If perfection is stagnation, then Heaven is a swamp.

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He stuck his free hand to his mouth, flicking his thumbnail against his teeth as his hand pressed against his mouth. Absentmindedly, he looked back to the woman, a particular expression of intrigue painted across her features. With a silent stare, absent that awkward feeling that might come with such non verbose communication, he gave a smirk as his eyes traced back to the steady rhythm of the instrument. It had responded to his question specifically, perhaps it was answering him when she couldn't. If her name was etched across the item, and if felt so much like the touch of her finger and the beacon of energy that had guided him to this place, it was obviously significant to her. Not to mention its placement, the way she cradled it, he flicked his nail against his tooth again.

"Well..." He inhaled as he furrowed his brow, focusing on the glass face as it shifted back and forth across the two symbols. "An hourglass topped with a skull. Time passes, things change, and inevitably everything dies." The symbol seemed pretty self explanatory, but the lettering of the alpha and omega seemed far more ubiquitous. The application could be anything, but it just had a more cosmic and general feel to it. How this could apply to the spoken word, he wondered quietly if he might have missed something, or perhaps he was merely walking through the expression of an item he didn't understand.

"The Alpha and Omega symbol, ancient for it's semblance of the beginning and the end. In the beginning, there was sound, in the end, there was silence." He forced his way back to sound, not sure he would land on proper footing. The furrow deepened as he looked back to the woman, slight embarrassment shown with a smile as he inhaled again. "The symbols are cycling back and forth, intertwining time with the invariability of life. That while some things change with time, other things are assured. All things begin and all things end. And then it happens all over again."

"Of course..." He tilted his head. "It could mean that your answer was simply a yes. But that it's not the first time this has occurred despite what cycle life has brought, it is a burden continually carried." He looked back to her, catching the tilt. "You have always been mute...but you aren't truly mute. Not really." Maybe to the ears, but not to the spirit. Or maybe she just chose when she would speak, now not being the right time for her to verbally communicate.

He looked back towards the dial, and then back towards her. "My name is Gabriel Sionoma..." He stopped and tilted his head, another question aching at the back of his mind. For the last question, she would simply remain silent and confirm his landing or remain silent, confirming it as incorrect. It didn't truly matter right now, she was mute in this moment, which interested him more than the cycles of life that preceded their meeting. If she was interested in telling that story, she would find a way for it.

"Your presence, your aura...why does it feel ancient?" He would finish it with a suggestion in the disparity between body and mind, but he felt that might have been assumed. She was a powerful engine from a time long passed, placed in what felt like a new shell with a fresh coat of paint. In truth, it reminded him of his own emergence from Selvaris and that awkward time, relearning his own attachment to the force.

[member="Dissero"]​

 

[Dissero]

Cerusia lingered there before the man after he found his answer but offered no further insight. The Alethiometer fell still and quiet as she. His next question had changed the flow of energy, sending it churning in a steadily rising pattern - like the birth of a maelstrom, the infantile stages grabbing at all manner of residual things and tucking it into the flow.

Ding.

Footsteps, the creak of the door, the sound of the rain hitting the wood of the porch outside. Kep hobbled in, closing the door behind him, coughing and sputtering and dripping rainwater from everywhere. The Alethiometer snapped shut in Gabriel's hand, the flesh of her fingertips sliding over his knuckles as she retrieved it gingerly from his hold. Perhaps today was not a day for many answers, only a few. She turned from him and moved to take her seat at the table again, the artifact replaced back on its pillow with care.

"Been rainin' fer a week now," Kep muttered as she shuffled in, removing layers of soaked material and tossing them over the chair behind the counter. He ran a hand through his rain-slicked hair before joining the pair in the back, making the smallish room begin to feel a bit crowded. Cerusia visibly stiffened at this and hunched intently over her work.

"Yeh the firs' customer we'ad since it started," Kep gave a friendly slap to Gabe's nearest shoulder before squeezing by him to the bubbling cauldron in the fireplace, "smells good Cera. Look's bout done. Yeh hungry?" he glanced to the man, "Roe Blood Stew. Eh...don' rec'mend it if'n yer vegetarian."

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

His head snapped back towards the entrance, the feel of her fingers rummaging over his knuckles to remove the device from his grip. The click of its closure, his head looked back towards her rose-violet eyes before turning away, placing it back against its velvet pillow. He exhaled, not frustrated necessarily, but more closely approaching an unending curiosity, chipping away with a chisel that was far too small from the boulder that laid before him. Smirking, he turned his head to Kep and nodded. Wincing from the slap on the shoulder, still healing from recent fights and a nagging wound, he turned his head towards the fire for the distraction of the flames.

