he had felt moved to do so.


The lightsaber at her belt caught his eye, a reminder of the power she wielded despite her current vulnerability. The last time he had seen one had been a dark night. He had done dark things, and for a second the memory of them swirled in his eyes until the convor got his attention. He watched as Nirrah settled on her shoulder, the bird a silent sentinel.

"Where shall we go?" she asked, her gaze fixed on his mouth, waiting for an answer.

For a moment, Zeren hesitated. His home was a sanctuary, a place he had kept hidden from the galaxy and the people on this planet for years. Allowing someone else into that space was an act of trust he had never considered before. But the alternative was leaving her to fend for herself in the harsh wilderness, something he could not bring himself to do.

"My home," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "It's not far from here, but the road is hard. We can rest there."

He turned and began to lead the way, his steps cautious yet deliberate. The path to his home was treacherous, yet he knew it well. As they walked, he glanced at her from time to time, noting the way she moved, the determination and solidity of her stride. His body still wanted nothing mmore than to drag him down, and his movements were slower because of it.

Zeren's thoughts drifted back to her earlier words. "Testing a crack in her spirit." He couldn't understand why anyone would willingly face the darkness. He had been consumed by it, and the battle to reclaim even a fraction of himself had been almost impossible. The idea that she would choose such a path puzzled him, yet it also sparked some semblance of... respect.

As they approached his home, a modest structure hidden among the rocks, Zeren felt a pang of anxiety. No one had been here in years, and the thought of another person crossing the threshold filled him with insecurity. He paused at the entrance, his hand resting on the door, and glanced back at Efret.

He met her eyes for a moment, as if asking a question she was unaware of., Soon he turned again, pushing the door open. The interior was sparse but clean, his years had been of solitude. The fire in the hearth had long since gone out, and the space was cold and dark. He moved quickly to rekindle the flames, the warmth slowly spreading through the room.

He spoke, his voice still soft. "I'll get more wood for the fire."

As he busied himself with the task, Zeren couldn't help but steal glances at her. She seemed out of place here, a ray of light in the midst of his self-imposed exile. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him, if she could sense the depth of his struggle.

Returning to the fire, he added a few more logs, the flames growing stronger. He then moved to a pantry, before returning with a basket that was filled with some form of bread, some fruits, and cheeses. Everything within this home was of his own making. He traded for this or that now and then with the people in the villages, but it had been over six months since he had last descended from the mountains. He sat down across from her, the flickering light casting shadows on his scarred face, placing the basket within her reach. He watched her closely, his gaze searching for any sign of discomfort or fear.

"Why would you test yourself like that?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "The darkness... it's not something easily overcome."

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his own experiences. He wanted to understand her, to know what drove her to such extremes. In the quiet of his home, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the chill of the night outside, Zeren found himself waiting, hoping for an answer that might shed light on the mystery that was proving to be this woman.

As he settled, his gaze lingered on her, a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something he couldn't quite name. There was a certainty growing within him, a sense that there was something special about her, something that things much higher than him or her deemed worth protecting. He had never experienced such a thing, and in a way, it scared him. Why would such a task be placed on his shoulders?

​

 

[Efret Farr]

Her movements might have been more purposed and lively, driven by the promise of safe haven, than his, but she didn't leave him behind. Though she could easily discern the way to his home once they were on the inaccessible path, something strange within her urged her to keep close. As they hiked on together the biological illumination of glowbats weaved a loose net of gentle lights over the mountainside.

Once inside what she hoped offered him some sort of sanctuary from more than the elements, Efret sat on the floor near the hearth. Instinct perhaps derived from Empathy warned her to be careful of what she touched in here. It was obvious to her that the Light was painful to him just as a object tainted with the Dark side was dangerous to her. Therefore, she wanted to minimize the lasting effects that her presence could leave behind.

She gratefully accepted the basket of food when he produced it with a nod of acknowledgement. Her hands moved away though, reaching for a small pocket on her belt. The flap came unfastened easily under her warmed fingers, which soon after produced a pinch of dried mealworms.

Nirrah gave another gentle hoot, anticipating a feeding.

