Private Flowers of Thule

[Corazona von Ascania]

Thule blossomed in the aftermath of the ritual. Barren earth had become fertile, the palace restored, streets and homes were in the process of being reconstructed and modernized. It was as if the air itself had become reinvigorated with life.

Cora puzzled over the rejuvenation. She'd witnessed a force nexus, thick with the ichor of the dark, siphon the life from a vibrant forest on her homeworld. Once she had overseen its purification - thanks to the New Jedi Order - the Ukatian forest had become as rejuvenated as Thule was now.

She constantly wondered if there was something she'd been missing.

Lord Nwul, perhaps to no one's surprise, was a fairly sociable man. He entertained many guests- some for business, some for pleasure, some a mix of both. What might have been a surprise, was the Jedi prisoner he kept. Garbed in fine silk clothes and tended to by servants, Cora was more akin to a Mistress than a captive. A fact that she still wasn't quite used to, but grateful for all the same - she'd rather be kept in luxury than rotting in a jail cell.

At least until she could manage to slip away. She would not admit that, right now, there was no hurry - even if she feared the other foot dropping eventually. Nwul was kind and affectionate towards her, and though her feelings were complicated, she'd begun to reciprocate. Whether it was genuine or a means of survival remained to be seen.

Gardening had been a constant in her life - on Ukatis, on Coruscant, and now Thule. The Silph she'd planted has begun to flower with the dexterous aid of the Force, tiny violet buds beginning to bloom brightly against the greenery. Presently, Cora was working on transferring Nabooian Lily seedlings into the earth. With appropriate tending, the delicate plants would blossom into periwinkle florets that gave off a soft glow in the evening hours.

A familiar sensation prickled at the back of her neck. She paused, trowel pressed into the dirt, and glanced up.

"Hm?"

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

A'Mia Madrona

​

Beneath a beautiful carved archway, a familiar figure ducked to enter the garden and straightened up. Still incredibly tall and verdant from Nwul's ritual, A'Mia wore her form somewhat lean and tall so that she could still somewhat fit into her Korriban Officer's uniform. Granted, the starchy black pants fit her like capris right now while the open jacket and black undershirt fit like cropped tops what with the sheer length of her legs and torso.

Those large pupil-less blue green eyes swept over Corazona von Ascania where she knelt and the odd wooden woman came to a stop. She gave a small smile as she paused, placing one fist gently into the open palm of her other hand and dipped her head in a small bow.

"I inquired after the padawans I delivered to the feet of Darth Caedes and learned he had entrusted you to Darth Nwul."

She straightened from the bow and tilted her head as if considering whether to step closer or if that might alarm the young noblewoman. A'Mia's hair was just as overgrown as the rest of her and worn down around her shoulders in a flowing mane. Across her body and over one shoulder she wore a bandolier whose pouches seemed to be overflowing with soil samples in neat little test tubes and plant cuttings.

"I felt introductions were in order, given that we were both rather busy when last we met."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Glancing up from the flowerbed, Cora brought one hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the bright sun that illuminated her guest from from behind. It cast the Neti in an almost ethereal glow, the wooden woman not out of place among the trawling vines and verdant foliage.

"Ah."

A simple murmur drifted from Cora's throat, lips closed, as she appraised the acolyte standing before her. Her gaze drifted up and down, scrutinizing the ill-fitting clothes she wore. Then the captive Jedi rose carefully, wiping the soil from her gloves while drifting upward. With her back straight, Cora at her full height was still quite diminutive compared to A'Mia.

"How kind of you to come all the way from Korriban on my behalf."

Her voice was smooth and even, with the type of refined edge noblewomen often used to jab at one another in court. For a Jedi prisoner of the Sith, the Padawan was surprisingly well-kept. Cora bore no sign of injury or outward distress, her face was not gaunt with starvation, and even the clothes she wore seemed to be a distinct cut above what servants found themselves garbed in. No chains bound her wrists or legs, no slave collar wound around her neck. While guards were stationed at various points among the garden, they did not appear to be hovering over her.