Cera. She preferred Cera, shorthand for Cerusia he assumed. He smiled for the small nugget of information, pain fading as quick as it had occurred. He looked towards the Cauldron and felt the dampness of his clothes, the warmth of the place a cherished thing, for the misery that was pouring outside. "Yeah, rain in excess...you all have enough water to last ages. I should know, I swallowed half the swamp trying to find this place..." He rubbed his hands together, feeling somewhat lighter without the relic in his hands, as he looked back towards the woman and then to Kep.

"I don't know if we've ever been formally introduced. I'm Gabriel Sionoma. Gabe is fine...and the stew does smell good." He looked towards Cera. "I'd love to stay for food, if you all will have me." He flared his nostrils, looking back towards Kep, raising his eyebrows inquisitively. "Afterwards, we can discuss that transcription for lightside alchemy? I've been reading a bit about Wan-Shen crafting, though if I could find transcripts of those as well, I would be grateful."

He wasn't sure if the man or woman had any interests in crafting. But if they did, Gabe would be more than happy to discuss that to their hearts content. It was a budding hobby of his, one of many that dealt with bettering himself through productive work.

[member="Dissero"]​

 

[Dissero]

"Wan-shen," Kep rubbed at the stubble on his chin, "now there's a weapon yeh don' hear 'bout very of'en. Verrrrry interestin', those Matukai. Eh...but le's eat, then talk."

Cera cleared the table of her work, setting the datapads and parchment rolls onto the shelves of a nearby bookcase before producing three wooden bowls and spoons. Kep pulled in a chair from the Alchemy lab for Gabe, taking a bowl and filling each and settling in over his meal.

The stew was the consistency of chowder, heavy on the tongue with chunks of meat and local vegetables. It was perhaps not the most delicious stew - an acquired taste really. One had to like that wild, basic, homey sort of flavor to fully appreciate it. Carnivores would certainly find it delightful, as strong as the flavor of blood seemed to be. Kep offered Gabe packets of seasoning, spices and salt to mix in at his leisure.

"Swamp folk 'ave strange tastes, r'so I'm told."

Cera did not seem to mind the stew at all. She was the first to finish, quick and undistributed as she was by chit-chat, the woman rose from her seat to peruse the shelves around them.

"Now the Wan-shen," Kep began, wiping at a dribble of sauce on his chin, "were developed as an weapon following the Matukai traditions. Mastery of'veir own bodies. Meditation through exercise. They channeled the Force wiv'veir physical bodies. Oh, good," he looked up as Cera leaned to place an archive chip on the table, "from the Atrisian collection. 'ats a good one. Get, eh, check-" he looked around and past Gabe, back into the main room of the store, "check the weapon room. Fink we might 'ave one of'vem sittin' aroun'."

Cera brushed behind Gabe and wandered out into the store, disappearing into the aforementioned room.

"Cera's gonna be takin' over the store here shortly fer a while. Knows her stuff but, eh, not too social, weeehh....here-" he plugged the chip into her datapad and brought up the files. A few gestures of his hands along the screen brought up the article stub of the Wan-shen, "ain't a whole lot o' special about makin' these things. Jes' like alchemized blades really. Craft 'em wiv the Force - they'll resist a saber strike or two, banish darkside spirits, blah blah...but the one fing that is special 'bout 'em is the Matukai were strict Lightside followers, so this," he tapped a stained finger at the screen, "is one o' the few weapons out there ovver than Lightsabers that were crafted by and intended for the use of the Lightside."

He rolled his tongue in his mouth, jaw setting askew as he leaned back and gave a hand-gestured shrug, "But that's jes tradition. Nuffin' says yeh can't do the very same fing wiv the Darkside."

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"It's very good, the stew..." He said after taking a mouthful. "Some people don't like that gamey flavor. Back at my homestead, I prep the meat in either milk or equal parts water and vinegar." He said, absentmindedly as the man continued on about the Wan-shen. He seemed to be quite knowledgeable about the topic but Cera, she seemed ready to move about. Until she was at the book shelve, Gabriel assumed she was finding another way to communicate without talking. Turning his eyes back to Kep, Gabe continued on the stew, trying his best to keep it out of his beard.

And then she was gone, the man speaking of intention to have Cera run the store. He wondered how that would go, if she couldn't talk. Or maybe he had just gotten the code wrong. Eyes finding Kep once more, nearly finished with the stew, Gabriel leaned back against the chair and inhaled, scratching his beard.

