Private A Single Leaf

[Kyric]

Atrisia
Hirata Sanctuary
Inosuke Ashina | Henna Ashina | Sol Dara

A single Davro-class light freighter roared out of hyperspace at an imperceptible speed. Its nose tipped toward the planet and descended without much fanfare. Atrisia's relationship with the Galactic Alliance made it an accessible planet to visit, but the X-Wing escort and check-ins frustrated Kyric to no end. He wondered whether or not his father dealt with that nonsense, even as the boy transferred his ship's tags and reported their purpose for their visit to the planet's security force.

Once cleared to land, Kyric's gaze shifted over to Sol in the co-pilot's seat. The mirialan had sharper features than he thought typical of a mirialan, but she bore their customary geometric tattoos. It made the distinct lack of headwear all the more confusing. Kyric always assumed the practice was something of spiritual importance to her people's faith.

"Hey, Sol," Kyric directed the ship away from distant metropolises and barren fields toward a span of mountains east of them. "I haven't met many mirialans personally, but some of the readin' I've done said it's pretty commonplace for force sensitives to wear head coverings and the like. I noticed you don't. There any particular reason?"

Kyric exuded sincerity with his question, Sol would have little trouble picking up on it. The kiffar very much wore his heart on his sleeve.

Snowy mountains and frozen rivers would eventually give way to a single estate nestled away from the much larger cities of the planet. Kyric veered the vessel that way. He did a complete circle above the sanctuary, stopping only after the Cerulean Blossom hovered above a large enough space to house the light freighter. The ship descended several hundred feet to touch down on the snowy earth right beside where two figures already stood.

The hulking piece of refurbished metal rocked from left to right on contact but otherwise went inert. "Perfect," Kyric said to himself and stood. He engaged the ramp, which descended twenty to thirty feet behind them. Moving toward the ramp, he stopped at the top, turned back toward Sol, pantomimed a deep and over-the-top bow. "This way, my lady."

The kiffar chortled all the way down the ramp to where Inosuke and Henna Ashina awaited them.

"Good day, Master Inosuke," Kyric bowed first to Inosuke, then to Henna. "Master Henna." His best approximation for anything traditional by Atrisian standards was most certainly laughable, but it's not as if his master had been strict on the matter of decorum thus far and Kyric was doing his best. The kiffar straightened and motioned to his guest. "This is Sol. She's not the most prepared for the Jedi thing, so I thought, maybe, this could be a good place for her."

 

[Sol Dara]

Atrisia was beautiful. Figuratively and literally a whole new world to the mirialan. She drank up the sight as they soared over the landscape, too distracted to pick up on the kiffar's stare.

"Hey, Sol," Kyric directed the ship away from distant metropolises and barren fields toward a span of mountains east of them. "I haven't met many mirialans personally, but some of the readin' I've done said it's pretty commonplace for force sensitives to wear head coverings and the like. I noticed you don't. There any particular reason?"

Sol hummed in acknowledgment as she put together an answer, her eyes never leaving the glass that let her peer into the white world beyond. "What you've read is correct. The force is integral to mirialan culture. Being especially intertwined with it is a great gift and skill. Wearing a headdress signifies the depth of one's understanding, or their wholehearted devotion." The girl blinked, a sudden wave of melancholy washing over her. She knew she didn't answer Kyric's question, just spouted things he seemed to already know. The real answer was a bit tricky, and a bit of a sore subject at the moment. Sol wasn't about to get into it with a boy she had only known for a few hours. She didn't like to hide things, but for now, she would choose a safe answer.

"Also, sometimes head coverings or headdresses are worn as a way to protect extrasensory organs we have on our heads that are sensitive to certain types of atmospheric changes. I simply haven't felt the need to don one." Regurgitating facts was easy. Being honest right now was, apparently, not. It was hard to be honest when she wasn't able to find the words for her feelings that weren't part of one large, nervous tangent. The more she thought about it, the more it could probably be summed up in a simple word.

Shame.

But that was a lot to unload on a new friend. So 'atmospheric temperatures' it was.

The bad feelings slowly melted away as Sol focused on the changing landscape, the estate, and the two people who came into view. One might think it odd or dangerous for a young woman to simply agree to board a ship with a man she had never met before to go to an unknown location. They would be correct. But for the first time in a few days, Sol had some sense of inner peace in the presence of the stranger. And if the will of the force was for her to follow him to even more strangers, so be it.

The hulking piece of refurbished metal rocked from left to right on contact but otherwise went inert. "Perfect," Kyric said to himself and stood. He engaged the ramp, which descended twenty to thirty feet behind them. Moving toward the ramp, he stopped at the top, turned back toward Sol, pantomimed a deep and over-the-top bow. "This way, my lady."

