Define Yourself

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"I think you would be correct." He agreed, turning toward what he could only guess to be the exit. It was one of many tunnels leading to parts unknown, but his instincts told him this would be their salvation. Anything was better than spending another moment in the temple simply waiting for death to come find them. "Sometimes it's best not to suppress things. To let them come as they will. The force is its own beast. To restrict it is to deny yourself, and that most often leads to failure." Cyril intoned.

Words aside, the usurper stepped closer to Cazoa. It was only now that he truly took her in. She was older than he had initially thought; no child, but a woman. A woman who had taken care of herself well enough long before she had come to this moon, and yet still knew so very little. He would need to teach her the ways, both for reasons he could comprehend and those he could not.

Cyril had trained many apprentices on both spectrums of the force. Those students had always been subordinates of a kind. Cazoa was different -- he would still teach her, but she was not his lesser. He had a respect for her, some might even say a captivation. He kept those thoughts and feelings locked away and close to his heart. She could not know of his private musings now. He reminded himself of that conviction as she looked down at his lips.

A cybernetic hand rose to rest upon Cazoa's shoulder. The grip was firm and synthetic: cold. "Cazoa," the Sith Lord's voice was a low tenor, "I am Darth Mephirium. I am a Sith Lord. I've exiled myself here so that I might understand why I've done the things I have." he leaned in, his gaze falling to meet the woman's own. "I will teach you all that I know, and you will be my apprentice. When the time comes, you will rise to stand at my side."

His attentions shifted momentarily toward the tunnel. Beyond lay the open desert. Cazoa would need to be ready before they ventured forth.

"That lightsaber is the first step upon the path." His lips pressed into a thin line, and there was a weight behind his words. A weight that was far more than a mentor speaking to a student. "Will you walk it?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa let the Sith Lord's words resonate within her. Of course, subconsciously, she had already decided a long time ago that she would follow him, but now, his words were full of definitive weight - this was the moment of certain acknowledgement of the force, and declaration to it, and to Cyril. The life behind Cazoa would be gone now, forever, but she knew that she would have no desire to turn back to it. After all what was left for her there? Nothing. And before her? - A life that she had always desired - one with purpose, a cause, one she belonged to, with those that understood her.

Cazoa stood, looking up at Cyril, letting the emotions of the moment flow through her freely. She knew that prior to this moment he could have easily sensed the indecisiveness within her. Now, she hoped that he could sense the resolve.

'I will,' she decided. 'I will walk this path.' The rush of emotion that flowed through her was almost tangible. The suppression of the force was melting away, and now it would always be a part of her, openly, freely. Was this joy that she felt? The darkness whirled around Cazoa, the light whirled around her, filling her with confidence and control. It was a moment that she would not forget. She had always been powerful in her own way, but now she felt it even more so.

Was it relief that she sensed within Cyril as she looked up into his eyes? Relief for what, she did not understand. The force told her not to question his reasoning behind taking her under his wing and teaching her - what was in it for him? The force told her to trust, and so she had, but her analytical mind still wondered. Now was not the time for such conversations - they had tunnels to navigate.

Despite feeling strength from embracing the force, Cazoa still felt drained from the battle. Her senses returned to the present, and their need to be rid of the dark tomb. How would they escape? Numerous tunnels had opened up upon the defeat of the cackling ghost, but which one lead to relative safety? She could not imagine what other horrors awaited for them if they chose the wrong path. Focus overcame her, and she absentmindedly took Cyril's hand from her shoulder into her own. The force immediately felt stronger, clearer, pointing her in the right direction. She called upon it, focusing on what she desired, attracting to her the exit.

The center tunnel, intuition spoke.

Cazoa returned her eyes to Cyril's, absorbing the strength that she felt from him, still in awe of the tantalizing sensations that she felt whenever she touched him. She wondered if it were possible to draw upon others' life force. Cazoa looked down at his cybernetic hand in hers.

'I will be by your side,' she said, unsure why her tone was borderlining assurance. She thought that perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he had saved her numerous times already - a sense of indebtment, or perhaps an assurance that his exile and repent would not be faced alone, or perhaps it was something else entirely.

'The middle is our exit,' Cazoa said certainly. She let her hand slip from his, and with a soft smile, she began to walk towards the tunnel. As she walked past the other entrances dotted along the walls, they called to her, trying to drag her away from her new found strength and back into her life of nothingness.

She did not sway as she entered the tunnel that the force had chosen.

[member="Graxin Rade"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

His lips parted to speak some form of denial as her hand found its way into his. Mephirium had walked this path before, and the end was never a happy thing. The first had been cast down by his own hand, the second killed in the bombardment of a world. What difference would there be with Cazoa?

