...But Home Is Nowhere

[Miria Lasedri]

There weren’t many things Miria could say she was certain of in life, given both her young age and general inexperience with the functionings of the vast number of sentient beings that inhabit the galaxy. Her experience with politics only extended as far as those that took place on her homeworld of Chandrila, and while those varied amongst each sect, there was a certain sameness to them that wouldn’t be found in larger cities on more vastly populated planets, that much she knew. But her motivation, or rather, intrigue, when it came to Gen didn’t extend quite as far into the governing aspect of things. It was knowing her as a person, rather than a senator, that was of interest. The rest of it was merely secondary.

Of course, she would inevitably have to deal with that side of things as well, if it came down to it. There wouldn’t be any avoiding it, even if publicity wasn’t what she was seeking. In fact, it was quite the opposite. While her traits as a member of the Echani were uncommon on such an isolated planet, most of the people there had adjusted to seeing her, and thus viewed her as just another member of the population. This allowed her to go unseen with relative ease, despite her pale skin and light hair that made her easy to pick out in a crowd. On any other planet, regardless of the number of alien species there, that ability to remain hidden in plain sight would turn in on itself. Publicity wasn’t her goal, but rather an unavoidable side-effect.

There was a tension in the air, an unspoken uncertainty that hummed between the two of them. It foretold thoughts left unstated, musings kept within the confines of one’s own mind. And, to her, those words nulled before they had a chance to escape were those things best brought to light. At this point there wasn’t any real reason to keep things secret between the two of them, given all that had been shared in the hour previous. It would just stall things, forcing them to remain stagnant where they otherwise might have moved forward, keeping both of their lives locked in place where the path was determined to move forward, twisting and turning to stretch and cross new horizons. Life had already made the decision. It was up to the both of them to fulfill it.

Where most beings would speak to prove a point she typically remained silent. But not this time. There was something in the moment, between them that prompted her to say aloud what she would have instead signed under any other circumstance. “You’re lying. Not to me, but to yourself.” There was a certain way individuals spoke when they didn’t entirely believe what they were saying, and those same cues weren’t absent even in those that believed they had adapted to become used to telling half-truths to get their way. After all, she was one that would spin tales every now and then in order to further herself or otherwise avoid experiences that would be unpleasant, in her mind, many of them involving spending an exceeding amount of time in the orphanage. It might have been difficult to do so without verbalizing, but even that she managed.

Letting those words hang between them in the air for a moment, she simply watched Gen with her silver eyes, her expression unreadable, merely silently calculating, gauging the woman’s reactions whether they were spoken or otherwise seemingly unseen. Briefly, she signed, ‘There isn’t any point in speaking unless you mean all and everything that you say.’

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Gen looked away from the girl when she called her out for lying. A silly teenage girl was going to claim to know what this stranger (Forget that she was a famous figure. No one knew anyone without meeting them candidly in person.) was thinking and whether it was the truth! Her eyes burned for the briefest of moments as she sucked in and bit at her lower lip, annoyed at Miria for the words she spoke and signed. Was she trying to impress? Because this was not the way to do it.

But she could remain angry for no longer than a second, realizing what was truly bothering her. The words and signals--they stung; they hurt. This hardened mercenary-turned-militant-turned-politician had not allowed simple words to penetrate her emotional shield in years. She was always the offender. She was the one who had spat and cursed and eviscerated those she disliked without pause. She was unbreakable. Dammit.

"I'm a killer. I'm a liar. I'm a politician," Lasedri summed up, returning her gaze to meet those shimmering eyes. She swore she saw her own brown eyes in the reflection off the girl's corneas. "It seems like I'd be the worst role model you could ever have. And you're going to hate me. Trust me, I know!" Her fingers curled up and her hands began to tremble again--emotion she would not release. All she would allow was turmoil and exasperation. She was weak.

I'm not a mother. No, Miria needed someone better. There would always be someone better than Gen. Someone with no strained relationship with their parents and no obligations to a quadrillion people and no one threatening their life; no blood on their hands. Geneviève was a horrible person, and she would be a horrible parent. This she knew, because she had never loved anyone.

[member="Miria Elysar"]

 

[Miria Lasedri]

Unintentionally Miria started slightly as Gen raised her voice, but she quickly regained her composure, her expression smoothing over to that same unnatural calm. It was a face she had learned to wear well, that one void of any and all emotion. It was easier that way, simpler, not having to worry yourself with what another might pick up from the minute facial tics that were always present. Even she hadn't completely learned how to quell those, but it was a technique she had become intimately familiar with. And she could easily see that it either irritated or unnerved Gen, to a degree, not being able to read the thoughts of this young teen plainly on her face when it should have been so easy.