"Well, that's my thinking on it. I've seen darkside alchemy, even helped construct a few items of particular importance. But with that..." He shook his head. "Darkside alchemy, it feels like a singular star in the darkness. But with lightside alchemy..." He held out his hand. "Wan-Shen, Jal Shey, Upari, Felucian Skullblades..." He stopped, counting to four, but knowing that far more existed in the universe. "Like a constellation, making up a universe of possibilities. With those and many more, one can achieve similar results to Sith Alchemy, without ever having touched the darkside...from what I have read." Of course, these were all cultural technologies, it would take far more to truly master this form of alchemy as opposed to the easier darkside alternative.

He leaned back in his chair, looking for interpretation from the man, as he leaned down and spooned the last piece of roast. "Besides. Ever since my spirit transfer, I can't use the darkside."

[member="Dissero"]​

 

[Dissero]

"Welp," Kep cleared his throat, "don' know nuffin' bout dark er light. Not an Alch'mest meself, I jes sell the stuff. Yeh learn a good deal 'bout it and where it comes from doin' that, but not much more."

The man gave a belch and pounded a fist on his chest, "Good stew Cera!" No response but a soft clatter of metal somethings. "Hm," he grunted, "fing mus' really be buried in there. Weh, she'll fine it. So, spirit transfer, eh?" he itched a bony finger at the hollow of his cheek, fingernail catching at blond bristle, " 'eard 'ats a rough ride. Pick a fight wiff the wrong sort?"

In the back armory Cera silently worked at twisting the pieces of the broken-down Wan-shen together. Seems that not only did they have the genuine article, they had the rarer type that could be dismantled on a whim. It took intuitive know-how of the Force to fit it together properly but her hands locked them into place and moved to the next piece with a purposeful instinct. As she reached for another piece she paused, the quiet chatter between the men catching her ear as easily as if they were speaking right beside her.

Not much missed the senses of a Shamalain, especially when it involved the esoteric.

Spirit transfer. The woman slowed her movements, working quietly to listen in.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"Mmm, it is indeed a rough ride..." He smiled as he finished off the stew. Holding off a belch of his own, he pressed his hand against his chest and exhaled. "But it wasn't a fight I picked."

He pushed the bowl away and clenched his hands together, stretching and feeling the warmth of the bubbling cauldron, still working heat into the shop. Cracking his neck, not resisting the opportunity to quench a bit of curiosity, he leaned forward. Scraping his face, he smiled. "I was born Gabriel Sionoma. But most know this face as Reverance, Wrath of the One Sith." He might have seemed proud, but the tone was underlain with an innate level of shame of despair. It was a curse that he couldn't lift.

"I was born entwined with a parasitic twin. One that was almost entirely fused into my body. A chimera, is what the doctors call it. And in doing so, his soul coiled around mine." He squinted his eyes, pressing hand against beard. "Up until the past year or so, I was confined to a body slowly overtaken by the entity. Until I was seen as a weakness, re-awoken by recent events." He was still getting over the Chevu ordeal and the Coren problem, ever present, but he wasn't intent on bringing that up.

"So on Selvaris, Reverance sought a partial spirit transfer. My soul removed from that body, put into this cloned body..." He pressed on his chest, smiling. Reaching forward, he broke a piece of bread and tilted his head. "Of course, the nature of a spirit transfer is that you can only read so much. What is learned is learned in the doing." He bit off a piece of bread. "Perhaps a mistake in the transfer or perhaps intentional, we became as sides of a coin..." He wasn't exactly sure why he was telling this man such intimate details of his life. He had grown so accustomed to spilling truth for fear of the lie, that it merely happened by osmosis.

He dipped the bread in the remains of the soup within bowl. "I can't touch the darkside, Reverance can't touch the lightside. Balance, in its own form." His squinted his right eye and nodded. "A rough ride. But worth it." He shrugged. "What would family be if not complicated?"

[member="Dissero"]​

 

[Dissero]

"Family 's'jes anovver word fer complicated," Kep snickered, a knowing look in his eyes.

"I don' know nuffin' bout the Wrath er the One Sith ovver than what the tabloids say, 'n 'eir all wrong, 'm sure. But," the man slapped a hand on the table and reached over to the nearby shelf where Cera had stored her work, "I do know a 'fing or two 'bout good sources, and this'n the best source I've got for you concerning the Lightside stuff."

Kep handed Gabriel another datachip labeled "RM:LA1" with a crooked smile, " 's on the house. Not too many people c'make any use 'o that, jes be sure to bring Cera anythin' new you learn while yer at it. Consider it 'n intellectual exchange. Wotcher!"

CLANK.

Cerusia had returned with the fully constructed Wan-shen and placed the thing on the table, brow lofted towards Gabe as she looked down at him from where she stood.

"Ohhh, 'at'sa nice one. Got all the pieces in order. No intellectual exchange on that one, m'fraid."

