Define Yourself

[Placeholder 04]

He took note of the momentary hesitation. It seemed Cazoa still harbored some semblance of trepidation about her current situation - that much Cyril expected, to be completely honest. She was still new to the force, and he had opened up to her in full, for whatever that was worth. She seemed to have honed her abilities to some natural level before ever meeting him, but any further training had been unreachable. Now that things were available to her, and Cyril stood alongside her, she was likely figuring out what she wanted and where she stood with the Force.

"I won't bite," he assured her as she took his hand. A warm tone laced his words, "I never liked storms. When I was little, I lived on a far away world called Gratos. The storms there would get so violent they could split mountains in half, or so the legend went," he grinned, "We used to huddle beneath our shield generators when they came about. My father used to tell me that if I misbehaved, the storm would come for me."

Blue eyes flashed to meet her own, then shifted to observe the rock face. It was steep, but not at all insurmountable. Hoisting his pack up so that it would not fall, Cyril yanked himself up, searching for handholds and letting the force guide his movements.

He dusted off his clothing when he finally reached the top and turned about to watch the storm. The purple plumes. made his stomach turn. They seemed quite similar to the disastrous lights of the Gratos storms.

"It's horrifyingly beautiful," he replied, not at all referring to the cave. After a moment of observation - and astonishment - he turned about and followed her into the cave. It wasn't pretty, but it would do.

"Better than some of the places I've stayed," he teased, settling down and removing his pack. He set about his basic essentials - dried jerky, medicine, water, and most importantly, the old tome he'd stolen in his flight from the temple on Coruscant. He set the items carefully below his pack, crossed his legs, and scrunched up to Cazoa, allowing the heat of the lantern to warm his pale skin.

"How are you liking the all-natural-tour of the moon? Have I made for a fun guide?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa tensed as the man sat beside her. She moved away to the side slightly, masking her movement by rummaging through the pack by her feet.

'Indeed you have,' she smiled. 'Though I am sure that you have lots more to show me. I'm curious - you mentioned heritage last night? What do you mean by it? And today you speak of your family as a young boy, were your parents...like you?'

Her thoughts touched on her own family. Non existent as they were, she felt a little closer to them as things were beginning to come to light. Perhaps her parents had been connected to the force also. And perhaps the nature of her abandonment had been for a noble reason. Cazoa had always assumed that perhaps her mother was young and couldn't cope with motherhood without a husband. Yet now, she was considering that there could be much greater reasoning.

The air began to turn cool as the storm drew closer.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

His parentage? That was a difficult subject. Cyril's childhood had been less than idea, to say the least, but then he had no reason to lie to Cazoa. They would be here until the storm let up, and that could be days, let alone hours. He had no reason to build a barrier between the two of them, and what could telling her about Vulcanus really hurt?

"My mother was a Jedi Knight. She and my father were working to bring peace between the new-born Republic and the Imperial regime. He was a Moff. I suspect they eventually came close and..." he waved a hand about, "I was born nine months later. My mother left - she was too young to cope with a child, and she had a duty to the order. My father married one of his inquisitors, and they raised me for a time."

He paused, cracking a thin smile, "So yes, the force is in my blood. My mother's side of the family is particularly renowned for its connection to the force. My sisters all had it, my uncles, my niece and nephew," he shrugged.

The smile faded.

"My father spoke out against the Sith when I was six - particularly the Graug. They were a savage race of Sithspawn, and held many positions within the Sith themselves. He was executed for it. His commander took me under his wing and trained me in the old Sith ways until I was old enough to fight for him," he drew his cowl over his face as the storm grew closer. The room had grown colder, and he had no desire for Cazoa to see his expression.

"And I did fight for him. I conquered worlds, sometimes I destroyed them, all in his name. It wasn't until I was twenty that I saw sense and turned on him, or rather, he turned on me." His gaze shifted to Cazoa. She'd backed away from him. Had he made her uncomfortable?

His brow furrowed.

"We fought. I won. For a time, I thought my parents to be dead, until my mother found me," he smiled, "But enough about me, what of you?"

He paused for a moment.