It was as if A'Mia had caught an aristocrat during her leisure time. And that…wasn't far from the truth.

Cora pressed a hand over heart, tilting her head in a brief bow. "Busy is certainly one way of putting it. Corazona von Ascania."

Straightening out, she fixed her visitor with a smile, pleasant and guarded. Blue eyes roamed her clothed torso, wondering how the woman had fared after being carved from navel to shoulder by her lightsaber, before refocusing on the woman's cherub-like face.

"You appear to be doing well after our…scuffle."

There was no hint of bitterness in her tone, but her smile wouldn't quite reach cold eyes.

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

The tall woman gazed down cooly at the more petite human, not regarding her unkindly though showing no signs of registering an emotional response to the refined edge to her tone either. She seemed truly as impartial as stone unless she was making a show of some affect or another. Not even the woman's sarcasm about A'Mia's choice of words coaxed a single reaction. But the doll like mask of her features animated a few moments after the woman introduced herself and voiced thinly veiled curiosity about the grievous wound her former opponent no longer seemed to bear.

"Well met, Corazona von Ascania . I am called A'Mia," she gave a coy smile and lifted the hem of her shirt briefly to show off the undamaged wood grain of her torso.
"I don't hold onto souvenirs like some dance partners do. You appear to have suffered no lasting brain damage."

Her tone was light and friendly but she had an odd way of mixing humor and blunt observation. Rather than state the obvious fact that she had not of course traveled all this way just to see the young noblewoman, A'Mia stepped nearer and to the side of her to kneel in one fluid motion. She placed one palm against the soil, as if testing its quality just by close proximity.

"An interesting choice for your personal garden."

The woman's tone was knowing, testing to see if the padawan would yield an interesting response. Though she kept her eyes focused on the plants for now, taking the intensity of her gaze off Cora for the time being.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"A'Mia." Cora repeated to herself thoughtfully. "A lovely name."

The Jedi wasn't sure if she preferred the conniving cruelty of some Sith she'd crossed paths with, or this disarming friendliness and civility from the Neti woman. Blue eyes shifted from a wooden face to the woman's torso, her bark showing no hints of the scorching wound her lightsaber had left.

"A pleasing result." Not necessarily to Cora, who still felt a lingering animosity for A'Mia, buried deep beneath her courtly mannerisms and even expression. "I'm quite well."

Fortunately, the concussion she'd received had left no lasting deficits. The blonde tilted her head to the side in curiosity, watching A'Mia as she knelt to the ground and pressed a hand to the earth.

"They have the most darling blossoms." Cora's smile thinned knowingly. "Though, I suppose you already knew that, hmm?"

Crouching down with the Acolyte, she pressed the tip of her finger into the dirt, drawing on the energy surrounding them and feeding it into the seed below. A tiny green sprout emerged from the soil, stretching and curling slightly as it grew upwards. A pale blue bud appeared, its color darkening rapidly as it flowered into a delicate cobalt blossom.

Gardening had been about the only thing she'd had that kept her sane at the palace on Ukatis.

She smiled, small and genuine down at the little flower. The gesture wasn't intended to impress A'Mia – why would it, when the Neti could likely raise an entire garden with a wave of her hand? There was value and letting life take its time, but now and again, Cora allowed herself to be selfish.

Simply, she wanted to see the flower bloom now.

"They grow on my homeworld, Ukatis."

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

A'Mia's eyes followed Corazona von Ascania to where she crouched beside her, listening intently. Those large pools of blue-green were cold with calculation and seemed to peer through people. The acolyte watched as Cora channeled the Force, saw as she became a focused conduit for it and bid it gently to enact her will.

A silence grew between them for a moment, the strange Neti seemed to forget her social cues and graces in place of contemplation. The woman before her was bright in the light of the Force and though by no means a beacon, A'Mia thought her strength there might be in subtly. She watched the woman's small smile as if she intended to carefully recreate it later upon her own visage.