The Sith Lord pondered this as he allowed her to lead him down the tunnel. It was a dark, dreary place. He decided that Vornskr and his ilk would have been naturally drawn to it. The Zambranos had a touch for the grittiness of places such as this. Mephirium could appreciate the message carved into the walls and forged in the basalt foundations, but it was not one he would adopt himself. Power was a visceral thing; it was not something that came to exist simply because you chose to call your court in a foreboding place.

He found himself sneering at the prospect by the time they strode out into the moonlight. When they finally stepped through the portal that lead to the great wastes, he turned to face Cazoa.

"The path you will walk is a hard one. I will not hold your hand every step of the way." He drew his cowl over his face. "But I will guide you, and I've faith you will succeed." He transfixed her with a confident smile.

Faith was a curious thing: a concept that Mephirium had rarely held close to his heart. He believed in facts. The force was as much a science as it was a power, but whenever Cyril began to decide it could be understood, something new came to further confound his understanding. Such was the charm of the ethereal realm.

The smile remained as he gestured toward a mass of rocks blocking their way. The exit of the temple led to a canyon where a great number of the stones had come down to block the path. Cyril pressed his lips into a thin line and drew his cloak further about him to abate the cold of the wind.

"Tomorrow, we will lift them. Tonight, they give us sanctuary." He grinned and began to dig about in his pack for his bedroll. "I hope you'll not mind sleeping under the stars."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

It was a relief to be outside of the temple. Though the air was still hot from the day's sun, it was significantly more pleasant than the stale air of the tombs. The sunset had disappeared behind the canyon, leaving the wastes bathed in a twilight glow. The stars were beginning to shine against the darkening blue sky, and it was to them that Cazoa looked for a moment, letting her pack slide from her shoulders to the ground. She longed to be among them again, rid of the Moon, and rid of the dusty temples.

"The path you will walk is a hard one. I will not hold your hand every step of the way." she heard Cyril say. Cazoa turned to face him. "But I will guide you, and I've faith you will succeed."

'I'm used to hard,' she returned his smile. 'Nothing comes easy, at least that's what I have come to learn about the Galaxy.'

She returned her gaze to the stars overhead as Cyril moved to the edge of the steps leading down to the path between the canyon. Rocks that had been eroded from the canyon edges after centuries of erosion and neglect barred their way into the wastes.

"Tomorrow, we will lift them. Tonight, they give us sanctuary." Cyril grinned and then began to rummage in his pack. "I hope you'll not mind sleeping under the stars."

'I could rest anywhere right now,' she said, slinking to the floor. Her limbs ached from the seemingly endless trudge through the wastes they had endured for the past weeks, and the use of the force had left her mind drained. 'I'm exhausted.'

From her bag, Cazoa took a light sweater and pulled it over her head. She opened a food packet and ate in silence, picking apart the pieces of dried meat carefully while her mind began to race. She had so many questions to ask Cyril but she didn't know how to go about asking them. The visions? What had he thought about them? All her life she had sensed other's emotions, but specifically shied away from ones that had made her uncomfortable to feel - love, joy, excitement. Now that these visions portrayed a future full of these emotions, it was confusing to her. Did she want such a future with Cyril? Everybody she had ever became close to had always gone away in the end. It was hard even to think that as her teacher that he might fade from her life one day, taking with him the purpose and direction that he had given her, but leaving as someone more than just a teacher? In her logical mind, it made her feel uneasy to even think of him that way. A lover? The father of her children? Would they be consumed by the Darkness?

Cazoa shuddered.

She knew that Cyril would be able to feel her momentary anxiety, and so she busied herself with setting up her bed for the night. Once she had settled, she decided to at least ask him one thing.

'Tell me something, truthfully,' she said softly, looking out over the wastes. 'Why are you so willing to teach me?' Her mind fell to the vision where they had both been seated on elegant thrones, shrouded in power and Darkness. She already knew that Cyril was powerful beyond measure, but what of her? 'What do you see within me?'

 

[Placeholder 04]

Why?

Cyril frowned as his thoughts slowed. He should have been able to answer without as much as a second thought. Cazoa was powerful, and more importantly, she listened. She could be molded into a loyal weapon if the right kind of pressure was applied. Perhaps one day, even a colleague. Such was what he would have said to the majority of the galaxy, but then Cazoa was of a different breed.

"I have things I need to accomplish. To do those things, I need others, and there is no one more loyal than a curious student." He stated plainly; the veil he'd placed over his words and visage utterly perfect. He intended to leave it at that and allow Cazoa to wonder on those words, but something niggled at the back of his mind. He found himself frowning as he flattened out the bed roll.

"I enjoy your company," he cast her a momentary glance, "That is why I will train you."