"And...Cazoa, are you afraid of me?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa listened quietly to Mephirium's story. It was a troubled past, to say the least, but what touched Cazoa the most was the darkness she felt as it seeped from Mephirium with every word. His pain was almost tangible to Cazoa. It effected her deeply, eating away at any joy that she might have had inside of her. She tried to push the darkness away, but it was far too strong. All she could do was allow it room until it began to dissipate as Mephirium prompted for a tale of her own.

Before she could begin, he asked a question that took her aback.

"And...Cazoa, are you afraid of me?"

Was it obvious for him to see? She was afraid, but not for the reasons he might assume. She considered skipping over the question, but the fact that he had just spoken sincerely of his family which had caused him pain to do so, made her opt for a truthful answer. After all, there was only so much avoidance she could do in such close quarters for what could be days.

'Last night I was afraid of you,' she explained slowly. How could she convey exactly how she felt? 'When we were fighting the beasts. Now, I'm not quite sure what it is. When you first came aboard the ship, you...felt...different to me than you do now. It...changed last night.' She felt her face grow hot. Her voice became quiet. 'When I touched your skin, it felt stronger - like a current, a pull that I feel if I let it, would...bind me to you somehow, some way.' She dared not look at him. 'It's hard for me to explain, this is all so new to me.'

She allowed herself a peek at his face.

'I'm not afraid of you,' Cazoa said softly. 'I'm afraid to touch you, and feel what I felt yesterday. Even now, without touching your skin, it swirls around you.'

She definitely had said too much. Her eyes fell to her lap again, her cheeks flushed. Despite her embarrassment, she hoped that he might explain to her exactly what it was she was feeling.

'Will all people connected to the force feel like that to me?' she asked. Her voice was barely audible. 'Yet something tells me that you aren't the first I have come across in my travels. And I have never been able to sense anything...like you.'

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

He remained silent as she spoke. He had expected her to fear him in the way that most people feared force users. Even the educated often failed to grasp what was and what was not within a force sensitive's grasp. On some worlds they were treated as if they were gods. On others, they were ostracized and hunted down for their gifts. And yet Cazoa was taken aback for a different reason all together. One Cyril had not thought of.

"That isn't normal, even for people connected to the force, no," he admitted as he ran his fingers along the chilled rock beneath him. The cave was not particularly damp thankfully, but it retained a natural coolness that made comfort difficult to find during the night. Cyril suspected the temperature would continue to drop so long as the storm raged on.

"On rare occasions, force bonds are born between two people. They are generally the result of shared trials, intense use of the force in cooperation with another, deep connections be them familial or intimate," he shrugged, "You may have sensed the earliest etchings of such. I've only ever felt one once in the past, so I'm no expert," he shrugged.

Cazoa had a particular presence in the force. She shone brighter than the Jedi and Sith Cyril had come across. Though not particularly powerful, her aura was different, slightly off.

He couldn't put his finger on it.

"So no, not everyone will feel like that, strange that you see me in such a way..." he trailed off, his gaze shifting to Cazoa's visage. "You don't need to be afraid of touching me. I can teach you how to keep from being overwhelmed by the force. Simple meditations should do."

Another pause.

"And your history?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa absorbed everything Mephirium said about her strange feelings around him. So it was not likely that it would feel the same for everyone connected to the force? She knew she shouldn't have said anything to him, and wished she would have stayed quiet. Though at his last words, she felt a little more comforted knowing that she would be able to control the intensity - and the sooner the better. If they were going to be travelling together for some time, it would help her sanity.

The apprehension was slowly dissipating as Cazoa welcomed the idea of letting Mephirium teach her. What was the harm? The pair would be stuck together for weeks and in his presence, it would be impossible to avoid the force. And what if she could learn to harness her abilities, so that once she left the Moon, any jobs she took would be marginly easier, and in turn the pay greater? No harm.

'Perhaps it's just because everything is so strange now,' she said in attempt to redeem her embarrassment. 'You seem to have opened a locked door within me, and now all of these different sensations are pouring out, confusing me, and overwhelming me.'

