Private A little light

[Mathilde Leyweald]

War had come to Ukatis.

The great warrior-heroes her father had told her about so long ago brought fire and ruin to the planet's capital, leaving only cinders and rubble in their wake - and, just as quickly as they had come, the raiders departed, returning to the safety of their own borders. The damage was done, of course: the infrastructure was ruined, the population displaced, and fear now clouded the minds of many, even beyond Ukatis.

And, to Mathilde's chagrin, her parents argued endlessly on the matter. Her father, ever the noble knight, answered the earnest pleas of the refugees with the same kind of determination that made him beloved to the subjects of his dukedom. As many fled to the countryside, he ensured that the food meant for winter would be distributed by his bannermen among the commoners, and worked tirelessly to erect temporary shelter for them... and so the name "Bohemond" was brought to many lips once more, his righteous deeds kindling the fire of hope in the hearts of those who had lost so much.

But Victoria did not share her husband's enthusiasm. Artois was a quaint little dukedom, a place where she enjoyed a peaceful and remote existence with her family, away from the bustle of the capital and the rest of the nobility who looked down on them so - and now, that tranquil peace was shattered. When a few desperate souls took to poaching, her anger finally boiled over, and no amount of assurances from Bohemond could bring her calm. Striding on out of the castle gates, Victoria had been quick to disappear within the nearby woods, quickly followed by her beloved. More than anyone, he was aware of just how cruel she could be when provoked...

Mathilde, for her part, could only hope to see her parents reconcile. Resting her back against a tree at the edge of the forest, the gentle girl hummed to herself as she basked in the rays of the afternoon sun, sketching out a Mandalorian helm on a piece of paper. As ever, she was all but blind to her surroundings, lost in own little world... but when the rabbit resting in her lap suddenly perked up, looked on over to the fields and then darted in the other direction as fast as his little legs would take him, she let out a little sigh, setting her pencil aside and looking over her sketchbook.


Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

In the wake of the Mandalorian assault, Corazona could not sit still. The death of her husband had chased her away from Ukatis, but her people's suffering had seen her return.

It was a trickle, at first. Along with her brother Dominick von Ascania , she and Makko Vyres had guided civilians to safety through the network of underground tunnels beneath the palace. Then, she returned to aid the Alliance's spread of relief, and again to check on her family. The crown had warned her against coming back after Horace's death, but Cora imagined that they had bigger concerns at the moment.

The Jedi had kept her involvement quiet until she couldn't. While her own position as royalty was precarious and uncertain, there were many who recognized her simply as a Princess in mourning, unaware that she'd taken her husband's life. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to put her status to use for the benefit of others.

Civilians affected by the assault needed shelter, food, and clothing. Most of the countryside communities were not rich in credits, but they had other resources at their disposal.

A chestnut mare crested the field that overlooked the Leyweald estate. "Easy," Cora cooed, patting the mount's neck gently when she whinnied.

Artois was a little territory nestled next to Ascania, separated by a depth of forest. Cora had been close with their scion, Mathilde, in girlhood. Some of her fondest memories were with the young dreamer; the two often spent their time together running through the forest or jousting with sticks, pretending they were knights in the way that children did. When they grew a bit older, they talked about their hopes for the future, and what life was like beyond their little world.

They grew older still, and then apart. It was neither sudden nor quick, but the gentle current of life carried them from one another.

Blue eyes flickered toward a familiar pulse in the Force, a head of brown hair nestled against a tree, a sketchpad propped up in her lap.

Cora smiled at the sight of an old friend.

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Mathilde's friends were few and far between - the bipedal and sentient types, anyway. If anyone cared to ask her, the girl would simply smile, and point out that all rabbits seemed to be her friends, hiding away from hunters and predators alike in her arms, as if she held the power to keep them safe and smite down their pursuers. Which she did, unaware as she may be of her power. But Corazona had been... a special kind of friend. Someone with a real brightness to her - not without flaws, of course, but brilliant and true nonetheless.

Perhaps they were bound to drift from one another. Cora's duties kept her in the capital, a place Mathilde seldom visited. Every single time the family was invited to some event or another, she found the notion of attending to be oh-so very uncomfortable: from a young age, she realized that she would never truly belong here. The aristocracy looked to her father as nothing more than a warrior, a jumped-up brute, and her mother's distinctive lack of submissiveness had ruffled some feathers in the past. Not to mention Mathilde herself, whose head seemed perpetually in the clouds.

