Beneath the Moss

[Bethany Kismet]

"You really have no control- not over what other people are going to say about you once you're gone. Some of our greatest atrocities are praised, while generosity is reviled. In death, all of our sins are laid to bare. But it doesn't weigh our souls. It weighs the manner in which we are remembered. Will someone remember me as Bethany the Healer? Bethany the Kind? Or will I be Bethany, Vong Friend? Bethany the Betrayer? I don't know. I cannot know. And I cannot fear it. History will be kind, or it will be brutal, no matter what I do. There seems only one reasonable response to that knowledge. And that is to do, everything in my power, to do and be what it right now. Regardless of what someone else may see someday. I will offer kindness, now. I will offer peace, now. Because when I'm dead? Well. Those things will be someone else's responsibility."

-Excerpt from Jedi Master Bethany Kismet's personal holocron


Z O N A M A S E K O T
500 years ago

"Beth you can't-"

Very slowly, Bethany extracted her hand from Corringath's. She stopped just shy of completing the motion, her fingertips quivering on the edge of his palm. They stood, toe to toe on the thick carpet of moss. Here, in this place, the forest was quiet, serene. But there was a quiver, a silent, screaming tension. Though the violence and fire was still distant, they could both feel it through the Force. But the pain on his face had little to do with that distant savagery.

"I've been dreaming about this place- about this day, for twenty years, Corrie. I've never been here before, but I know every tree, every branch, of this forest. And it knows me. It needs me-"

"I know you!"

She shook her head mutely, shutting her eyes.

​"I need you," he whispered.

Bethany laughed, but the sound choked in the back of her throat.

"No you don't," she said with a sad smile. Emerald eyes opened again. She looked up at him, shaking her head slowly, but her gaze didn't leave his. "You never have. And I need you to forgive me for that."

Z O N A M A S E K O T
Present

"You should pay attention to what's going on around you. We can talk later."

The quiet voice echoed in the silence. A flock of tiny birds, shifted, settling back in a moment later. Though it rarely spoke aloud, the voice itself was not startling to them. It was part of the forest- had been part of the forest for half a millennia. Indeed, the creatures here had never known the trees to not feel a particular way. It wasn't an additional presence. It simply was.

Bethany Kismet sometimes forgot that she wasn't- that she hadn't always been. Sometimes. But sometimes, she remembered.

She didn't need eyes to see, or ears to hear. She didn't need fingers to run across the moss and dip in to streams. She existed within the rich, verdant scents of the forest. Bethany didn't remember what it felt like to experience these things externally. They were part of her.

A series of images, not of the forest, flickered through her consciousness. A flash of lightsabers (harsh light), a yawning vista of stars, the cold lines of a space ship. It was Zonama Sekot speaking, asking her questions. Sometimes, there was no separation between the two of them. Sometimes.

Yes, she thought, looking for the words. Someone's coming.

Birds flying south in summer. Hot sun shining in winter. Why- Zonama Sekot was asking- it made no sense.

I don't know.

​[member="Ayden Cater"] [member="Phylis Alince"] [member="Michael Sardun"] [member="Zerka Tarash"]

 

[Zerka Tarash]

Elsewhere in the Galaxy, a heart was breaking.

Zerka had always been aware that her parents lived on Korriban - when it was habitable, which was something of a crapshoot, historically. They'd smuggled her out to the Jedi, desiring a better life for their daughter - a life where her Force sensitivity wouldn't damn her into being molded into a tyrant, a killer. A force for good, not another soldier on the front lines against compassion and decency. When she'd gotten older, old enough to know of not to UNDERSTAND, they'd made what limited contact they could. They'd connected as a family, though connections were something for a Jedi to avoid.

Zerka was beginning to understand why.

Korriban city hadn't been a huge place, a festering pimple of civilization on an otherwise war-torn and blasted wasteland world. But it'd been home to some folks, and Zerka's family among them. She'd always planned in visiting, on meeting her family properly. Standing proud as the force of good they'd wanted to become. But she wasn't standing proud at all, now. She was barely standing. She feared she might be the only person left standing in Korribsn city, now that it'd been bombed. Korriban's tenuous grasp on civilization had been cut down in a flurry of bombs, and the only thing left for Zerka to visit were ruins and wreckage.