Cazoa was glad for the change of subject when Mephirium prompted her for her history. She was continously surprised how easy it was to bare herself to him.

'My past,' she began, resuming eye contact. 'Isn't much of an interesting story. I grew up with no family, and eventually I was sold as a slave. The factory I worked in was raided by pirates and they took me when they left. I lived and worked alongside them for many years, until they perished on a job.'

She frowned at her own vagueness, remembering the detail Mephirium had offered her.

'The pirates took me, because during their heist, I had ripped a blaster from the hands of their leader...using only my mind.' Cazoa paused for a slight moment. 'The leader eventually became a father figure to me, but he never spoke of the force - though I was sure he knew about that side of me. When he died, he told me to hide who I was, and to be wary - some people might not take kindly to somebody different. They might try to use me for their gain, or try to sell me to the highest bidder, like a piece of property.'

During her story, Cazoa had absent-mindedly pulled the jewel her adoptive father had given her when he had died from her pocket. She rolled it around her fingers, a myriad of emotions welling inside her - anger, loss, pain, and above all else, loneliness.

'After he died,' she continued. 'I resumed the search for his long lost wife for a time. He had been a kind man, I'm not sure pirating suited him very well. But, in his twenty year search for his wife, he needed a crew, and the crew needed credits. He was a jewel thief primarily,' she glanced down at the crystal-like rock reminiscently, 'but occasionally we raided various factories for supplies. I haven't been able to find his wife, and eventually my grieving turned costly, so I came to this Moon, to plunder the temples for anything I could sell.'

She looked back up at Mephirium.

'And now here I am, with you, going against all of the advice my father left to me.' Cazoa perked up her expression as she pushed the sad memories from her mind. 'What's to say you won't sell me to the highest bidder?'

She shoved the jewel back into her pocket, hoping he hadn't noticed her weakness. She then reached for the pack by her feet and pulled out two packets of food, and a light sweater. The air in the cave was dropping rapidly as the storm raged on outside. The lightning was visible through the blanket she had fastened to the mouth of the cave, and the thunder grew louder with each clap. The rain was heavy, and during the last storm Cazoa had encountered here, the winds had been ferocious - whipping dirt and sand through the air which stung her skin.

She handed a packet of food to Mephirium with a warm smile.

'Dinner?'

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril watched the rain fall as Cazoa spoke. He'd come up with his own private theories as to who this woman was, though none were particularly accurate. She spoke of the force overwhelming her - something quite common among adults that opened themselves to it later in their lives. It was why the order had always tried to find children rather than mature students. They were far more malleable and tended to cope better with the force's whispers - they lacked the understanding to be overtaken by its power.

Cazoa, unfortunately for her, did not.

"You already have a grasp on the force, Cazoa. Sensing life is a major skill and you seem to have some talent for it. That will be the first step leading to everything else in due time," he offered her a reassuring smile as thunder cracked in the distance. Once again, the violent purple plumes and angry flashes of lightning stole his attentions.

His gaze remained on the storm, but he listened to the woman wholeheartedly.

"Quite different from my own childhood, but similar in purpose," he quipped, "The force tends to bring those it touches into struggle and conflict. Through those struggles, we grow. Sometimes for better -" he turned back to meet her gaze, " - or in the case of a great many Sith, sometimes for worse."

He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knees and gazing at Cazoa's visage from beneath his cowl. "This man that saved you, he sounds like a good sort. Not many pirates would go out of their way to save a young girl - power over the force or not."

He knew of those types all too well. "My mother was the Queen of Naboo for a time. Pirates went after my sisters' ships more than once in transit between worlds looking for their riches. They were never so benevolent."

His eyes fell to the food. With a grateful smile he took it and drew his cloak further about himself. It didn't stop the shivering.

"Do I really strike you as the sort? You can feel me in the force - have I ever given you that inclination?" He asked teasingly as he opened the packet, "You're a striking woman, Cazoa, but I've no desire to throw you to the wolves for a few credits."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

'Yes, most pirates are quite the opposite to what I experienced,' she agreed. 'Though that's not to say we were a band of saints.'