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"I'll be sure to do that...thanks for the chip, I appreciate it." Just then, the staff smacked against the table and Gabriel lifted his hands instinctively. Eyes drifting up to the woman, he smirked as he slowly pressed a hand against the metal. Even now, he could feel the power coursing through it, someone had taken a great deal of time to construct this. Far more than the capable hands that had just quickly assembled it.

He pressed his hand to his beard, rubbing the salt and pepper stripes, as his eyes drifted to Cera. Then beyond her, to the roof over her head. "I have a homestead, on Sulon. Did a good deal of repair to get it back into shape..." Eyes drifted back to Kep. "It's a constant work in progress. But I got pretty good at an assortment of carpentry skills. One of them being roofing. I've even used it for bartering, the economy is heavily dependent on a system of trading." He rubbed his beard, nodding. "My first trip here, I noticed a bit of moss growth on the back arch of the roof. Couple that with the repairs you were making when I got here, plus the bit of stain over there..." He pointed with a finger, accusing the rain for the damages. "You've got need for substantial repairs."

He exhaled. "Now. I've got an excess of shingles. I didn't know what I wanted so I traded for an assortment. Clay, Duracrete, Tin, and Wood. How about for that Wan-Shen and the chip, I'll ship the materials back to town and repair your roof. Including replacement of the rotten bits." He stopped. "For your shingles, I suggest wood. They stay good for 30 years and with treatment and seal, you wont have any problems with rain." It was obvious he was pretty passionate about house restoration. It was a blooming hobby, one of many. He looked up to Cera, perhaps motivated enough at the idea of sticking around that he was willing to overpay for the weapon. Or maybe he was just a nice guy. "By the time it gets here, I might have gleaned some intellectual currency for exchange."

[member="Dissero"]​

 

[Dissero]

Kep made a thoughtful sound, ruddy fingers itching at his chin stubble, yellowed eyes narrowing, flickering to the woman who stood between them. A slight shrugging nod from him, a considering glance upwards from her, a nod in return.

“Aahh,” said Kep, “a’sa not a bad deal. I fink we can shake onnit,” calloused hand proffered forward he gave a seedy grin, “I defer to yer apparen’ Mastery of all fings handy, but eh, don’ make me come lookin’ fer ya tho. I ‘kin always sniff out my own wares and I take ‘em back with...interest.”

Three weeks and two days later found Annaj in a rare spot of clear skies… for now. Dark clouds pregnant with rain hung on the horizon, slowly hovering across the distant expanse like black cadillacs outside of a funeral. A stale eastward wind picked up the smell of it, exciting the senses of a very oddly placed tuskcat.

It chuffed and bellowed in stilted calls, massive chest heaving and nostrils flaring under a pass of its tongue as it tested the air. Storms coming--big, bad storms the likes that sent the citizens into their homes for days on end--the cat wasn’t the only one to sense this. Rose-violet eyes watched the painstakingly slow process of the stormfront from the side of the beast, gaze honing in on the torrential downpours evident by the dark streaking shadows that hung like vines in a gale from the belly of it.

Another chorus of bellows broke her attention and she turned without a word back to the tuskcat to finish fastening the straps of its pack bags down. She was in town to refresh on supplies and to check on the large shipment crate that had arrived two days ago. Annaj wasn’t particularly overrun with crime but if it sat there much longer she was certain people would begin to snoop.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He scratched his beard, fluffing out the hair of his illusioned age, eyes staring up towards the sky. The open blue, it was something he hadn't seen since coming to Annaj twice. For all his hopes, prior to this, he had been drenched each time he arrived at the storefront. Through rain or wetland, it seemed fated that he would spend most of his time perusing the items while simultaneously figuring out a way to dry out. But now, he let a bit of menial hope flirt with the idea of patching up a roof in the sun. But not if he didn't beat that nasty bit of blackness spreading across the skyline, rolling over itself with a good bit of haste.

Approaching the shipment area, Gabriel found the proprietor and started up a conversation with a receiving bill of processing.

"I'm here to pick up a shipment from Sulon..."
"Aye, is this the processing form?" The Ayrou was loud and high pitched, Gabe fought the urge to rub his ear.
"Yeah. Should have arrived two days ago."
"Aye. We don't get many shipments of this size. I know the one."
"Perfect..." The post man left the front desk, disappearing into the back for a moment. Coming back around, he pointed to the back.
"Everything's in order. You can pick it up around back."

Before leaving, Gabe stopped to think. "I appreciate the help. You all don't by chance have a dolly lift I can use?"
"We do, it'll cost ya."
"That's fine." Gabe pulled out the necessary credits and handed them over.
"Bring it back in a timely manner please. We use it for moving cargo in the warehouse."
"Sure thing, thanks again."