How could she be detached and accepting, in the face of this? How could she be peaceful, in the midst of this horror? Her tiny shuttle left behind her, Zerka took a couple stumbling steps down a sand-blasted asphalt road, the burned and hollowed remains of Korriban City looming above her in every direction like accusatory judges. They spat foul invectives and insults down on her, accusations and reminders that even forces of good were capable of brutish, short-sighted cruelty. Of murder.

A Jedi shouldn't maintain connections. The memory was mocking, a hellish sing-song. Love was a sweet thing, but when that love was taken away, when that connection was severed, desperation and resentment took it's place. Was this a punishment? It felt like one.

Zerka took a couple more steps, her knees wobbling before they gave out on her. Four days, and she hadn't been able to contact her parents. It felt like nothing was moving, and it likely wasn't. In this city, she'd never even be able to find the bodies.

No connections. A Jedi was dispassionate, accepting. This was why. As though it were a sentient thing on the attack, Zerka could feel despair clawing at the corner of her mind. In the middle of an empty, burned road in a necropolis, the Padawan put her brow to her knees and pulled her hair, desperately trying to force the universe to make sense.

Korriban was, as ever, eager to drink her tears.

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]
“Hmmph, where is the research on metallurgy?” Phylis asked her droid crossly. An indignant beep. “Don’t you take that tone with me, Six-Nine, I gave it to you to organise!” A sly tootle. “Hmmph, I did not take it back! I…or did I? Hmm, oh wait, I’ve got it here. Good droid.”
A smug whistle.

Phylis wandered back to her bunk, ignoring the insolent droid. She’d fully intended to read the notes on the imbuement of Phrik but…she was rather tired.

In minutes she was fast asleep.

She dreamt. This was unusual, Phylis rarely dreamed, but there was something different about this one. It felt less a dream and more a vision.

A strange forest. A voice as old as time, one younger. Words, memories, thoughts.

Phylis Alince sat upright with a start, her datapad falling to the deck.

"You should pay attention to what's going on around you. We can talk later."

“Hmmph, good advice, but I’m not starting now,” she muttered. As if to prove this she stood…on top of the datapad.

“What was that about? A forest planet. No, more…more…a planet forest! Zonama Sekot! Six-Nine! We’ve got a planet to see!”

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"I've been dreaming about the forest again. It goes through fits and starts. Sometimes I'll dream about nothing else for months, and then, all will be quiet for a year. It's not always the same, sometimes, the forest itself changes. But only in little ways. A tree fallen, letting in new light. Clouds blocking the starlight. The real breathing a forest does in its lifetime. But it's always the same forest. And it's always waiting for me, familiar, comforting. I don't know if it's a real place, or simply a projection of my subconscious. It's heavy, and comforting- and if I can stay in the dream long enough, it starts to speak.

I can just never remember what it says when I awaken."

-Excerpt from Jedi Master Bethany Kismet's personal holocron


Z O N A M A S E K O T
500 years ago

Bethany spoke quickly despite the tightening in her throat.

"I've told you about the dreams. This is it. This is the forest that I've walked in for two decades. It's been here, in my head, this whole time. Now I know it's real, not a figment. And it's been walking with me all this time. I understand now why.... everything. Corrie. EVERYTHING has been leading up to this, since I took my oath as a Jedi. Naboo, Caamas, everything with the Vong-"

"With Artemis Obauldi," Corringath added quietly. Bethany searched his face, trying to find where that hint of bitterness had come from. But they didn't have time now to probe it now. The ground beneath their feet quivered.

Taking his hand again, Bethany reached out, guiding it to the tree beside them.

"Can't you feel it?" Her voice pleaded. "Tell me true, after Ilum, you must feel it. And you of all people must understand why. I lost you to Ilum-"

"But I came back."

​The silence after his outburst hung between them. And in the silence, the words hung, unspoken. They didn't need to voice them aloud.

She wouldn't be coming back.