Though not necessarily brutal in their operations, Cazoa did enjoy stealing from people who had a much better life than she. In that work she found satisfaction, and a temporary relief from the hollowness she felt inside - especially since her father had passed. She didn't have a goal, or an aim in life any more and longed to belong to something greater than herself. And somehow she knew that being here with Mephirium was the start of such a path.

'I was good at my job,' she continued. 'I think his original intention was to exploit my power, but the riches came abundantly soon after I was old enough to accompany them on jobs. Looking back, he didn't have the means to train me, as you say you can, and what I could already do was good enough for him.'

Cazoa picked at her food packet.

"And do I really strike you as the sort? You can feel me in the force - have I ever given you that inclination?" Mephirium asked teasingly as he opened his food packet, "You're a striking woman, Cazoa, but I've no desire to throw you to the wolves for a few credits."

She looked up at him. A striking woman?

'Well,' she chuckled slowly. 'No, you haven't given me any inclination at all to whether or not my fate is to be sold off. But I do sense, given the ways of the Galaxy, that nothing is ever free. You say you will teach me all these things, but what is in it for you? And don't lie, because I'll be able to tell.'

She laughed, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

'Something tells me you came to the ship on purpose,' Cazoa watched the man's face carefully. 'I've felt you in this place since we arrived, from hearing your voice over the radio, and then inside the temples, though I didn't see you in the tombs. It was confirmed to me as soon as you came aboard the ship. And after your display last night against the beasts,' she looked down to his hands. 'I'd say you were more than capable returning to your ship, rather than seeking refuge in mine. After all, you had came to the temples on your own.'

Though Cazoa could pick holes in his intentions, it remained clear to her that he didn't mean her harm, nor was there any reason to be afraid of him. In the back of her mind however, logic still remained, and given all that she had been through, trust was difficult to give. With Mephirium, she wanted to trust him especially coupled with the feeling of something much greater at work tugging at her. There was still the possibility, that one of this man's many talents could be to hide his true intentions and shroud them within the force, unable to be detected by her feeble attempts. On the other hand, her intuition had never wronged her thus far.

'Not only am I questioning your intentions,' she continued. 'But you say that some Sith come out of life lessons worse off. You are a Sith, are you not? Do you consider yourself on a path of immoral choices?'

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"I wouldn't think your pirate friends were saints. That would ruin the narrative," he chuckled as he downed the dried jerky he'd pulled from the food packet. It wasn't particularly good and the meat was tough, but it was filling nonetheless. He listened to her little tale with practiced patience and genuine interest, his gaze never leaving Cazoa's own.

He leaned back against the rocks and shook his head. Cazoa was a smart woman - she understood how the galaxy worked. How could she not, surviving on her own as she had? Cyril had lost whatever desire there might have been to manipulate her. At first, he'd sought an apprentice he could mold into a tool. That had been the initial idea, but then things had changed.

He would serve another purpose for the galaxy. The Dark Side had not consumed him in its entirety.

"I came to the ruins because I was worried about things. Worried that I had walked the wrong path to end an old enemy," he frowned, "It's too late to turn back now, but I can't help but worry about things..." he shook his head, "I sensed you across the valley. You've a particularly strong presence within the force. I was drawn to it."

He paused.

"When the Terentateks attacked, well, I wasn't going to leave you alone in that ship. I don't want anything from you, I'm just tired of traveling this world alone." He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. His followers might have thought him ruthless - they had to. In truth, he still had his bleeding heart. He could not have left Cazoa alone even if he had wanted to The guilt would have eaten away at him until he'd come back for her.

"I came to your ship in the first place to meet you. I was intrigued," he flashed her a warm smile, "And...truthfully? No, I am no Sith."

Could he tell her? Was it wise to confide his plans in someone - even someone completely separate from what was going on in the Galatic Core? He certainly wanted to. Perhaps...no, he would not fool Cazoa. He was growing far too tired of pulling the wool over people's eyes.

"The title is a lie. I took it so I could gain control of Imperial forces and lead a charge on the Dark Lord's palace. I've almost achieved that," he sighed, "The Sith are monsters, but the only way to destroy them is from the inside."