Sol grinned as she followed the other, offering her own polite bow at the top of the ramp. "Thank you." She descended the ramp with far less evident glee as Kyric, but found his joy endearing. She let Kyric take the lead as they came to a stop before the two masters, offering up her own bow in greeting. Sol stopped herself from glancing at the boy when he said, 'She's not the most prepared for the Jedi thing', because he technically wasn't wrong, but it could have been worded better. The mirialan respectfully waited for the masters to speak first.

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Henna Ashina | Inosuke Ashina | Kyric ​

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

"This is Sol. She's not the most prepared for the Jedi thing, so I thought, maybe, this could be a good place for her."

The Lord of Hirata Estate stood slowly from the outdoor seating he shared with his consort. Descending the trio of stairs that connected the deck to Hirata's mud-and-gravel path, he met the duo a dozen paces prior to the estate proper. Inosuke's token austerity didn't waver in the presence of his guest. Dispassionate in his regard, he silently scrutinized for a moment before speaking, "Your thoughts linger on your old Master. On Coruscant." Not exactly the warmest welcome, though Kyric had opened with claims of her ill-preparedness.

"You have endured much, have you not?" A trace of warmth resonated in Inosuke's tone, betraying the callous facade of the stony-faced sovereign. A discerning twist took over his features. Eyes drifted toward his apprentice then back to the guest. "Yet, I sense lasting defiance in you." It came with an inkling of reservations, though he'd spare the girl any more intrusion onto her mental faculties.

Again, he looked back to Kyric, his attention abiding over the young Padawan. "Explain yourself," he instructed firmly, low volume preventing a perception of indignance. "This is hardly a place for the ill-prepared. What do you hope to accomplish by bringing her here?"

 

[Kyric]

"Explain yourself," he instructed firmly, low volume preventing a perception of indignance. "This is hardly a place for the ill-prepared. What do you hope to accomplish by bringing her here?"

"While I'm not the empath my father was, I could feel her emotions as clear as mine back on Coruscant," Kyric paused long enough to look back at Sol, then locked eyes with Inosuke. "Auteme asked me to stop in on some protests takin' place at Monument Plaza. Make sure everythin' was on the up and up. Shocker, but uh-" Kyric's gaze shifted between whoever appeared to be listening as he spoke. "-it wasn't. Some guys were gonna start beatin' one another to death, maybe result in a riot. Sol talked most of 'em down without liftin' a finger."

Kyric paused his over-explanation long enough to put serious consideration into his master's final question. What did he hope to achieve in taking her away from the New Jedi Order?

Kyric looked Sol up and down, imagining her hands clutched around her saber's hilt, favoring the Diplomat's Form against an unbeatable enemy. Crimson flashed through his mind's eye and when he next saw the mirialan, her body lay unmoving. Nothing more than another lost in an endless war with their ancestral enemy.

"I'll need allies when I go to face Solipsis. And her conviction won me over." Kyric spoke with his typical self-assuredness, and while he maintained an air of deference to Inosuke, the boy seemed at ease–as if the matter was already decided.

Inosuke Ashina | Sol Dara | Henna Ashina ​

 

[Henna Ashina]

Sol Dara | Kyric | Inosuke Ashina

"There is a long road before you're ready to face the likes of the emperor. Temperance.” Henna cautioned, joining her consort’s side.

A pair of curious golden orbs examined the pair. Without need for seeking, the tapestry of time unfurled before her eyes, weaving past, present, and future into a mesmerizing tableau. In the symphony of fate, she witnessed a hundred battles, each echoing with a hundred possible outcomes, some etched in stone, others as fleeting as a whisper.

Amongst them, she discerned the Sword of the Jedi, leading armies as a composer would. Asmundr’s memories, then. Kyric's resolve, fueled by the fires of youth, was inscribed amongst the stars. His destiny intertwined with that of his companion, Sol. Yet hers was a different essence, not etched upon the canvas of her would, but a trait forged through repetitive strike. The makers mark was a familiar one.

"Sol. Yes, you were Selira’s padawan.” The name breathed new life into memory. “She spoke fondly of you. We trained together on Tython, as girls, and worked closely in years after. Do not dwell on her absence. She is one with the force.”

The cutting words were not learned atrisitan traits; both her and Selira had picked up their master’s attitude about moping. A flurry began around the party. Small flecks of white gradually melted away as they decorated the visitors.

“Come.” Beginning up the steps, tea was left abandoned as they made for shelter. The inviting glow of a hearth flickered behind the shoji. “Do you wish for her to walk the path of the blade, then, Kyric? Does such a training even interest you, Sol? It is a far cry from anything your master would have taught you.”