From the moment Cora left Ukatis, their paths took them in different directions. Mathilde scarcely ever left the dukedom of Artois, much less the planet itself: and, while her friend learned under the tutelage of the Jedi Order, she kept on dreaming. With her friend's return and her marriage to Horace von Cholmondeley III , she truly felt as if a shadow was cast over the blonde. So much so, in fact, that she had made the difficult effort of visiting her in the capital on a few occasions.

But now... here she was. Why her childhood friend had come to the estate could wait - welcoming her was far more important to her. Slowly standing up from her comfortable resting spot, the sweet dreamer walked on over to her friend, a tranquil smile pulling at her lips.

"It's good to see you again, Corazona." Words uttered as softly and calmly as ever.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

As Mathilde stood and welcomed her, Cora's smile broke into a grin; an expression that might've been considered a tad unladylike in the upper echelons of Ukatian society.

Drawing closer within earshot, Cora dismounted the mare and grasped the reigns in one hand, guiding the docile creature forward as she approached her friend on foot.

"Mathilde," She met the gentle greeting with one of her own, but no small amount of exuberance danced behind her eyes. Between the two of them, Cora had always been the more rambunctious one, especially as a child.

Bypassing decorum in favor of something more genuine, Cora pulled the brunette into a one-armed hug and inhaled deeply.

The last time they'd been together, the Princess was living listlessly underneath the shadow of a powerful man. Mathilde's visits were appreciated as a time where she could relax, however briefly.

Pulling away, Cora fixed her friend with another smile. She'd grown, they both had, from children into young women.

"It's good to see you. How've you been? How are your parents?"

Even if Cora was aware of Bohemond and Victoria's differences, and had caught whispers on her journey here, it was not a loaded question. If they declined to further support restoration efforts - some provinces simply couldn't spare any of their limited resources, among other reasons- she would be satisfied by simply visiting a dear friend and her family.

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Although more than capable of showing the form and decorum expected of nobility, Mathilde had never quite cared to let protocol stand in the way of her thoughts and feelings - another reason for her to be an outcast in the eyes of more prim and proper ladies, perhaps, but quite a blessing when it came to maintaining honest friendships forged in truth, and genuine emotional bonds. So when Cora wrapped her old friend in a hug, the brunette was all too glad to reciprocate, embracing the chance to show the affection she felt for the Jedi.

"I dream on", came her simple response as the two young ladies parted from one another, a gentle smile pulling at her lips... before vanishing, her gentle features betraying a rare sign of worry, her brows furrowed and her eyes lost in contemplation. "Father's actions are anchored in compassion and humility. Mother believes that his heart blinds him to reality, and that he allows the refugees too much. The woods haver ever been her home as well as mine, and... father does not always understand." There was a certain sadness behind her words, brought about by the clarity behind her words. For a dreamer with her head in the clouds, Mathilde was... almost unnervingly perceptive at times. If there was a soul on Ukatis she could not stare right through, then she was yet to meet them.

"Bohemond Leyweald is not a name that invites respect from the nobility. Not that he cares much, of course: as far as he cares, his oath is to the people. But, enough about my family's troubles. I imagine you have from mourning on Coruscant because of what the warriors-knights did? Father was as impressed by them as he was furious. I fear he might just take his bannermen and go into battle again soon."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Unlike Cora who'd been trained to verbally dance around unpleasant subjects, Mathilde's words were always earnest. It was an aspect of their friendship that had surprised the young noblewoman, but one that she was grateful for, especially now.

Princess or not, it was important to understand the drives of both the aristocrats and the commonfolk.

"I was…in Axilla when they came." Disengaging from their embrace, Cora sighed. Her eyes looked past Mathilde, gazing into the middle distance where she saw images of collapsed buildings and bursting refugee camps. "Dominick and I were able to ferry some civilians out of the city during the assault." A tinge of a smile touched her features, recalling how her younger brother had grown. Much like her, Dom's sheltered disposition had been shattered by the truth of her marriage.

Cora brought her focus back to the present, smiling a little more genuinely at Mathilde before looping their arms together.

"I can see your father's fury and your mother's concern. War may have only hit Axilla, but its effects are rippling across all of Ukatis. I certainly hope that there won't be a need for him to gather his bannermen for a fight, but I am grateful for the help that your family has given. Truly."

