Echoes

[Davin Jusik]

The air was thick with history. Hundreds of thousands of years worth. Before the various Modernized factions had fought over Dosuun a species of primitives had lived largely the same as they always had, without much evolution. Throughout their recorded history the same patterns of religious ritual and social structure had remained relatively unchanged. While the rest of the Universe squabbled and burned these natives had fought small tribal wars while living simply. Amin stood by a lake in the center of one of the First Order's many National Parks, near what had once been the center of tribal life for a group whose name had been lost to the ages. An echo. An entire people forgotten. The trooper grunted before taking a puff of the brand of cigarettes most popular amongst members of the Stormtrooper Corp. Imperial Standard.

A fog surrounded the immediate area. Dense enough to not grant vision past fifteen feet or so. An archaic revolver sat in an equally archaic holster underneath Amin's shoulder. A heirloom from his grandfather. He wore only boots, cargo pants, and a standard issue PT shit. His eyes were red from several mostly sleepless nights.

The last landing had struck a strange cord in him. War had become his tradecraft and normally didn't provoke much guilt in it's execution. It was what it was, and a part of all life. Something in the eyes of one of the demented natives he'd plunged his steel into. That frantic, fearful expression that most organics seemed to emote before their lights shut off.

Amin found his right hand suddenly filled with the gun. His hand flexed a he thumbed the the cylinder. He dropped the half bottle of whiskey from his left hand and thoughtfully eyed the weapon before dropping five of it's six bullets to the sand beneath him.

Roughly five percent of folk who tried to off themselves by this method survived. A slight spin sent the cylinder rotating before a small push locked it back into it's correct position. He placed it under his chin and thumbed hammer. The sensation of both the steel and action sent a cold shiver. He squeezed and thought of those long gone.

The click produced nothing but the hollow sound of metal.

Not today.

Statisticly he should've been dead by now, and not just because his proffesion was leading men headlong into blaster fire .

He sighed and sat down in the sand, placing the revolver back in it's holster.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Decima Fortan didn't know anything about Dosuun before the First Order. She didn't know much about Dosuun after the First Order, except that her half-sister's name was attached to its development from backwater to bustling capital world. She could have learned about its history, its aboriginals, it's figurative little brown brothers, but what would have been the point in that? She was busy learning other things, like how to bend the Force to her will and subjugate others to a destiny she and the Order of Ren decided. There was absolutely no emotional connection for her to this place, aside from the fact that it was cool and generally isolated and quiet enough for her to meditate and occasionally swim.

She had stripped to her underthings -- a sports bra and running shorts, in this occasion -- and waded into the lake. The water was nearly glacial, just as she liked it. Bracing. If her teeth weren't chattering at the end of it, she would be sorely disappointed.

She would swim across the lake and back. The exercise would be good for her. The solitude would give her time to think. The serenity would let her meditate. Decima was nearly to the opposite shore when she stopped, treading water. Was there someone there? There was a presence in the Force... something or someone was nearby, ahead, shrouded in the fog.

Decima had left her blaster on the opposite shore, and her Force skills were rudimentary. She debated going back for the blaster, but the more she sensed in the Force, the less she feared for her safety. She swam on, soon coming to feel the sand between her toes, then she slowly waded out of the water until the figure of [member="Amin Garith"] became apparent in the fog. What was he doing with that antiquated blaster? He sat on the sand as she emerged completely from the lake, the sand immediately sticking to her bare feet.

"You're a long way from anywhere," Decima observed, then raised her hands halfway. "Don't worry, I don't mean any harm."

 

[Davin Jusik]

Amin had watched [member="Decima Fortan"] wade out with a sort of apathetic glean in his glazed eyes. Hallucination? He couldn't tell and didn't particularly care, present juncture being what it was.

He took a drag.

"That's kinda the idea."

He took a further moment to look at the woman, still debating whether she was some apparition of the past or not.

"Ditto."

This would be the most casual anyone had witnessed him since Empire Day. His typical stoic features softened a bit into something else. A parody of the illusion of the gleeful nihilist. The one that appeared cheerful on the exterior while silently panicking internally.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

In a former life, appearing in such a state of undress to a stranger -- to anyone who was not her ladies' maid, her physician, or her husband -- would have brought a blush to her face, but these things mattered less on Dosuun than they did on Galidraan, and it mattered even less to someone in her position. "Are you quite well?" she asked the man, studying the strange getup he had on. An ancient-looking holster and what looked like a primitive -- or nearly-primitive -- projectile weapon. It didn't look like a regulation First Order sidearm, to be sure.

"Are you... hunting?" Decima asked, opening herself up to the Force. There was something about the man opposite her. Something intriguing and little worrying. "I haven't seen any game birds here recently."

[member="Amin Garith"]

 

[Davin Jusik]

The "are you quite well?" question brought a slight chuckle out of him. This had to be some strange little vision from his slightly demented mind. No way was this real. He didn't respond aloud.

But who was he to judge reality in his present state?

"I'm hunting something of a wrath. A strange ancient beast that's rumored to roam these parts. Large, dark, and holding the hope of the future in it's cruel clutches. Have you seen it?" Amin replied to [member="Decima Fortan"] a bit of a grin. He was in a strange way. He doubted if anyone had seen his as vulnerable as he was now as this potentially non existent stranger was.

"What about yourself miss?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Decima studied [member="Amin Garith"], her dark eyes thoughtful, and then dropped to her knees in the sand in front of him. "You don't like to wax poetic, do you?" she asked derisively after his description of what he was hunting. There was no such creature, at least not on Dosuun, she thought. She'd have heard of it -- or seen it -- by then. "Are you injured, or something? You're talking as if you've hit your head on something hard." On an impulse, Decima leaned forward, peering directly into his eyes, her gaze flickering between both of them.

"I'm not hunting. I'm here to meditate and swim," she said. "And I am not miss," she added waspishly. "And I think you need a medic," she concluded after a moment, her bottom lip twitching anxiously. "How did you get out here?" She stood up and walked a few paces in each direction, looking for a vehicle. But it was impossible in this fog to see anything beyond a few feet in front of you.

 

[Davin Jusik]

The alcohol and spice had sufficiently returned enough to end his negative feelings. Peaks and valleys. [member="Decima Fortan"] made eye contact with Amin for a bit to long. He returned it and a silence emerged as the moment became awkward.

"Occasionally. How many soldiers do you know Miss not Miss? This is a weekend. I just normally don't do this outside. Bit of a judgment error on my end." Amin said with a chuckle. His mind started doing cartwheels and he laid in the sand.

"The old fashioned way. Bipedal motion."