Another pause.

"Are you cold?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa nodded slowly as she finished her packet of food, absorbing all that Mephirium had to say.

She knew nothing of the Dark Lord he spoke of, nor anything of the politics and war surrounding the force. It seemed like his cause was admirable, if it were true. Trepidation still remained - if he were able to hide his motives to countless Sith, then what's to say he couldn't fool her, a mere woman with little to no knowledge of the force? She would be easily manipulated to serve has gain.

'Well,' she responded. Her tone was sincere despite her reservations. 'Thank you for seeking refuge on my ship, and thank you for not leaving me to deal with the terentateks alone. I had been lucky up until that point, to have several mercenaries with me. I feel grateful you came when you did.'

She smiled and looked down to her lap. Their conversation had given her mind sufficient distraction from the sensations that continously emanated from Mephirium. Now that their tales had been told, her focus could do nothing but turn back to the tug she felt consuming her.

Cazoa shuddered and tried to turn her attention back to the physical rhelm. She noticed that her hands and feet were beginning to numb in the cold air. Cazoa began to rub her hands together in an attempt to warm them, and she pulled one of the thin blankets over her legs. She wished that she had bought more.

'Are you cold?' Mephirium asked softly.

'Yes,' she chuckled. 'The stone is cold.'

She looked up at him, a playful look in her eyes.

'I don't suppose as well as lightning, you can make fire?'

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

In truth, Cyril had nowhere to go.

His mission had been accomplished, in one vein or another. The man whom had caused him so much pain had been killed in a rather public way. His enemies were scrambling, just barely managing to bring the rebellions brewing within their holdings to heel. With any luck, those that had stood alongside him in the past would have the time they needed to launch an attack.

But then, where did that leave him?

He'd lacked much purpose as of late. Battling the corruption the Soeht had put into his veins was difficult enough, though he managed. He had thought about returning to do battle in a more public fashion. How demoralizing would that be for his former allies? He could not say, though he imagined it would have a particularly negative effect on their morale.

He pondered this all while Cazoa thanked him for coming to her side. Her soft voice pulled him from his reverie and dragged him back to reality, back into the dark cave and the thunderous moon. Back to Cazoa.

"Thanks for not shooting me," he quipped, scooting up closer to Cazoa. He awaited no further words, slipping his organic arm up over his shoulder. "Can't make fire, no. Used to, but that talent was lost to me."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa couldn't have braced herself for what came next even if she had known - the man placed his arm around her shoulders. Such closeness to someone was not usually something that happened often, and it was made more uncomfortable by the intensity of emotion that overcame her. Normally such a move made on her would be met with hostility, perhaps a blaster to the neck, or worse. But she felt herself sinking into his side, despite her rising panic.

His distinct life force seeped into her, coiling it's presence around her senses, pulliing her to him. Despite her seated position she began to feel dizzy. It was after mere seconds that she couldn't stand it any longer.

Cazoa lurched forward, dislodging the man's arm from her shoulders and gasped. Her cheeks began to flush again, which she hoped Mephirium hadn't noticed in the dim light of the lantern. When she had taken a moment to pull herself together, Cazoa spoke.

'I'm sorry,' she apologised. She sat in front of the man, looking up at him with wide eyes. 'I didn't expect you to -, I -,' she faltered. 'You don't feel it?'

She frowned.

'Perhaps the meditation techniques would come in handy before you decide to come so close to me.'

The frown lingered on her face. After a moment of internal debate, she extended her hand to him.

'Tell me what I can do,' she whispered.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

It had been a test, and Cyril's hypothesis had proven to be correct. He had known that Cazoa had a particularly strong affinity for the living beings around her, particularly those with a connection to the force like himself, but he'd needed to be sure. When he pulled away, he met her actions with a an assuring smile and a nod. She did not all-together denounce him; such much him hopeful.

"I can control it, if that's what you mean. The force brought us together, and this world is anointed with its power," he slowly explained, "I wasn't sure how strong your connection was to it. Now I see."