As much help as the Alliance had provided, multiple worlds had been hit in the Mandalorian strike, making aid trickle in a little slower. Axilla was a densely populated city on the verge of overcrowding as it was, so many denizens had fled to the countryside. Based on the context Mathilde had provided, it seemed both of her parents had valid points – Bohemond wanted to help as much as possible, and Victoria urged balance out of concern for her family's peace and wellbeing. They Leyweald clan, as pleasant and genuine as Cora found them, were often looked down upon by older, more established families. Viscount Ascania among them.

Cora chewed the inside of her cheek; if she'd still been in a position of power, perhaps she could have negotiated a deal between the crown and the rural provinces regarding aid distribution and support. Although still in exile, she hadn't made big enough waves for the King to be concerned with her. At least, not yet.

"I've come back several times since the initial battle to do what I can, and I've taken to the countryside to see what help can be spared. I know that it isn't an easy ask for many provinces, given…well, you know."

While a few notable names held large swaths of farming territory, many of the agrarian regions were held by lesser-titled families, and consequently had less wealth. It didn't help that the Choldmondeley family was stingy when it came to supporting rural areas.

"I'm…glad to see that you're alright, Mathilde" Cora's voice softened as she gave her friend's arm a squeeze.

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Mathilde had not been privy to the truth behind the unfortunate death of Corazona's husband, and thus she knew only of the tale of the mourning widow, staying on Coruscant to grieve with a little privacy from the rest of the court. The truth of her friend's exile remained hidden away from her gaze, and considering her habit to remain in Artois, the chances of her ever finding the truth on her own were... slim. A good thing, too, because Mathilde would have not missed a chance to be upfront with the blonde.

Or perhaps even got it in her head to talk her parents into supporting the exiled princess, throwing in their humble House behind her, come what may.

"Mother and I stayed in Artois, but father sallied out with his bannermen to meet the warrior-knights in battle. Instead, he found a tide of hapless people fleeing the city, and made sure to escort them safely." Ever the heroic soul, who chose to safeguard the innocent above all - even justice itself. In this, he proved just how far he had come along from his days as a bold knight. "You know we have little love for Axilla, but its people did not deserve to lose... everything. Just as you know that my parents and I never cared much for what lies beyond Ukatis, up until now. Father has half a mind to gather like-minded nobles and ask his majesty to let us leave the Alliance, if our membership brings such ruin from the stars! When he is not contemplating joining the war effort to avenge Axilla, that is... mother cares not for the Alliance, either - not anymore that she does for anything beyond Artois. I prefer to warn you of this now, given how you are with the Jedi. They are the Knights of this Alliance, from what I know?"

A thoughtful soul she may be, Mathilde knew... precious little of what went on beyond the night sky of Ukatis, and it showed. Although far from naive, this was a weakness she had not been confronted by until warriors of legend suddenly became a real, tangible threat, rather than a topic she found herself quite captivated by. Now, more than ever, the poor dreamer felt vulnerable, and not a little foolish... and her expression betrayed more than merely thoughtfulness. There was melancholy, and a sense of discomfort.

"Sorry. I know you are not here on official business, and I am-" There was a pause, then. For the first time in... many years of friendship, Mathilde was at a loss for words. With their arms looped together, that little squeeze claimed a soft sigh from her, those deep eyes of hers betraying a certain relief, now. "I missed you, Coco. For... a long time. I was very worried about you."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora listened quietly to Mathilde as she spoke of her concerns, relaying her own story of what had happened when the Mandalorians had come. Cora had only seen their assault in a vision, and returned planet side in the midst of the assault.

Axilla was always a complicated topic among the nobles who lived in rural territories. She'd certainly been privy to her own father's criticisms of the capital, how Cholmondeley had lost his way and gradually siphoned support from the agrarian provinces to feed more urban development. Cora had wholeheartedly believed that opening themselves up to the greater galaxy would be a good thing for Ukatis, but not everyone shared that sentiment. Moving forward, she was unsure of what would be best for Ukatis.

Her expression softened when Mathilde ran out of words, then expressed her genuine concern. Cora smiled thinly, blinking back the glassiness of unshed tears from her eyes.

"I…"

Now it was Cora's turn to not know what to say.

"It has been a difficult year. I won't lie. I'm doing much better now though, all things considered…"

Horace had taken parts of her she'd never get back, but Cora was finally allowing herself to accept the support of those around her, and work towards building a better future for herself.