Despite the weight of their situation and the ache still settled in her body, Efret cracked a smile as Nirrah plucked the treats one by one from between the Jedi's fingertips. One more pinch satisfied for now.

Before Efret had a chance to reach for food for herself, she glanced to Zeren. The way that this larger fire's light accentuated the harsh, hateful topography of his face gave her pause. Deaf individuals and Lorrdians were naturally expressive peoples, so, as both, she couldn't keep her emotions off of her own facial features. Her eyes widened just so with surprise and fright—not of him, but for him.

Just as soon as she emoted that, she focused once more of the mouth forms he made while asking another question of her. A response came to her immediately, so she began to give it. However, as she did, a pang of self-consciousness threatened to trip up her signs.

"There's a tribe on the other side of the Outer Rim called the No-Kiran. Their atmosphere turned toxic long, long ago following a supervolcanic eruption that involved mostly outgassing rather than explosions or lava flows. They believe that the air around them is a pharmakon, both poison and cure in the correct doses and given in the right circumstance. They've fashioned masks to filter as they breathe, and thus limited the atmosphere's negative health effects. But, whenever a person suffers an illness that is not directly related to bad gases, the shaman goes up with them to the volcano's vent to breathe untreated air together."

The realization that she must be living up to a Sith-held Jedi stereotype was unbelievably strong. She had once told a knight that there was a thin line between a Jedi acting on delusion and acting on hope. This reasoning must seem to Zeren to be the former.

Yet, Efret was not worried that he would say anything aloud to admonish or offend her even if it did seem that way.

She continued, "I can't explain to you how exposure heals their other ails, but I can promise you that I've seen that it does." Her gaze slid into the fire. "I thought I could experience it today, but I miscalculated."

Silence settled back between them for no longer than a minute. "I... My mind was melded when I came into physical contact with a Dark Jedi's dagger." She looked back to him over the flames. "I think it carries the memories of its previous owners because now I see them. Often."

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

S A V I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

She accepted the basket of food with a grateful nod, but first reached for a small pocket on her belt, producing dried mealworms for Nirrah. The sight of the bird gently plucking the treats from her fingers brought a small, genuine smile to the woman's face, and Zeren watched. It was something that would have seemed so simple and inconsequential to the vast majority of people. To him? He had never seen anything like it, anywhere near him. Much less within the walls he dwelled.

When Efret looked back at him, the fire's light casting harsh shadows on his scarred features, he saw her eyes widen with surprise and something that stung more than he expected—fright. For a second he froze, feeling as if that very moment was about to be the end of this little string of warm and peaceful first times and kidnesses he had never experienced before. It was, after all, only a matter of time until she saw him for what he was. Just another monster. For the first time, this didn't make him feel angry. Instead, he felt self-conscious, a pang of something akin to sorrow replacing the usual surge of rage. It felt wrong to see her scared of him, at least according to what he saw.

Her hands began to move, forming signs that he couldn't understand but payed attention to anyways - trying to identify and follow their patterns even if the device ensured he got her meaning. Her story about the No-Kiran tribe and their belief in the dual nature of their toxic atmosphere was intriguing, if not a bit disconcerting. She had tried to apply the same logic with the living Force. The hunter was having trouble understanding what would have brought her to that. Was she ill? His answer did not take long to arrive.

When she mentioned the Dark Jedi's dagger and the visions it brought, Zeren's heart clenched. Once upon a time he had been the creator of such curses, the carrier of a malice strong enough to break others in a million different ways. For the most part, he still was. Now, in his current state, he understood the torment of unwanted memories all too well. Her gaze slid into the fire, and he found himself wanting to comfort her. This was something he didn't know how to do, and so he did nothing.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know what it's like to carry the darkness with you. To see things you wish you could forget."

He shifted uncomfortably, the firelight flickering across his face. His eyes mirrored hers, again he felt an inkling of the living weave stir, it was something fragile yet undeniable. Once again, his soul felt the need to run from it.