Unique energetic signatures not visible to most, appeared to A'Mia's eyes as plainly as other people saw facial features. She was finding however that even Cora's shatterpoints were things of subtly. Her strengths and weaknesses seemed to have far more to do with her environment and social circumstances than anything inherent within her character. Though there was certainly a prideful streak to her, the Neti did not think it drove her to stupidity the way pride seemed to drive some noblemen.

A'Mia drew on the Force in her own way, long slender fingers moving the way one might pluck at a loom to fix an errant thread. Before Cora's eyes the slender little stem of her flower grew an encircling line of spines, too slender to be considered thorns but too sharp to be harmless new leaves. In a small act of alchemy, A'Mia shaped the little plant to better suit the woman before her.

"May the comfort you find in your garden make its way to your bed chambers." She levied the sly jab and watched Cora keenly but moved on without missing a beat.
"Is Ukatis where you intend to return after your business here concludes?"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Blue eyes widened a notch as A'Mia coaxed the flower's growth further, abnormally so. Prickles protruded from the surface of the stem, sending out tiny, momentary ripples in the Force.

Wait - she peered closer. Not exactly barbs, but not benign leaves, either. It would be easy to mistake one for the other if you looked too quickly, or if you already had an idea of what you wanted to see.

Cora tapped a finger to the side of a spike, then pressed the pad of a fingertip experimentally at its point. A slight sting, and a single drop of blood pooled at the tip of her finger. She drew away and flicked her wrist, delicately manicured eyebrows arching at the Neti's impish words.

A girlish flush bloomed on pale cheeks, but Cora didn't let it soften her expression.

"My business?" She frowned. Cora was a prisoner here. Right now, she wasn't aware of the ship Nwul had prepared for her to depart. After being held captive by a toxic marriage, the exiled princess counted her blessings. Nwul was kind. He cared for her. Here, she was well taken care of. "Are the Sith allowing their prisoners to go on holiday, now?"

Even if she was allowed to leave, the court had exiled her from Ukatis. Cora shook that bitter memory from her head before sorrow and regret could take root. Instead, she refocused on the tree of a woman before her.

"You fight well. Did your Sith Master teach your that?"

That could have met anything - A'Mia's combat prowress, or her alchemical abilities.

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

A'Mia caught the subtle reaction to her jab but was far more interested in the girl's curiosity. That was something which, if explored, could make the young padawan far more formidable indeed. A path she might yet walk down or choose to turn away from. A'Mia wondered if they would face each-other again in battle and if the woman would have harnessed some of what her curiosity had to offer by then. It would be such a bore if she merely became yet another Jedi knight and the neti woman found herself wanting to nudge the woman down the far more interesting path.

"Not in general no, we do not waste assets even as lowly as prisoners." A'Mia answered in that matter of fact tone.
"Though it seems to me that Darth Nwul does not consider you a prisoner so much as a guest."

She looked sidelong at Corazona von Ascania then cast her gaze about the lush garden, taking in the abundant variety of plant life. Considering carefully how to answer her question.

"I have two Masters, one of Sorcery and one of alchemy. It is the latter who has instructed me in such things. But if you mean my dancing? That I learned from an echani troupe in what feels like a past life."

The last words came in a low singsong, not so much mocking as they were an attempt at disarming banter which likely missed the mark given A'Mia's rather sinister pre-disposition.

"What of you? That was your master who brushed me off as child's play was it not?"

She left the query open, truly curious about the woman’s entire educational history but knowing she shouldn’t push her luck by being overly familiar.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A lowly asset. A guest.

Cora observed A'Mia’s posture, angling for any hints of body language that would give away the woman's true aim. Her face, in contrast to her body, had a disturbingly doll-like quality to it. Youthful and smooth, but there was something not entirely right in those wide, blue-green eyes.

Was she sly with her tongue, prodding the Jedi's nerves to see which elicited the sharpest disturbance in the Force? Was she simply just brash?

Both?

