Faith Fractured
Aeris Lashiec - Archivist
Jedi Bookworm and Survivor. Aeris is a woman of average build and height. While she is easy to frustrate it is still from a place of care. After a short lifetime of strife she is slowly opening up to having others in her life. At least, beyond the few that has managed to crack through her defenses such as Dagon, Valery, and Kai.
Whilst she is a capable fighter, she is still far too weak to really stand on her own should she be grouped up on. Instead, as she does in most situations, she relies on quick thinking and an entire archive's worth of knowledge to find alternative solutions to her problems.
I don’t recall much from those days. There are few things that ever seem really important to you at the age of three, besides eating and sleeping. But when I do think back to it I can remember being scared. I can remember that the masters and knights shuffled us into transports and that I wasn’t alone in my fear. I remember that as I grew older and the Republic was well and truly gone, there was a measure of disillusionment that tore at my soul. But it was not at the Jedi, never that. By the age of nine I had spent six years on the run, watched over by a knight that still carried the ashes of our old home on his shoulders.
Even as tales of the Alliance’s success began to spread there were some of us that found it difficult to believe them, our guardian in particular seemed adamant that we were safer on our own, which in retrospect, perhaps, did us more harm than good. But even so there still is no doubt that without him we would have all died — or worse, gotten caught by the inquisitors and hunters that seemed to be hot on our heels. It helped us develop a keen sense of survival even in urban environments. We never slept without someone on guard duty, and on more than one occasion it saved our lives. You knew what to look for, what to listen after in case you have to wake everyone up. Hell, I still sleep with a small bugout bag under my bed, just in case I have to drop everything and run.
By the age of ten, when our knight had died and several other children had simply given up, only then did we figure it was worth it to try and reach out to the Alliance and hope they would take us in, which they did. We then proceeded to spend the better part of a year and a half on Sullust catching up on the realities of the Jedi and our studies. We quickly realized that our view on what it meant to be one and how these Alliance members defined it was a different yet mostly similar view as ours. It was an enriching albeit very confusing time for all involved.
However, once those months were over the exact thing that we had feared would happen, happened. I still recall that day in perfect clarity. I had studied the old lessons of the Republic Jedi intently growing up. I had memorized every little detail of the fights that Kiskla Grayson had demonstrated, the philosophies of Corvus Raaf, and so many other masters. And so, to see the name Raaf brought back from the dead, to have it be the very cause you lost yet another home… It hurt, and yet again I was taught a valuable lesson in life. I was shown that in the end nothing would ever last forever. I understood then that nothing that you ever hold dear would ever truly matter. The past was the amalgamation of our hard learned lessons, and the future was a repeating cycle of death and despair.
When the Alliance fell apart the New Jedi Order fell apart as well, and so too did I. It was another home left in ruin just as I was starting to feel safe again. It was the exact same sense of death and despair that I had felt when I was on the run, the helplessness that pushed me and my fellow younglings further and further into hiding. Except this time there was no knight to watch over us. Just me and a fellow survivor, Alex, a shapeshifter with a sense of humor. Where I was the cold and focused brain of our little group, they were the warm beating heart that kept us all together.
We fell in love. Or at least, I’d like to think it was love. We were young, and stupid teenagers. When I felt close to despair they always knew what to say to make me feel better, and sometimes all it took was a look. They had that smile that said, ‘I know what you mean, just breathe’. But then, even as we survived — thrived almost — we found ourselves cornered. The ruthless inquisitors had been hot on our heel for months to such an extent that it seemed they were one step ahead of us.
They cornered us on Denon, and at that moment…
Alex sacrificed themselves so that me and five others could live. I had failed my wards, and more than that I had failed Alex. Without Alex around I quickly lost track of the rest, our spirits had been crushed. I was seventeen by that point but felt so much older. It got difficult to talk to people, to open up and let them in. I began to focus on my faith and the excerpts I carried from the two different archives that I had managed to swipe before evacuation.
A year later, word of Alex began to resurface. At first as a rumor, and then as a trap that I knew that I was walking into. I had to find out what had happened, if it was true, or if I was ready to give up yet. What I found was someone else; the raving mad ghost of a friend turned to the dark. At first they insisted I join them, that we had been in denial of the power. When it was clear that I wouldn’t listen they jumped to threats, saying that only by being with them could the Jedi be salvaged into something better.
To them this was what love had come to mean, but when I continued to deny them they eventually snapped. In the haze of battle I struck Alex down. Once in the stomach, and then through his chest. He seemed dead, I wanted to stay and mourn, but the blaster fire of stormtroopers forced my hand. I settled for retrieving his blade and carrying it for myself once I had purged it from the dark as a reminder of everything that had led me up to this point and as a reminder of where depending on others got you.
