Comforting Silence

[Eighth Guard]

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Guard​

Equipment: Bilari Swordwhip - Praetorian Armour​

Location: Virgillia, Bastion of Ren - Hangar ---> Praetorian Dormitory​

Status: Rest​

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A command shuttle set down quietly in the hangar of the Bastion of Ren, the vessel emitting a hydraulic hiss as its boarding ramp descended and touched the polished floor of the bay with a small clang. Footsteps echoed from the passenger cabin, the Eighth Guard appearing and striding past the crews that rushed to refuel the ship and unload the artefacts that he had recovered, having just come from Praesitlyn. He paid no mind to the open stares he received from curious disciples and knights alike, he was both physically and emotionally drained after that damned expedition. He hadn't known at the time, but the illusion he encountered in that tomb sucked away much of his stored Force energy, not to mention what he had seen in his and Marriskcal's apparition.

It had actually hurt him to see her like that, to see what she feared the most: him, trying to shatter every bond they had created over time. Sure, he was a supposedly stoic guardian of the great Supreme Leader, but it made his heart pang to feel someone he...cared deeply for be in a state of anguish. He shoved those thoughts aside as he entered the dormitory he shared with literally nobody else except for her and stopped beside the moderately-sized bed that he called his own for years by now.

Starting the process through his helmet's HUD, the plates of his armour began to retract autonomously and his robes steadily shrank until they disappeared beneath the torso section. His helmet unsealed itself and collapsed into the chest plate, allowing him to take a deep breath of fresh air; once freed from the crimson armour, he threw it off to the side, the item hitting the floor with a loud thud. The Praetorian pressed down on the bodyglove that still covered him, the garment changing both shape and texture in the span of about ten seconds until it looked like a set of robes.

Eight sat down on the edge of his bed, lifting his feet up and pivoting until he was laying down on his back, a small hiss of discomfort escaping his lips. For all he cared, the day was done and it was time to rest.

Hopefully.

[member="Marriskcal Lati"]​

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Lightsaber (blue) & Training Lightsaber (red; synthcrystal)
Location | Praetorian Dormitory, Bastion of Ren, Virgillia
Allies | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Status | Fragile

[SIZE=11pt]She was quiet throughout their journey back to Virgillia, her HUD comms system firmly switched to mute as she tried to remain calm and unaffected by the events that transpired back on the Valley of Tombs. Please do not talk to me. Please do not touch me. Please do not approach me. These were the litany of thoughts that she repeated through her mind over and over whenever someone drew close, lacing them with a hint of persuasion to ensure they stayed away. She felt hollow and frayed, her emotions shattered into many pieces of sharp edged glass and her sense of self crumbled like a sand castle being pulled down by the tide.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Most of her movements when they finally landed back on the Bastion was perfunctory, carefully measured and precise from experience born of rote. Her features hidden behind the anonymity of an assault armour and her presence carefully concealed, none of her acquaintances noticed her passing them by. Perhaps tomorrow, she would greet them and apologise for the lapse in her manners, but for tonight, Marriskcal just wanted the time and space to slowly gather herself together once more.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]By the time she returned to the secluded dormitory clad in a simple ensemble of [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]a soft worn pair of shorts and a[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] sweater, the blonde felt weary. She stepped quietly into the quiet corridor where both the guard’s room and her own were facing each other directly, pausing when she sensed his warm presence within. Unable to help herself, Marriskcal placed a hand on his door. The cruel jarring voice that followed her back from the ancient tomb echoed through her mind, whispering to her that even if he indulged her, it would be out of pity.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her hands trembled.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But before she could lose what little courage she had left, the blonde knocked lightly on the door. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“May I come in[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?”[/SIZE]

 

[Eighth Guard]

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Guard​

Equipment: Praetorian Robes​

Location: Praetorian Dormitory​

Status: Resting​

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He let out a silent groan of protest when he heard a knock on the blast door separating his quarters from the corridor outside, the annoyance subsiding when he heard her asking to come in. If there was ever a time for bad feelings in the man's life, now was it; however, with a flick of his wrist, the door slid open to admit her into his domicile. It was a standard dormitory for someone of his station: sleek grey wall panels with integrated lights, several red and black banners displaying the sigil of the First Order hanging around the room, and of course the ever-comfortable bed in the centre, where the Praetorian currently resided.

Eight didn't raise his head to meet her eyes with his own, he knew full well that she would eventually gravitate to stand next to him, in fact, he anticipated it. But what he didn't foresee was how quickly she would muster the courage to speak with him so soon after the incident on Praesitlyn. His thoughts went back to the pyramidal holocron full of Sith secrets that he had acquired, its effects on the three of them.

