Out of the Ruins

[Bethany Kismet]

She came to Korriban to see for herself. Sekot had given her a gift, and she would use that to experience. With eyes unclouded, she needed to experience the events that had called her out of her meld with the sentient forest. She'd found a sort of paradise, and had existed there for so long she'd forgotten what the rest of the galaxy felt like.

Cold. Hard. Unyielding in its yawning emptiness. Life- The Force- was here, but muted. Watered down compared to the vibrancy of Zonama Sekot. She could reach out and touch it, yes. But before it had simply been, without even needing to look for it. She had been a part of it, of something larger. And now she was separate- a body of meat and sinew and bone that walked each step alone. If she had known, when she decided to leave Sekot, that this is what it would feel like, would she have? Yes. But she would have hesitated. She didn't remember living being like this. Perhaps all those years containing every tree, every bit of moss, had spoiled her.

Bethany didn't know how long it would take to get used to the loneliness of it all.

Technically, she wasn't alone. As far as sentient life went, she had companionship. Perhaps even friends. But it wasn't the same. She appreciated what she had, but it wasn't what she had walked away from. Nothing, really, ever could be.

It had taken longer than she would have liked. She knew the name of the young woman she was searching for, but not where, exactly, she was. If she'd still been part of Zonama Sekot, she could have found her in an instant. But now, she had to do it the hard way. Moving from camp to camp, Bethany searched, asking questions, helping, and then moving on. She'd found some surprises along the way, but not the one she was looking for.

It wasn't until she reached the last of the unvisited refugee camps that she finally met with success.

"Zerka? Yeah, I know her. Good kid. Hard working. I don't know where she is right now, but she'll come back in with the crew when it's time to eat."

Bethany smiled, the expression full of relief and gratitude.

"Thank you. Is there something I can help with? While I wait for her?"

[member="Zerka Tarash"]

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

It'd been a good day.

Before she'd decided to stick around on Korriban, a good day had been very different. A good day meant that she'd been able to glean some particular insight from a holocron, or that she'd attended her studies quite... studiously. But her on Korriban, a good day was starting to mean the dull ache in her shoulders and back that meant she'd been using them all day. A good day meant finding injured survivors in the city, a good day meant helping to ensure that the light of law and civilization, while sputtering, lasted another few days until the relief efforts could get serious momentum. There was a lot of darkness baked right into the infertile soil of Korriban, but even in that hardscrabble wasteland, flowers could and did bloom.

Fourteen was young to be out with the labor and retrieval crews every day, but Zerka had not felt too bad about adding two years to her age when the foreman had asked. She suspected she hadn't fooled him for a second, but she knew he couldn't turn down the extra hands.

A bag of retrieved foodstuffs over one shoulder, Zerka came back into the camp with the crew about the time that darkness started asserting itself. She was sore, dirty, sweaty, and talking animatedly with a pair of women about a music group they all had strong opinions about. Simple conversation, idle, but it was fun. Living here as Zerka Tarash, helpful teen, was starting to hold a seductive sort of appeal.

The Jedi her patents had given her over to were gone, now, she was beginning to suspect. What remained were squabbling factions, divided over hunger for power or ideological assertions. If nothing else, Korriban had shown her that she could never throw her lot in with what she suspected was the largest organization of Jedi active in the galaxy. Not after this.

"Zerka. Go get washed up!" An older woman, Miss Vorish, instructed cheerfully. She strafed the work crew with her arms full of box, stopping long enough to speak with Zerka. A Vahla herself, she'd taken a vested interest in the young girl from the start. It helped that they were, as far as Zerka knew, the only two Vahla in that particular camp. "You have company! A lady came to see you."

"...A lady?" Zerka asked cautiously, curiously, not allowing herself to be too hopeful. In her native tongue, the inflection at the end of her question asked more if the woman was a Vahlan or not. Perhaps it was her mother? Was that too hopeful?

Miss Vorish shook her head and solid sadly. "Not today, kid." She admit, brushing a chunk of brick dust from Zerka's hair. "Human, far as I can tell. Came in a couple hours ago, and she's been volunteering in the medical tent ever since." She paused a moment. "Pretty, too. Lots of guys bellyaching in there today to show off for the new girl."

