Private But While We Are Here

[Eloise Dinn]

So Alliance High Command gave the order. That only created more questions, which Eloise could tell Amani was either unwilling or unable to answer. In fact, she was beginning to suspect that this was the first time her master had ever been made to reckon with what happened at Exegol. She had probably thought about it from time to time, but she hadn’t talked about it, and certainly not with someone ready to argue.

"You're not listening."

“I am listening,” Eloise snapped back. “I’m listening well enough to know I don’t agree with you. Would you rather I nodded along mindlessly like a bobblehead? Do you want a parrot instead of a Padawan, repeating everything you say?”

She rested her hands on her hips. “Do you know what happens when you attack someone? They fight back. It’s the same with the Maw and the Jedi. The Jedi had to have known that the Maw would retaliate. If it’s true that Exegol was destroyed, not by Darkness or Light alone, but by the clash between the two conflicting rituals, then yes, it was partly the Jedi’s fault. They engaged in provocation and kept up the ritual until this world was destroyed in the crossfire. And they did it because the Alliance wanted them to win a fething war for them.

“The Jedi aren’t supposed to serve the Alliance. They’re supposed to serve the Force.”

"I carry the blame for a great many things in my life, Eloise. The Maw's choice to destroy a planet won't be one of them."

"Cope any harder, Master, and they might start asking you to write the history books."

Amani Serys​

 

[Merion Oreno]

Amani Serys Eloise Dinn

One of the previously chatty cultists — a boy named Merion — ahemmed.

"The Jedi Master is correct: sadly, other than the Maw, Exegol was a barren rock. The destruction was profound, but fairly strictly...mechanical. Conflating Exegol with Yavin or something like Alderaan is dishonest: it reduces our ability to appreciate what we have on its own merits. And to learn from it, from what it itself is. These observatories see places that are unique - all of them unique."

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eloise shot a glare in the direction of the cultist who had spoken. Despite her passionate argument, even she wasn't fully convinced. Was she the one coping? Was it just easier for her to blame the Jedi? It often seemed like the Order was morally unassailable, at least when she compared them to her family and everything else she had grown up with. It was easy to criticize her parents, too damned easy. The Jedi couldn't possibly be perfect, and she was desperate to find fault in it beyond the snootiness of her peers.

"I'm not conflating it with Alderaan or Yavin," she grumbled. "I just think it's wrong to destroy a planet. Any planet."

Amani Serys Merion Oreno​

 

[Loxa Visl]

<Make chain to song?> he said in the portion of Paecean he'd absorbed or conventionally studied here and there. <You put face close to Exegol?>

He glanced back the way they'd come, catching the edges of the impassioned conversation, and opted to follow Loxa into the lift.

<A bird flies quietly,> he said in half-remembered idiom.

The lift headed down toward, he was fairly sure, the docking bays. Several visitor ships were here, connected and unconnected, and a few strange or hardy souls used the Observatory as a gas station. You could catch a ride easily enough. Quill couldn't recall if Loxa lived like that or had a ship of her own; had they ever discussed it?

<What bird is yours?>

Loxa smiled - she was quite enjoying Quill's attempts to converse in her own language. Was this how it was for everyone else when she faffed about verbally with basic? The witch wondered to herself with amusement.

<<Yes,>> she nodded astutely to everything he said. The lift gate opened and she looked out to the small crowd within the docking bays. Acolytes, cultists, tourists. The walking, talking flotsam of the stars congregated here. Loxa flotsam'd out and hovered for a moment, gaze panning across the various decks and ships and faces.

<<Any bird that will carry A Witch.>>

"Please," she approached a nearby cultist and dipped her head respectfully to them as she shortly interrupted contrived mutterings between its equals, "This One wish to see within. A ship will go?"

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

It transpired that a group of particularly ecstatic cultists were just coming back. Their rubble-scoured shuttle disgorged them on the hangar deck and promptly began loading a small number of enthusiastic others. Quill found himself relegated to a seat by a window so scuffed as to be almost opaque.

"Excuse me," he said to a cultist, "but how can I see Exocron through this?"

The cultist partially unwrapped their casketlike robe and waved a shrouded arm. The Force stirred; the cloudy window shivered and began to clear, ground or polished smooth by a substantial and specialized will.
"Be at peace, elder. The way of the Central Isopter has great competence in windows."