The truth was an ugly thing. Such words were not befitting of someone of his station. Such thoughts were a curse upon the ambitious mind. Cazoa would serve as a valuable asset to anyone in need of such strength, but his reasoning for keeping her around was far more human. The simple truth of it was that Mephirium still harbored a sentiment of his old self. He might have been rechristened, but his values remained the same. The Sith were the means to the same end he had striven toward while serving the Jedi.

The only constants were his own thoughts and feelings. A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he sat down on the bedroll, legs crossed over one another. He looked up at her.

"The Dark Side is a beast that can be tamed. I do not let it rule me like others do. My goals and desires are still the same; I will bring about peace so that those who come after me will not have to live through the strife I have. It is only the method with which I bring about that peace that differs me from the Jedi."

The Sith Code was self-serving as the Dark Side dictated it should be. It revolved around serving the bogan like some form of blood priest. It presented few goals. Of all the facets of the code, the first line was the only one Mephirium disagreed with. Peace was not a lie; it was the only thing ever worth striving toward.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

So, he did require her for something in return for his teachings - loyalty. It was a simple thing perhaps, but loyalty hadn't always been Cazoa's strong trait. Often it was easier to make decisions that benefited her alone, and it had always been so easy to manipulate for her gain, which had now become a subconscious habit stemming from survival and logic. However, the circumstances surrounding her now were much different to any she had been in before. It seemed like an easy thing - to be loyal, to Cyril.

Cazoa sensed his hesitation. 'I enjoy your company.' A glance. 'That is why I will train you.'

She nodded, acknowledging all that he had said.

Peace. She knew nothing of the troubles within and between the Jedi and the Sith, only snippets during her travels. But for Cyril to dedicate a life to the same cause, through it all, would that deserve loyalty?

'A curious student,' she contemplated, pausing to consider her next words. 'I am curious - curious about a lot of things.' Her mind wandered briefly to the other visions, under the waterfall, the children, and the Dark version of herself. Though she knew now that it was a choice to be affiliated with such Darkness, she couldn't help but notice that the Moon was shrouded in Darkness, and destiny had bought her to someone that it emanated from sporadically. Was she meant for the Dark Side? It felt cold and sinister, but tantalizing and safe all at the same time, filling her with strength and power, and it had spoken to her since her arrival on the Moon. His words on the beast prompted her.

'Do you intend to tame this chaos inside of me?' She wasn't completely sure how she had meant for her words to be taken.

'You said to me that you can sense it, because I am untrained.' she added, steering any thoughts he might have had about another type of chaos that she had been experiencing. 'I feel things, like an extra sense. You are harder to read, but I feel uncertainty, like you are hiding something from me, amplified since we left the spirit's chamber.'

It must be something to do with the last vision that had been shown to them. Or perhaps it was her own fears seeping through her carefully constructed walls. She had a strong urge to understand herself, fully, now that she had been made whole by embracing the force.

'What do you see within me?'

[member="Graxin Rade"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Perhaps I do," he admitted, his eyes narrow blue gems that peered out at Cazoa. The answer had come without thought or hesitation -- truthfully, Cyril did not know what he intended. Only that they must find their way off this moon if anything was to be accomplished. He pulled at the leather of his gloves to reveal the mismatch of alabaster skin and a metal replacement.

He flexed the cybernetic hand and ran his organic fingers over the durasteel. They were responding well enough and -- he was distracting himself from the conversation. A soundless curse fell from his lips as he shook his head and gave Cazoa his full attention.

"I am afraid."

The iron mask he'd worn melted away. Cyril's expression was quiet desperation and uncertainty. The confidence remained, but it was a false thing; a brave face worn by a child being told that his parents were hung for treason. The face of a boy who had to be the example when his brothers and sisters were thrown into the crucible of war. The face of a man whose children never had the chance to be born, but lacked the will to take himself from the physical realm to meet them.

The silence held for a solid minute.

"All that I have done has led to ruin. I struck down the woman that I claimed to love because she had a different ideology than I. My mother and sisters have long since passed due to my inability to master the force. My children were murdered in the womb along with their mother by the Dark Lord's warriors." His voice was heavy with emotion, though he retained his senses. "When I embraced that which I had always fought against, I conquered. The Dark Lord of the One Sith fell to me. Some of the great lords claim that I should take his mantle."

"I am worried that it will dehumanize me. I am worried that I will become a tyrant. I am worried that this feeling I have grown to harbor for you will be the death of you."

Cyril pushed up to his feet and folded his arms tight about his chest. He began to pace from one end of the temporary settlement to the next. "In you, I see the death of worlds. I see one who will surpass me in time. I see one who might bring salvation or damnation to the inner rim. Will you be a compassionate ruler? Will your will be iron? Will you be the death of me?"