Zerka had the good grace to look confused for a moment, then shrugged helplessly. "Okay? I guess I can see what she wants." The young woman sighed. Anything that delayed a shower and supper was, at best, a guess. She dearly needed both. After a couple more pleasantries, Zerka ambled off to make herself presentable.

A couple minutes later, a dusky-skinned young woman in a slightly wrinkled shirt and worn trousers slipped quietly into the medical tent. She'd washed her hands and face, but Korriban didn't release it's subjects from filth quite so easily - she was still a little grimy. It wasn't hard to find the woman she was supposed to be looking for - firstly, she was new. Secondly, she was new and gorgeous, and had a sweaty, nervous aura of local guys at varying lengths around her while she worked. Zerka could nearly gag. Rolling her eyes, the little blonde pushed her way into proximity, until she was standing directly behind the new woman.

A Jedi, Zerka realized the very moment it was too late to make an excuse.

She cleared her throat politely. "Miss? You were asking for me - Is this a good time?" Zerka asked carefully, her hands clasped in front of herself. Her posture respectful. You could take the padawan out of the academy, and so on

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"Miss Bethany, here's a cup of caf."

"Thank you, but I don't-"

"Miss Bethany, can I get that out of your way?"

"No, really it's-"

"Miss Bethany, it looks like you could use an extra pair of hands!"

"No, no thank you, I really don't-"

"Do you need a taller stool Miss Bethany?"

She paused and, grudgingly, conceeded.

"Actually, that would be very helpful, yes. Thank you."

The young man beamed at the others, who shot him rather dark looks in return. Bethany did her best to ignore all of it, but it was difficult. She'd been here for several hours, waiting for the crew to come back to the camp, and she hadn't been left alone for more than a few minutes at a time. Though she was normally a fairly patient person, the Jedi Master was gritting her teeth by this time, and expending more energy and attention than she would like to simple not snap at everyone to back at least 3 meters away from her.

She'd rather face off with a squadron of Sith than what was happening right now. At least she could give them dirty looks without being rude about it.

Because of the constant, irritating , and frankly baffling attention, Bethany had been doing her best to work without the Force. It wasn't difficult- she preferred to only utilize the Force in cases where her hands couldn't accomplish the goal on their own. And fortunately, there were no life threatening injuries here today. For that, she would have blown her cover without hesitation.

"Miss? You were asking for me - Is this a good time?"

Emerald eyes blinked. She'd been so teeth-clenchingly distracted that the arrival of the person she was waiting for had gone largely unnoticed. Slowly, Bethany turned around on the stool she was perching on. Hoping down (she was shorter than the girl by more than a couple centimeters) she pulled up short. There were people in the way, clustering around them.

NOW the annoyance showed on her face.

"Shoo! All of you!" She made a motion with her hands punctuating the point. "Go.... pick something up and put it down elsewhere. Don't you all have jobs or something?"

"No, not you," she turned back to [member="Zerka Tarash"] , a relieved sort of smile on her face.

"I've been waiting for you. You.... you are one of the reasons I came to Korriban. Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?"

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

Zerka wasn't sure what to make of the woman. She FELT like a Jedi, but she was also critically annoyed or exasperated. Then again, being Jedi didn't mean that you were above those feelings, just that you TRIED to be, right? She wasn't sure. Most of her thoughts recently had been along those lines, and nearly all of them ended up being circular enough to make her poor head spin.

Never mind that the woman had apparently come to Korriban to talk to a confused girl, there was philosophy to puzzle over.

Giving the sort woman a curious quirk of her eyebrow, Zerka backed towards the door of the tent and peeked out once Bethany's fan club had filed despondently out. "I think this is about the best we're gonna inside the camp, Miss." She confessed. Things were crowded, space was a premium. Zerka was sharing a tent with three other girls, and privacy had long since lost all meaning. "...besides, if we go looking for privacy, people will notice and get curious?" Zerka added with a slight inflection, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

She still didn't know this woman, even if she seemed nice. That she was a Jedi didn't necessarily carry as much weight with Zerka as it once had. "...But I think if we might just be okay to stand here and talk if you don't want to walk in circles?" Zerka guessed, glancing pointedly at the patient Bethany had most recently been working on.