Coming out of the shop, the door jingling as it closed, Gabe strode into the back area of the facility. Mud and tracks, he tightened his braid with a pull of his hair and turned the corner, only to find that particular woman on a giant cat. He raised an eyebrow, unable to prevent a slight smile, as the repulsor dolly craft was parked against the shipment. Stepping on to it, he turned the engine on and the forks dipped into the pallet beneath it. Lifting from the ground, he cracked his neck and clicked on the idle engine. "Well, now I know why it's not raining..." He looked to the woman, over his shoulder, inspecting the cat before finding her eyes once more. "You ready to head back to the shop or should I go ahead? I'd like to at least get the lumber replaced before that storm rolls in." He looked up towards the cloud, expecting the inevitable deluge. Without her device here for him to piece together her answer, he wondered how she would reply.

[member="Dissero"]​

 

[Dissero]

She was inspecting and double checking a list of necessary items to ensure she'd not missed anything when the man appeared around the building. Cera did not immediately turn to look at him though her eyes did lift and follow his progress to the dolly and the massive shipment crate. They narrowed slightly at the curious nature of this meeting...his greeting, her own bristling at the suspicious timing causing the tuskcat to hackle.

A low rumble sounded from the beast, tail lashing at its rear, though it fell still at the most subtle of inflections along the Force from its rider. Cera took up the reins and brought the beast around to stand at Gabriel's side. A few gestures on her datapad drew up a map of the swamp and a trail outlined in blue that wound its way through. She offered it to him, leaning down once he took it to tap a delicate fingernail at the screen, then pointed to herself and then to him.

Though she waited with seeming patience for him to attempt to understand her, the woman could not help her wandering gaze. Rosey orbs shifted along his facial features, to the braids of hair and the square broad shoulders. It was a look of strange familiarity. Deja vu perhaps. Seeing someone and then truly seeing someone for the first time.

Her lips pressed a thin line as she leaned back up, brown hair catching in the gently growing breeze.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He inspected her with the same sort of intensity she drew towards him, a silence to mimic her own. As she pulled up beside him, he turned the engine down and held out his hand. It was suddenly weighed down with a data pad, brown eyes looked towards the image and the following gesture by oddly well kept fingernails. The sort that surprised him, given her living arrangement in a swamp and the fact that she was mounting a giant cat. The sort that made him smile, not truly capable of pinning her down. She seemed an anomaly, surprising him at every turn. Putting together a wan-shen with those things.

Pulling himself away from the distraction, he looked back towards the map and held the data pad up. Smirking at the ease of the path, he tilted his head, image ingrained for the eidetic memory. Often times a curse, now a means of easing travel. And maybe showing off.

Handing the data pad back to her, he furrowed his brow with a teasing smile, finding her bright eyes in that slow sort of methodical gesture he was slowly becoming accustomed to. "Here I was, finding the hardest routes to the storefront...and you had the easy path all along?" He clicked on the repulsor, the dolly pushing off from the ground and vibrating loudly. When he spoke, he didn't speak up, wondering how well she could truly hear. And even more so, she was likely a very capable lip reader. Scratching his beard, he winced up towards the sun and smiled, turning back to her. "Well..." Tilt of a head, a smile turned into a smirk. "Can't squander my whole day here, conversing with you. Won't get any work done. Hate to have Kep coming looking for me..."

They'd have time to talk, if she wanted that, while he was busy uprooting old shingles. Pressing the engine forward, the dolly took off faster than he expected. Pushing his head down, the braid flapped back behind him in a flop, the robe dancing in tandem and whipping about.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

A stoney glance, a degree of turn in her lips, a glance of eyes that scaled the man's figure. Somehow the bare, brief flicker of humor found its way into her face. A scathing sort of humor at his unfortunate prior circumstances, the irony of the secret, hidden, magicked pathway. He would be honored to know it now, considering the manner in which said secret was kept. Only for the keepers and the most important of clients to know. Things left unsaid, only to perhaps be guessed. She stowed the datapad away in a saddlebag and pulled on a pair of tanned leather gloves, pulling then at the material of a woven black scarf looped loosely around her neck, tucking it over her head as a cowl to shield her own pinking skin from the waning light of the sun.

The tuskcat snarled at the sound of the engines, backing away in tandem with a tug on the reins connected to its tusks, spinning with an easy, lolloping gait that looked better suited for ungulates, those three-toed hooves pock-marking the ground beneath them. With a rumble and a twitch of its tail, the spaded end narrowly missing the man's head with a sweeping gesture, it turned once again at the pressure of her heels, rounding to lope past, wild eyes glancing his own mechanical mount.