 

[Amani Serys]

"So because one group chose to make that decision we should all be condemned?" The Maw destroyed the planet, therefore the Jedi were to blame. That came across as contradictory with Eloise's earlier comments about babies and bathwater. To call it "provocation" almost brought a pained laugh. "Do you expect us to just sit around while the Maw terrorize other worlds? Or confront them on their turf, where we can put and end to their terror without waiting for another civilization to be razed in the process?"

"You act like this war was some avoidable consequence of our meddling. Put us to the scales while pretending the Maw are merely— what? A force of nature? A byproduct?" She couldn't help but look at the girl suspiciously. "By taking away agency from evil, you justify it. Give it new life."

"Cope any harder, Master, and they might start asking you to write the history books."

"Don't be childish," Amani took particular offense. But the Isopter cultist interjected, defusing some of the rising heat in their argument. Part of Amani was grateful to be backed up, even by a group such as this, but ultimately she was just thankful to be reminded of the present. She was taking this all a bit too personally. The healer inhaled and waved a hand, the past replaying in her gaze. "You don't agree? Fine. I'm glad, in fact. Better than the inverse. But you weren't there. Don't presume to know absolute, or you'll find yourself making the same mistakes as those who came before." Learning from history was well and good, but Eloise had a streak of unambiguous judgement of her own. And in that, Amani saw hubris. And in hubris, lied a potentially darker path.

Eloise Dinn - Merion Oreno​

 

[Merion Oreno]

I just think it's wrong to destroy a planet. Any planet."

Don't presume to know absolute, or you'll find yourself making the same mistakes as those who came before."

"Fortunately, the visions of Central Isopter can help us all see absolutely! We can contemplate Exegol and get a vision of what actually happened and how, uh, tragic it was. It's an exciting way for you to both be right!"

In fact, several cultists were already engaged in such visions. Apart from the occasional 'oooh' here and there at a particularly blunt Jedi interjection, verbal destruction wasn't really to their taste.

 

[Loxa Visl]

Content to take the aisle seat next to Quill. The window trick earned a particular keen raise of her aviators from the bridge of her nose. She raised her brows as well in a leaning gesture to Quill that intimated it was a very good trick indeed.

She did not know what competence in windows meant, but clearly this Central Isopter was not someone (something?) to sneeze at or on, given their (its?) propensity for cleaning things.

Lines of smugness crinkled into crows feet around her eyes, "Elder," she said to him in congenial mockery. Ah, how nice it was to travel with those her own age. Her sisters would quite like Quill, she was sure of it.

Then, in weird stereophone, several cultists repeated together, "Windooows." A sound like ice cracking followed and a little more light came in through several freshly buffed panes. Loxa gave a look around and decided the weirdness wasn't curious enough to be concerned with.

"This One find Moross," she shared with Quill, "with A Man's map. Sante, sante mor."

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Quill heh-ed at Loxa's ribbing but was interrupted — and distracted — by the latest cultic window ritual. He'd come out here to learn ponderous matters about detecting and anticipating planetary devastation. The window thing was orders of magnitude more practical.

"This One find Moross," she shared with Quill, "with A Man's map. Sante, sante mor."

Loxa's interjection stole his attention all over again. Potentially fruitful thoughts about transparisteel went poof. The shuttle lurched free of the deck and headed for the planetary ruin visible outside.

"You found Moross? What was there when you found it? <What do you find in place?>"

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Throughout her master’s tirade, Eloise remained silent, her arms crossed and her expression a petulant scowl. By now she realized she had presented a lousy argument, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit defeat just yet. Perhaps after she’d had a chance to cool off, and enough time to think clearly about everything…

At that suspicious glare from her master, Eloise’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t you look at me like that!” she barked, though the intended effect was lessened considerably by the crack in her voice. “What do you think I am, that you would look at me that way? We’re just talking!”

Things had changed since Zaathru. Eloise cared what Amani thought of her now. Not enough that she would ever change who she was or be reduced to a groveling teacher’s pet, but she craved her master's approval. Not an unspoken accusation while they were sharing what was in each other’s heads.

"You don't agree? Fine. I'm glad, in fact. Better than the inverse. But you weren't there. Don't presume to know absolute, or you'll find yourself making the same mistakes as those who came before."

Still stinging, Eloise said nothing. The cultist’s interruption seemed to have calmed Amani somewhat, enough to take the edge out of her voice, but emotions were still running high for the both of them.