 

[Sol Dara]

"Your thoughts linger on your old Master. On Coruscant." Not exactly the warmest welcome, though Kyric had opened with claims of her ill-preparedness.

The mirialan's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch immediately. She wasn't prepared for this to be the first thing the masters would notice about her. It shouldn't have been a surprise with her emotional and spiritual wounds so fresh.

"You have endured much, have you not?" A trace of warmth resonated in Inosuke's tone, betraying the callous facade of the stony-faced sovereign. A discerning twist took over his features. Eyes drifted toward his apprentice then back to the guest. "Yet, I sense lasting defiance in you." It came with an inkling of reservations.

Sol only nodded, slowly moving to clasp her hands behind her back. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as Master Inosuke's attention turned to Kyric, and she watched as the man was more stern with his student. The padawan quietly watched as Kyric explained his reasoning, looking between the group and back to her multiple times, each time with a slightly different expression. She would wonder what he was thinking if he didn't seem to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Then there was that casual mention of Solipsis again, and Master Henna cautioning the boy. The son of the previous Sword was being trained to finish what his father started, and he expected Sol to be involved. Somehow. Was that her fate? Was that why the force had brought them together?

"Sol. Yes, you were Selira’s padawan.” The name breathed new life into memory. “She spoke fondly of you. We trained together on Tython, as girls, and worked closely in years after. Do not dwell on her absence. She is one with the force.”

Henna received the mirialan's undivided attention the moment her previous Master's name left the woman's lips. She bowed her head in thanks with a soft smile. Yes, it was important to remember her Master was one with the force now. And that itself was not a bad thing. "Thank you, Master Henna." Sol stood upright with dignified grace, and looked between the two masters as she spoke. "It is an honor to meet you."

"Master Selira spoke highly of you both as well." Sol's blue gaze focused on Henna. "Especially you, Master Henna. I have heard many stories, and my master credited much of her wisdom to her days spent with you. When Kyric said that we were on our way to meet you, I almost couldn't believe it."

Although it felt nice to reminisce, that was not why Kyric brought Sol here. And the weather was beginning to agree. Sol did not need to be told twice to follow inside.

“Do you wish for her to walk the path of the blade, then, Kyric? Does such a training even interest you, Sol? It is a far cry from anything your master would have taught you.”

Sol mulled over the answer, starting slowly. "It is... But I wish to learn more. The state of the Core has made me uneasy, as has the loss of my Master. As much as I still desire to uphold the ways of the Consular, I can't ignore that I will be at a disadvantage when a fight breaks out." The mirialan paused, her mind unable to keep back the memory of Selira's final moments. "...Our enemies will not show restraint once they've decided to fight. They are used to it, better suited to thrive in the chaos of battle. Although I was raised to negotiate and to heal, the force has led me here. So, this is how I must grow." Although Sol's tone may have wavered throughout her answer, it was clear by the end where she stood. Her fate was becoming clearer. She needed to become stronger. Whether it was her destiny to help Kyric in his fight against Solipsis, or she was on track to face her own great battle one day, she would learn whatever Master Inosuke or Master Henna deemed fit.

----------

Inosuke Ashina | Kyric | Henna Ashina​

 

[Henna Ashina]

Once inside, the master set about a new tea pot, intent on driving away the chill. Flames cast shadow over her face whilst she laid it over the fire. It was not an uncommon attitude Sol held. During her time in the order, the ranks of the consulars dwindled. Would be guardians set down a path of violence, drunk on tales of their heroes during the various wars that raged around them. Even lesser than their diplomats was their circle of seers. By the time Tython had fallen, she was the last.

“If you master thought me wise, then consider my next words carefully.” Joining the table a foot above the ground, she sat cross legged on the ground. There was no point in a dojo until Sol was certain. “A Jedi’s first virtue is service. I understand the conflict one can find between duty and desire. I was born Hapan Nobility; and yet I found myself landless and titleless upon entering my training. My heart is that of an explorer’s and a historian’s; and yet it has been many years since I roamed the stars.”

Honey orbs flickered across the table to find her spouse. He had been the pinnacle of that struggle. Years had passed before the two even found calm enough waters to profess their love for each other; it was longer still before they found balance to begin a family.

“One does not serve at the behest of their own wants. They go where they are called. Talent in and of itself is the will of the force.”