Z O N A M A S E K O T
Present Day

If Bethany hadn't already been keyed in to the wider galaxy, the cry for help would have gone unnoticed. Grief and anger were not strangers- every day, someone, somewhere, cried out in agony. Early on in her tenure here on Sekot, Bethany had found ways to numb her larger connection through the Force. The melding with the sentient forest had actually enhanced her ties to the galaxy, rather than diminishing them. For the sake of sanity, she had needed to find ways, not to block them out, but to make peace with them. To accept them as no longer her responsibility.

But something had called to her. And now that avenue was open, it was impossible to ignore.

A series of images, red lightsabers, fire, pain (truly a visual image to the Forest) flashed through her mind on the heels of that crying out. She silently agreed with Sekot in part- yes, this had something to do with the Sith, but....

"Something's different friend. It's related, but-"

If she still had a face, she would have frowned.

The wide yawning of space filtered through her thoughts. Where?

"Korriban."



K O R R I B A N
Present Day

In the devastation, a girl sought to make some sense, any sense, of events that had unfolded here. Grasping at empty air and broken stones, as though they held the secrets of why. As was so often the case, however, Korriban was not a kind benefactor.

In five centuries, the taste of the planet in her head hadn't changed. But the sense of this tragedy- that was different. No. Not different. How many times, in her own lifetime, had the Jedi wrought destruction on Korriban? But in the time since then, there were small changes- this city had not existed, or indeed, anything like it, in Bethany's time.

It made whatever had happened here all the worse. The planet Korriban itself didn't care- it murmured dark lullabies in Bethany's head, curling fingers and broken promises. It found these events only too familiar, and relished in every life taken, provided new life was always coming to it. It was just as happy to welcome a certain girl back in her mourning. The dreaming here was not kind.

Bethany reached out, gathering strands of the Force around her. There. A name.

"[member="Zerka Tarash"]."

The gentle voice came out of the air behind the girl, but when she turned, there would be no one there.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Phylis Alince"] | [member="Zerka Tarash"]
---
Sullust,

"Why there?" the Grand Marshal of the New Jedi Order questioned. His tone wasn't unkind, his brows weren't furrowed in annoyance, just a small measure of puzzlement. Most of his earlier suspicions had slowly retreated the longer Sardun had stayed with the Alliance, and the more duties he had taken upon him.

He didn't understand though.

Few would, few had gone through what he had.

"It may provide me with answers."

Michael Sardun had been a Jedi once before. Battlemaster of the Order under Kiskla, at least until the One Sith had captured him on Alderaan... turned him over to the Yuuzhan Vong cult worshipping their Dark Lord. Torture followed by something worse. They had turned him into one of them.

Or at least started the process before halting it somewhere in the middle. A Slayer, they called him.

Rhen nodded, he remembered the story told to him when Sardun had just appeared in Alliance space. "If you think it's wise, Master Sardun. May the Force with you."

Michael inclined his head. "And with you. Always."

Zonama Sekot, the Clearing.

His ship had run a course across a portion of the planet's surface twice, until the Jedi had settled for a thin stripe of open space amongst the forests.

All the while Sardun felt eyes upon him. A presence larger than himself, observing, studying, yet not speaking - silence born from a patience born from ages of waiting. It humbled him, which surprised him. He hadn't thought there was any pride in him left, yet coming across Sekot in person... it was unlike anything else.

The leather stripe of his boots crunched as he stepped onto the planet's surface.

Sardun closed his eyes for a brief moment. Lights, sounds, visions of some sort threatened to choke him out- until the presence retreated back to safety again.

It had been too much.

"Just... a bit too much," Michael mumbled out, shaking his head. "Let's try that again?"

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"We only see one tiny fleck of reality, and that fleck is fake. The idea that we are independent of each other is deep and pervasive and so easy to be taken in by. After all, that's what it looks and feels like, doesn't it? Every one of us alone, moving through this galaxy in a billion random directions. But this is false. There is no 'us' and 'them'. The illusion of separation is just that- and illusion. It goes beyond the idea that we are all connected, though that is how many Jedi interpret it. There is no separation. What we do to another, we do to ourselves."

-Excerpt from Jedi Master Bethany Kismet's personal holocron


Z O N A M A S E K O T
500 years ago

They stood in silence for a moment- despite the touch on each other's hands the chasm between them yawned wide, threatening to swallow them both.

