Private I Roved Out - Ch. 1: The Old Gods

[Loxa Visl]

Donne Toulemonde

She was not a Dreamreader, but Loxa was not adverse to finding solutions and answers in unorthodox ways. Though it was her dreams that perplexed her, the staff, too, held her thoughts and curiosities. Perhaps if this woman could unravel more of the story behind the staff, then the mystery of the dreams that had followed its discovery would also begin to clear. At all corners of the galaxy the unknown awaited, and it did so in many different forms.

Faces. Objects. Entire worlds. Faiths and beliefs. Powers.

"This One does not know of a woman's power," Loxa explained once introductions and greetings had completed. Stepping into the area where Donne had invited her, the cold metal of her staff in hand, the witch cast a curious look over her host, "a sister says a woman can see stories in ...things." Her brow pinched over the rough basic, "How is this so?"

Donne looked young. Younger than she, at least. Yet despite this she knew that did not bely her expertise nor her skill. Who was she to judge youth, when she had also come into power at a very young age.

 

[Donne Toulemonde]

'The Safehouse'
Volik


The solitude that Donne sought was, at times, a paradox. She longed for a sense of peace, the ebb and flow of time free to pass through her mind without distraction. However, the peace brought its own demons, a chance to dwell, perhaps a little too long, on that which might occupy her.

She thought on her fight with Dagon Kaze . The Jedi had left a lasting impact on her, one she couldn't escape. She had resolved to kill him but she didn't know how or when it might be that their paths would cross again.

Donne sat on her simple stool, surrounded by the meagre trappings she had made her life with. The sizable prefab had been utilised well and converted to provide comfort, though luxury was lacking. The columns of white gave a chic and open view out onto the surrounding lake, trees for miles around, hiding her safely upon the moon she called home.

She wasn't alone.

She watched as the witch appeared. She knew she was a witch because the Force aura that surrounded her danced and flickered. Donne stood, her shoulder-length hair collected around her.

A flash.

Shackles. Quiet. Darkness. Fear. A slave.

Darkness. The absence of imagery.

The feeling she normally felt, this pulse of warmth, was turned a sickly spinning in her stomach. She swallowed hard, trying to contain the feeling of bile as it wrenched her gut.

She looked at the stranger Dathomiri and spoke in her clipped baritone. She listened as the intruder spoke, questions in a strange riddle, no surprise from one of the Elders.

"I am blessed with a gift of sight. For some, that is the bridging of the 'here and now' to the 'future'. My gift feels the echoes of the Force, memories laced deep within the guiding and pervading power that guides all of us."

She raised a hand, feeling a little more herself after the bout of nausea.

"My Master called it Psychometry. I call it my Little Blessing."

It was rare she mentioned her former master, Adron Malvern .

She studied the Witch, older than she.

"You are hard to read. What is troubling you?"

Loxa Visl

 

[Loxa Visl]

That she was hard to read may have only been a testament to the chaotic nature in which a Dathomirian lived their lives and by no active effort of her own.

The witch stood quietly and listened to the words, eyes narrowing not in offense but in an effort to try and translate as quickly as the other woman spoke. More for naught - Loxa's grasp of Basic was as the language's name might've implied: basic. What she could understand, however, was that this woman was gifted with a power within the Force. Whatever it may have been called mattered little. What did matter was how it might aid in her pursuit of understanding.

She approached with measured steps and, just beyond the reach of the Sith, planted the heels of her boots, then presented a curious metal staff. Not a relic, judging by appearance alone, and certainly not possessed of any powers ... at least not anymore.

"Many stars away, a staff appeared to This One, giving dreams and memories that do not belong," she explained with carefully chosen words, "This One does not understand what they mean."