Breaking Bread

[Darth Metus]

M O N A S T E R Y
Sanctum Balcony

Some time had passed...

The Ma'alkerrite Commander found himself taking ginger steps forward. The hallowed floors of the budding sanctuary were not yet complete, and the debris of construction obstructed his walk. Despite this, he carefully bore his burden forward: a meager tray of aluminum adorned with two tin cups. Fresh steam wafted forth from the vessels, alongside a relatively sweet aroma. The gesture of presenting tea was one Malok had been taught by his mother a lifetime ago - it was a sign of good will...and sometimes, friendship.

And this day, the Commander of ApeX was trying to make a friend.

After hours spent beating rock into submission, the time had come for a much needed reprieve. Ma'alkerrite and Jedi alike set down their tools; and thus did the breaking of bread begin. It wasn't something overly grand, of course. Some would chatter about the construction whilst others would share their lunches. All around...there was an air of compassion, for everyone was present to do something good. ApeX itself had come, not to collect coin, but to offer its strength towards something decent. Something needed.

And so, in the spirit of breaking bread, Malok had made tea for one [member="Bethany Kismet"].

"I know it's rather warm out, but I assure you-" he began upon stepping closer. "you've never tried a flavor like this. Fresh from Malkerr, Dosiberry Tea." With that said, he set the platter down upon the balcony's railing before offering her a cup. "I haven't met a soul who hasn't liked it!"

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany was leaning on the balcony railing, looking out over the half finished buildings that would make up Sanctuary. The sun was still high in the sky, glinting off of the white stone. She knew from the last week that the second half of the day would slide by quickly- dusk came to the valley earlier than elsewhere, the mountains' shadows stretching long and offering twilight before the sky itself had begun to darken.

She felt him before she saw him, but she stayed where she was, gazing over the valley. When he spoke, she smiled, turning her head to look up at him.

"It's never too warm for tea," she commented softly. "And I have never yet met a tea I didn't like, so I am sure we will be fast friends, the tea and I." Her eyes sparkled, a hint of mischief there. Was she actually referring to the tea or the thoughtful [member="Malok"]?

She accepted the cup with a nod of thanks, leaning once again on the railing. Elbows propped, she raised the cup to her face, breathing in the steam deeply.

"It smells amazing Commander, thank you. Your men are taken care of? They have everything they need?"

 

[Darth Metus]

"I can assure you, it tastes even better than it smells."

The Ma'alkerrite spoke as his mammoth hand reached out towards the platter once more. Taking cup in hand, his nostrils were blessed by the sweet aroma of the tea. He couldn't help but exhale with content before turning his eyes upon the valley before him. At face value, the view was incredible...yet compared to ApeX's "home", it was priceless. The towering mountains...the lush trees...all were "better" than rivers of lava. Monastery was comfortable. Beautiful. It reminded him of, well, Mal'kerr itself.

"My men are doing just fine. We brought along plenty of provisions." he began. "I figure that some time away from it all is doing them good as well. This world is peaceful. Beautiful. It isn't a battlefield...it isn't a lava pit...Reminds me of home, actually."

Malok indulged a sip of his tea before turning away from the majestic view. To the Jedi was then offered a warm smile.

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Taking a sip, Bethany sighed in contentment. He hadn't been exaggerating. Cupping the delicate ceramic in both hands, she let the warmth seep through her palms. Leaning on the railing, she gazed out at the valley with him.

She nodded. "It is," she agreed simply.

When she had been ready to set down roots, supported by [member="Hal Terrano"] and [member="Michael Sardun"] (even if grudgingly in this endeavor by the later), she had followed the Force here to Monastery. Unlike other times she had been called to a planet, this one wasn't in need of her care- not directly. There had been no great cataclysm, no outside invaders. Simply a quiet, slumbering world, waiting for something that had not moved across its surface in over 800 years.

"I worry though."

She raised the cup to her mouth for a moment, but didn't drink, her eyes distant.

"Jedi, no matter our intentions, have a tendency to attract those who.... well, would see us undone. And while the more martial sects may make bigger messes, this is not....."

Taking a sip, she closed her eyes for a moment.

"This is not the first time I have set down stones for an order dedicated to peace, Malok," she said quietly, looking down into her cup.

"And I fear what that may bring here."

Despite her work as a healer, in seeking the best in the people she met, Bethany was not naïve. She hoped that the differences she put in place this time would be enough to protect them, if it came to that. But she couldn't know until events unfolded.

[member="Malok"]

 

[Darth Metus]

For a moment, the Ma'alkerrite tore his gaze away from the beauty of Monastery.