He ran a thumb over a dark red bruise on his rest, one of the many spots on his body where his armour had been dented from the pressure exhibited by the false Leader, leaving said bruises in the process. His breathing was calm, but the pace of his heart quickened as his mind raced over the possibilities of what Marriskcal was going to say, as to whether they were going to be good or bad eluded him

The bearded man did not say anything, for he felt it best to just let her talk to him uninterrupted. Although, he did move his body to the side slightly, giving her enough room to sit next to him if she so wished.

[member="Marriskcal Lati"]​

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Unarmed
Location | Praetorian Dormitory, Bastion of Ren, Virgillia
Allies | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Status | Fragile

[SIZE=11pt]She found her resolve faltering once more, even as the blast door slid open with a hiss. But as this was a course she has already placed into motion, the blonde persisted. Taking a deep breath in futile hopes that it would calm the frantic beating of her heart, Marriskcal accepted the silent invitation and stepped into the relatively sparse room. Immediately, her gaze took in the haphazard manner in which the crimson armour was discarded on the floor and she presumed that the other was too weary to bother with tidying up after himself for the night. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]While her curiousity would usually be roused by learning something new about her mentor, even if it is something as mundane as his living space, she only had focus for its sole occupant for now. Carefully, in an almost timid manner that was uncharacteristic of her, Marriskcal made her way to the Praetorian’s side and looked down on his resting form. Though the older male remained quiet, his wordless action of making space for her on his bed soothed the worst of her instincts that was urging her to flee from the room. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With a swift tug to release the catch, the blonde allowed the slim belt which held both her lightsabers to join his armour on the floor. Toeing off her shoes, Marriskcal perched stiffly on the edge of the soft mattress, feeling ashamed at the relief that suffused her when Eight continued to stay silent and did not attempt to meet her own gaze. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand as it rubbed at a bruise, her fingers twitching as she recalled how the Praetorian has sliced into his palm back on Praesitlyn. Now that they were far away from the planet, their mission over and done with, Marriskcal found herself wanting to snatch up his wrist to check on the injury for herself. But she was currently at an impasse, standing at a crossroad where she was not certain what liberties the older male would allow and even if he allowed it, would it be because he returned her fondness or because he felt sorry for her[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The quiet moment that stretched between them made it easier for her to stay in his presence while she was still feeling so raw and fragile. For now, the blonde was content to just breath and take whatever slight comfort from the thought that he has yet to reject her. There were so many questions she wanted to ask of him, and so many words she wanted to say to him. But as she sat there by his side, with butterflies doing a maddening dance amongst the knots within her, none of them would come. In the end, Marriskcal decided to settle for two words.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I’m sorry.”[/SIZE]

 

[Eighth Guard]

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Guard​

Equipment: Praetorian Robes​

Location: Praetorian Dormitory​

Status: Comforting​

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He felt the side of his bed dip down, the young girl sitting down on it next to him and prompting him to stop messing around with the bruises on his extremities. A maddening sense of guilt washed over him anew, as the proximity between them shortened, his eyes still staring straight up at the ceiling of his room as he continued to allow her time with her own thoughts. Only now did he take notice of the dull pain radiating from every corner of his body, a token from the desert tomb most likely. The air of silence around them was pierced when she apparently finished deciding upon the words she planned to give him:

I'm sorry.

It was heartwrenching, his lips curling into an obvious frown as he had the displeasure of hearing them. It stung him more than the real pain did, the guilt intensifying and being joined by great remorse. Why was she apologizing to him of all people? Why did she feel as if he deserved one? He had personally witnessed what she had heard from the imitation of him, the words had cut deep into both of them, undeniably affecting her much more than they ever would him. There were too many questions on his mind, but none of them would address the fact that what she needed most was assurance that everything the apparition had said was a terrible lie.

The quiet returned for a single second, something that felt like an eternity to the Eighth Guard, until he shuffled and swiftly wrapped his arms around Marr; pulling the girl downwards and against his chest, the man's beard nuzzling the back of her head, whether by accident or on purpose unknown. He hugged her tight at that moment, fearing that if he were to let go she would just slip away and spiral deeper into desolation.

"Marriskcal..." He murmured softly into her ear, his breath audible to the girl. The Praetorian said nothing else, wishing to give her time to acclimate to the position he forced her into, his arms loosening their grip on the initiate.