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany peered out of the tent flap with [member="Zerka Tarash"], sighing.

"And if we don't want to be not so subtly followed around. I see your point."

Turning back to her patient, a middle aged woman who looked even grumpier about the way the last half hour had progressed than Beth had, she smiled and stepped back over.

"The stitches will dissolve on their own over the next two weeks or so," she said. "Keep the area dry for the next three days. No heavy lifting for ten days. Ask one of the over-zealous young men out there to give you a hand. It'll scar, but you'll make a full recovery. Just don't push it and reopen the wound, okay? I know there's a lot to do, but if you don't cut yourself some slack, you'll just be back in here."

The other woman nodded, keeping her right arm a little stiff to her body. "Thank you, Beth. Do you want me to keep the rabble away from the tent for a bit?"

She grinned, despite herself.

"No, I think it'll be okay. You get some rest now."

Bethany watched as the woman pushed through the tent flap, then turned to Zerka.

Now, how to explain? Where to start?

"My name's Bethany Kismet. And you..... are Zerka Tarash." It wasn't a question.

And Zerka had heard that voice saying her name before. Several days ago, as she had realized the extent of what the Jedi had done on Korriban.

"I'm here because.... well. Because you called me. And if I can, I'd like to help you."

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

Zerka wasn't sure how to feel about that. Sure, the Force worked like that in the stories - a desperate soul, invariably a hero-in-the-making, calls across space and time, a wise teacher answers the call - but those were stories, and Zerka was FAR from a hero of any sort. Bethany looked more like a kindly nurse than a wise teacher, too.

But that said, Zerka couldn't deny that she'd heard - or FELT, - the woman's voice reply to her when she'd just landed on Korriban, when her faith was it it's lowest. Truth be told, it was still pretty low. Zerka shifted uncomfortably, hesitant.

Then she hopped up on the cot/patient bed, because it felt like the right place to be. At the very least, it was the most comfortable seat in the tent. Hands between her legs, eyes distant, Zerka gave that most ubiquitous of teenage replies, a small shrug that volunteered nothing but helpless apathy.

A moment later, she spoke quietly. "I didn't know if I can BE helped, miss." Zerka admitted, restlessly swinging a foot. Sitting still didn't come naturally to her. "I thought what I was doing with my life was the right thing, but then... this." She motioned around herself, the best way she knew to indicate a whole city. "I don't know what to think anymore."

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany perched herself on the stool, listening as the girl spoke. She was quiet for a long moment when [member="Zerka Tarash"] finished, collecting her thoughts. In some ways, she was used to a very different time scale. There had never been any rush to return a response to Sekot before the turning of a season. But this was very different.

"What happened here was an abomination. Some people would call it a tragedy, but that word implies, somehow, that it was something that couldn't be avoided- or that there's no one in particular to blame. It's like saying 'Mistakes were made', but not owning who made those mistakes."

She paused for a moment, brow furrowing.

"When I said I'm here to help you, it's not quite what it sounds like. What you are doing here, Zerka? Using your hands and your skills to help those most in need? You may feel lost, and confused, but your actions, your heart- these are the actions of what the Jedi truly ought to be. Not..... not what happened here. But what you are doing. You don't need my guidance to see a path in the darkness. You're already on that path. It's a hard road. And it doesn't get easier as you go down it. Maybe it's a path that will lead you to the Jedi you have the potential to be. And maybe it won't. When I say I'm here to help you, I mean that I will help you heal the people you find- I will help you move rubble. If, along the way, you'd like to learn more about what the Jedi can be, well, I'll help then too. But only if you want to.

Bethany smiled gently, a bit ruefully.

"Because you don't need my help to find your way. Every stone you move, every hand you hold, you are choosing your path. And it's an amazing thing, Zerka. I will not say that you are a Jedi where other Jedi have failed- Only you can name what you are, what you will become. But you are exhibiting the strength of soul and the kindness that others who only pretend at the title will never understand."

