In the quiet of the night

[Asaraa Vaashe]

It was one of those nights on Kashyyk, the wind howling through the trees set the leaves to rustling, blowing back and forth like the waves of the sea some loose leaves being swept up by the wind. For a moment the leaves hung in the air before dancing up tumbling over one another as they travelled up and up carried by the wind to hover high above the forest. Then in a heartbeat, the wind died, a calmness filling the forest as the rustling of the leaves died away. Bereft of the wind the loose leaves dropped down, spinning through the air away from the forest, into a large clearing and throw a gateway into the grounds of Silver's Rest. A faint hint of the breeze resurfaced long enough to send the leaves racing upwards to brush against the side of the building, touching a window before they streamed off into the night.

Within the temple, in the room with the window, a young Togruta twisted and shifted around, not even aware of the flight of the leaves that had intersected her window. Asaraa had been practising her meditation, not something that came naturally to the young Padawan. She'd always been more of a physical person rather than one who was comfortable with the mental side of the force, it just didn't come so naturally to her. She had to admit that her attempts had been less than successful and she'd actually fallen asleep in the middle of her attempt. Only it seemed that falling asleep was just what she needed, it wasn't quite a state of sleep, wasn't quite a state of wakefulness, but it was 100% a state of something, a connection to the force, a dark feeling that seemed to flow through her, carry her away with it leaving the temple behind to a different planet, a vision of a different planet, of two shapes, just standing there.

[member="Kei Raxis"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Two men.

One hooded, one not. One unrecognisable, one with his grey hair plastered to his face underneath the heat of the sun in the sky. One man taller, one man about five foot five, maybe a little taller. One man unamed, one man obviously the frail frame of Kei Raxis. Not the Kei Raxis that Asaraa knew. The Kei Raxis underneath the sun was grey, old and frail. He was missing a hand, the stump housing a metalic hand with fingers on the end.

His Jedi robes were tattered, they were ruined and dirty. He looked pained but focused, that reckless look still twinkling in the corner of his eye. That was the look that made him Kei, the reckless nature of the Corellian who didn't understand the risk behind things he did, the Corellian who wasn't phased by a single risk. The Corellian who had led fleets during the Great Galactic Civil War, the Jedi Master who had tried to so hard to teach his children.

"Alright then. I'll tell you a story"

He sounded older, he sounded ancient as he spoke. Kei had aged, the grey hairs on his head and around his face made that obvious. He pulled at a rip in his cloak as he spoke, eyes locked on the hooded figure in front of him. He spoke, voice soft while the hooded man kept his eyes fixed on him. Kei shook his head for a moment, running his hand through his hair. He was leaning on something, a cane. He was leaning on a cane.

"Well come on then! Take it! Take it all! Have it!"

He dropped the cane and outstreched his arms, a grin on the face of the hooded figure opposite him.

[member="Asaraa Vaashe"]

 

[Asaraa Vaashe]

This…wasn’t the kind of dream that Asaraa knew she normally had, those that she could remember were normally more pleasant, more relaxed. This was something else, perhaps a vision, perhaps just the twisted workings of her own imagination. The young woman’s bare feet stepped forward, padding cautiously towards the pair, one hand outstretched towards her friend, towards this older shadow of her friend. Beaten, knocked around, but not broken, not bowed.

Blue eyes danced away from her friend for a moment, staring at the man opposite him, trying to pierce through the hood and shadows to examine his face, draw out any details of the man. But try as she might she couldn’t force her way through that cloak, couldn’t get a sense of who he was. Even her force senses, normally so precise weren’t able to pierce through the shadowy mist that seemed to surround the figure.

“Kei…what’s going on? What’re you doing with him, get back! He’s not safe!”

[member="Kei Raxis"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Her hand would phase through him.

For he wasn't real. Not to her, to Asaraa he was but an illiusion of the force, cast by the force. His eyes remained locked on his foe, a knowing look in them. He knew who was stood opposite him, he knew the identity of the foe stood opposite him. Kei didn't reach for the weapon at his side, he didn't even flinch towards it. His face and his eyes were stuck on the foe opposite him, still looking at the face.

"Your mother has taught you well"

He lowered his arms when the man made no move towards him. He spoke with sadness in his voice, spoke like he had a true bond with the person opposite him. The foe removed his lightsaber from his belt, the lightsaber that was once held by Kei Raxis himself. The yellow blade shot from the handle, pointed directly towards Kei and his person. Kei offered a grin towards the hooded figure, a grin that said a thousand words.

Kei had never been a Jedi Master. He was a Sith, he had been for so long.

"Stike me down then. Strike me down my child..."

[member="Asaraa Vaashe"]