[member="Marriskcal Lati"]​

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Unarmed
Location | Praetorian Dormitory, Bastion of Ren, Virgillia
Allies | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Status | Relieved

[SIZE=11pt]Even as the apology left her lips, the blonde herself did not know what to expect from the other. Hollow and adrift, it was something of an instinct for her to seek comfort from Eight despite it being his phantom that has carved the worst of the wounds into her psyche. Marriskcal has allowed herself to care, and slowly let him into her heart and made herself vulnerable, which was why those words has hurt her as much as it did. As she sat by his side, she carefully avoided dwelling in the dark mire her thoughts has taken. She knew it was all too easy to lose herself in the mental maze of doubts and failings, and that if she ever allowed it to influence her, she would completely and irrevocably shatter.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]When his arms closed around her, Marriskcal only had enough time to flinch in surprise before she found herself falling onto the soft bed and drawn into a warm embrace. Her eyes widened as she felt his chin brushing against her head. While they both had a good camaraderie with one another, the Praetorian remained mostly stoic and seldom showed any signs of affection before today, preferring to grace her with words and fond looks. For a moment, the initiate remained tense in his arms. And then, Eight whispered her name, his voice soft and gentle.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It was just as well that older male was unable to see the emotions that flickered through her features as the calm veneer she so carefully crafted finally cracked. The sudden sense of relief that pervaded her was overwhelming as the other gave her the assurance she so desperately needed. All the tension melted out of her body, her blue eyes squeezing tightly shut as soon as her vision became blurred. Trembling, Marriskcal shifted in his arms, turning to hide her face in the crook of his neck and buried her nose into his collarbone. Even with someone she trusted unreservedly, she was still reluctant to allow Eight to see her in such a vulnerable state.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She soaked in his warm presence, a hand curling into the front of his robes and another going around his waist so she could pull herself closer to his side. Slowly, Marriskcal allowed his breaths and heartbeats to calm her down, until she felt she could speak without her voice breaking. “I’ll… be fine,” her words fragile and slightly muffled against his skin. The words 'eventually' remained unspoken. “Just… let me stay like this for awhile.”[/SIZE]

 

[Eighth Guard]

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Guard​

Equipment: Praetorian Robes​

Location: Praetorian Dormitory​

Status: Comforting​

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He knew this was wrong, that in some way he was betraying the traditions of the Guard, he just didn't know how. As a principle, he had never let anybody have any physical contact with him other than that forced upon him by his enemies, his position in the First Order required him to maintain such an image. Though, over time he noticed how he had permitted and frankly become appreciative of the times when she would just grab and hold onto his hand; when she would nuzzle his arm and remain close by, like his shadow. He remembered that one incident where she accompanied him to hunt a fallen Jedi, who had had the pleasure of witnessing one of the fiercest warriors in the First Order having his off-hand being held by that of a girl who was almost a foot shorter than him.

She was older now, almost at the drinking age (much to his displeasure, he had seen first hand what a sip of wine could do to her), and those memories were just that, memories. But, it just felt like it was the right thing to do, for both him and her. For some reason, it had been like a natural instinct for him to embrace her, to hold the saddened child close to him until she stopped feeling as if everything had been her fault. She was tense at first, and for the first time in months, he actually feared something: that she would reject his displayed fondness for her. Then he felt all of that tension disappears, the girl turning around and burying her face into his neck.

Eight felt the dampness of tears and the warmth of her breath against his skin as he turned on his side to face her, one of his hands moving up to stroke the side of her forehead with a callused thumb. His nose pressed against the top of her head, and without thinking, he inhaled deeply, a sense of peace and tranquillity washing over him as he did so. He heard her say something to him, the words vibrating against his skin. "Of course...it'll be alright..." He murmured lightly, shifting slightly to press the faintest of a kiss against her temple, in an uncharacteristic sign of affection.

"Just rest now...my little Bakuran bunny..."

[member="Marriskcal Lati"]​

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Unarmed
Location | Praetorian Dormitory, Bastion of Ren, Virgillia
Allies | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Status | Dead to the world

[SIZE=11pt]For most of her life, she was taught that one’s flaws were something to be despised. And tears that were shed due to emotions was a sign that one was weak and easily affected. By the time she knew better and was allowed to form her own views, it was already embedded deep within her mind. While she had never once thought badly of another brother or sister when they felt the need to cry, Marriskcal had never allowed herself to indulge in what she felt would be a personal failing on her part. After all, if she had the time and energy to waste on crying, it was time and energy better utilised on honing and refining her skills. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Now, as she lay within Eight’s protective embrace; with him offering her his unconditional comfort, his silent understanding, his rare show of affection, Marriskcal found that she was unable to stop her tears from falling. And the more she tried to, the worse it became. It was especially so when the blonde knew that the knight was not usually this affectionate, and that she was the only one that he bared this side of himself to. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]When her mentor held her close, his gentle touches and tender words chasing away the worst of her fears, her heart swelled with adoration for him. [/SIZE]With each brush of a touch, each breath he took, the butterfly kiss he gave, the endearment that made her flush in embarrassed pleasure, Marriskcal slowly gathered herself piece by piece. While the sense of fragility was still prevalent, with his sentiments towards her being so clear, the blonde banished the shadows that has haunted her mind.

[SIZE=11pt]But while her tears ceased its flow, the weariness that came after slowly dragged her into the depths of slumber. Breathing in his clean scent, she allowed his calm heartbeat to lull her to sleep, her grasp on his robes loosening as she surrendered to the darkness.[/SIZE]