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

Zerka would have largely preferred to be told what to do. The past days... weeks? However long she'd been here had been a blur. A good blur, in a way, because it was a busy blur. There was always something to go, someone who needed an extra pair of hands. Always someone who could tell her to go do a specific thing, and always a specific thing that she could do instead of thinking. It didn't feel like altruism, or kindness on her part. It felt like running away, but in a helpful direction. Still cowardice, still indicative of connections. Still unbecoming a Jedi.

Sitting still and thinking was something she'd been actively trying to avoid. Receiving praise? Affirmation? Support? Zerka's system didn't even know how to process it, much like someone had allowed a man dying of thirst to down a quick gallon or two of cool water. Her chest and shoulders hitched a couple of times, the girl made a quiet almost choking-sound.

Eventually, she found her words. "B-but it shouldn't count!" Zerka insisted bleakly, spreading her arms as though she were a scale. "I came here to... to find my parents, buh-but they're guh-gone now and I don't know what else to do bit h-h-help because I can't go back to the Jedi, miss, I just CAN'T." She confessed, on the edge of the bed, her tone desperate.

"I don't know wh-what to do or who to be anymore, a-and it's my own fault that I feel this way because a Jedi shuh-shu-should be disconnected? But I'm NOT." Zerka explained, sounding increasingly like a child confessing to a lie that's rapidly grown out of their control. She bent over, clutching the sides of her head, groaning quietly. "I thought that if I ju-just ran away from it and was just Zerka Tarash then it'd be okay to hurt and feel sorry for myself, but it isn't helping, not even a little bit, and I just feel lost and connected and confused and all I can do is keep working? Is that normal?"

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany slid off of the stool, closing the gap between them in two quick, decisive steps. The diminutive woman sank to her knees in front of the girl. Her own hands went up, gently cupping Zerka's where they gripped her head, but she didn't try to move them.

"Oh Zerka. I am so, so sorry for everything you have been through- what you have lost," Bethany whispered, looking up at the girl.

"You don't have to go back to the Jedi. After what happened here, I don't blame you." The Jedi Master had left her own order, many years ago, in protest of a war that had ended up killing billions. She understood, deeply, that deep and abiding horror that Zerka was feeling right now. But her own experiences, right now, were irrelevant. Right now, her attention was solely on the girl before her.

"You are not defined by the title of Jedi. You say you don't know what else to do to help, because you cannot go back- but every step you move forward, every act of generosity and kindness you do *is* helping. You don't think it should count, because you are grieving, confused- even angry. But I think it counts all the more that instead of lashing out, you are reaching out. What you are feeling, Zerka, all of this, this is normal, and sentient- it is vulnerable and uncomfortable but oh so very real. If you chose to reject the path of the Jedi, do not do it because you think that you have failed. Reject it because others have failed in the most fundamental way a person can fail- in their duty to the rest of the galaxy around them. By failing to protect these people. But the idea that a Jedi feels nothing- that's flawed, deeply and truly. It's not whether you feel or not, that marks a true Jedi."

Bethany paused, squeezing the girl's hands gently. Her voice was still soft, but warm and full of emotion itself now.

"It's not whether you feel, Zerka. It's what you do with it that matters. And what you have done with your fear and confusion and mourning, that is the true path of a Jedi. In your hurt, you reached out to heal. And that is something worth knowing about yourself. And worth other people knowing you as well, whatever path you choose from here forward."

[member="Zerka Tarash"]

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

Zerka sniffled quietly for a few minutes, listening and processing Bethany's words. They were kind, and while she didn't know if she agreed with all of them, the woman had a terribly soothing air about her. It was very, very hard to resist the urge to throw herself into the small Master's arms... so she didn't resist the urge. As Bethany finished, Zerka slipped off of the 'patient's bed' and wrapped her arms around her neck, conveying a sort of primal gratitude that she couldn't quite articulate at the moment.

And she took a deep, deep breath, savoring the singular moment of comfort in a galaxy that had seemed very, very frightening for quite some time. Zerka could almost visualize a little green bar filling to capacity.