There would be much to teach her. Before he could ever begin to put a lightsaber into her hands, she would need to understand the force in some way. No one ever understood it fully - he certainly didn't, but she would need rudimentary knowledge to succeed. If he was to train her as...whatever it was he intended, then she ha to get a handle on things.

After a moment's hesitation, he took her hand in his own.

"Close your eyes," he intoned, "Drown out everything else. This physical realm, it's temporary. The force is eternal. Ignore all that which you see and feel. Let yourself sink into the force's depths, as you did before. Feels its eddies, the way it flows," his voice grew quiet, "The currents are strong, and can drag an undisciplined mind off into the abyss. You have to avoid this."

His eyes drifted shut and he drew in a deep breath. All at once, he felt the force fill him, bringing renewed strength to his limbs and connecting to his very soul. From that connection, he felt Cazoa, a bright star in his lightless galaxy.

"If you're relaxed, you can watch the currents from afar, observe the force and see what might be, and what might come your way," he squeezed her hand, "To keep it from destroying you, you have to defend yourself. You can't fight it - you can't be rigid amidst the current. You have to flow with it, but you must guide it. Do not allow it to take you toward the abyss. Guide it with your thoughts, the peace it has granted you, your heart."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Mephirium took her hand and held it gently in his whilst he spoke. Determined, Cazoa closed her eyes and focused first on the warmth of his skin. She felt the sensations she had felt a moment ago begin to return, but this time she commanded it to stay in their intertwined hands. She felt little currents bounce back and forth between their skin, and soon her hand had turned from numbingly cold, to a comfortable warmth.

In the moments that she kept Mephirium's essence at bay, she managed to follow his words about the ebb and flow of the force. It had always been there for her, but now she could concisely understand just exactly what it was, and how it felt. She allowed the force to enter her once again with Mephirium's guidance, and let it flow through her, into her limbs, into her soul, into her mind. It remained a different frequency to that of Mephirium's life force - something more universal, it felt. She could sense it in the walls of the cave, in the air, on the Moon - everywhere, all around her, like an unseen living entity.

Cazoa focused on it, allowing the flow to be contained within her, but never allowing it to overwhelm. She found that when it started to well and increase in frequency, she could direct it to a more calming current, by aiding it's flow throughout her body. It felt good to stretch it, like a tired limb - one she had never exercised.

Curiosity overcame Cazoa then, and she turned her foremost focus to the warmth of Mephirium's skin. She allowed his essence to creep up her hand and into her arm. It felt warm, and tingled gently as she directed it to rise higher and higher until it was at her shoulder, then her neck, her head, then down her spine, into her legs, and back up again. It felt sublime - the most enchanting sensation she had ever witnessed. She was overcome with a feeling that she had only ever felt in others whilst eavesdropping on their emotions. Instead now, it was hers, and she allowed it to be there within her. The serenity, the belonging, the purity of it, filled her with a happiness that made her smile. Curiosity drove her again, and she slowly pushed Mephirium's essence back to their hands. With the last of her energy and focus, she commanded, what could only be described as her essence, through Mephirium's skin.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

The thunderstorm became little more than an afterthought. It had been some time since Cyril had allowed himself to be immersed so deeply within the force. Yes, he had meditated from time to time on his journey across the moon, but doing so had been dangerous. It had drawn the beasts in rather than repulsed them, and so he had found very little peace on this dreadful world.

The storm however, kept the monsters at bay, and thus he allowed himself to sink into its depths. At first he simply observed, eschewing his mortal coil in favor of the ethereal realm. The planet itself was alive, and it roiled in its torment. These storms were not at all natural - they were the final writhing screams of a dying world, forced to the brink of self-destruction by long dead Sith sorcerers eons ago. He let that pain in, recognized it, and banished it, and Cazoa found him but a moment later.

He had never lost sight of her, watching her progress from a proverbial distance. She was the final star in the black void that was his connection to the force. He'd maimed it with his actions, abused it like a tool, and turned back on its oaths. Its light was lost to him now - but the woman shone with the fury of a thousand sons. The fury fell upon him moments later, but it did not bring him discomfort.