Into the swamps they ventured.

Though the path was a familiar one to her it was the Tuskcat that truly knew the way. It carefully sauntered through the glades, surefooted steps rolling it along the raised beds of moss and dirt that seemed to shift in and out of vision. There was something else at work here - not simply the natural landscapes of the swamps themselves, but an arcane power pulling at the tendrils of reality. Was it hiding the path or creating it? Hard to tell as the path appeared before the massive cat, disappearing again only steps behind where the hoof prints were swallowed whole to leave no hint behind. Even the pair seemed to vanish and appear, yards ahead of Gabe at times in this mysterious trail of magics.

When finally it connected with the remnants of a boardwalk where decaying planks suddenly took on a healthy and strong resolve, ghosting only under the weight of the travelers before dissipating into the waters again. She followed the mire, pushing aside the fall of branches and vines, eyes glancing to the sounds of the swamps around them. Ahead, finally, the little silted hovel appeared through a thick mist.

A secondary roof added off to the side with only three walls to speak of, it stood upon a raised porch with a large bed of straw and giant leaves - a home for the cat. Cera dismounted while the animal walked, taking hold of its left tusk and leading it over to its little den, out of Gabe's way, and began to unbuckled the saddle packs from its sides, her eyes drifting to watch the handyman's progress along the walkway.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Eyes followed as the Tusk Cat zoomed past the repulsor craft. The wakes of her movement and charge, echoing splashes to the reverberation of his engine, he laughed and shook his head. Seems the beast was far more capable than the dolly. It would seem she was one to lead, which was fine, he wasn't much for the front. He flicked the splash shield up, transparisteel sliding out from the nose of the craft to provide protection from the tusk cats gallop across moist dirt and peat. It was an awkward thing but nimble nonetheless, prancing and pouncing from hummocks and upright roots.

The swamp seemed to swallow them, their meandering tethered to the unusual feeling that they weren't really moving so much as being moved. Pushed by an oddity, a sense of being dragged along and urged by a differential. He wiped his eyes for the debris that preceded the shield, watching as the beast disappeared in the gulp of the wetland. Just to re-emerge in a splash of water, ripping vines from the embrace of their trunks. Descending needles of evergreen plumed out from behind, scattering across the water with promises of darkened water in the near future. Gabriel had no need for the solid paths, the repulsor more than capable of movement across water, but he was intent with station for now. Cera knew where they were going, he had no reason to distrust her.

The woods cleared to give view of the storefront and the adjacent structure, the floating mat of wood they called a boardwalk. Algal mats of slime and good formed slowly spiraling formation, bryophytes clinging to floating wood and spreading outward. Gabriel opted to steer clear of it, consumed by thoughts that he might inevitably trade goods for helping to repair it. At this point, the storefront might get up to snuff with the homestead on Sulon, should the wares held within maintain his interest.

Parking the repulsor craft near the base of the stilts, he eyed the woman as she led her beast on its path by the horns. He kept the idle engine on, it drew to a silent hum as it hovered quietly against the wooden platform. Opening the box, he stepped up on the fork of the lift and peaked his head in. Pulling out a tool belt, he flung the thing over his shoulder before walking up the nearby stairs. A gesticulation, lumber boards lifted from the interior of the crate and followed the man along his path, heading up the stairs. Tossing the boards on the outer porch encircling the facility, he climbed up on the roof and exhaled.

He hadn't grown as strong as his brother in Shatterpoint, but he was learning to build upon it's practical use. And now, as he sat on the ledge of the roof, looking over to the woman, he smiled and stared out into the distance, scratching his nose. Flexing his other hand, he thought about the structure and imagined a terrible rain. The likes of which would highlight the deformities of the roof, he hushed the world around him, focusing quietly as his feet dangled. The wooden shingles currently in place gave no reference to their failings, but Shatterpoint gave indication towards preventive maintenance. Or in this case, much needed maintenance. And would also tell him where he'd be careful not to step, lest he fall in to the building below. Turning over, he began prying off the slats with an unsheathed tool, other slats following with his use of telekinesis.

Wood slick from recent rain, trapped beneath unearthed slats, left the surface beneath the mans feet slippery. As he pulled upward to unhinge another, confident with his step, his feet slipped out from beneath him. Hitting the roof, he slid down the surface and landed on the porch preceding the door with a grunt. Resting his back against the hand rail, he smiled and shook his head, as the levitated shingles fell down upon the roof, flying past him and into the water below.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

The harness leather was a tedious thing, but tediums were something Cerusia was accustomed to. Deft fingers pulled apart buckles and snaps, lifting free the straps and girth and setting them aside on a raised half-log sitting just beneath the shelter of the den. When last the saddle was pulled the creature shivered into a full-body shake sending pollen and fur flying into the breeze. Cera paid little mind to the man as he moved about, keeping her attention on her own busy work of carrying the saddle bags up into the store one by one, the sound of her boots tamping across aged wood following her every where she went.