She sighed softly.

"The galaxy is a dangerous place. The Alliance interfered in Mandalorian operations on Ryloth, and I believe that Ukatis was targeted in retribution." Cora was unsure of how much to say, but she wouldn't do her friend the disservice of being dishonest. "Whether or not Ukatis chooses to rejoin the Alliance will be up to the crown." A fact they both knew, but hearts and minds could be swayed by the nobility. "If such threats like the Sith, and now the Mandalorians did not exist, I might not push hard for membership. But with the state of the galaxy as it is now, I would encourage it. The Alliance has been able to provide food when our harvests fall short, aid in rebuilding what was lost, and who knows how much worse the assault could have been had they not intervened."

The words almost felt sour in her mouth. Cora's dedication to Ukatis and her people was absolute, and she had trouble reconciling the fact that Ukatis had suffered for being apart of the Alliance. A casualty for someone to make a point.

Her gaze flicked from Mathilde's face to the sketch pad she was carrying.

"What have you been drawing?"

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

"My dreams make it hard to see the world, sometimes", mused the gentle dreamer softly, her gaze oh-so gentle as it was brought to rest on her friend's features. Mathilde had never been the time to look away from something happening in front of her, and the sight of those tears threatening to spill was enough for her to continue - just as her father had taught her that truth can scorch, and so kindness must always accompany it. "But you are my friend, and a radiant soul beside. For all of my family's disagreements with yours, none of it rests on either you or me. If you ever have need of me, you know I would be happy to help you anyway I can."

And that was that, it seemed, if only for now. By her own admission, Corazona was doing better now. But better, as her father would often tell his bannermen, was often the unlikely foe of good. Never should those men at arms under his command strive to be better than those who came before: instead, they should always fight to do good by those they swore to protect. For all of her dreaming, however, Mathilde was all too aware that others disliked her. Why would the other young ladies rub shoulders with the daughter of a jumped-up knight and a lady of inscrutable origins? Why would they show her patience, when she spoke so freely, rather than dancing with the rest of them as they had been taught?

And she knew all too well that Corazona did not want this reunion with a dear friend to be spent meandering around the difficult topic of politics. Something that Mathilde lacked any particular skill to perform. Not with how earnest of a dreamer she was. And yet, speak she did, treating her friend with the same honesty she had always shown her, knowing all too well that bonds built on lies would take them nowhere.

"If what you say is true, then the Mandalorians would never have attacked us, were we not a part of the Alliance", remarked the young noblelady softly, and perhaps a little prudently. "An Alliance that only ever seems to help Axilla, and a king that made his intention to turn his attention inwards quite clear. The invaders only struck the capital - the place the court spent so long building up while ignoring us. I care not for the graces of the crown: my parents and I are content living in our dukedom in peace, left to our own tranquil existence. It... allows me to dream soundly, mother says. But, why would we care to come and help a king that cares nothing for us, and no longer represents people like my father?"

Words that bordered on treason, perhaps, but spoken with such earnest confusion behind her voice that most would realize that Mathilde was not being rhetorical, and merely... unable to comprehend the complexities behind it all. The poor girl, it seemed, was genuinely at a loss on how to reconcile it all.

If not for Bohemond's sense of duty, the Leywealds could very well have turned the refugees away. A trouble for the crown to sort out, after all, unless the king saw fit to give some powers back to his nobility... after all, none of them were blind to the fact that strenghtening ties to the Alliance and pushing resources towards developing cities gave the crown the chance to make those nobles in the periphery irrelevant. With food arriving from the rest of the Alliance, was use was there in placating capricious barons and dukes?

And then, Corazona drew her attention elsewhere, and the dreamer proved how quickly that fluttering mind of hers could find itself distracted, her lips curling into a soft smile once more as she turned her sketch pad around for her friend to see just what he had been working on...

The fascinating sight of a Mandalorian helmet - or at least, if an Ukatian blacksmith was made to craft it! The rather creative blend of Ukatian and Mandalorian culture in that design betrayed Mathilde's fascination with the invaders, as well as her admiration for her father. One of the last of his kind: a true knight, clad from head to toe in plate! Then again, most might find offense with the sketch's content itself...

Yet another sign of just how beautifully carefree Mathilde's mind could be. A tranquil little dreamer she remained.

"What do you think?" asked the girl softly, tracing a finger along the visor, reinvented into quite the refined Ukatian visor.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"R-radiant soul?"

