Shiraya's Temple
Outskirts of Theed
Mid-Morning
Three years. Three wonderful years and a ring in his pocket, to be told that she couldn't bear the risk that his being a Jedi held, that she needed something safer for her heart, that very morning. A morning in which he was to bear to her a piece of his soul: the most vulnerable need and desire to spend the rest of his days linked to her in every way, the best years and the worst. Evette Praxon captivated him so, her love making of him more a man than he'd been at the start, and she... setting him free when every fibre of him moved as a juggernaut to anything but this.
Shiraya's temple stood ahead of him as, after watching her leave him behind with fresh shards inside, Merrick ambled through Theed to its solace, wounded. No believer was he, but the grounds of the goddess had long been his escape, where he thought, where he sought peace, and took to meditation when naught else would do. City streets faded to untamed grasses, duracrete to dirt, the temple looming over him; it aroused his insignificance when he looked on the representation of the goddess of the moon in its facade, causing his eyes to sting, his knees to buckle as faithful in aeons past, and to recognise only then the soft little box clutched white-knuckled in his hand. He curled, the low sobs shook his bones.
He broke.
This was perhaps what the Order of old sought to stem in its thinking. How weak, how vulnerable was he now? How susceptible could he be in another place, another time? Rational thought struggled through the tumultuous mire of his emotional wreckage, reaching for the surface; several minutes before he would begin to collect himself, minutes before he would reach for the constant companion that was always closer than the goddess' intersection with the earth, and he did, the limitless, all-encompassing power binding with his mortal limitations, and guiding him with its wants for him, drawing his drying eyes to a further-off path to the temple, and a petite-framed woman with tresses licked by flame heading toward Shiraya's palace, and felt the presence that tagged along with her. A hand over his eyes, Merrick pressed thumb and middle into his temples, sounded a low, dry laugh of disbelief, and wiped that hand down his face, his head then tilting to the sky.
"I can't guess as to your intentions," came his terse whisper, "but I think you either cruel, indifferent, or not one to waste time."
He sighed, deflated, and looked again to that further path, only to see no-one there, "she must have went inside," was the conclusion. "Well," he looked to the ring box, the object holding his gaze for a moment, then two, before he pocketed it and set to rising, "time for this heartbroken young man to do what Jedi do." Woe and ire directed at the Force itself, no doubt. The golden-haired Naboo took slow, deep breaths as he straightened out the suit that hung on him just so, and untied the noose around his neck that had been at some point loosened, leaving the length of fabric to dangle from him. He freed the first button of his shirt, unbuttoned his jacket, and began to walk towards the temple, raking fingers through the fibres atop his head.
"The love of your life's just dumped you, and the Force sends you chasing after another girl... what do you do?" He cleared his throat and dropped his voice, "why, whatever the Force wills. The code, after all, decrees that 'There is no emotion; there is peace'..." one finger raised in the air to accentuate the point, curled back, "...assuming you follow that version of the code, of course."
His hand dropped to rest in its trouser pocket, as the other did in its own, while he approached the nearest temple entrance. "To be honest, I prefer the original, 'emotion, yet peace' and all that," said the words of his self-reply, in his usual voice, "so I guess I'm old-fashioned, in a way." Hand pulled free once again from the pocket, Merrick pushed through the door, and guided it to a soft closure once he was beyond its maw; he made his way to the main chamber, and upon the sight of that same gingered head in prayer, pulled back his presence and stuck to the edges of the room, breathing in the incense, but when it seemed she was done, and began to rise, he could no longer remain silent. Anyone coming here to make use of the altar was such an infrequent occurrence as to be unusual.
"It's not often I see someone using the temple for its intended purpose," he quipped, shrugging, "call me curious."
Outskirts of Theed
Mid-Morning
Three years. Three wonderful years and a ring in his pocket, to be told that she couldn't bear the risk that his being a Jedi held, that she needed something safer for her heart, that very morning. A morning in which he was to bear to her a piece of his soul: the most vulnerable need and desire to spend the rest of his days linked to her in every way, the best years and the worst. Evette Praxon captivated him so, her love making of him more a man than he'd been at the start, and she... setting him free when every fibre of him moved as a juggernaut to anything but this.
Shiraya's temple stood ahead of him as, after watching her leave him behind with fresh shards inside, Merrick ambled through Theed to its solace, wounded. No believer was he, but the grounds of the goddess had long been his escape, where he thought, where he sought peace, and took to meditation when naught else would do. City streets faded to untamed grasses, duracrete to dirt, the temple looming over him; it aroused his insignificance when he looked on the representation of the goddess of the moon in its facade, causing his eyes to sting, his knees to buckle as faithful in aeons past, and to recognise only then the soft little box clutched white-knuckled in his hand. He curled, the low sobs shook his bones.
He broke.
This was perhaps what the Order of old sought to stem in its thinking. How weak, how vulnerable was he now? How susceptible could he be in another place, another time? Rational thought struggled through the tumultuous mire of his emotional wreckage, reaching for the surface; several minutes before he would begin to collect himself, minutes before he would reach for the constant companion that was always closer than the goddess' intersection with the earth, and he did, the limitless, all-encompassing power binding with his mortal limitations, and guiding him with its wants for him, drawing his drying eyes to a further-off path to the temple, and a petite-framed woman with tresses licked by flame heading toward Shiraya's palace, and felt the presence that tagged along with her. A hand over his eyes, Merrick pressed thumb and middle into his temples, sounded a low, dry laugh of disbelief, and wiped that hand down his face, his head then tilting to the sky.
"I can't guess as to your intentions," came his terse whisper, "but I think you either cruel, indifferent, or not one to waste time."
He sighed, deflated, and looked again to that further path, only to see no-one there, "she must have went inside," was the conclusion. "Well," he looked to the ring box, the object holding his gaze for a moment, then two, before he pocketed it and set to rising, "time for this heartbroken young man to do what Jedi do." Woe and ire directed at the Force itself, no doubt. The golden-haired Naboo took slow, deep breaths as he straightened out the suit that hung on him just so, and untied the noose around his neck that had been at some point loosened, leaving the length of fabric to dangle from him. He freed the first button of his shirt, unbuttoned his jacket, and began to walk towards the temple, raking fingers through the fibres atop his head.
"The love of your life's just dumped you, and the Force sends you chasing after another girl... what do you do?" He cleared his throat and dropped his voice, "why, whatever the Force wills. The code, after all, decrees that 'There is no emotion; there is peace'..." one finger raised in the air to accentuate the point, curled back, "...assuming you follow that version of the code, of course."
His hand dropped to rest in its trouser pocket, as the other did in its own, while he approached the nearest temple entrance. "To be honest, I prefer the original, 'emotion, yet peace' and all that," said the words of his self-reply, in his usual voice, "so I guess I'm old-fashioned, in a way." Hand pulled free once again from the pocket, Merrick pushed through the door, and guided it to a soft closure once he was beyond its maw; he made his way to the main chamber, and upon the sight of that same gingered head in prayer, pulled back his presence and stuck to the edges of the room, breathing in the incense, but when it seemed she was done, and began to rise, he could no longer remain silent. Anyone coming here to make use of the altar was such an infrequent occurrence as to be unusual.
"It's not often I see someone using the temple for its intended purpose," he quipped, shrugging, "call me curious."
[member="Chiara Viren"]
Tracks: Wish That You Were Here, Soulbreaking