Radiance enveloped his being. The warmth that Cazoa had come to know spread to him, leeched forth into his fingertips and into his core. The currents of the force flagged. He drew in a sharp breath, he it, and opened his eyes.

Cybernetic fingers wrapped in black leather were splayed along Cazoa's cheek. His lips parted with unspoken words - he simply sat there, gazing into the blue abyss.

"Lesson learned?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

It wasn't until she felt a cool touch on her cheek, that Cazoa surfaced from the tranquility. She slowly opened her eyes to see Mephirium staring back at her. His cybernetic arm was outstretched, the leather clad fingers caressing her cheek. His lips were parted, and there was a distinct look in his eyes that stirred and tightened the muscles in her stomach. Cazoa's breath came shallow and rapid as she gazed into his eyes. Time stood still for a moment as they both tried to make sense of what had just happened. Mephirium was the first to speak.

'Lesson learned?'

A blossoming smile formed on Cazoa's lips. She looked down to her lap, and pulled his fingers from his cheek. Before letting go, she squeezed both of his hands gently.

'Lesson learned,' she agreed.

If she could exercise the flow of the force, and Mephirium's alike, as she had done, it would make for a much more tolerable atmosphere for the days to come.

It would take her a little while to process all that she had felt. The force was an easier energy to understand compared to that she had felt from Mephirium. The moment shared between them would stay with her forever. Never had she felt such a way for someone before, nor had she come across it in her travels. Perhaps the force had amplified it, or perhaps it was destiny, pairing her with her most perfect suitor. No doubt, it would be a topic her mind would dissect for awhile as she tried to make sense of it.

Cazoa reached for the water for something to do in the slight awkward atmosphere that filled the cave. It wasn't a terribly uncomfortable atmosphere, just one that was a result of a difficult moment to process. She took a long swig from the bottle and offered it to Mephirium. She became increasingly aware of the mental fatigue that had overcame her.

'I gather it's normal to feel so drained after such a task?' she inquired as she scooted next to Mephirium. She rested the back of her head on the cool cave wall which vibrated with every clap of thunder. She listened to the rain hitting the sandstone rocks outside - it was a peaceful sound which calmed her further. The tension she had felt earlier was near enough non existent in her fatigue which was a welcomed relief.

Cazoa wondered exactly what Mephirium had felt when she had sent forth her energy.

The look on his face when she had opened her eyes had said a lot, and picturing it in her mind's eye made her want to be close to him. But she refrained, keeping a foot between their bodies.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Physically, Cyril might have been dead. His limbs felt strong and his strength returned to him, but his mind was sluggish. It felt as if he had not slept in days, and in truth that was partly the case. He set his hands in his lap and met Cazoa's gaze, lips parted as he tried to find his words. Their brief connection had been unlike any he'd ever forged with another being. Even during the height of the war, when he had linked minds with the other Jedi Master that fought alongside him, nothing had ever been so intense, so intimate.

He was still wrapping his head around it.

"Yes, calling upon the force in such a way can be mentally exhausting, especially when involving another person," he sighed, reaching up with a hand to draw back his cowl. "It also helps if you're a skilled mentalist - which I'm not."

He huffed a quiet laugh, though the fatigue was evident in his voice. He wished to lean a back against the rocks and sink into the abyss until the storm finally let up. He almost complied to his body's commands, but his attentions remained on Cazoa.

"This is only the beginning of what you'll learn," he added quietly, lofting a brow as she scooted closer to him, "If you want to keep learning, that is. I know some people don't particularly enjoy the ethereal touch."

The rolling quake of thunder in the distance made him turn his head outside. The storm had grown more chaotic in their meditations rather than letting up. It seemed they would have quite a bit of time here to contemplate.

"We'll get to that tomorrow," he held his arms open, "You can come here if you want."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa's eyes grew heavier as she relaxed her body. If it wasn't for the explosive claps of thunder, and the wish to keep talking to Cyril, she would have slipped into a deep sleep quite easily. Despite the horrorific dangers that awaited them outside of the cave, she felt safe.

'Of course,' she said sleepily. She moved her head to better look at Cyril. 'I want to discover who I truly am. All my life I have been in denial. Do you ever feel like some things were meant to happen? Like destiny?' The fatigue gave no allowance in choosing her words carefully.