Crimson crept onto her cheeks at the compliment. Knowing Mathilde, it was certainly in earnest - but that didn't keep Cora's fair features from flushing. Her lips quirked upwards a little, into a small smile as she squeezed her friend's arm.

"Of course." She sighed. "Whatever disagreements our families have, we are our own people."

In some Ukatain circles, a laughable notion that women were anything by an extension of their father or husband's will.

Even if the subject of politics was uninviting, Cora saw it as unavoidable given her involvement in the war. The capital may be important, but so were the people living in Ukatis' rural regions. No life had more weight than another, another laughable idea to many Ukatian aristocrats, but one that Cora now firmly believed in.

"Cholmondeley has become complacent and lost his way. Perhaps he has forgotten that many of the soldiers who rallied to his side - our own fathers included - came from the very agricultural regions he now ignores.”

The vast majority of Ukatis was rural farming territory. A handful of cities sprawled along the southern shores, rapidly modernizing after Cholmondeley had taken the throne.

Nearly fifteen years ago, a bloody civil war erupted over Ukatis' insular state. A series of difficult growing seasons left many Ukatians without food, and the crown's insular nature refused both trade and aid from outside worlds. Cholmondeley, along with those noble houses who believe that Ukatis could better maintain itself by opening up to the galaxy instead of withering away under a tyrannical despot, rallied for change.

Civilians and soldiers alike had lost their lives during the civil war, or due to starvation. Slowly, Ukatis began to rebuild itself. Foodstuffs flowed from the capital into rural districts, and advances in technology elevated Axilla to the galactic standard. A sense of stability was found under the Confederacy of Independent Systems, then the Galactic Alliance.

And now, war had ravaged Ukatis once more. War from beyond the stars, a war that had left the capital in ashes as collateral for a dispute that Ukatis herself had no hand in.

Cora could see, achingly so, how Ukatis could blame both the Mandalorians and the Alliance for what had happened.

"This Alliance…I had hoped that it would help all of Ukatis." Her voice was soft, defeated. "I've seen what the crown is like up close. I wish that I'd had the power to do more."

Horace had been content to let his wife work with the Alliance on her little project that helped to establish equitable healthcare among the rural regions. Until her inability to produce an heir after a year of marriage had been called in to question.

The contents of Mathilde's sketchpad reclaimed her rapt attention, at first for the strange nature of her friend's drawing. Among the rolling hills and ethereal fauna, she did not expect to see a Mandalorian helm staring back at her, etched in graphite.

She blinked, tilting her head to the side, as if seeing the sketch from a different angle would demystify it. Harsh lines had become more angular, more ancient, more…recognizable? Cora blinked again.

Then, a slow smile began to curve her lips.

"A much better design than what they usually wear." She announced. "You've always had such a creative mind, Mathilde. If only more Ukatians were like you, I think we would be in a better place."

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Seeing Cora so flustered might bring a smug grin to some, of the shit-eating variety: but Mathilde was all but incapable of doing something of the sort, her smile remaining oh-so very gentle in the face of her friend's reaction, although perhaps a little more vibrant than usual, almost... loving. Not that Mathilde had ever been in love (as far as she could tell, at any rate): her only knowledge of the subject was through the dreams of others, after all! But when she looked upon her dearest friend, the gentle dreamer knew that she wished to see her safe, to see her smiling, to see her happy.

Ever the great listener, she listened to Cora's words calmly, and with rapt interest: just as her friend had shown incredible patience for her in the past, the gentle noble was more than happy to return the favour. Slowly, calmly, she removed her arm from her friend's own... and, seeing how deeply and personally the radiant Jedi took the failure of the Alliance to provide what she had hoped it would, Mathilde wrapped her arms around her in a gentle embrace, keeping her there for a moment.

"This is not your fault, Coco. I know your heart, your intent, the goodness within you." Gentle words uttered in a voice barely above a whisper, her friend given just enough time to register them before she parted from their embrace to show her sketchbook - and the compliments she received claimed a soft little gasp from the dreamer.

"You have ever been a kind voice in my life", remarked the brunette with a thoughtful little hum. "Most called me air-headed, lost in the clouds... but you never did. And I can never thank you enough for that. Except, perhaps, with..."