The words of the Jedi beside him were...heavy. Laden with a burden that her typical demeanor did not betray. [member="Bethany Kismet"] spoke much like a mother who was concerned with the wellbeing of her child. Had she set up the Order in a safe location? Would they thrive here? Succeed? Or would they stumble...The history of the modern Galaxy alone was an intimidating factor to overcome, Malok knew as much. Her words made him think of recent news...the fall of the Republic...the fall of the One Sith...collapsing nations did not remove their populations.

Somewhere, out there, the enemies of the light laid in wait. Malok knew this well...he had knelt before it only weeks prior...

"Come what may, ApeX will protect this place."

He turned before speaking again.

"You fear what the Order may bring...look what it has! All these people, dedicated to helping others. You have moved a callous group of hired guns. You have motivated us to lay stone for not a credit. That's huge!" Malok offered a toothy grin whilst reaching out, gently pacing his mammoth hand on her shoulder...and upper forearm in one go.

"You have my word on that. We will defend this place, from whatever may come."

 

[Bethany Kismet]

She didn't need to ask him why. If anyone understood, it was Bethany.

History told her that it was only a matter of time before his promise would be needed. Weeks? Months? Years? That, she had no way of knowing. But she believed him.

The diminutive woman smiled up at him, reaching over and putting her hand over his.

"Whatever happens, you and yours are welcome here on Monastery," she said.

Bethany looked back out over the edge of the balcony.

"I know what I am choosing, by starting this." Again hung, unspoken in the air. "Some things.... never change. But I don't want anyone else choosing to be here without understanding the risks."

She turned to look up at him, her gaze thoughtful as she studied his face.

"You know," she said simply. "You already know just what is out there that will object to what we are building here. So, I thank you. So you know, though, you'd be welcome here. Even without that promise."

[member="Malok"]

 

[Darth Metus]

You already know just what is out there...

The words brought reality crashing down upon his shoulders. An icy chill raced throughout Malok's fur, manifesting in an uncanny shudder. It was an out of place sensation - especially in the warmth of Monastery. He knew what was out there...He had been laid low by its...his...power over the course of their training. And in that moment, Malok felt doubt. He knew that, if his Master marched on Sanctuary, he would be powerless to stop him. His strength. His size. His budding might.

They were as ants before the Destroyer.

He exhaled deep, nostrils flaring as he attempted to shelve the distressing train of thought. "It's heartening to know this Bethany, thank you." he began. His speech was then punctuated by a sip of his tea.

"You are...a Master, yes? A Master of the Force?" It seemed an obvious question, given her station but...in reality, he was asking if she was strong enough to weather the storms.

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

She did not miss the shudder. Or the dread and doubt that hung in the air around him, slicing through his core as surely as the warmth of the tea had a moment ago.

Bethany didn't know who or what had brought on that reaction. She didn't know yet that [member="Malok"]'s master was the very same man she had known half a millenia ago.... and that now he strode with the Sith across the galaxy. She had known [member="Darth Prazutis"] as a different man, by a different name. He had not been a good man, even then. But he had tried, and recognized the conflict and fear within himself. She couldn't know yet how all of the connections were tightening. For now, all she could do was focus on the person beside her.

There was a touch of chagrin in her smile when she nodded at his question.

"I am," she said softly. So far, she had not advertised that. Not simply her rank as a Jedi, but who she was. Few enough people would recognize her from history, but she was quiet about it, never drawing attention.

"A Jedi Master, to be precise," she added, resting her teacup on the railing. "But from an order that is.... long vanished from the galaxy."

Five hundred years since the Jedi had operated a temple on Naboo. Before the Darkness. Before the plague. So much of that time, lost to history.

It would be better if her own stories were equally lost. Not because she felt shame in them. But because it was better to look forward. Fame had never been something she had desired. It had happened in her own time despite her wants, however. She could at least not rest upon it now.

"My focus has always been on healing," she continued softly as she gazed out over the valley. "On defense. I will not ever bring war to someone else-" something in that statement echoed a silent 'again'. "But I am prepared to defend the people here with everything that I have."

Another again, unspoken. Last time she had done that at the cost of her life. And she would do it again, if necessary.

 

[Darth Metus]

"I..."

The Ma'alkerrite parted his lips. He wanted to...he didn't know...to tell her. Yet what exactly was it that he could tell? That he had made a deal with the devil? That he had lived his life waiting for the chance to tear his sibling to pieces? No. He couldn't. What would she think of him then? It was bad enough that he made his living through violence...but...she didn't judge him for that. No, she treated him with such kindness - treated all of ApeX with such kindness. She knew that war was their business, and yet she welcomed them to Sanctuary with open arms.

Malok swallowed.

She was a Jedi Master. She had seen war - her words eluded to as much - and lived to tell it. She...made him remember what it was like before ApeX. What he was like. She and her Sanctuary made him face what he had long since walked away from. And deep down, that was what Malok wanted. That was what each and every member of ApeX wanted. They didn't want to wander the Galaxy, shooting their way to their next meal. They wanted to go back to how things were. Striok always dreamt of going back to his home. Back to his mines. And Malok...he longed for his study. For the quiet sanctuary of making pots and knives in the privacy of home.