He watched her for a few moments longer. He had asked all the questions, and had many more. He wanted to ask about the dagger and where she had found it. There were sorceries he knew well, some even he knew how to reverse. But something told him it was wrong to keep asking, for he had not offered her any answers in return. He was not a talker. He was not social. And feeling vulnerable made him feel discomfort and nervousness. His next words he let slip out of his mouth low and...shy, in a way.

"I'm called Zeren."

​

 

[Efret Farr]

When he paused to study her, she returned the favor. It felt rude to break the silence she knew had fallen, for she wouldn't just be filling idle time. She'd be interrupting his internal monologue. There was much to think about, to process. He needed it. Her arrival had introduced, ironically, chaos into this relatively quiet life he had made for himself. She was a Jedi, yes, but to a Sith, even one trying to reform, her calm was akin to a degree of confusion.

It was all about perspective.

So she regarded him quietly too. Without the need to read his lips, her eyes wandered, connecting his mouth to his nose to his cheeks to his eyes to his forehead. His face registered again as a whole, but, this time, neither of her previous emotions showed themselves. What she felt now was not quite an Echo. There was no visual perception of what he had looked like what must have been so long ago. It was more of an overwhelming sense of knowing, of retrocognition. He had been conventionally beautiful, even striking.

And she made a choice right there that she would never change for as long as they knew each other: that she would see him as both of those things still.

Another smile spread across her face when he introduced himself. How was she so gentle and soft despite everything? "My name's Efret." She motioned up at her convor friend. "She's Nirrah."

Then she carried on, some part of her inexplicably comfortable with this conversation. "It's...bad but perhaps I should be more grateful. I'm also blind, partially. What vision I don't have, I've lost since birth. Nirrah helps me see, is why I can read your lips from there."

Efret shrugged her hands rather than her shoulders. "My biggest fear has been losing more of my own sight. In a way, these visions remind me what it was like before it degenerated to the point it's at now. Even when I'm awake, I can see these scenes perfectly by myself. They're like imprints."

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

S A V I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

Efret’s quiet response, the way she so casually accepted both his appearance and his name, stirred something unfamiliar in him, a strange blend of discomfort and reluctant appreciation. He wasn't used to this, to someone treating him as anything other than a monster or a ghost of who he once was. The calm with which she accepted his presence was both unsettling and… intriguing.

When she spoke of her partial blindness, Zeren’s gaze flicked to Nirrah, the small bird that served as her companion and eyes. There was a part of him that understood the reliance on something outside oneself for clarity, though his own crutch had been far more malevolent than this serene convor. Her admission about the visions she experienced brought up the echoes of his own past. He had seen, felt, enacted, and been haunted by more than his share of darkness.

Yet, the idea of offering comfort or protection was an awkward fit, a cloak he had never learned to wear. He couldn’t shake his nature, the deep-seated corruption that had carved out his identity long ago. But the old impulses were clashing with something new, something that her presence was stirring. The conflicting feelings sat heavy in his chest, pulling him in opposite directions.

“What do you see?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with a controlled curiosity. “When the visions come… what is it you’re seeing?”

His inquiry wasn’t just for the sake of conversation. There was a practicality to his question, a darker edge rooted in his experience with such things. He needed to understand the scope of what she faced, if only to assess the potential threat or, perhaps, to see if there was a way to mitigate it. His concern was pragmatic more than protective, or so he told himself.

As the silence stretched between them, Zeren found his thoughts drifting to the fact that they would soon need to rest. His home was small—a modest construction he had built himself. The idea of offering it to her unsettled him, but it felt like the right thing to do, even if it meant pushing through the discomfort.

He cleared his throat, almost hesitant. “The night grows long, you can take the bed,” he said, the words coming out softer than he intended. “I’ll manage here by the fire.”

It wasn’t an offer he made lightly. The bed, when sleep would come to him, had been his only real comfort in this place, but it seemed right to let her have it, if only to keep her comfortable enough. That thought alone made him tense, realizing that despite his discomfort he wanted her to stay, the complications her presence brought into his life taking second place to seeing her regain the strength she had lost.

​

 

[Efret Farr]

In the time between her words and Zeren's, she took a piece of bread from the basket, carefully peeled it apart down the middle, and stuffed a slice of cheese inside. She had taken a bite by the time his question came.