He held his arms out wide. "I have no idea. I only know that the force swirls around you like a hurricane, and it is difficult not to be pulled in."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

'Perhaps I do.'

Tame the chaos? The air around Cazoa changed in that moment, the warmth of the sun had long gone, and in its place was a welcome fresh breeze. It felt cool on her skin, the light sweater doing little to warm her. What was once hard to see within Cyril, was slowly coming to the surface as she studied his face in the starlight. She could feel him searching for something within himself as he traced his fingers along his cybernetic hand.

'I am afraid,' he finally said.

Cazoa watched as Cyril transformed before her. He was open now, she could sense the emotion within him, loud, clear - pain, uncertainty, confusion, excitement, passion, but the world around them remained silent and still. Afraid? Cazoa watched him, her expression calm, and her eyes warm. She wanted to know why he was afraid, what of? The reasons for his exile?

After a long silence, Cyril spoke. His words were that of loss and grief, and at the end, the emotion rose to what she took as pride, but it was quickly swallowed by apprehension. He was strong enough for such duties, from what Cazoa had seen, but he was right to be worried so as not to be consumed by the responsibilities of being a ruler, especially one surrounded by the Dark Side. His next words took her off guard.

'I am worried that this feeling I have grown to harbor for you will be the death of you'

What followed was a mixture of passion, hesitation, craving, and it swirled around him as he paced the steps.

A ruler? Cazoa had never had the desire to lead before. The death of worlds? Could she do such a thing? Is this what he meant by loyalty? To follow him to the ends of the Galaxy, by his side, no matter what? Even if it meant death?

'You don't need to burden yourself with me,' she said, reassuringly. 'I am a stranger to the force, but it is easy to see that there are many more dangers to come.' Cazoa stood to her feet. 'If we choose to walk this path, then I will not cower from them, and I will not let them destroy you. Your heart is sincere, I feel it.' She edged closer to him. 'It is unfair to have so much pain, but it fuels your strength. What will be, shall come to pass.' Her eyes faltered for a moment.

'I am afraid too,' Cazoa said, softer than before. 'We all know loss. Now that the force is becoming easier to navigate, I am certain that there is something larger at play. I feel it...destiny, fate, however you choose to call it. And I feel there is nothing to do but trust it.'

Cazoa's soft eyes returned to his. She wanted desperately to console him, to say the right things that would make him feel strong, to never doubt his decisions, but it was difficult. It was not her place to tell him which path to take, it was his choice alone. Only he could keep himself from the Dark Side, from losing his humanity, from destroying everything that he had worked so hard to accomplish. Perhaps in time, it would be her duty to advise him, perhaps in time her empathy would find the right words. But for now, she could only make him feel it.

Cazoa focused on the force, letting it fill her, flexing it from limb to limb, head to toe, willing it to merge with her being. Fear was swept away, and in it's place stood strength - it was powerful in all it's certainty. She then focused on Cyril, allowing the pull to his being to intensify in all it's entirety. It felt incredible to her - something that she could never grow tired of. She had always been able to share emotions onto others, but this felt extraordinary, perhaps because the force flowed through him too. Cazoa moved closer, slowly, until she stood merely a foot away from his body. Then, she filled the space between them with the sensation. She had never felt so sure, so strong...so loyal.

'Perhaps this time, you won't have to feel loss.'

[member="Graxin Rade"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Every word that Cyril spoke was true, but the quiet ambition beneath it all remained unrevealed. It was a sleeping giant, writhing in the inky black depths of the Sith Lord's heart. All that he did, he did for the sake of his vision, but at the end of it all, he had enjoyed the control; the loyalty. To have thousands follow at a single word was an intoxicating experience. Cyril had done well to keep it from overwhelming him, but the desire was there. It whispered promises of glory and depravity in the back of his skull. It was the Bogan.
ise
He lingered for a moment as she closed the distance between the two of them. Now that she had found some measure of control, the hurricane was stifled, but Mephirium still found himself buffeted. Cazoa had a potential far greater than his own, he felt. Would he find himself swallowed up in her destiny? His lips parted to speak, but whatever words he might have spoken were lost as the hurricane dissipated, replaced by a wall of reassurance and understanding. The brooding power behind it suddenly seemed far less gloomy. The whispers stopped.

"You're quite sure of things," he snickered, his words meant to slice through the tension that had begun to permeate between them. "I'm afraid it's less a burden and more of a gift, Cazoa." The bloody intention he often held himself to faded. Try as he might, he could not retain the mantle of Sith Lord in the woman's presence. He could not look down upon her.