"Can you really tell me that you don't understand?" She finally whispered.

The grief etched on his face broke for a moment, and he smiled down at her.

"I do understand, Beth. And that's what makes it so hard. If I didn't, then I could lie to myself."

Bethany opened her mouth to speak, but it was that moment Zonama Sekot chose to make itself known. Both Jedi flinched, bombarded by a series of flashing images and feelings. It was an almost physical weight on them both, too fast to parse, too heavy to hold for long. The only thing that stayed was the impression of urgency.

"They're coming," Bethany whispered.


Z O N A M A S E K O T
Present

I told you someone was coming. Why are you so excited? It's been too long since you spoke with someone of flesh and blood. You forget what it's like for us.

Bethany was here on Sekot. She was also on Korriban. It wasn't that she was split between the two. Holding two, soon three, conversations wasn't a limit. Nothing was separate, all things were one. She had known that when she lived, but now has spent more centuries experiencing it than she had ever expected to have. While in this moment, they were speaking as different entities, Bethany was the forest of Zonama Sekot. She didn't have to go to the clearing [member="Michael Sardun"] was in. She was already there.

It had been so long since she'd done it, she wasn't sure if she remembered how. How long? Time was a funny thing. After Corringath had stopped coming, his own life over, Bethany had stopped tracking time quite the same way. The sentient forest existed in a completely different timescale than the creatures that lived within in, and she clove to Sekot's timeframe now.

Seeking through the forest, she found what she needed. She plucked a bit of light from this place and that- the glow of phosphorescent lichen here, a flashing insect there, the reflection from the eye of a tiny predator stalking its next meal. All small things in truth. Each tiny prick of fey light moved through the forest, gathering in the clearing. She gathered them together to form a ball of soft luminescence, half a meter across.

"The Forest sometimes forgets the limits of a mortal body," came a soft, almost amused, voice. Bethany didn't have to have her voice come from the light. But in the past a disembodied voice suffused through the Forest itself had been... disconcerting to some.

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

There was a small moment of perfect stillness, as though everything from the dust to the air had been momentarily brushed away. Zerka was cognizant enough to be aware of the moment in a speculative, back of her mind sort of way, but it was gone too soon for analysis. She was not especially good at that, anyway, so she savored the passing moment the way one might enjoy the shade provided by a cloud on an oppressively hot day.

It was gone too soon.

Zerka stood and marshalled her courage, and lacking profound courage, her determination. That moment's reprieve, the ghostly voice calling out to her as though to call her in form a storm, had at least given her a moment of clarity. She was here to do something, to find her parents. But failing that? She could at least look for other survivors. They'd be plenty of relief efforts, Zerka knew, but even so she felt an obligation to bear witness. To burn the image of what'd happened into her mind, and prevent it from ever happening again.

The young woman took a couple more steps down the sunbaked road, stones crunching underfoot. Despair pulled at her again, but she fought it off with focus - the darkness couldn't keep up with her if she just kept moving, right? Her unsteady walk turned into a jog, and then a loping, fluid run.

An hour or so later, Zerka fell in with a group of survivors, who made their way to an aid camp. She volunteered without hesitation - being small and flexible, quick on her feet, the young Vahla could find victims a little easier than a grown person might. She lost a bit of her gravitas by keeping her saber hidden and her affiliation with the Jedi a secret - given how they'd bombed the city and all, but that was fine.

Padawan Tarash hadn't come here on Jedi business, a girl named Zerka had. It was nice, for once, to just be her.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Zonama Sekot; The Clearing.

It wouldn't have been so difficult for Sardun to understand.

He wouldn't have freaked either. Months, if not years, spends in the hive mind of the Yuuzhan Vong under the Hydra Queen... it did things to you and your perception of reality. Even these days, years later after the reversal of most of his condition, Michael still had some difficulty with recognizing his connection to this Galaxy and the sentients within it.

There were days that he woke and found life completely alien.

Yet, it helped to help and be around people. Difficult transition and a slow process, but at the end of the day that was what life was about, wasn't it?

Growing, learning and enduring.

"I got a similar problem every other Taungday." Sardun responded, shaking his head one more time to center himself. "You are... Her?"