She frowned. Though she had mentioned having visions to the grandmaster, Efret hadn't discussed the details of her condition was anyone. The Darkness clung fast to her and she was afraid that if she reached out to anyone in her life it would take to them next, so she had decided to suffer in silence. But now she didn't to worry. Surely she couldn't tell a former Sith of any horror that he had not in some way already come to know.

Speaking was an opportunity to take away some power that the curse lorded over her—

"Many things. Kaggath. Ritual sacrifices. Alchemical experiments. Torture of prisoner of war."

—but taking it it wouldn't immediately make her feel any better. All she felt instead was dirtier. She had miscalculated; giving her ghosts names had only pleased them, and in so doing strengthened their hold over her. Her multiple embarrassments intensified: that facing them had backfired, that she had ventured into the deeper caverns of the nexus, that she had fought that Dark Jedi on Jedha. None of it should have happened. If she was better, none of it would have happened.

She busied herself with another bite of her sandwich, hoping that the mechanics of chewing would distract her from her disappointment.

After another bout of silence, he spoke again.

"Alright," she said, opting to accept his offer instead of arguing. The residual Light energies nestled into the fibers of his bedclothes, the very layers of his mattress, would surely be offensive to him for some time after she left, but she recognized that he needed acceptance more than auspice. "Make sure to eat." She nudged the basket towards him before getting up, putting the last of her meal into her mouth, and shrugging off the oversized robe. With a small smile, she handed it to him.

He'd need a blanket.

Zeren​

 

[Zeren]

S A V I N G​

WEAPONS: Bow, vibroblades.
WEARING: XxX.
TAG: Efret Farr

Zeren watched as Efret took a piece of bread and cheese, it was a good sign that she kept her appetite. Her response to his question about the visions was chilling, each word pierced through with the image of suffering and darkness. The descriptions she offered—Kaggath, ritual sacrifices, alchemical experiments, and the torture of prisoners—were familiar to him, each one a mirror to the sins he had once committed. His past as Darth Misios, the Sith Lord who had reveled in such horrors, surfaced with a brutal clarity.

The darkness within him stirred, rising like a malevolent tide. He could almost feel the ghostly echoes of his past actions thrumming beneath his skin, pressing against the boundaries of his self-control. Memories of his own Kaggaths—those battles of life and death, where he had obliterated not just his foes but their entire legacies and cults—haunted him with vivid intensity. His victory had always been total, his dominance absolute, leaving nothing but voids where lives once existed.

In a moment of desperation, Zeren reached for a vial from a hidden compartment on the floor, within many more vials of the murakami essence he had shared with her. As the liquid poured into him, he felt a fleeting calm, a temporary escape from the oppressiveness of his past. The darkness retreated, but only to a degree, its presence still palpable and hungry.

Sitting by the fire, he let out a weary sigh, his gaze returning to Efret. He noticed how her demeanor shifted, the mention of her curse clearly affecting her more deeply than he had realized. Her struggle was not dissimilar to his own, yet there was a key difference between the memories and emotions that plagued him and those that tormented her.

"You may be carrying them now, Efret," he said softly, his voice almost lost in the crackling of the fire. "But those are not your memories… not your feelings. They are them's."

He knew his own experiences with darkness, his capacity to destroy and his indulgence in the evil of the Sith, was a deep abyss he could never fully escape. Yet he could offer something to her that he struggled to accept himself: a recognition that her suffering, though real, was a result of something external. The curse was not a part of her essence, not her true self.

Zeren shifted uncomfortably, the weight of their conversation mingling with his internal struggles. His movements were slow as he prepared to settle in for the night, keeping an eye on the dwindling fire. The bed was indeed a small comfort, but it seemed to be the right thing to offer her, if only to provide a bit of respite from the harshness of their surroundings.

As Efret handed him the oversized robe and nudged the basket of food toward him, he accepted it with a nod, grateful for her kindness despite the awkwardness of their exchange. He could feel the exhaustion creeping into his bones, a drowsiness that followed the suppression of the darkness. It was an uneasy tranquility, but it was enough for now.