A tortuously slow flip of paper, revealing the previous drawing she had been working on - and one that looked far less like a sketch, and more like... proper art. It must have taken her weeks, if not more, to put so much detail into the features of her friend, looking so peaceful and tranquil, regal and dignified... happy. On one side, Corazona was clad in the robes of a Jedi, a lightsaber in her hand: on the other, the fine robes of a Ukatian princess, a crown in the other hand. A simple dichotomy, perhaps, but one that was, as ever, telling of the girl's perceptive nature.

Then, there was another flip of the page, and yet another drawing of Corazona, this time full embodying the virtues of a Jedi: bathing in a radiant aura, this romanticized depiction of her friend was, for all of its artifice, shockingly... precise. With her stance speaking of those Ukatian depictions of honorable and courageous knights, the Ukatian Jedi was depicted battling an unseen adversary adversary, the blue glow of her blade clashing against-

A red lightsaber?

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Mathilde's embrace was warm and lacked the harsh judgement their people were known for. Cora smiled distantly, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

Pulling back so that she could place her hands on either of the dreamer's shoulders, her smile warmed a little more. "You've been my truest friend on Ukatis, Mathilde. Anyone who calls you air-headed is nothing more than a blind fool."

Cora had always thought her friend a bit odd, but in an endearing sort of way. Mathilde didn't like to partake in gossip and showed no interest in tearing others down for sport or her own benefit - an unfortunate game that many noblewomen, resigned to the strict roles that had been assigned to them from birth, played out of powerlessness or hatred for their own station.

The pages of the sketchbook flipped, revealing the visage of Cora herself in a distinctly Ukatian style of art. Curiosity for her friend's art turned into a brief look of confusion, then reverent surprise. Half Jedi, half Princess. The latter had merely been a resume builder for her father, and a symbol of goodwill towards the Alliance, but it was a part of Cora now.

The next drawing gave her pause. Everything about Cora stilled - her hands, her breath - except for her eyes. Here she was a Knight of old, a virtuous warrior revered by Ukatian tales that stretched back for thousands of years.

Cora finally moved, her fingers tracing gently along the length of the red blade. It seemed so real, so accurate that a shiver trawled up her spine. Surely, Mathilde had seen depictions of Jedi and Sith before? Right?

"They're beautiful."

Her words rode on a breathy exhale, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "You've always been a proficient artist, but these are wonderful. Your skill certainly has grown."

There was something else, though. Cora lifted her eyes from the page and settled her searching gaze on Mathilde. Perhaps news of her capture by the Sith had reached Ukatis, but she couldn't have been sure. That wasn't the sort of information that the Alliance disseminated freely.

"But how did you know about Thule?"

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Some of those few who visited the forests of Artois likened the place to a peaceful, quiet place to rest - but where one might very well just find themselves falling into a deep slumber, only to realize upon their awaking that years had gone by. They were wrong, of course: or, if their words held truth, then Mathilde was wholly unaffected by the dreamlike qualities of her home. Not only had she improved in her technique in those last few years, but she seemed to possess a certain... uniquely soothing presence. Oh, she had always been a calm and gentle soul, to be sure, but never quite so tranquil, as if her gaze could offer peace.

And yet, the word hypnotic would feel... rather gauche. No, there was no such inclination to lose one's self into her gaze, to abandon control over to her. Only peace, offered freely by a soul who seemed all too incapable of hurting another, and whose soft features betrayed naught but confusion in the face of her friend's words, the tender smile pulling at her lips in the wake of such heartfelt compliments slowly vanishing.

"Thule?" asked the dreamer, her gaze a little lost. The name was not familiar to her, and yet the depiction was almost eerily similar. For a moment, a look of concern crossed her features, as if she suddenly feared that Corazona might suddenly find her too odd, just as everyone else did. Had she done something wrong? Depicted her friend unkindly? Just as it seemed that she might cast her gaze downwards and sniffle, however, the sheer warmth that preceded this moment returned to her, all but banishing her worries. The feeling of her dearest friend's palms resting against her shoulders, misty-eyed as she spoke of their friendship, and just how much the dreamer meant to her.

There were more sketches and completes pieces of art alike within, but Mathilde had no desire to let Horace von Cholmondeley III 's ghost hover over the conversation: sometimes, she considered tearing up the pieces depicting him, perhaps even ripping them out of her sketchbook to feed to the hearth within her family's castle.