There was reverence in his voice now. He wasn't strictly human anymore, and from his days with Them Michael remembered the tales of the Mother.

 

[Bethany Kismet]

What do you believe in? Truly, in the depths of your soul? What drives you, keeps you moving when everything else seems too grim to allow? Find that spark, that faith, and allow it to burn within you, bright enough for everyone who meets you to see.

-Excerpt from Jedi Master Bethany Kismet's personal holocron


Z O N A M A S E K O T
500 years ago

She kissed him then, and his arms folded around her. If a kiss could hold every stolen moment, every broken promise, every regret at a future not spent together, this kiss held it. It thanked him for his friendship, for his love, for his partnership. For being a father to Corrine and Rian. For teaching her what family ​could mean. And, for just a moment, it was simply Bethany and the love she had for him in return.

But like most things, it ended too soon.

"What should I tell them?"

Beth smiled, sad and gentle. She knew exactly who he meant. "They are Jedi in their own right now. Grown up and beautiful. Tell them that I love them. And always will."

She started to step away, but he held one of her hands tightly.

"If I had known, back on Kessel.... everything. I never would have let go of your hand back then. I would have kept it in mine forever," he said, his voice tight but controlled. "I love you."

"And I, you. Always."


K O R R I B A N
Present Day

Part of Bethany followed [member="Zerka Tarash"] . She watched, and listened, and where possible, helped. A load that was too heavy feeling like an extra hand was lifting, soothing the edges of sorrow, offering strength through the Force when she was feeling overwhelmed. It wasn't much in truth, but there was something familiar about the girl- about her choice of actions, about her drive. And she couldn't help but act.


Z O N A M A S E K O T
Present Day

Images flashed between Bethany and the forest and she offered it a mental shrug. She didn't know why she was doing it either, other than that it felt right. It had been so long since she'd taken interest in galactic affairs.

Even as part of her was acting on Korriban, part of her was here, speaking with [member="Michael Sardun"].

For all of the reach through the Forest of Sekot, Bethany was not omniscient. She didn't know what, exactly, he was speaking of.

"My name was Bethany Kismet," came the voice, after a very long pause. "But the presence you felt first is Zonama Sekot itself. She is neither male, nor female, but something.... more."

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Zonama Sekot; The Clearing.

Something more.

So much was lost after the Plague. The Hrosha-Gul had little left in terms of lore, they simply had known her as The Mother or at least those who had deemed it necessary to speak to him about it. Maybe they had misguided him on purpose? The Jedi did not know, yet it mattered little now, because he was here and already something inside of him was easing.

A sense of silence drowning out the consistent sound at the back of his head.

Was this peace? Now that Sardun was no longer trying to focus and just let himself go, he could almost take in the scope of Sekot and she (because he had to refer to her as something) was everywhere. In the tree next to him, the grass and dirt beneath his boots and even the little squirrel jumping from one tree branch to the other in consistent haste.

"Beautiful..." He remarked, more to himself than to the... [member="Bethany Kismet"]? Sardun knew that name, if only vaguely. The history lessons at the Temple had never been much to his interest. "I know of you, though I could have known more-" The Jedi smiled, bit of rue tugging at the corner of his mouth. "If I had payed attention to the lessons given."

"Tell me of Zonama Sekot, please."

There was an insistence to that please. A need. To know. To experience it perhaps, yet that would have to come later, if ever.

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

That night, as she was in hyperspace towards the Vong world, Phylis was troubled. A sensation in the Force, a great disruption. This was not related to Zonama Sekot, this was something else.
It got so bad, the feeling of life being torn from the Force that she actually exited hyperspace early to learn what had happened.

Omega had fallen. Between ground and space battles and the wreck of the station well over a million people had died, and died violently.
Of course many times that died every day, but not concentrated in such a way, that a single moment might rob the life of 10,000 crew on a ship.

With sorrow, and knowing there was nothing she could do, the Jedi Master continued on her way.

When she appeared over the alien world she had no marker of where to land, but she did not need it. No, the Force guided her to one specific clearing.