The slightest of frowns creased the corners of her mouth for a split second, the downward movement so subtle that it would be difficult for those unused to reading faces to pick up on. It was a different sort of game they were playing now, one that twisted and turned and left so many paths untraveled and questions unanswered as it pulled them deeper into the maze of each other's minds. Each of them was attempting to get a bead on exactly what the other was thinking, with little to no success on either of their parts. And it was marginally frustrating, even for her. Maybe she'd finally found someone to match her on that plane. Maybe the two were more similar than she'd originally thought.

'Half of the galaxy can easily match you on those first two counts. You could call me a liar as well.' Maybe not in the most classical sense, but she wasn't above telling half-truths to get her way, no matter how morally skewed they were. It wasn't as if she'd ever seriously injured or otherwise hurt someone with them, as far as she was aware. And if she had, well...it didn't weigh too heavily on her conscience, because, after all, what she didn't know couldn't hurt her in return. There were few in her life that she hadn't deceived on at least one occasion, for one reason or another. Gen would be the first she'd only told the complete truth to, a development just as rare as her speaking.

This far into their talk, she wasn't quite sure what her endgame was anymore, but it seemed the same went for the woman that sat next to her. They were simply voicing their thoughts, or in her case,signing them, with no real idea of what the outcome would be. The words just seemed to flow at this point, and she wasn't about to impede them. Rarely had she had conversations quite so engaging as this, ones that required her to think and formulate a reply with every fiber of her being, that put her thoughts into overdrive as she processed each word put forth carefully. It was refreshing.

'If you were so uncertain, you would have left here already. But there's something stopping you.' A pause, and her movements became slower, gentler, reminiscent of an individual lowering their voice in a kindly manner had she been actually talking. 'What is it that has you so interested?'

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Gen was finding it a little easier to follow the sign language by now--although it seemed a little unnecessary, considering the fact that the girl had already spoken on a few occasions--but there was a lot that still needed to come back to her. Half the galaxy matches you... Call me a liar. That may certainly be true, but there was no need to aim for a life anchored to someone like Geneviève. There was especially no need to seek her out as a mentor, much less seek her out as a parent.

Why was she having this debate with a young teen, anyway? If she knew what was best for the girl, then she was not required to entertain this avenue of conversation any further. Which meant that Miria seemed to be perceptive beyond what even Gen might have previously credited her for. She was still here, and the girl was still communicating with her, even if it was through hand gestures at the moment. There was no need to lie to her now. "You remind me of me." That was it.

"I don't know what you want; where you want to be." The Prime Minister shifted on the bed, ever so slightly nearer to the orphan, and leaned forward with elbows to her knees and hands to the back of her neck, brushing the black strands of her hair back out of her face in the process. You won't be happy with me. She was fairly certain of that. She was not much of a happy person with herself.

Gen wanted the girl to say something doubt-filled; something definitive that would make it clear they were not meant to become anything more than this blink of an acquaintance. But she still wanted the girl. It made no sense. But maybe she needed somebody--one person. One perfect person.

[member="Miria Elysar"]

 

[Miria Lasedri]

While her words told a different story, the fact that Gen had shifted position just slightly closer to Miria was indicative of her becoming more comfortable and at ease, perhaps even having developed some sort of attachment that was only registering in the strands of her subconscious thus far. it was small changes like these she had learned to recognize from a young age, as they often revealed more than what the spoken word ever would. This was just another form of silent communication not unlike the sign language she commonly favored. Most viewed her way of conveying what she wanted to say inefficient while at the same time utilizing these same barely noticeable signals. It was irony if she'd ever seen any.

The first sentence caught her off guard. It wasn't something she'd ever expected to hear in her life, yet there it was, still seeming to hang in the air. That explained the reason Gen had bothered to stick around for so long, at the very least. Not only was she intrigued, she was curious to see how a younger version of what she perceived to resemble herself behaved when, in a way, introduced to an older version of herself so many years later. It was a strange thing to consider, but she wasn't left much time to mull over exactly what that meant for personally. This was all a step in the right direction, it seemed. That much was going smoothly.

'I already told you what I want: a home. I'm not looking for anything perfect or close to it. Just a home.' If she had found herself in the presence of one that could offer her a life most thought of as paradise, while the offer would likely seem tempting, she wouldn't be too inclined to take it. Those paths that required the least effort and met the least resistance along the way were typically those paths not worthy of treading. One wouldn't learn anything from having their life given to them complete with nothing short of an instruction manual and a hand always ready to guide them along their way. That wasn't the life she had led before, and it wasn't the one she wanted now.