He fought back the urge to scowl as he felt his heart blossom. This was ill-advised. Whatever Cazoa happened to be was a danger to his position and all the he had striven to create. Then there was the force, poisoned by emotion, sweetened by her unconditional loyalty and devotion. The night's cold gale became naught when compared to the intoxicating warmth that flowed through his veins. Beneath it all was the basis: the power to move mountains. A strength to which the former Dark Lord would have balked from. It flowed through the connection forged between them in endless waves; a conduit of electricity running in a constant tattoo from one end to the other.

Entire systems will bend at our coming.

His hands rose up to caress her face. He drew in a sharp breath and pressed his lips into a thin line, his brow furrowing as he fought to rationalize the thoughts thundering in his head.

"Prove to me that I won't." He asked desperately as he searched her face for any sort of answer.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa closed her eyes as she savored the warmth of Cyril's caress on her cheek. In this moment, she no longer felt alone. The power welled inside of her, showing him that his heavy burdens could be met with twice the strength. With his guidance, she could become something that he hadn't realized that he had been missing.

The sensation between them grew sweet. Cazoa could feel the feelings that he felt for her, seeping through the walls that he had barricaded them behind. She could see it twinkling in his eyes as she opened her own to meet his gaze. The amorous emotions coiled around her heart, filling it with warm bliss that sent waves of fire throughout her body. Her breath caught as the fire burned to lust which filled the pit of her stomach.

"Prove to me that I won't." he whispered, his eyes full of desperation.

She searched his eyes for a moment, and then, Cazoa allowed herself to get lost in everything that she was feeling until it had all merged into one whirlwind. She stepped into Cyril's body, closing what little distance remained between them. Power drove her forward, her eyes blazed and they bore into his as she walked him backwards until he hit the wall of the temple. She pressed herself into his body, her hands moved up his arms, and her eyes fell to his mouth. Her face was close to his, standing on tip toes, her lips merely centimeters from his. She had every intention to kiss him, to feel his soft lips tangled with hers, to feel his hands on the small of her back, holding her close to him. The feeling was intense, and it made her giddy. The pulse in her ears pounded, and her heart thudded in her chest.

But she faltered. Cazoa's eyes closed, and her head fell as she let out the breath she had been holding. Her hesitation wasn't because she was unsure, in fact, she was certain that her place was beside Cyril, whatever her role was to become. It was how much that she wanted it. She had never felt anything like it before. Should she let go? Did he want her to?

Her cheeks blushed as she tried to control her quick breath. The feeling between them remained. She kept her eyes from his as she took his warm hand into hers. Cazoa slowly bought it to the middle of her chest and placed it over her hammering heart.

'So long as my heart beats, I will be beside you, however you need me,' she whispered. She squeezed his hand. 'And if death takes me, then I will reside in your heart, as you feel me now.'

She stood quietly with her head still fallen. She bought the strength and power to the forefront of the whirlwind. Would it be enough to curb the fear of her death? To help him not feel responsible for it, should it happen? She considered from her point of view, that nothing could ever possibly fill the hole that she would feel if he were taken from her.

His hand felt so wondrous in hers. She felt the lust bubbling within her again as she kept her eyes from his. The giddy feeling returned as she focused on the energy bouncing between their skin. It was all so much. Cazoa dropped his hand and stepped back from him. She turned her back to face the wastes.

'I'm sorry,' she managed to say as she tried to control her breathing.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

There was a subtle manipulation behind Mephirium's words. A large part of him truly welcomed Cazoa, but there was another, darker purpose to him. He did feel for Cazoa, indeed the woman had ensnared part of his heart. Then there was the advantage of such. The young woman had a profound connection to the force, one that he might even say was greater than his.

It was far better to cultivate her and have her as his ally than his rival. As he looked down into the portals of her eyes, he felt he wouldn't have any desire to raise a blade against her if she were. Had she used some sort of power to enthrall him? Was Cazoa, perhaps unknowingly, stealing his fangs? His brow furrowed somewhat as her hands ran up his arms and she drew close. The warmth he felt from her was rivaled by the quiet suspicion. This was what his deeds had done to him -- complete trust was almost impossible.

But...perhaps it was not.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he mumbled. Rather than await her reply, Mephirium stepped forward, his arms lacing around her waist. His lips fell to meet her own, his eyes squeezing shut. It was the way of the Sith to seize that which one wished to have, and though Mephirium might have been on the lighter spectrum of that scale, he was still Sith. At times, he fancied himself the successor to the dark lord. What would he be if he allowed Cazoa to slip away?

He drew away for but a moment, though he still held her in his arms. His gaze was dark and filled with purpose. "My ship is not far from here. Tommorow, we will leave for Triumvirate space. They'll need our...assistance."