"Fortunately, the visions of Central Isopter can help us all see absolutely! We can contemplate Exegol and get a vision of what actually happened and how, uh, tragic it was. It's an exciting way for you to both be right!"

“I don’t need a vision to tell me that the galaxy is a fethed up place,” Eloise muttered, turning to leave. “Living in it is enough.”

Amani Serys​

 

[Merion Oreno]

“I don’t need a vision to tell me that the galaxy is a fethed up place,” Eloise muttered, turning to leave. “Living in it is enough.”

"Exactly! And contemplating Exegol will teach you who you need to become, if you want to live with it. That's the core of the way of Central Isopter." The cultist pointed out the window at the churning gravel pit that used to be a world. "See? Exegol is teaching you already. We're very happy for you. If either of you would like to stay longer, we have plenty of clean shrouds. You're, what, a size one and a size three?"

Eloise Dinn Amani Serys

 

[Amani Serys]

Amani blinked at the accusation, but she didn't refute the implication. Perhaps part of her did still worry about Eloise's potential inclinations. It was the duty of a master to remain attentive about such things, but the prejudice that applied to this case suddenly filled Amani with shameful guilt. Eloise didn't deserve suspicion, even if it came from a supposed sense of protectiveness. The lack of harmful intent didn't change the fact that it sowed doubt in the padawan, and now left her visibly upset. She took the girl on to prove that she wasn't behold to that path, and help guide her to something better. This was not the way to do that.

"Eloise…" Amani sighed, "It's not…" The girl was turning to leave. She couldn't blame her. Perhaps they had overstayed their welcome as is, given how this entire visit had been treated. Amani turned to the Isopter cultist awkwardly, "Dammit… I'm sorry. It might just-- Be best if we leave now. She seems done as it is," With a stiff bow, she then turned to leave, "Apologies for the disruption."

Eloise Dinn Merion Oreno​

 

[Loxa Visl]

Quill heh-ed at Loxa's ribbing but was interrupted — and distracted — by the latest cultic window ritual. He'd come out here to learn ponderous matters about detecting and anticipating planetary devastation. The window thing was orders of magnitude more practical.

Loxa's interjection stole his attention all over again. Potentially fruitful thoughts about transparisteel went poof. The shuttle lurched free of the deck and headed for the planetary ruin visible outside.

"You found Moross? What was there when you found it? <What do you find in place?>"

<<Ghosts,>> Loxa replied soberly as she recalled her various travels with Khaleel through Moross space, <<The great temple on Exocron was empty. Broken. Only ashes remain of the Moross flame.>>

Equal parts disappointed and awed, she remembered the curious sense of nostalgia for a place and people she'd never known.

"Ah, mas-" her hands rifled through the leather satchel on her lap, <<This One find small temple on Kal-shebble. A Priest gifted the book.>> She produced the Book of Moross. Though not very old, its curved corners and dogears suggested she had given it quite a bit of attention.

<<This One cannot read it.>> The book had been printed in basic. If Quill paged through he'd find some notes on pages. Evidence Loxa had been attempting to translate some of the passages to Paecean.

Beyond the cleansed windowpanes the tide of churning rubble greeted their passage with a gentle pinging of small debris off the hull's shields. The ship began to dip and yaw as its pilot traversed the treacherous way. A few cultists oooh'd and ahhh'd together whenever a big chunk passed by with concerning proximity.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Quill split his attention between the vista and the book, a balance that varied moment to moment. Exegol's Force wound pressed in on him, or conversely tried to draw him out, maybe both at once.

To the mild annoyance of some nearby spectators, he began to read aloud from the Book of Moross. Various cultists took it as an interesting devotional and did not object. As he read, he pushed out Basic gently, ensuring that his words would be understood, instilling a small portion of the language. There were always complexities around the sharing of language with the Force, a very rare skill. The simplest way he'd found, socially, was just this: to speak and be understood. It wasn't easy by any means, especially with Exegol's presence bearing down on him and calling to him. He'd picked up this ability from Gutretee elders in a war zone under similarly complicated circumstances. It was something of a presumption, and he currently felt comfortable doing it in this limited way.

A rock spanged off the freshly cleaned viewport and left a smear of ore behind. Quill's focus broke.