When the woman descended the stairs to claim the last bag she slowed to a pause at feeling the man's eyes upon her back and did look up to catch his smile. It was a warm expression, one that brought with it many fond memories she'd not experienced since her rebirth. The face of her second husband played briefly through her mind - the lines of his face falling in such familiarity within that of Gabriel's. She blinked away a foreign desire to smile back and slowly turned to go on her way.

She did not look back at him as she made the last trip up the stairs and into the store.

The back storage room behind the counter held many curious things that were not for sale, but mostly it held mundane things. Cooking things, cleaning things, living necessity things. All of these Cera pulled from the saddle bags and slowly stocked away. Since the departure of Dissero she'd spent a large amount of time on her own. Annaj did not see many customers, just as he had said, and the few that ventured here typically bought in bulk. Their visits were short, leaving her plenty of time to reorganize and familiarize herself with every single token in the shop, down to the very last petrified Ahnk Bug.

Inventory had been counted, recounted, balanced and perfected. Shelves cleaned, items documented, scrolls translated, weapons oiled, detritus tossed. And when there was nothing left to do she began making the place livable beyond the conditions that had been appropriated by Jasker, which was to say hardly at all. The selection of spices, herbs, and seasonings had been expanded from this trip and she noted while pressing containers back along the shelves that there were a few old things in here she'd missed when cleaning house. Cera set them on the front counter next to the polished block of carbonite within which a the decimated carcass of a Bedlam Spirit sat frozen, staring at her in a most irritating fashion.

She hated that thing.

Might've melted it with her glare alone were it not for a sudden ruckus above her head. A loud boom followed by clattering, Cera ducked as dust and old wooden splinters rained down upon her, eyes following the sound of the man sliding from the roof, off the edge and onto the porch with what sounded like a painful landing. Within moments Cera was at the door, throwing it open and stepping out upon the scene, eyes wide and brows raised.

A quick, arching glance thrown upwards to check for further falling debris, the woman ducked out through the doorway over to where Gabe sat in a heap covered in a mess of moss and leaves and shingle remnants. She offered him a questioning look, reaching and stooping to dust off his shoulders, ducking again as one last shingle came shooting down over both their heads.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Moss lined palm as his eyes drifted to the woman, finding him now so misplaced. Her questioning look was returned with a slight lift of the corner of his mouth as he squished the moss into a fist. Water pushed out from the grip just as the last shingle flew over head, rotting wood cascading in damp pieces into the water below. Breathing in slowly, his eyes drifted upwards to the edge of the roofing as drops of water riveted across the seam, globules pushing together before plummeting down to the porch below. It wasn't raining yet but it had the distinct feel of it.

With her assistance in removal of but a fraction of the debris and leaves and bryophytes, he stood with a hand braced against the shaky wooden guard rail. The clouds were holding off for now but with the trapping of moisture beneath, it was obvious that some damage had been done. Even if not from the exact spot where he had tumbled, the deterioration was evident and expected. Looking up, his expression found the curious gesture on Cera's face once more. Giving himself a good shake and pat down, he freed himself from what detritus remained, pulling out a damp leaf from behind his ear, allowing it to fall to the water below. Folding over itself, floating unevenly, he watched quietly as it formed ripples in the disturbed green slime below.

"You know...that bit of roofing is actually looking pretty good. I think replacement shingles on that section and we can move on to other portions." Lifting an eyebrow, he glanced back up to the woman. "I...I can move on to other portions." He was starting to get the impression that he was talking to himself while around her, the feeling of her eyes merely rose violet orbs acting as visual response for his own inner monologue. Narrowing his own in view of her, he lifted his hands between them. One hovering over the other, jostling, with the specter of something that might just fit in between. "Do you still have that device around? Maybe I could take another look at it." He had a quickly growing desire to communicate with her, an enigma he didn't truly understand, beyond the particular expressiveness formed by delicate features and wayward glances.

He wasn't sure he had gotten the answer right the last time around, the hourglass and the alpha and omega. She had never confirmed it, one way or another, and her silence provided as much mystery as it did answers. And with Kep walking about, he hadn't had the chance to figure out why she seemed to be so at odds. Maybe it was with this place, maybe with herself, maybe with something he didn't understand. Her ancient aura. But Kep wasn't here now, as far as Gabe could tell, and a bit of rain had already hurt this roof. A bit more wouldn't change anything.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

The relief of watching him get back to his feet was a fleeting nuance to her expression, quickly overtaken first by renewed concern for the state of the now further dilapidated roof and second by a twisted brow of mild dejection. What on earth he needed her Alethiometer for was beyond her - he certainly wasn't going to get any advice out of it where the roof was concerned - but the man had asked nicely. A soft sigh later over an expressive facial shrug, Cera stepped back into the store to retrieve the device, door left ajar for him to follow or not.