He paused. "Tonight, however, we remain here."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa barely had time to catch her breath before she felt Cyril's arms wrap around her waist and pull her close. She could do nothing but let the emotions over take her as his lips found hers. They were soft, molding against her own, creating a delicate joining of passion and caution. The emotions swirled around her, finding their way to him through their skin. It had been inevitable.

It was impossible to see much else in the world, for all that mattered was that moment. The whirlwind raged around them, marking the beginning of their journey together on a path that destiny had had for them all along. They would not be merely Master and Apprentice, but something much greater, much stronger.

Cyril drew away, his arms still wrapped around her waist, keeping her close to his warm body. "My ship is not far from here,' he said. 'Tomorrow, we will leave for Triumvirate space. They'll need our...assistance."

He paused. 'Tonight, however, we remain here.'

Cazoa nodded, acknowledging his words. Her hands fell from the back of his head to his arms, and her eyes fell to his chest.
'Then we must rest,' she said, her voice soft. The trails of the day returned to her, her body weak, and mind running on empty. Yet she wanted more from him, much more, but intuition told her that this was not the time to take such steps. And tangled with that warning, was logic, filling her with confusion.

Cazoa's eyes returned to Cyril's and she searched them for a moment in silence. They were warm, comforting, and there was something behind them that she couldn't quite place - as if his mind was racing through every rationalization of what had just happened - a slight edge to his words. She would keep that for later, when her mind could mull over things in a much more refreshed state.

'Our journey from here on out will be long, I feel it,' she said as her thoughts turned to leaving the Moon. Strength and power remained, flowing naturally and freely like an extended piece of herself, just for Cyril. 'But they will be wrong to test you, now.' Her fingers lightly traced his lips.

Cazoa gingerly placed one last kiss on his mouth before she half smiled, and pulled away from his grip. 'Goodnight, Cyril.'

She turned and began to set up her sleeping space. His essence remained with her, forever to stay, but the intensity had faded somewhat, allowing her to return to her individuality. However, not many thoughts came to her as she lay on the hard bedroll - every part of her screamed exhaustion. One thought that did come very briefly before she fell to sleep, was that if she had been in a more cognitive state of mind, would she have acted the same way that she had tonight? Would she have said all that she had? Not only that, but if they had been further away from the temple and the way that it seemed to play on their deepest darkest emotions, especially for her as she was so unprotected to all deviousness of the Dark Side, would they have acted the way that they had? Cazoa imagined the spirit in his chamber, cackling at the confusion he had created after centuries of searching for a muse.

'Darth Mephirium

 

[Placeholder 04]

This embrace was not an animal thing. She had stolen his attentions miles away before they had ever set eyes upon one another. Her voice had been a melody, her eyes full of compassion and a kindredness lost to most. On some level, she understood, and her words only furthered his belief.

"They will test the both of us," he replied without thought, "All that I do will be your doing as well. All that I create will be yours." His eyes hooded as she drew her finger along his lips.

The strength that flowed between them was insurmountable. Cyril felt that he could rip apart a star destroyer if he so wished it. He could not hide his smile as she kissed him again.

"Goodnight," he sighed, his body feeling limp as she walked away. The intensity of their bond was gone, but he craved it horribly. He had half a mind to follow her to her bedroll and take her into his arms, though he thought better of it.

With a deep breath, he strode over to his side of the camp, sitting down cross legged to listen to the way of the world around him. He closed his eyes and attempted to find some peace.

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa woke to the hot sun rising above the canyon. Though early, the power of the sun was enough to make a sheen of sweat appear on her face. Her body ached as she rolled over from her back to her side. In the soft glow of the morning, she saw Cyril, back against the wall of the temple, still asleep or perhaps resting his eyes - either way he looked peaceful. She watched his face for a moment, expecting a rush of emotions that needed analyzing and questioning to flood her, but instead only silence.

Thankful for this, she began to rise, grabbing a bottle of water as she looked out to the wastes. All was quiet. Should it stay that way, the last feat of their journey would be easily done. Yet, at the foot of the steps were large hunks of smooth rock which had fallen from old columns lining the pathway. How were they going to move them? They were too large for them to physically move, and as she looked around her, there was nothing that they might have fashioned to pry them from the path, and most were too smooth to find footings and climb over.

The force? Could it be strong enough to move them?

Cazoa stretched her limbs. The force was everywhere now. She could feel it in everything around her - the sun, the rocks, the dust, the air, herself, Cyril. It was becoming comforting to her, and Cazoa happily fell into it, allowing it to energize her mind and body. She could feel the Darkness, creeping around her, but she did not fight it. Either she didn't know the right means, or she didn't care enough to suppress it's power. Power. She let it run through her body, strengthening her senses.