The ship touched down. “Stay here, Six-Nine…don’t open the doors unless I give the signal. I sense the presence is near….”
The droid, used to his owner being somewhat vague, noticed a new purpose in her. Obediently he tooted acceptance.

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"Even if you had paid attention, I doubt it would have been of much interest." The voice held a touch of amusement. Bethany had little interest about what the Jedi archives might have to say about her life. She had assumed it would have faded to obscurity (little did she know). A peace had been made, long ago, with the path she had followed.

Images, a flickering starship, a blue and golden glow, as opposed to the warm burnt orange of the man already standing on the surface of the planet. The bip bip bip of a droid.

Even if Zekot had not informed them both (for indeed, it flashed those images to Michael as well), Bethany would have felt the sensation of another visitor. She didn't need to do anything specific to send her thanks to the forest she was entwined with.

"Zonama Sekot means World of Mind and Body," came the voice from the light again. "Zonama is the planet itselt- Sekot is the... the living sentience of the Forest and everything living upon the planet itself. It is every tree, every leaf, every lichen- and that intelligence is greater than the sum of it's parts. It is both the parent, and the seed- the beginning and the end. Life and death, balanced, in a cycle that requires both to exist. The Forest is, at it's core, a single life- but so, so much more than that. A very long time ago, it used to speak in words - But it's been many centuries since I've heard it's voice in that fashion. I suppose, perhaps, it hasn't needed to."

[member="Michael Sardun"] [member="Phylis Alince"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Phylis Alince"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"]

Sardun looked up after the vision faded again.

There it was, a ship, breaking through the atmosphere in gleaming lines of steel and shine. It was a rare event, as far as he knew, few if any traveled through Sekot in this time and age -- contrary to all the men and women being influenced by the events on Korriban or that of Omega... he was blissfully unaware of what had transpired.

Ignorance is bliss, they like to say and in this Michael was ignorant.

His arrival here had been born out of simple curiosity.

The external strength of the Force had always been lost to him. His focus on the blade and on the internal mechanisms, how to strengthen himself and steel his resolve- little else than that.

"No great war, the Yuuzhan Vong... not quite at peace, yet not threatening the Galaxy as they once had." Sardun remarked patiently, while waiting for that second ship to fly over and settle down. It picked a place not far away from his own, yet the caution remained and Michael understood caution plenty. "Perhaps we can discuss this another time, another guest has arrived, it seems."

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Bethany Kismet"] [member="Michael Sardun"]

The Jedi Master stepped down onto the surface of the world.

It was…unnerving. Everything was so alive around her it was almost an overload of the Force.

However, she could see a figure standing there…not the presence she had come for…but still a strong one.

“Greetings,” she said, waving. “Ah, hmm…I am Jedi Master…hmm…Phylis Alince,” she said, searching for more signs of the presence she had come for.

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"Kindness has no end, and no beginning. As all things are connected with the Force, so is every act of compassion, every kindness offered. The giving of kindness never weakens, it never consumes, because there is always more. It is a never ending font within the galaxy, if one knows where to look. Where? Within yourself. For every act of decency, or generosity, grows more within you. It does not take, it gives, in all directions. Even the smallest acts create ripples in all directions, never reaching an edge, never ending. There is no limit to the compassion you can offer the galaxy, because there is no limit to the kindness within ourselves."

-Excerpt from Jedi Master Bethany Kismet's personal Holocron


Is it strange? She couldn't tell. When was the last time anyone had come here, seeking? Centuries. Oh, people had come, but for other reasons. She rarely spoke to them, and on the occasion she did, they almost never knew exactly what was happening. Often visits from the living went largely beneath any sort of conscious sense. They moved across her/Sekot's surface, and as long as they didn't disturb anything, made not much more impact than the other creatures scurrying through life.

"Perhaps another time," agreed the soft voice from the luminescence.

The heavy sensation of waiting, of watching, was unmistakably thick in the air. The ball of light hovered a meter off of the ground beside Michael, bobbing occasionally as though in a breeze no one else could feel. Sekot itself had quieted down again, but it too waited with a surprising anticipation Bethany was not accustomed to.

"Welcome to Zonama Sekot, Jedi Master Phylis Alince. I've been expecting you."

[member="Phylis Alince"] [member="Michael Sardun"]