A knot formed in the base of his throat.

"We lost everything. So long ago." he began. "Our home, everything we ever knew. This place reminds me of home so much...I had honestly forgotten what it had felt like to be there, on Ma'alkerr. But Sanctuary has reminded me."

He sighed.

"And now, I'll admit, I'm scared. I'm scared to lose what Sanctuary has made me feel all over again. And what makes this fear worse is that the very same people who are out there...who would take issue or bring fire to this world...are the very same who are trying to give me Revenge."

He didn't provide a name, but rather reached for his belt. His saber, the very same [member="Darth Prazutis"] had guided him to create, was plucked from its place and extended out to [member="Bethany Kismet"]. At a glance...she would be able to feel what he had done. To know that the very life of the crystal had been squeezed out in order to provide Wrath. "I don't want to be afraid, Bethany. Help me."

 

[Bethany Kismet]

A small hand reached out, cupping over the saberhilt. But it was his hand that she was intent on. She didn't need to touch the weapon to know.

"Everyone is afraid, Malok," she said softly. "There is no gift of fearlessness that I can give you, and even if I could.... I would not."

She plucked the saber from his hand gently, setting it balancing on the railing.

"Fear means that we care about something. And that is something that the Jedi in particular underestimate. There is no weakness in love, Malok. In the fear of losing what is precious to us. It is only when we tip too far in our fear and act without thought, without intent- or worse, the intent to take because we think that it will fill that clawing fear."

Bethany didn't tip the weapon over the side of the balcony- there was no need of that to illustrate.

"But it is not possible to fill that fear by giving into it. It cannot be filled by sacrificing to it. Revenge doesn't fill it, it forever hungers, always consumes. If anything, fear that is fed only grows."

"I cannot help you fill that fear," she murmured. "And I cannot help you with revenge if that is the path you chose to walk. I am not sorry that you are afraid, Malok. But I am sorry that you think it is a weakness that must be punished in yourself-"

She caught the look in his eye, that moment he was going to argue that he was not punishing himself and she smiling knowingly and put up a hand.

"Look into your heart, honestly, and tell me that fear is not a weakness you think you must banish at any cost, and I will leave it be," she said quietly, looking up at him. "That you are not punishing yourself for not just the fear, but the place that fear comes from."

The dark haired woman turned then, but didn't step away. Her gaze swept the valley before them.

"Loss, of the things, of the people we love....."

Corringath. Rian. Corrine.

"Is part of a cycle that no one can break. Sometimes, those things are taken from us by someone.... someone trying to fill their own bottomless fear. And that then feeds the fear in ourselves. The choice isn't to feel fear or not. The choice is what we do with that now. Fear breeds fear. But only if we give in to it. The way to fight fear is not to feed it, by sacrificing our choices to it. But by creating. By building. The opposite of war isn't peace," she glanced up at him. "It's creation. The choice, ultimately, is to create.... or destroy. Both feed something different. One feeds fear. The other? Feeds the lives of everyone around you."

[member="Malok"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Malok parted his lips, as if to speak, but found himself silent. The words of the Jedi Master...nay...the words of his friend had left him quiet. His fear...the ever-growing dread within the pit of his stomach, meant that he cared. Never once before did he consider this to be a reality, let alone a truth. Life had thrown a number of circumstances his way that demanded that all fear be banished: from his royal lineage to the command of ApeX. Thus had he been groomed to think fear was something to eliminate. Thus had he fed his fear.

But.

There had to be something he could do.

The Behemoth's amber gaze witnessed the form of his lightsaber. It stood balanced: teetering on the edge of life and death. The hardest thing to believe was that there was a vicious, unavoidable cycle of loss...one that he could not do anything about. He could create...he could build a new life and raise his saber in its defense. He could protect Sanctuary.

He could...The visage of Sylok burned within his mind. A spontaneous vision, perhaps placed there by the saber itself. The dread within Malok's stomach ran hot. The old wound was prodded. Viciously. "I am afraid...and there is no use punishing myself over it." he began, conceding to her wisdom.

"But...How can I create? How can I walk a new path when that fire is still out there, waiting to consume everything I care about? I can't just...accept that I'll lose what I care about. I won't accept that the little bit I have left...ApeX, Irajah, Sanctuary...could all be part of a cycle of loss. I can't. There has to be something I can do to prevent that..."

He looked down at his hands; down at the hand of his friend upon his own. His fingers closed around her grasp, whilst he said: "We have the power to move mountains...I will arrange them around what I care about, cycle be damned. I've lost enough. We all have."

[member="Bethany Kismet"]