She was ready for the last part of their journey.


[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

The rocks would be a challenge, but then Cyril had always been one for a bit of opposition. If they could not traverse this relatively simple obstacle, then what hope was there of Cazoa ever completing her training? The master found himself snickering at the thought as he rose up to his feet.

"You're a thunderstorm today my dear," Cyril spoke by way of greeting. There was a fondness to his voice; a familiarity that most certainly would have broken the professional barrier in any other apprenticeship. "You need to tame it."

He drew his cowl up over his face to block out the oppressive light of the sun and approached the mass of boulders. Each rock was terribly large -- a feat to move all on their own -- but Cyril was unperturbed. Telekinesis was something he had a natural aptitude for, and now he had a companion who might surpass them in the field.

He certainly wasn't worried.

"Calm yourself. Let yourself sink into the ocean of the force. Guide its currents; don't allow yourself to be swept away in them." His arms outstretched toward the nearest boulders. It took a few moments for the mass of stone to react. It shook and cracked as it slowly lifted a full meter into the air.

Cyril remained perfectly still as he guided the boulder away from the canyon entrance. The only external signs of his exertion came when he set the stone down and breathed a heavy sigh.

Inwardly, he took a moment to gather his strength. Outwardly, the action might have looked effortless. Such was the appearance Cyril wished to maintain that he kept the strain from showing upon his features.

He gestured toward the remaining boulder.

"Your turn." He grinned.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa watched as one of the sandstone chunks began to elevate off of the ground. It rose one meter, and then fell at the side of the old pathway. The force had been the answer. She could feel emanating from within Cyril as the rock had risen. Cazoa looked to him, studying his face. There had been only a glimpse of concentration in his eyes, though she wasn't sure if it was that she could see, or rather feel, as the force within him had become stronger.

'Your turn,' Cyril grinned.

Her turn? She had never consciously moved anything with her mind before, let alone a weighty rock. He had made it look so easy. She moved forward a few steps in front of Cyril, closer to the rock, thinking that if she were nearer then perhaps it would be easier. Her brow creased as she began to focus.

The force bubbled within, and she allowed it once more to consume her mind and body filling her with strength. Cazoa's senses heightened as she noticed the little details of the rock - cracks in the sandstone, the ancient carvings barely visible on it's surface, and how the force interacted with it's composition. Nothing happened for a long moment.

Will it. Intuition spoke. You forget to will it.

And so she did - Cazoa breathed in deeply, and then let the strength within her combine with the energy of the rock. Slowly, it began to rise, and so did the ability to keep it elevated - in her mind it felt heavy, though she debated that it was because it was the mental energy that felt substantial. It was, after all, a muscle that she had never stretched knowingly before.

Cazoa frowned as her focus momentarily faltered to the way it felt to stretch this muscle. In turn, the rock crashed back to the ground. Frustration filled her as the sharp crack echoed against the temple walls. The force filled her again as she concentrated, turning her frustration into determination. This time there was an edge to her focus - a bubbling power within her that was drawn from that which was in abundance on the Moon - the Dark Side. She hadn't consciously called upon it - it was just there, all around her.

This time the rock rose quicker as if it had no choice but to bend to her will. The muscle did not falter under the mental weight, Cazoa flexed it, testing it's strength, and rose the rock higher still. She held it there for a moment before willing it to fall at the side of the pathway.

Cazoa could feel the toll that this task had taken on her energy, but her sense of accomplishment outweighed the feeling. A smile found it's way to her lips as she turned to face Cyril.

'Shall we?' Her arm outstretched to the wastes, half curtsying.

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril drew in a deep breath and folded his arms over his chest as he watched Cazoa work. He could not help but smile as the rock slowly began to respond to her prodding. He took an instinctive step forward when it crashed to the ground, an arm stretching out to catch it with invisible hands should it fall anyway near her.

But then she impressed him, and then she worried him at the same time. The sandstone boulder was flung to the side away from the entrance, and Cazoa gestured toward the land beyond. For a moment, he had felt something gripping his heart -- the same touch that he'd felt with the spirit in the temple.

He should not have felt it so intimately. Blue eyes traveled over Cazoa's form and his lips parted in unspoken words. It had only been a kiss, but had that been enough? Was there a bond forged between the two of them?

"You almost look like you're having fun," he snickered, clapping a hand on her shoulder as he walked out through the entrance. "For someone with so little experience, that was amazing. I was hoping to test you, but you passed the whole damned course." His words were honeyed with pride and affection, but his thoughts strayed toward other things.

The bond in particular.