I wandered aimlessly for a few years longer after that. At first to wallow in my self-pity, but later for the sake of myself. Over time, my faith became my reason to live, my whole identity almost. The action of one was an action of the whole, and this time I wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes as I did before. At the first sign of the New Jedi Order re-emerging I jumped upon the bandwagon. I kept out of sight and mind, took up as little space as possible while I worked to get their archives up and running. When first asked what my credentials were I explained the situation, that I had been displaced for far too long to care but that I had safeguarded a big chunk of the Jedi’s collected knowledge, and when they asked for my rank I told them right then and there that I was a Knight. Nobody had ever given me the title officially, but that was not something that they really needed to be aware of, and I cared far too little to be bothered by it.
Despite my best efforts to remain by myself, contained to myself, and cared only about myself and the continuation of the Jedi faith, I failed. A small group of fellow Jedi led by Dagon Kaze found me and refused to let go despite my hopes that they would. As if that wasn’t enough, a curious sithspawn creature caught my attention as well. It could mimic others perfectly, and out of all people it could mimic it had decided to mimic Dagon. Over time this person would tell me more and more about himself. Their name was Kai, and they were a sithspawn. Despite knowing I should have reported them, I didn’t. Maybe some part of me felt sorry for it, or maybe it was my curiosity getting the better of me.
As time passed, I came to care for Kai like a sister to a little brother. He wasn’t an innocent creature, but he also wasn’t wholly evil which begged the real question: what is better, to be born pure or to conquer one’s demons in order to do good? Given my inability to find a good answer, I figured that until such a day that Kai acted in a way that went against my beliefs I would reserve judgment. Never before have I been so glad to have chosen the right stance.
With my position of head archivist, a promotion I was okay with, I was eventually also introduced to the Circle, a promotion I was not okay with. Up until that point I had only ever really had opinions and hot air, but to now act upon them was… Terrifying. The weight of my decisions now guided an order, I was now one of the people in charge of ensuring the longevity of an order. I was now the one who orphaned people in the same way that I myself had been orphaned.
The self-doubt began to pile up, the frustrations and irritations mounted into something that felt so insurmountable that I needed to take a break. It seemed to have worked at first. I took two weeks off to reconnect with masters from my childhood who offered some good insights. But, what little calm I had built up was quickly torn down, as on the way home I suffered some form of hyperspace anomaly. In my eyes I had been gone for two weeks, but in reality I had been gone for the better part of a year. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend that, but with enough time in the library and some time for myself to relax, I figured it would all melt into manageable pieces.
Wrong again. The archives were transmogrified into a freaking Massassi temple, and… There is just too much going on. My nerves are still as frayed as ever, but I soldier on too stubborn to just lie down and die.
Even as tales of the Alliance’s success began to spread there were some of us that found it difficult to believe them, our guardian in particular seemed adamant that we were safer on our own, which in retrospect, perhaps, did us more harm than good. But even so there still is no doubt that without him we would have all died — or worse, gotten caught by the inquisitors and hunters that seemed to be hot on our heels. It helped us develop a keen sense of survival even in urban environments. We never slept without someone on guard duty, and on more than one occasion it saved our lives. You knew what to look for, what to listen after in case you have to wake everyone up. Hell, I still sleep with a small bugout bag under my bed, just in case I have to drop everything and run.
By the age of ten, when our knight had died and several other children had simply given up, only then did we figure it was worth it to try and reach out to the Alliance and hope they would take us in, which they did. We then proceeded to spend the better part of a year and a half on Sullust catching up on the realities of the Jedi and our studies. We quickly realized that our view on what it meant to be one and how these Alliance members defined it was a different yet mostly similar view as ours. It was an enriching albeit very confusing time for all involved.
However, once those months were over the exact thing that we had feared would happen, happened. I still recall that day in perfect clarity. I had studied the old lessons of the Republic Jedi intently growing up. I had memorized every little detail of the fights that Kiskla Grayson had demonstrated, the philosophies of Corvus Raaf, and so many other masters. And so, to see the name Raaf brought back from the dead, to have it be the very cause you lost yet another home… It hurt, and yet again I was taught a valuable lesson in life. I was shown that in the end nothing would ever last forever. I understood then that nothing that you ever hold dear would ever truly matter. The past was the amalgamation of our hard learned lessons, and the future was a repeating cycle of death and despair.