 

[Loxa Visl]

As the rock spanged off the viewport, so too did Quill's words off Loxa's mind.

They left a smear of understanding behind.

"The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague."​

Pang ping.​

"Who shall say where the one ends and where the other begins? We stand on the brink of a precipice." ​

PONG ting ting!

Tak tak tak.​

"We peer into the abyss. We grow sick and dizzy."
​

Screeeeeeeeeech. Bong.

"Our first impulse is to shrink from the danger. Unaccountably, we remain."
​

VOOOOOOSH.​

Tik pang.

"By slow degrees, our sickness and dizziness and horror become merged in a cloud of unnamable feeling."
​

The ship gave a great, lurching shudder. "Ahhhhh!" went several cultists who popped out of their seats in tandem to the lurch. Loxa clamped one hand onto the seatback in front of her and the other onto Quill's near shoulder to steady him while he read. She looked through the viewport as the eye of the debris field winked at her behind the passing of a massive asteroid.

"It is merely the idea of what would be our sensations during the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height."
​

RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE

"And this fall, this rushing annihilation for the very reason that it involves that one most ghastly and loathsome of all, images of death and suffering which have ever presented themselves to our imagination-"
​

Ping.​

"for this very cause do we now, most vividly, desire it."

​

Loxa peered at Quill, her eyes narrowing. She craned to check that he was, indeed, reading of the book she'd passed to him, "Curious," she said, then pointed out the window, "look."

The eye of Exogol's shattered remains gaped at them. Loxa felt a familiar pull at her gut from the place where her fight or flight instincts were born.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

The churn commanded Quill's entire focus. The scale of it, clear as hard vacuum, eclipsed anything he'd viewed before.

The murk of rotten atmosphere flowed around toothy outcrops the size of continents. Vast sprays of collision and recollision shocked out from the rubble of the core.

In a moment of peace, like a breath after a wail, a billion tons of gravel knotted around itself and then flailed out with the force of a solar flare. The center of Exegol reminded Quill, incongruously, of whipped dessert whirling inward and down in a blender.

Cultic murmurs: "The isopteral sphincter! The holiest of sights!"

 

[Loxa Visl]

Loxa's hand quietly moved to press the Book of Moross down from where Quill left it stranded for attention in his hand, mid-air. She tucked the book away back into her bag and affixed her own eyes on the view of the holy sphincter.

It yawned, dubious and enthralling like The Mouth of the World - a massive, ancient sarlaac of Dathomir that she'd had the honor of not being fed to once in her life. Instead, she'd chosen to take the path that lead her to where she was now: staring at the other end of a massive, ancient thing. Loxa remembered that day of her youth with such epic clarity that it dredged up the same strangled gasp she'd made then, in the now.

Though Exegol was not a living entity as such, it registered on her ethereal senses like one.

"More close..." her desire made itself manifest as the word and the witch looked over to the nearest cultist, "we go more close?"

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

The pilot, who turned out to be wearing a Central Isopter cult mask, didn't need much encouragement to follow Loxa Visl 's request to self-destructive lengths. The shuttle arced down past endless cliffs of congealed mantle, down into the regions where vast chunks of planetary core and drifted crust collided endlessly. Quill fought down panic: it was getting in the way. He very desperately wanted to find a clearer sense of this place.

A vast amount of life, he felt, had ended here. The Maw had sprawled across Exegol, not just their soldiers but their slave-soldiers and other enslaved people. The ecosystem had been paltry, to be sure, but still alive. Their deaths and the planet's destruction combined to make one of the starkest Force wounds he'd ever encountered. The Wall of Light had purged what came before, to be sure, but the ensuing cataclysm had made its mark regardless.

There were ways to heal a wound, in theory, even at this scale. The Ithorians had secrets, things Master Boolon had hinted at in the olden days. Other records suggested Nathema had regenerated at the death of the man who'd drained its life away. The Jedi Exile was said to have healed some part of the wound at Malachor. But nobody cared about Exegol.

In his heart of hearts, Quill's intuition suggested that Exegol would take as long to heal in the Force as it to heal geologically. Thousands of years. Millions.

A vision gripped him: that possible future. Barren plains regaining life, re-seeded perhaps, overlooking deep calm canyons. Thousands or millions of years to come, Exegol would heal again. The wound the cultists watched could only endure so long.

Loxa Visl (whoops, forgot about this one)