Before long, Zerka's desire for contact (and to an extent, context) was overshadowed by the inherent awkwardness of hugging a stranger. A sweet, kind, wise stranger who seemed to be able to say exactly the things Zerka had needed to hear, but a stranger regardless. She pulled back and wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm, looking visibly... more. Taller, more hale, full of life. Zerka offered the woman a slightly screwy smile, slightly embarrassed for her outburst.

"You really mant what you said?" Zerka asked quietly, "The part about helping, I mean?"

The young padawan took a couple steps to one side, furtively glancing out of the impromptu medical tent. Twilight spilled in behind her, filling the tent with a soft blue-purple glow and the warm, evening wind blowing in off the sand-blasted steppes. Somewhere nearby, somebody had burned a pot of bedjie spores, somehow. "Because I, uh, think that these people really need help. Relief efforts are supposed to be coming in a week? And when they do, we could talk about Jedi stuff." But she'd not walk away from the job half-done.

The people of Korriban city were counting on her help, however little her contributions were. They needed all the help they could get.

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany had no idea how many years it had been since she'd been hugged. But some things, a sentient body simply doesn't forget. She wrapped her arms around the girl in return, laying her cheek on her hair. She held the hug for as long as Zerka wanted it- there was no point in her past where Bethany herself had been a hugger. But, especially with children (though Zerka was not truly a child), the Jedi Master was of the opinion that you always let the child decide when they were done, not the other way around.

It had been centuries since she had last held her own children. It was no hardship to embrace this one now- if anything, it reminder her of everything she'd given up. Her twins, Corrine and Rian. They'd been only a few years older than Zerka when she'd gone to Zonama Sekot. Jedi, in their own rights, yes. But still.

Gone now.

Her chest tightened as the young woman pulled away. Her children, her partner, gone for centuries. Merged with Sekot, she had been insulated from that loss, she realized suddenly. Swallowing hard, she refocused on the moment in front of her. Now was what she had. The present. Some time, eventually, she would mourn perhaps. But if the present was all that existed, then that mourning would always be slated for someday.

"You really meant what you said?" Zerka asked quietly, "The part about helping, I mean?"

Bethany didn't stand up right away. She looked up at the girl. And she smiled- a distant, wistful smile. It was easy, in this moment, to be both proud and protective of this soulful young woman.

"Every word," the Jedi Master confirmed softly.

Standing up slowly, Bethany listened, nodding as she closed the distance again between them. Emerald eyes peered out at the scene Zerka was taking in. So many things had changed. But some thing remained the same. The war-torn landscape of Korriban was singular, but also, achingly familiar. Every tragedy was separate, unique- but also it repeated the same violence that the galaxy had witnessed again and again.

"And we'll only talk about it if you want to. Until then, let's see what we can do. We can talk about other things if you want to...." the silent 'or not speak if you'd rather' was implied. "I will stay to help at least as long as you do. And then? Well. We'll see."

Bethany chuckled suddenly, glancing over at Zerka. She knew the girl had been out working all day. Really, she already knew the answer and yet-

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

[member="Zerka Tarash"]

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

There was a pregnant pause, and then a loud and nearly explosive groan from the lanky Vahlan girl. Zerka sighed in melodramatic agreement, slumping backwards - her flexible spine making the gesture look downright dangerous, cartoonishly exaggerated. "SO hungry." She agreed enthusiastically. "I forgot my lunch, and Barbaos shared some of hers with me, but still-" Zerka began, practically bounding out of the tent with the clear expectation that Bethany would follow. Likely at that same calm, nearly-glacial pace that adults seemed to have perfected, but she'd follow nonetheless.

Zerka took the lead as they left in search of supper, both in conversation and direction. In truth, being morose and sad-feely was somewhat alien to Zerka's nature, even though it'd felt SO good to finally express some of the things that'd been boiling in her. She'd by and large accepted Bethany into her confidence, it seemed. As they walked through the camp, Zerka rambled endlessly about whatever passed through her mind, gesturing animatedly with her hands and arms as she spoke.

She told Bethany about a dog they'd rescued, laughed as she shared a ribald joke that somebody on her work crew had thought she couldn't overhear. Even as they ate, Zerka explained to Bethany that the person cooking tonight - a dour-looking Duros with a bandage over one eye - had been a civil engineer before the attack, and secretly enjoyed the distraction of cooking. She warned the Jedi that he also took the use of condiments as a personal affront, as she surreptitiously slipped a few drips of hot sauce into her stew. Zerka seemed to delight in collecting the minute details of the lives going on around her.