"Sometimes, I dream of what was, what may come... and, often times, they are but dreams. I have never told anyone, but - sometimes, my dreams are rooted in reality."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

In the moment, Cora was too distracted by what was staring back at her from the page to feel Mathilde's trepidation in earnest,

The more she looked, the more it appeared as if the scene had been ripped from her own memory. The faint background of a dessicated world, slowly flowering with new life as the revitalization ritual took hold to terraform Thule. What struck her most was the drawing of a tiny bud blooming from the cracks in the earth, just beside her foot.

Cora vividly remembered staring at that blossom in fascinated horror. A fleeting second that would stick in her mind for as long as she lived, now reflected back at her from the surface of the sketchpad.

It wasn't uncommon for dreams to borrow from reality. But to dream of something that would come to pass in the future? That was something different altogether.

Visions brought on by the Force could be terrifying, jarring even. Cora had seen Axilla burn while on Thule. As a child, she'd glimpsed a few seconds of Volkhardt's location after her little brother had gotten lost in the woods and injured himself.

"Have any of the things you've dreamed of come true, Mathilde?"

Cora's voice was gentle, but there was a firm undercurrent to her tone.

"I ask because…" She glanced to the sketchpad, the red lightsaber, the little flower.

"Something very similar happened to me on a planet called Thule."

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Corazona's words were met with nothing more than silence, her old friend pulling the cover back onto the sketchpad and holding it close to her chest, her gaze betraying just how uncertain she was. Bohemond knew not of his daughter's plight, and neither did Victoria- although the latter held some suspicions of her precious child's nature... and now, her dearest friend asked her something that left her afraid. Unaware as she may be of the truth behind what she was, the tender daughter of the woods feared the ramifications that might follow even the slightest cant of her head. Stuck in the clouds as she was, Mathilde knew that she was different than others, and Ukatis had taught her that being different brought only fear and scorn from others.

That fear of others, of anything beyond Artois, was so deeply ingrained within her that she could only turn towards the forest, a sudden desire to run emerging within her. To let her legs take her as far as they could, and collapse into the embrace of roots, moss, and dirt. Had it been anyone else, the brunette might just have followed that call, that instinctive desire to find safety within nature's embrace, rather than facing the grasp of the outside world. Or perhaps she could merely lead her friend astray, telling her of her fondness for Noctum tea blend and its pleasant properties-

No. Father said not to lie, and if I ever must, I will never lie to her. Not Cora.

Her eyes closed, and she moved to lie down onto the grass, looking just about ready to fall into a deep slumber, her hands resting over her chest. Slowly, carefully, she worked on her breathing, inhaling deeply, and exhaling softly, calm washing over her as her eyes fluttered open once more, and she looked to the skies above them. Clear and beautiful. A sunny day.

"Yes", she spoke at last, her heart skipping a beat, and her stomach twisting into knots. "More than once."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A pang of regret worked its way through Cora's heart when Mathilde went quiet and pulled the sketchpad close to her chest. It hurt to have felt like she'd touched a sensitive subject, but it reminded her that the dreamer had spent a lifetime being derided by others.

When Mathilde laid down in the grass, Cora settled beside the girl and tucked her legs beneath her. While her friend concentrated on breathing, the blonde looked out over rolling fields of green. Unfocusing on the horizon, she was struck by the thought that for all of Coruscant's riches, you could never find such a view on the Jewel of the Galaxy.

Mathilde spoke her answer, honest and plain. Cora let out a low exhale, careful so as to not startle her friend or send her fleeing in fright like a spooked doe.

"I'm glad that you told me, Mathilde." Her soft voice had taken on a quality that she hoped was soothing.

Trees rustling at the edge of the property heralded a gust of wind. It overtook them for a few moments, tousling blonde and brunette hair before it passed.

"When I was…ten, maybe eleven? Volk snuck off into the forest and hadn't come home by the time it was dark out."

Volkhardt von Ascania was the third eldest sibling in her family, one known to be a rambunctious lad. Now a teenager as tall and wide as their father, he still maintained a childlike wonder and innocence about him.

"My father and mother were so worried. Father and some of his men searched everywhere they could think, but they hadn't found him after many hours. I was so worried that I couldn't sleep. I'd just begun to doze off when I had a vision of him inside an old hollowed-out log at the base of a ravine. At first my father brushed me off, but when they checked – there he was. It turned out that he'd fallen down the cliff, broken his leg, and crawled inside of the log to sleep when nightfall came."

