Like A Stone

[Cira]

C O R E L L I A
C O R O N E T


There was no one home -- It was likely best this way.

Fingers would lightly brush against the frame of the door, gingerly dancing across it as a deep furrowing frown would drift across the pale blue skin of the Wroonian female.

At least it appeared to be one. It was hard to determine with the long dreadlocks that would flank her angular face. It was a visage once taken since before the Gulag plague long ago as Tali of the Andromeda.

Security in the Condominium wouldn't register her, she made sure of that. The White Current would weave round the woman, a basic immersion.

But it would be something she would need to drop for what she did next.

Her hand would come to rest upon the door, her eyes closing shut. The Force would surge, molecules readjusting and shifting down to the atom. Few were ever able to utilize the power of phase, but it was one of the key specializations that the Shi'ido had used to go in and out from her hidden alcoves and vaults throughout her time in Omega Pyre and in her reign as the Lady Protector.

It was the easiest way to slip through solid into the condo without getting stuck and killing herself. It was like riding a bike, having to get used to things all over again. Strange as it was familiar.

A dark familiarity.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

She was right; there was no one home. But someone had been, recently. The lingering scent of a chestnut and clove candle permeated the air, emanating from a now extinguished candle set on the bartop where a folded bit of clothing and a datapad were set. As ever, his condo was clean - save his room. But the door to that was only slightly ajar, and through darkness and the angle, it was impossible to see through.

But set before her possessions there on the counter, next to the candle, lay the last thing she would want to see aside from him. A plain, white envelope.

It's face stared out at her, the faint bulge near the crease showing it hadn't been sealed. Perhaps he had wanted it to be easy to open.

This letter, however, was months old.

And this time, he'd predicted her. But there was no security save that of a normal condo. If she wanted deeper still, she'd need to get into his small armory of a guest bedroom. Regardless, were she looking for her belongings, he'd left them in plain sight.

Were she to open the letter, however, she'd find his familiar, careful graphite etchings, blending block and cursive as ease dictated. That was him, for sure. Efficient.

Spoiler: The Letter

Cira,

If you're reading this, you're home. Perhaps I've given it to you, or perhaps you've found it on your own. One would be my dream, the other your reality. You died before my eyes a few weeks back. My soul broke at that moment. I had nothing left to give, save my life. And even that was denied me as your body was taken. I had failed you in the most complete way possible, and in a manner only I could.

I felt too strongly. Cared too deeply. I loved you too fully. Whether you realized it or not, you were my universe, and even that took me until your passing to figure out. I'm adrift, now. A sea of despair rises before me, stretching to the horizon and disappearing beyond it. Winds of rage buffet my vessel, swaying and carrying me towards what destination I do not know. But it is leading me somewhere.

Perhaps Mzeh.

Perhaps not.

I wish, no more, to see the Sith exiled from the galaxy. I wish only their destruction. The Vong can go too. The Protectorate was ill prepared, as was I. I have recognized my failing and will be sure to correct it. But if you're reading this, I've succeeded, in some form. Perhaps we lost too many lives, perhaps we managed the perfect snatch and grab. Or maybe, maybe your will reasserted itself and you found your way back to us on your own power.

If only that were possible.

If only we were possible.

With your return, I'm sure, things will change. The Protectorate has survived your disappearance once, it will have done so again. But I'm not sure how it will take your second coming. I know how I will. You'll likely hate me for it. Trust me, however. If you've ever been able to trust a soul in your life. Trust. Me.

Please.

I've never deliberately sought to steer you wrong, and in reality I've only ever wanted you to face the one thing you were afraid of more than any other. Yourself. But I don't know if you have the strength we like to think you do. I know I don't, but it was never about me. It was always about you. Your smile. Your glares. The curls of your auburn hair tumbling over your shoulders.

The faint huskiness to your voice when it was unamused. The fear in your eyes when you realized I'd gotten close.

It's all you. The heat. The passion. The fear. The despair. The strength and the weakness. All of it, Cira. All of it is you. Even love is somewhere in there, I'm sure. Maybe not for me, but for someone. Something.

Perhaps some day I will break down your walls; not just around the perimeter, the ones that keep others out, but the ones that keep you from yourself. I know pain when I see it. It's why I know you. So trust me, Cira.

Or don't.

I don't know what to believe anymore.

-B