The Aletiometer sat on its velveteen cushion just where she left it back in the Archive room and with the greatest of care she lifted it into her hands and dusted it off with a gentle sweep of her fingers. It gleamed in the way that only a valuable, ancient thing could, and its weight warmed instantly in her grasp. The Force swelled subtly inwards and outwards, steady like the rhythm of a calm and centered breathing, accompanied by silent notes upon the ether that resonated within the soul, as if it lived on its own accord.

Cera stepped back into the main area, finding Gabriel standing by the counter and once more carefully handed it to him. Magenta-hued eyes glanced him with uncertainty, perhaps yet to be convinced he would find anymore success with the item now, and then she brushed past him and into the armory to search for something else.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

A tilt of the head, a curious response he hadn't anticipated. Narrowing his eyes to her expression, brow and fierce eyes upon him, he felt an odd uneasiness as she turned from him and back into the store. Door left open, he looked back to the roof, reminded that he was here for Kep and not her. But even as she cast the myriad of expressions on her face, telling of all the thoughts she had that words weren't likely to make evident, he felt a desire for interaction. He had never agreed to a timetable for the repair, the roof wasn't going anywhere. Despite it's damages, it had so far stood varying tests of time.

Rubbing his neck, sore from the fall, he stepped in behind her just to see her disappear once more. Surveying the ceiling with lifted eyes, he ducked his head over to spot an alcove and deteriorating piece of lumber. From what he could tell, the damage hadn't gone through to the frame itself, which was a relief. Nothing quite like a deal that keeps changing.

As she re-emerged with the golden item, she laid it within outstretched fingers, another silent expression to preclude their interaction. All before she removed herself once more, back into the armory. Letting out a sigh, watching quietly, his eyes drifted to the item. With her name etched across it, he could understand a level of apprehensiveness as he requested seeing it. After all, cherished items could often be very personal. And in the world of Jedi and Sith and other sects, holocrons were tied directly to the soul of its creator. Like an indent of their finger print, forever cast and filled with portions of their being. He hadn't noticed it before, but even without her name inscribed across the gold, it felt intrinsically tied to her. And if he focused, he might see the vibrant tethers that string from it's etchings back to her form.

Flaring his nostrils with a sniff, he lifted the item and carried it as she would, carefully. He had no interest in staring at foreign symbols in isolation, predicated upon some sense that he might understand it without her silent guidance to assist him. Crossing the threshold behind the counter, he followed that tether, item guiding him into the armory, where he imagined she once pulled the wan-shen from. He hadn't take the time to open it, it didn't feel quite right to do so without her around. Finding her rummaging about, perhaps over extending into a place he might not belong, he squinted in view of all the items. And then the bit of mildew above, across a board.

"How old is this item?" He still didn't know the name of it but he could feel antiquity when it weighted his hands in such manner. Far beyond the density any other item of its size and construction might offer.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

The silent woman paused over an open crate of supplies one might seek to purchase for a chance adventure, fingers hinged over the rim. She hadn't felt it before, and perhaps it was due in part to the distractions of Kep and his slithering words, or simply the nature of the slow acclimation to a new home, new body, new life. Now, nearly two months later, those pin-pricks had dulled and she felt for the first time the curious sensation of being held.

Cera's shoulders curled slightly at the sound of the man entering the room behind her, innately aware of the way he carried the artifact in his hands if only for the feeling of it upon her own essence. He was right, it was intrinsically tied to her, more strongly than he would ever guess. Part of her soul still remained within it and would always, but now that she lived and breathed it was but an extension of herself.

How old is this item?

Violet eyes cut a searing glare his way, some part of her offended at the question. What did it matter, the age of the thing? It's journey through the years mattered not for its use. Yet in a way even she was curious. How old was that holocron? Not at old as she, materialistically. It had been crafted - a gift to her from her mother - centuries after her own birth, but not long before her death. The timing of its crafting had never struck her as particularly curious, but as she thought back on it now she had to question the foresight of her mother and the knowledge of the future in her hands.

Had Silencia intended its creation for this very purpose?

Gaze falling, brow tightening, she returned to her rummaging; pulling folded nexu pelts aside and digging deeper.

It was old enough, she thought to herself.

[member="The Revenant"]