It wasn't unusual to have more than one teacher - while Cora was Valery's student, she'd received instruction from a number of Jedi Knights and Masters, as did other Padawans. The part about learning to dance from an Echani troupe was unusual enough to earn A'Mia a cocked eyebrow.

The other one rose too, sharply, twitching at the mention of child's play, and the assumed insinuation that Cora had been unable to handle it.

"That was before you turned yourself into…"

A dismissive motion flicked from her wrist, gesturing to the Neti's wooden body.

But enough about that.

"Yes. That was Valery Noble, my Master. She took me on several years back, when I was an initiate."

Cora's attention drifted back to the flower, her gaze unfocusing softly as she recalled some of the most poignant moments with her teacher. A medley of unfortunate feelings twisted in her gut, from regret to shame to disappointment.

"Though, there have been some…obstacles in my training."

Namely, the arraigned marriage that kept her on Ukatis, subdued and docile until she wasn't.

"Evidently." She added bitterly, recalling the blunt pain of the moment the pommel of A’Mia’s dagger had slammed into the back of her head.

"Where does one find a wandering group of Echani dancers?"

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

A'Mia noted the tension in Cora at mention of her master, at reminder of how she had become a guest in the first place. She watched as a complicated welling up of emotion altered the woman's demeanor and she was ultimately at a loss to the scope of Cora's internal processes. Masters were a complicated topic for many she supposed.

"An indictment on the teacher more than the student," she reassured flatly, in reference to A'Mia presenting a more formidable opponent than the Jedi had anticipated.

The neti turned to take in more of the garden, stepping lightly toward one section of lush plant life to better observe them. She kept Cora in her periphery, never one to let down her guard even with someone so far away from the seat of their own power. She offered her wariness as a sign of respect.

"My memories from before are not as crisp as those from after," she hedged rather vaguely in reference to her forced rest on Kashyyyk.

"I recall finding the troupe performing in some middling city on some nowhere planet, they took interest my…"

A'Mia turned to fully face the young woman, the tendrils of her form loosening so that she was suddenly a mass of writhing vines barely contained by the already poorly fit officer's clothing.

"Form."

She finished the thought, voice emanating from within the roiling shape that used to be her face, eyes nowhere to be found. Knowing the strangeness of her body was unsettling to some, A'Mia changed back just as suddenly as before. Standing with one hand on her hip as if she had not just had the form of something out of a nightmare.

"There's an interesting weave of light and dark around you, Corazona von Ascania . Have you considered exploring that?"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Hm."

It was a sharp noise made from the back of her throat. Even here, Cora was protective of Valery and her reputation. No small part of her had wondered, if she hasn't been struck by the dagger, would she be here right now?

A'Mia's mention of there being a before and an after inspired both blonde eyebrows to rise. There was a story there, but perhaps the Neti was more interested in trying to alarm her. As the taller woman shifted from solid wood to something more monstrous, Cora couldn't help but stare with a wide-eyed grimace.

There was something terrifyingly beautiful and endlessly fascinating about a being that commanded nature itself, the most natural thing, to do the unnatural. Even the revitalization of Thule through darker means had piqued her interest. It was a slippery slope.

"Some stones are best left unturned."

They were surrounded by enough stones that she could be pelted to death.

Taking care to smooth the material of her gardening apron as she rose, Cora regarded her much taller conversation partner with the bearing of an aristocrat. Back straight, shoulders even, fingers twined loosely and held low.

"The libraries here have afforded me to study the dark in a more…academic sense. About a year ago,I witnessed a nexus seeped in dark as it siphoned the life from my home." Unclasping her hands, she skimmed a finger along the thin stem of a creeping plant as it twined around the wooden archway.

"Desiccated forests, dying lands and disturbed fauna. We were fortunate to have been able to purify it before the sickness could spread in earnest."

A lingering glance shifted into whole-hearted attention as she turned to face A'Mia.

"This is the sort of power you wish to wield?"