Cora shook her head, able to look at the situation through a lens other than how terrified she'd been. Volk had been alright in the end.

"That was my first vision. It is how many people find out that they're…"

She paused, wondering how to phrase this.

"Mathilde, I think you and I are alike."

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

Corazana von Asciana was a woman she could trust, no matter the burden, nor the secret. This was the entire reason why she even dared to admit the truth, and speak of the great mystery behind behind her life. Why she managed to lie down in the grass and stare at the sky, rather than make a dash for the woods and retreat beneath the trees.

"I trust you", spoke the dreamweaver gently, her voice so low that her words might just get lost in the wind as it blew over them both, the tussling of their respective manes of hair somewhat soothing to her. Here they were, two young women who knew one another since they were girls, so very different, and yet... alike, as the blonde soon pointed out in the wake of a story that felt a little too familiar, and whose implications left her quiet, and filled with worry.

"But I don't want to be like you", admitted the tender grovetender fearfully. "You're so much braver than I am, Cora... you've gone in the stars, far beyond Ukatis, to learn under the knight-mystics. You are kind, radiant, and many more righteous things besides. I... am not. And, I- I don't want to leave home. I've seen enough of the world when I came to visit you in the capital, and I realized it was so scary. So empty, without the singing of the birds and the howling of the wolves..."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

She doesn't want to be like me?

Cora's stomach dropped. That thought hurt, but Mathilde went on to outline their differences. Things made a little more sense, and it took a conscious effort for the young Jedi to push through her feelings and re-center herself.

This wasn't strictly about her, no. This was about Mathilde admitting something uncomfortable to a friend.

"You are kind too, Mathilde. And braver than you seem to think." Cora spoke softly, voice carrying on the dying wind as she looked back to the dreamer.

She tried to understand.

"I just…worry for you, is all." Cora placed a tentative hand atop Mathilde's own. "You're gifted, Mathilde. The Force can be amazing, but it can also be harmful if used improperly."

Her gaze slipped to the side, back to the forest.

"Not that I think you'd hurt someone intentionally, of course."

No, Mathilde was soft and gentle. She wouldn't harm a fly.

"I'd never dream of trying to rip you from Artois, but you'll tell me if something doesn't feel right?"

Mathilde Leyweald

 

[Mathilde Leyweald]

The gentle grovetender looked just about ready to calmly protest her friend's words, to tell her that for all of her radiance, Corazona was wrong about her, that she was nothing more than a meek little thing who lived as a recluse - and would most likely die as one too... but the words could not quite leave her lips. If she did so, then she would be calling her dearest friend a liar, and she knew, deep in her heart, that she would never be led astray by one so kind and radiant.

"I'm scared", spoke the dreamer at last, moving back into a sitting position, the words lingering in the air around them. And when that hand came to rest atop her own, she turned to face the Jedi, melancholy etched all over her features. Without such a gesture, or the kind words that accompanied it, then... where would she be, truly?

"The world beyond Artois is unfamiliar, strange, and... wrong - so many places where everything that makes the world alive is gone! Forests, rivers, meadows - all of them replaced for circuits, machinery, and industry. Only, now, I realize that the galaxy will not simply leave me alone. Warrior-knights descending upon us from the skies I once looked upon with such wonder has... brought me clarity, I suppose, and with it, fear." There was a sad sense of helplessness about her, weighing down on the poor dreamweaver as she looked to her friend for some measure of comfort, that doe-eyed look of hers capable of making even the most brutal of warlords hesitate.

"I promise you, Coco, you will be the first to know if I ever... if I ever slip."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Mathilde nearly dissolved, and Cora was almost moved to tears. It took a conscious effort to hold them back at seeing her friend upset.

Blue eyes drifted up towards the sky. It was clear and cloudless, a bright blue that contrasted with the heavy smoke that choked the capital in the wake of such destruction.

"I'm scared too, Mathilde." She admitted, and squeezed her hand again.

"We're not children anymore." Cora said softly. It was not an admonishment, but an acknowledgment. A somber one. "I think you're capable of more than you give yourself credit for."

A quiet smile for the dreamer, but she wouldn't push further.

With her free hand, Cora reached for a rock, and balanced it on her knee. Fingers spread towards it, the small stone shuddered, then lifted itself several inches in the air. Cora let it hover for a few moments, then guided the pebble to rest on Mathilde's knee.

"Can you try to move that? Concentrate on the stone."

Mathilde Leyweald