"My ship isn't far from here-" his voice hitched as he tripped over one of the many rocks dotting the wasteland. He pitched forward, barely managing to halt his fall halfway down. When he stood back up he was laughing, his cowl drawn back and the wind blowing the shock of ebon hair atop his hair in small tangles.

"--...and I've lost the ability to walk correctly it seems. My teaching abilities are a bit more honed than my senses, I promise."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa watched Cyril's eyes scan her - a look that was both doting but curious. It piqued her own curiosity as she felt his thoughts searching her for something...questioning, wondering. She thought perhaps that he was trying to decipher how she had moved the rock considerably well for someone that had not particularly used the force in such a way. Her thoughts traveled back to her childhood - her first year on board her adoptive father's ship. It was a quiet year for her since she had been so unsure of him and the crew, especially after they had practically stolen her from her former master. Boredom would often sink in, and she would hide herself away in the tunnels under the walkways, and fling small pieces of junk against the walls with her mind. It had been one of the many memories that she had shut away once she grown older and developed complexes about her 'special' abilities. It had been easy to shut them out and never use them consciously. Until now.

The memory of her father and former crew upset her, but Cazoa kept it from reaching her face. Her features remained excited at her accomplishment, and Cyril's praise only furthered her good mood. She found herself enjoying his approval. She followed him onto the path, leading into the wastes.

Little tugs pulled at her, calling her back to the temple. She turned to look at it one last time, and although the tugs continued to probe her, she was happy to see the last of it. Soon, the moon would be behind them, and they would be among the stars once more - hopefully headed to somewhere that wasn't covered in dirt. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by green plants and how refreshing an ocean breeze felt.

"My ship isn't far from here-" Cyril's voice hitched as he tripped over one of the many rocks dotting the wasteland. "--...and I've lost the ability to walk correctly it seems. My teaching abilities are a bit more honed than my senses, I promise."

Cazoa couldn't help but join in with his laughter. It was the first time that she had heard him laugh properly, and it was like sweet, infectious music. She needed to make him laugh more often.

'Two left feet huh,' she giggled. 'If you broke your ankle, at least you know I could use the force to carry you to the ship.'
She bumped her shoulder gently into his.

'You are teaching me well...I don't feel so lost any more.'

A brief moment of silence passed as they continued to trudge across the wastes. During the weeks that they had traveled to the temple she had kept her distance whilst they had been walking, but now, Cazoa found herself closer to him.

'So, where now?' she asked. 'Somewhere colder, I hope. With lots of water. And life. Do you even remember what trees look like?'

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Where now?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Cyril had intended to return to the Jedi enclave on Yutan once his pilgramage had come to an end. That intention was still there, but Cazoa would not benefit from visiting it just yet. There were other things she needed to see, to understand. She needed experience before he brought her to the heart of the war.

Not to mention the politics that would surround his return. Most thought he was dead. Others assumed he had drawn himself into exile. The latter was not entirely untrue, but even still, anyone who returned to the Jedi at his side was going to have a hard time of things.

He found himself beaming at her. Cazoa was strong, both in the force and of mind. She could withstand whatever trials or tribulations the other Jedi could possibly throw her way. But even still, he felt the need to take a detour, if nothing else than to retain a bit of private company with her longer.

Not that he had any intention of informing her of such.

"Dunno 'bout that. I've put on some weight. Might crush you, force or not," he snickered, bumping her back as they strolled down toward the ship. It wasn't far now; he could clearly make out its glittering hull in the distance.

"I was thinking Naboo. My mother was from there. Her old estate is open to me -- the peace and quiet will help you with your training." He waved a hand about toward the endless wastes on either side of them, "No deserts either."

The ship a large cargo freighter heavily modified for combat work. It was of a tall boxlike shape and was covered in matte black paint. Twin turbolasers jutted out of either end of the shuttle's nose. The gangplank hissed open with a gesture from Cyril, steam and the smell of sweet air flowing from within.

Snickering, Cyril bent down low and held a hand out toward the ship. "After you m'lady."

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa nodded, contemplating Naboo. Her travels alongside her father hadn't bought them anywhere near the garden world before, but she had heard that it was generally a peaceful place to visit with rolling green countryside full of life and serenity. The complete opposite of the Moon. She remembered the vision shown to them by the spirit of Cyril and his mother, and wondered how he would fare being back in a place full of those memories.

"After you m'lady." Cyril gestured to the ship as the ramp descended.

'Thank you,' Cazoa said with a smile. She was grateful for the cool air around her as she entered the cargo hold. She was eager to see Cyril among his possessions, and even more so to leave the Moon.

'Right, let's get out of here,' she said, as he entered behind her. 'Before any terentatek find us again.'

[member="Cyril Grayson"]