She felt that it had been her destiny to arrive on the Moon, yet by the time she had left the temples, she had begin to doubt her feelings. Was she to feel the force all around her, and then leave, never to explore all the sensations she had discovered in the tombs? Cazoa had thought so, until of course Cyril had found her on the shuttle. He was the key to her destiny - the means by which she could discover her true potential and her place in the Galaxy. She wondered if her fate would also keep him by her, in ways that were more than just teacher and student.

A crackle of thunder shook the cave, startling Cazoa from her thoughts. As if to answer her earlier wonderment, Cyril opened his arms to her.

"You can come here if you want."

Cazoa stared at him for a moment while her mind raced. She could feel the tug to him still, but it was bearable - perhaps dampened by her mental exhaustion. She knew that if she crawled into his arms, she would be pushing her luck in more ways than one. Instead of giving into her desire, she gingerly traced a finger along his.

'I better not push it,' she whispered. 'The abyss will be far to easy to fall into.'

Cazoa wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders, and lay down on the cold floor, beckoning Cyril to do the same.

'Lay with me?' she whispered. She wanted to hold him, to reach out and caress his skin, but until she could get a handle on things, the only option she saw was to watch his face in the dim light, until her eyes slowly shut, and she fell to sleep.

The dreams that followed were intense, and her slumber as a result, was restless. The thunder woke Cazoa several times, but her tired mind pulled her back under, throwing her into more fretful dreams.

During her sleep, she had unknowingly nestled into Cyril's warm shoulder, and rested a hand on his bicep.

It was then that her sleep turned peaceful.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

And so it was.

There in the quiet, Cyril made the decision to teach Cazoa all that he knew. He had taken pupils in the past, both of which had chosen far different paths than his own. His thoughts traveled to Kaigann, the young boy he had taken under his wing during the height of the war with the One Sith. He'd trained him well and thought of him like a son, but when the time came for him to be named a Jedi Knight, the boy was gone. Cyril had searched for him, of course, and never truly had any luck when it came to finding him.

In the end, he knew the boy's fate. The force had told him enough. He could only hope that Cazoa did not choose the same path young Kai had walked. Hopefully he could steer her away from that ill fate.

"Of course," he laughed, drawing a thermal blanket about himself. It was a flimsi thing, but it would keep him from catching hypothermia in the dead of night, at the very least. He settled down alongside her, and sleep took him moments later.

His dreams were relatively nonexistent. He stood within the ethereal realm of the force, just as he had during their meditations. He could interact with nothing - touch nothing, but he could watch.

When morning came, and the storm abated, he stirred. He looked lazily up at the ceiling, then down to the woman clinging to him in her slumber. He lofted a brow, though he did not seek to wake her. For a time, he simply sat there, pondering over what was and what might be. After a time, he gently shook her.

"I'd love to lay here all day, but we've a journey to begin," he cooed, "The storm is gone."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa awoke to a gentle shake, and the soft coo of Cyril's voice. Her eyes opened gingerly, to see she had managed to nestle close to the man. Embarrassed, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Her body was sore from sleeping on the hard cave floor, and her mind was still groggy, clinging onto sleep. She noticed the sound of the falling rain had ceased, and she could hear no more booms of thunder. The air in the cave smelt like damp dust, and it was still cool. The sun shining through the spare blanket draped over the mouth of the cave told her that soon, the pair would be plummeted into a raging furnace once again.

Cazoa remembered just how long of a day it would be.

'Ugh,' she moaned. 'A long journey indeed.'

She sat, took a gulp of water, and then began to prepare herself for the journey ahead. After rummaging around in the pack by her feet, she pulled out the bacta spray, tended to her leg, and then began to re-braid her plait. After it was securely tied, she began to flip through the data pad, checking maps and weather warnings.

'How did you sleep?' she asked, glancing to Cyril.

The datapad remained clear of any storm alerts, but the temperature was steadily increasing. By the look of the rising digits, she almost wished that they were travelling in a storm.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]