As the week progressed, true to form, aid and humanitarian volunteers poured into Korriban city - a wealth of support that was nearly overwhelming. Before long, Zerka's presence on the work crews, insofar as she was a simple teen and NOT a Padawan - became less and less necessary, with the surplus of trained labor and relief droids. Eight days after she'd met Bethany, Zerka took the hint from one of the community organizers to just stay at camp and wait for what came next. She suspected the intention was some form of adoption or placement program, such things as the rule of law asserting itself tended to bring. She respected the process, but had no real intention of participating in it.

That morning, Zerka let herself into Bethany's tent with a couple fresh pieces of fruit. One with a couple bites taken out of it, the other intact. Being without something to do didn't really agree with her. "Miss Kismet, are you awake?" Zerka asked quietly, the sun rising languidly behind her. "...I brought you breakfast."

Breakfast was the standard apology for waking somebody up, right?

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Barefoot, step by step, she stole gingerly across the broken surface. It breathed, moving in a slow, lumbering repetition of inhale, exhale. Each inhalation caused great cracks to form in the broken stone beneath her feet, while each exhalation closed them again. Every time they opened in a different place, every time she paused, waiting for the cracks to close again before continuing her passage. Once or twice, she had to side step, ever so lightly and carefully, as a fissure opened up underfoot- but it was never personal. She knew that the slumbering consciousness, while fitfully aware of her, held her no particular ill will. They had made peace a very long time ago. And while she wasn't particularly welcome here, it also did not object to her presence.

As the ground settled again, she paused, stooping. One of the cracks hadn't completely closed with this exhale, leaving behind a jagged, angry gash of crimson light and creeping shadows. She knelt, bare knees on sharp stone, placing one hand on either side of the divide. She didn't need to close her eyes- none of this was physically real, after all, merely projections and visual metaphors. Letting the Force flow through her, she slid her hands over the wound. Slowly, the surface closed, melting together, knitting stone to stone.

She stood again, just in time for another inhalation, the rising fullness of the ground beneath her breaking open the surface once more. But when it settled again, the place she had closed remained closed. She nodded to herself, stepping carefully once more, eyes always searching for the wounds that did not close on their own- the ones that weren't a natural part of this strange, barren landscape-

"Miss Kismet, are you awake? I brought you breakfast."

When [member="Zerka Tarash"] ducked in to the tent, she would find Bethany sitting up, cross legged in the center. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene but distant. When the girl spoke, it took a moment for the woman to respond. Emerald eyes opened, blinking owlishly, as though the anemic light of the just rising sun were brighter than she expected it to be.

She smiled when she saw the fruit in Zerka's hands.

"I'm awake. And how many times do I need to ask you to call me Bethany?" She said, amused rather than annoyed.

Scooting back to make room (it was a small tent, after all), she motioned for Zerka to join her. Accepting the fruit, she bit in to it with evident pleasure. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. A vegetarian, Beth appreciated the choice of breakfast her young friend had brought her. But then, Zerka was thoughtful like that.

True to her word, Bethany hadn't mentioned the Jedi once since that first day. But, she suspected, that might change now. Still, she waited, keeping that line of conversation to herself, until (if) Zerka chose to broach it.

 

[Zerka Tarash]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

Taking the wordless invitation, Zerka flopped down beside the healer, her legs half-splayed. "Sorry, Beth." She apologized sheepishly, pulling her feet in to sit a comfortable lotus. Sitting still didn't agree with her very much, but Zerka had a secret weapon this time - a piece of fruit to keep her mouth and hands busy. The teenager took a large bite of hers, gesturing in a loose circle with the remaining half as she chewed.