"Thank you," he said, his voice tired but genuine. "I'll make sure to eat. Rest well."

With that, Zeren adjusted his position by the fire, trying to find a semblance of comfort in the uncomfortable. The warmth of the fire, the weight of the robe, and the faint remnants of the murakami essence worked in tandem to bring him a fragile peace. He watched as Efret settled into the bed, this night could be over in relative calm.

As sleep began to claim him, Zeren's mind remained tangled with the ghosts of his past and the hope that somehow, despite everything, he might find a way to help her find peace from her own. Hoping to find his still seemed to be asking for the impossible.

XxXx
​

As dawn's first light crept through the small windows of his humble abode, Zeren stirred from a restless sleep. The fire had long since dwindled to embers, and the chill of the early morning air nipped at his skin. He rose slowly as to not wake his guest, the weight of his dreams and the remnants of darkness still clinging to him. The murakami essence had brought a temporary reprieve, but it had done little to erase the shadows from his mind.

Zeren began his morning routine, moving with practiced ease despite the early hour. He stoked the fire, adding fresh wood to rekindle its warmth. The glow of the fire gradually dispelled the cold, casting a warm light over the rustic interior. His home was modest, with rough-hewn wooden walls, simple furnishings, and a sparse but functional arrangement of tools and supplies. He set about his chores methodically: washing a few dishes, tidying the small space, and preparing a pot of some infusion over the fire.

As he was about to exit his eyes would look for the convor, perhaps it would appreciate roaming the surrounding woods in the early morning. He would tend to a small herb garden right outside, which he kept for both culinary and medicinal purposes. The morning air was crisp, and the faint hum of early wildlife provided a soothing white noise as he worked. Zeren was careful, his movements kept efficient and deliberate, keeping an eye on the home's entrance to ensure he'd be aware when Efret stirred.

As the sun began climbing higher, Zeren glanced back at the bed where Efret slept. He knew she needed her rest, and he felt a pang of reluctance to intrude on her recovery. His chores were a distraction, a way to keep his mind occupied and avoid delving too deeply into the darkness that lurked just below the surface of his consciousness. For now, his focus was on maintaining the small semblance of peace he had found, both for himself and for his unexpected guest.


​

 

[Efret Farr]

"You may be carrying them now, Efret. But those are not your memories… not your feelings. They are them's."

Yes, they were—for now but perhaps not forever. Their derivatives could be hers if only she took inspiration from her visions and acted.

She didn't actually want to but the realization of the possibility made itself known to her at once in that remote cabin of a self-exited Sith lord. Though it was easy enough to jerk her mindset away from the intrusive thought at first, it came back with offspring: further posits and follow-up suggestions.

Maybe it would be easier to cope with the awful things she saw if she did them, if they didn't stay in her head.

Wouldn't it be a little like draining an abscess? It would promote the healing process. She'd feel better after.

Her fear of what had been done to her slowly gave way for the first time as she drifted off to sleep, only to be replaced by a fear of self.

---

As Zeren went about his indoor chores, he might have noticed how Efret's hands moved even as she slept. Her small computer didn't interpret her signs since she had both switched it off and secured it in a pocket of her utility belt, but that was just as well; she wasn't making much sense. Still, neither her face nor the rest of her body gave any indication that she was having a bad dream.

Instead of disturbing the Jedi, the sounds of Zeren's morning routine roused Nirrah, who was very happy to be let outside. She soared out of the door as soon as he opened it.

Efret woke half an hour or so later, then took another few minutes to push the blanket off of herself and sit up. She drew her legs, still on the mattress, towards her torso, ran her hands down her legs, and, around the latitude of her ankles, angled her palms up towards the ceiling. Her head bowed in the gratitude she made time for each morning. A few more minutes of stillness was spend there, before she stood and began to make the bed. Then, she cracked the door open. "Zeren?" she asked, the monotonous voice of her programmed interpreter carrying on the mostly-still wind.

Nirrah had been watching him tending the garden from one of its fence posts, but quickly forsook the perch for one on Efret's shoulder instead.

Zeren​