When the Alliance fell apart the New Jedi Order fell apart as well, and so too did I. It was another home left in ruin just as I was starting to feel safe again. It was the exact same sense of death and despair that I had felt when I was on the run, the helplessness that pushed me and my fellow younglings further and further into hiding. Except this time there was no knight to watch over us. Just me and a fellow survivor, Alex, a shapeshifter with a sense of humor. Where I was the cold and focused brain of our little group, they were the warm beating heart that kept us all together.
We fell in love. Or at least, I’d like to think it was love. We were young, and stupid teenagers. When I felt close to despair they always knew what to say to make me feel better, and sometimes all it took was a look. They had that smile that said, ‘I know what you mean, just breathe’. But then, even as we survived — thrived almost — we found ourselves cornered. The ruthless inquisitors had been hot on our heel for months to such an extent that it seemed they were one step ahead of us.
They cornered us on Denon, and at that moment…
Alex sacrificed themselves so that me and five others could live. I had failed my wards, and more than that I had failed Alex. Without Alex around I quickly lost track of the rest, our spirits had been crushed. I was seventeen by that point but felt so much older. It got difficult to talk to people, to open up and let them in. I began to focus on my faith and the excerpts I carried from the two different archives that I had managed to swipe before evacuation.
A year later, word of Alex began to resurface. At first as a rumor, and then as a trap that I knew that I was walking into. I had to find out what had happened, if it was true, or if I was ready to give up yet. What I found was someone else; the raving mad ghost of a friend turned to the dark. At first they insisted I join them, that we had been in denial of the power. When it was clear that I wouldn’t listen they jumped to threats, saying that only by being with them could the Jedi be salvaged into something better.
To them this was what love had come to mean, but when I continued to deny them they eventually snapped. In the haze of battle I struck Alex down. Once in the stomach, and then through his chest. He seemed dead, I wanted to stay and mourn, but the blaster fire of stormtroopers forced my hand. I settled for retrieving his blade and carrying it for myself once I had purged it from the dark as a reminder of everything that had led me up to this point and as a reminder of where depending on others got you.
I wandered aimlessly for a few years longer after that. At first to wallow in my self-pity, but later for the sake of myself. Over time, my faith became my reason to live, my whole identity almost. The action of one was an action of the whole, and this time I wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes as I did before. At the first sign of the New Jedi Order re-emerging I jumped upon the bandwagon. I kept out of sight and mind, took up as little space as possible while I worked to get their archives up and running. When first asked what my credentials were I explained the situation, that I had been displaced for far too long to care but that I had safeguarded a big chunk of the Jedi’s collected knowledge, and when they asked for my rank I told them right then and there that I was a Knight. Nobody had ever given me the title officially, but that was not something that they really needed to be aware of, and I cared far too little to be bothered by it.
Despite my best efforts to remain by myself, contained to myself, and cared only about myself and the continuation of the Jedi faith, I failed. A small group of fellow Jedi led by Dagon Kaze found me and refused to let go despite my hopes that they would. As if that wasn’t enough, a curious sithspawn creature caught my attention as well. It could mimic others perfectly, and out of all people it could mimic it had decided to mimic Dagon. Over time this person would tell me more and more about himself. Their name was Kai, and they were a sithspawn. Despite knowing I should have reported them, I didn’t. Maybe some part of me felt sorry for it, or maybe it was my curiosity getting the better of me.
As time passed, I came to care for Kai like a sister to a little brother. He wasn’t an innocent creature, but he also wasn’t wholly evil which begged the real question: what is better, to be born pure or to conquer one’s demons in order to do good? Given my inability to find a good answer, I figured that until such a day that Kai acted in a way that went against my beliefs I would reserve judgment. Never before have I been so glad to have chosen the right stance.
With my position of head archivist, a promotion I was okay with, I was eventually also introduced to the Circle, a promotion I was not okay with. Up until that point I had only ever really had opinions and hot air, but to now act upon them was… Terrifying. The weight of my decisions now guided an order, I was now one of the people in charge of ensuring the longevity of an order. I was now the one who orphaned people in the same way that I myself had been orphaned.
The self-doubt began to pile up, the frustrations and irritations mounted into something that felt so insurmountable that I needed to take a break. It seemed to have worked at first. I took two weeks off to reconnect with masters from my childhood who offered some good insights. But, what little calm I had built up was quickly torn down, as on the way home I suffered some form of hyperspace anomaly. In my eyes I had been gone for two weeks, but in reality I had been gone for the better part of a year. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend that, but with enough time in the library and some time for myself to relax, I figured it would all melt into manageable pieces.
Wrong again. The archives were transmogrified into a freaking Massassi temple, and… There is just too much going on. My nerves are still as frayed as ever, but I soldier on too stubborn to just lie down and die.
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