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

A'Mia noted the tension in Cora at the slight jab toward her teacher. It was not surprising that there would be loyalty there, but the young woman's emotions regarding the Jedi knight remained a mystery. So too did her true thoughts about the spectrum of the force remain clouded, but the padawan was beginning to hint at some ideological flexibility on the matter.

"Another difference between us," the Neti noted cordially, "I would sooner turn every stone."

And it was true, her curiosity was a potent thing, hungry. It was with curious eyes that she continued to study Corazona von Ascania , eager to learn what she could about the woman and Jedi in general before their paths again parted. A'Mia stilled as the human turned to address her with more pointed focus, after sharing something clearly impactful from her past. Her slight shift in energy caused a solemnity to overtake A'Mia and a moment of silence stretched between them as the Neti held eerily still in thought. Eventually she stirred, large eyes blinking and head quirking thoughtfully.

"You might find that I deviate from what you would classically envision of Sith. I cannot yet wield the more destructive aspects of the dark side, though we both know destruction is not the domain of darkness alone." She emphasized that last point with a wry smirk and raised eyebrow but continued on.

"I of course endeavor to study all facets of the Force and I tend to hold a view of it which leans more neutral. The living Weave is of great interest to me personally and it seems that my particular energetic flow lends itself to more delicate or niche uses. I would study the Light too but-"

A'Mia made an odd cutting gesture toward her torso with her hand, as if to chop in and scoop something out of her core, it was almost like some form of hand signing. The woman was vaguely referring to the hollowness her people had sensed when she was but a child, "root-rot" they had called it.

"I would be even more ill fitting among the Jedi ranks than I am the Sith."

She ended her thought in jest but with no small amount of truth hidden therein. The neti returned Cora's whole-hearted attention with an expectant gaze now that she had shared so much context in responding to her question.

"What of you and your ambitions?"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora squinted as A'Mia's hands produced a gesture she couldn't pin down. Scooping something from her own core? It was a lack of something, or perhaps a removal, not that Cora could pinpoint what.

She left that untouched, nearly snorting at the Neti’s mention of her delicate use of the Force. There was a spot at the back of her skull that still ached.

"Oh, I wouldn't be entirely unsure about…"

On the surface, A'Mia was pleasant, respectful even, despite the few veiled jabs. Yet there was something unnerving about her - in a way that you couldn't easily put your finger on. Something that wasn't entirely wrong, but just enough to raise your hackles.

Then the question was turned to her, and Cora realized quickly that she didn't have an answer.

Not a bad answer, not a dissatisfying answer, just no answer at all.

The blonde busied herself with sorting her gardening implements, careful to keep the Sith apprentice within her line of sight. After a few long moments, she spoke the only desire that had followed her through all aspects of life.

"I would like to care for my people, in any way that I can."

Her brow creased, one hand running along the slanted edge of a trowel. "I was married once, on my homeworld, into a position of power. I liked to think that I'd done some good for the people there, maybe. When my husband passed, I went into mourning."

And now she was here. Thule was the furthest thing from Ukatis, and Cora felt a sudden surge of shame because she didn't hate being here.

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

The neti was once again taken over by complete stillness, she looked bird like or perhaps statuesque save for the gleam of her voracious eyes. She watched the woman busy herself and answer, her mind spinning loose ends into threads that were gradually forming into a mental tapestry of the woman before her. If A'Mia was surprised that such a young looking human was already a widow, she showed no sign of it.

Though Corazona von Ascania wisely aimed to keep A'Mia in her periphery, the neti seemed unconcerned and broke her stillness to stroll a bit farther into the garden. Keen eyes taking in and presumably categorically noting the species found therein.

"I was married once too. My condolences." Though for what she offered sympathy was not made clear.

A'Mia bent at the waist, head cocking curiously as she examined the beautiful beginnings of creeping thyme, a lovely ground-cover variety. Nonchalantly she straightened up and looked sidelong back at the padawan.

"You would 'like to think'? Then in seeking to aid your kinsmen, is it personal solace you seek? Forgive me, I suppose I fail to understand your directive to aid people. For peace of mind?"