"I was talking to miss Vorish about maybe trying to plant a garden like you were talking about?" She rambled comfortably. "She said that stuff don't grow on Korriban, but one of the older ladies heard us and thinks it'll be a fun project to keep the old people busy, so I thought you might like to know that..." The girl filling Bethany in on all the local gossip was a part of her routine, akin to an athlete warming up or an ascetic doing breathing exercises. Somewhere in her rambling discussion, Zerka managed to finish her breakfast and had taken to rocking back and forth as she spoke, keeping in near-constant motion.

Truth be told, Zerka was mostly thrilled she had somebody to talk to that didn't seem to run out of patience for her.

Eventually, Zerka wound down and seemed almost contemplative. She considered her words visibly, re-folded her legs a couple of times, glanced at Bethany. "If I..." She began, before stopping and trying again. "I know you're not like the Jedi who did this, miss." Zerka prefaced her statement, sounding terribly apologetic. Unsure of herself. This was new territory for her, and a big decision besides, small wonder she was struggling.

"I don't want to see this happen again, you know?" Zerka explained softly, pulling her ankles against her body. "Can... You help me do that? To help people do the right going?"

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany hesitated, just looking at Zerka for a long, silent moment. She searched the girl's face, as though it would offer a map on how to move forward from here. But no such map existed.

"It's.... a bit more complicated than that," she said finally, her voice heavy.

"Zerka, sometimes, the only thing within our power to change is ourselves. We can do our best, set the best example we possibly can, offer peace. Build, instead of destroy. And we can hope that others will see this and understand." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "All things are connected. Every action we take causes ripples in the galaxy around us, not just metaphysically, but physically. Every stone you add to a bridge makes it longer. Every act of kindness makes the galaxy a little more kind. But there's no promise that someone else won't come and try to remove the stone you added. Or try to knock down the bridge entirely. I wish I could tell you that, with enough people helping to build a bridge, that it wouldn't be knocked down, but I can't. Lies don't help anything, but especially self deceiving ones."

Getting up, Bethany moved over to where she kept a small pot of water. She'd brought tea with her when she came, and as she set up two cups, she continued to speak.

"Five hundred years ago," she started slowly, "The Jedi Council of the time made a decision. They decided to try to bluff, to bully, a particular group in to doing what they wanted. In their minds, it was never meant to go farther than that. But to utilize their ruse properly, they put real people at risk. And because they threatened violence in order to gain their desired outcome, violence was brought in equal measures. Their enemies didn't realize that the Council was bluffing. That was the point, after all."

She wrapped her hands around one of the cups after she poured the water. After a moment the contents started to send off a small whisp of steam. Absently, she handed the cup to Zerka.

Her voice was strained when she continued. This was no simple recitation of history for her, after all.

"They realized, too late, that their feint posed true risk. And by the time they did, there was nothing they could do to stop it. Over a billion sentients died that day, an entire planet, destroyed because no one thought to ask themselves 'Is threatening to crash a moon in to a planet a goodly thing to do?'"

Bethany sat with her own mug, heating her own water. She watched the steam curl above the lip of the cup, feeling the warmth melt into her hands.

"History," she said heavily, "Repeats. Their military feint turned in to a massacre. Because someone mistook flawed judgement for military wisdom. Because they acted on their anger, on their fear, on a desire for power-" Pausing, she looked up at Zerka again. "Anyone who claims that they need to control other people for their own good is suspect, Zerka. No matter what noble intentions they claim, it always comes down to the idea that they can make people better- in their own image. But no single person is good enough, right enough, to actually be that mold. We are flawed, frightened creatures- but within that, is the potential for amazing acts. For light, to rise up beyond. But it's hard, and even those people aware of that struggle can fail."

She had gone slightly afield. Perhaps not off topic, but gotten away from Zerka's question. She recentered her mind for a moment.

"I would be happy to teach you what I know," she said. "And perhaps, that knowledge will in turn, help you teach others. But if your expectation is that your learning will help others be good, it's a noble hope, but must be tempered. Good finds and feeds more good, yes. But the chances of something like this happening again? Isn't simply likely. With time, it is inevitable. History repeats. But with every person who tries to build, instead of destroy, well, maybe some day we can create faster than it is knocked down. You have control over your own actions, and the path you choose. And you, specifically, have so very much to give."

Bethany smiled, but it didn't reach all the way to her eyes.

[member="Zerka Tarash"]