Hands extended to grasp both Sol’s and Kyric’s and the seer offered up an array of memories. The first revealed a battle, where physical and mental facilities alike were accosted by sith. The next featured Inosuke, the first time she had rejected an invitation to what was now her home. And finally, not a memory of her own, but of the lineage which bestowed her the mantel of the seers. The lesson did not come from a hollow place. It was the very essence of all Henna was.

“You will see battle, as a consular.” She stated when the ethereal movie images rolled to a halt. “For better or worse - though more often you will be of greater value behind the line of fire. There is more work to be done than healing. We are the spirit of the Jedi; their lorekeepers, their certain voice, their fountains of wisdom. Do you still wish to turn course?”

 

[Sol Dara]

Sol followed Master Henna's lead, finding a spot amongst the others at the table.

“If you master thought me wise, then consider my next words carefully.” Joining the table a foot above the ground, she sat cross legged on the ground. There was no point in a dojo until Sol was certain. “A Jedi’s first virtue is service. I understand the conflict one can find between duty and desire. I was born Hapan Nobility; and yet I found myself landless and titleless upon entering my training. My heart is that of an explorer’s and a historian’s; and yet it has been many years since I roamed the stars. One does not serve at the behest of their own wants. They go where they are called. Talent in and of itself is the will of the force.”

The mirialan gave a curt nod, gaze fixated on the woman.

Well, Sol was definitely called here. If someone told her where she would be today a few weeks ago, she wouldn't have been able to believe it. Yet every step closer to this moment felt right.

And of course, Sol understood the virtues of the Jedi. She had practiced them her whole life. Compassion and empathy were core character traits of the young woman, so it was easy to serve others. She wanted to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, and heal via the force or her words. She couldn't see a future where she wasn't.

But where did her own heart lie? Beyond duty and obligation, what is it that she wanted? When the young woman couldn't come up with an answer immediately, she realized she had a problem. If she didn't know, or she couldn't be honest with herself, Sol risked finding out too late. She risked eventually turning her back on what she swore to uphold, to abide by. Or, she risked living a life of regrets. The padawan attempted to find the line where her role as a Jedi ended and Sol Dara began. It was difficult.

Hands extended to grasp both Sol’s and Kyric’s and the seer offered up an array of memories. The first revealed a battle, where physical and mental facilities alike were accosted by sith. The next featured Inosuke, the first time she had rejected an invitation to what was now her home. And finally, not a memory of her own, but of the lineage which bestowed her the mantel of the seers. The lesson did not come from a hollow place. It was the very essence of all Henna was.

Henna's emotions during these events was a lot to take in back to back. Frustration, the need to prevail. Sadness, and denying oneself what you want for the sake of duty. Somber feelings in the face of the ultimate sacrifice, giving way to hope and acceptance.

“You will see battle, as a consular.” She stated when the ethereal movie images rolled to a halt. “For better or worse - though more often you will be of greater value behind the line of fire. There is more work to be done than healing. We are the spirit of the Jedi; their lorekeepers, their certain voice, their fountains of wisdom. Do you still wish to turn course?”

As the memories faded, Sol blinked, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding as a tear streaked down her cheek. She hadn't realized she began crying, either. The mirialan wordlessly wiped the lone tear away with her thumb as her blue gaze fell to her lap. For a moment, to Sol, it felt like Henna and herself were the only ones in the room. The moment of clarity hit hard. These memories didn't just show Sol who Henna was and what she had been through. For a brief moment, Sol lived her experiences and felt her pain. Sol would eventually experience her own version of these moments and all the feelings that came with them.

That is what Master Henna needed her to understand. Sol understood, though much clearer now.

The padawan needed to give an answer. An honest answer. Could she do this? Could she officially turn course from everything she thought she knew, and where she thought she would be, and firmly accept the Hirata Estate as part of her future? Did the force lead her here to join them or to learn a lesson? Was the lesson that she wasn't ready?

No.

The thought alone felt wrong. She was meant to be here. She was meant to remain in the fight. She was meant to make a difference.

Sol set her sights on Henna once more. Her expression different. The conviction the young woman displayed was raw and real now as the answer to her previous dilemma finally came to her. Sol wanted peace. Inner and outer peace. She wanted a future where she could stand outside and feel free, to do as she pleased without the existential threat of the galaxy in shambles from the dark, ever encroaching on her position amongst the stars no matter how far she would flee. It was something many wanted, she was sure. It didn't feel right to take her gifts and to hide. She couldn't, knowing that others suffered around her, near or far. It didn't matter if she couldn't see them. The dark had been beaten back in the past, but now it was the light that dwindled. Sol couldn't rest.

She would find peace by bestowing it upon others. And in her final moments, whenever those came, she would know it too.


"I do."

Henna Ashina | Inosuke Ashina | Kyric​