There wasn't an easy way to articulate just what she wanted to say, especially since she wasn't entirely sure how to verbalize those thoughts currently flying through her mind at what felt like lightspeed. "If we're so similar, then you should be able to determine exactly what you would have wanted at this age. All I ask for is a chance." She really didn't want anyone to pity her. In fact, that was far from her intention. It was never something she could say she appreciated, having others fuss over her well-being. It was why she thrived so easily on her own, independent and watching over herself. It was easier, simpler. It was her.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

"You want a chance." That was really all anyone should ever want. Some people never had one, and Gen had witnessed such situations throughout her adulthood. She had been all over the galaxy, from the muddy or grassy farmworlds to the technological playgrounds to the whore factories in more 'exotic' locations. There was no place nor culture that was devoid of injustice in some form or another, but Chandrila was one of those planets that had stood out as a more pure, noble, affluent, and free world. At least, it was free for now.

The Prime Minister was not sure how long her home would remain untouched by Sith claws, and she had in part come to assess things one last time. She feared all of this beautiful world would be compromised if the Republic refused to heed her cries for proactive efforts. How much longer would it be before enemy cruisers flashed into the sky? Miria's chance would be spoiled then. And Gen would feel guilty--guilty for not listening to herself and what she wanted. "You want a home? What does that mean? Do you want me with you? Do you want me?" That's likely unwise.

The woman knew what the girl meant, though. "What if I fail? You might have one shot to get it right. And I might not be the right person." The galaxy probably did not need another Geneviève Lasedri. But the ball was in Miria's court at this point. Gen knew she was breaking; giving in. All that was needed was a deciding nudge. Think this out. Please.

[member="Miria Elysar"]

 

[Miria Lasedri]

The general confusion that seemed to plague Gen's thought processes after the simple message Miria conveyed didn't give her pause as it would most anyone else. In fact, she hardly batted an eye. But inwardly, her mind was moving at what felt like a million parsecs a second. Up until this point she had been stating things simply, plainly, bluntly. The way that she had always been required to communicate, given that others didn't deserve the time and attention this woman all but demanded of her simply by her presence. Those that typically surrounded her were only given the briefest, most basic of answers necessary. Perhaps an ineffective method, but it had served her well.

Why was this time so different in ways she didn't quite understand?

For a time it seemed as if she was disregarding their discussion, acting as if it had never been instigated in the first place. She stood, closing the pages of her journal and carefully stowing it away, concealing the volume with a painstaking attentiveness, closing the chest and making certain the straps had connected. In the next few seconds she returned to her seat next to Gen, her attention still not quite coming back around, at least not outwardly. It was her way of thinking, registering and going over these thoughts without having to worry about anyone watching her facial expressions to closely. Her movements as she did so were merely subconscious, a distraction for her body more than her mind.

'A chance, yes.' Wasn't that blatantly obvious by now? Or perhaps she was just caught off guard with the utter simplicity of it all. If she had to guess, she would say that Gen didn't often encounter such basic requests as this. The life of a politician was rife with those who said one thing but meant something entirely different. Not only that, but they wouldn't hesitate to exploit this ability to get their way and then betray those they had once called friend mere hours later. It was nothing short of a very common occurrence. But she wasn't quite like those others, at least not now. This time, in a rare moment of sincerity, her words were genuine.

'Whenever one undertakes an endeavor, there's always a chance of failure. It's simply unavoidable. That's how life works. But it's what we do with that possibility, whether we take the leap or not, that makes the difference. And I'm willing to challenge the probability that something may go wrong. Are you?' So much for being quick, concise, and straight to the point. It was one way to phrase things, and the easiest way to put it all. The two were on the cusp of something, but exactly what only time would tell.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

No. No, you don't want this, Lasedri insisted to herself, eying the Echani as she returned her journal to where it belonged, carrying out that delicate procedure to protect the bound pages as she placed it in storage. How many nights had this girl been through the ritual, waiting for that one thing she resolutely repeated that she desperately desired? How much more difficult was it each night to write about what she longed for--just as she probably had done the night before, and the night before that? There was no denying that that sort of life appeared to be miserable to Geneviève.

The worries still nagged at her, however. But when had Gen ever shied away from something that might be a challenge or failure? She had purposely faced some of the tallest of odds throughout her life. She had played with her life and the lives of others to accomplish things others disparaged her for and claimed were impossible to achieve. It was true that she had been blessed by her father's affluence to fail a couple times when it came to financially-dependent projects, but otherwise she had essentially done everything by her own means.

Yet she was scared of failing at something now? Could it be that she actually cared about someone, for once? In all the last eight years, Gen had never felt anything resembling an affinity for a person. And now she was worrying over this teenager. All the concerns of the galaxy and the Republic seemed to be microscopic in comparison at this moment. She was just a young woman sitting on the bed of a young girl, pondering over the entire future of her involvement with this kid she had known for all of two hours. You may have done worse things in your life...

Her face slipped into her palms, resignation rather than relief drenching her mind. She was submitted to her heart this time. "How do I do it?" the Prime Minister finally asked. "I'll sign."

[member="Miria Elysar"]