Queens of Chaos {Keira Ticon}

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

VOSS; A RUINED BATTLEFIELD

The ashes were gone. Only a few scattered pieces of bone let one know that once upon a time something had happened here. Plants had grown wild, the fires that had razed the land had been put out long ago, and the grass was at least a foot tall in most places. Slivers of metal, the leftover shards of war-tools, could be found underfoot, ground into neat dust, indistinguishable from the soil. A single glance would not tell you of the river of blood that flowed from the earth. Closer inspection would still not sing a song of the bodies that pilled up, or of the scars given to the few survivors.

Where there had once been trenches, the land was smooth, free of gaps. Fixed by the passage of years. Not a single sign of the dog tags buried below was to be seen. Over a decade had passed since the last shot had been fired. Long enough for the storms to rage, the earth to quake, and for the wind to blow. Dirt had been rearranged, erasing the evidence of a hard fought battle from a hard fought war.

And yet still it wasn't enough to erase the memories.

Still the soldier remembered the fight. Remembered the screaming, the sound of bolts whizzing overhead, and the smell that matched the metallic taste left in her mouth. She recalled the rush of combat. And she remembered the moments where things had slowed down. Times where, for a minute, she thought that maybe it was over. But the firing had always started again. They had stayed in the trenches for half a week before the enemy line had finally been broken.

Another victory had been declared for the glorious Empire, and another nightmare was added to the woman's collection. Another dream to haunt her already sleepless nights. She found her solution to that problem eventually. Nothing a good bottle and a cigarette can't fix. Except, perhaps, cancer and hangovers. Still the woman hadn't cared (perhaps because she had died before such things had a chance to effect her). The abuse she put on her body helped her forget about what everyone else had put her through.

For a time it had been good enough. There were moments, however, where she needed to 'come home'. Times where she needed to go back to a battlefield, just to remind herself that it all really happened. Just so she knew that her scars hadn't come from periods of self-inflicted madness, so she knew that all of her anger had been for a reason, so she knew that she really had fought for a cause, whether or not it had been worth it in the end.

Drapeam Nyx, the Sith Spector, stood in the center of the field, simply staring at the plain land before her...

[member="Keira Ticon"]​

 

[Keira Priest]

If there was ever a planet farther from home for Keira, it was the lush world of Voss. Her childhood had been spent on Corellia, her tween years up until the age of sixteen on the Jedi planet of Ossus, and the majority of her life afterwards on the sprawling city-world of Antecedent. There had been breaks in the scenery here and there, but she had always dwelled in or near a city, if not a battlefield, never content in complete silence. The quiet had always been where her thoughts had taken root, a number of them of the darkest sort. It was always far more beneficial for her to surround herself with others or simply background noise in general, and being who she was she had maken the executive decision to drown out her thoughts in such a method.

Eventually those thoughts had reached an unbearable crescendo, one that had been at the very least temporarily silenced after all that had transpired on Ziost. It was those events that had brought her to this planet in the first place, one she wouldn't have dared set foot on under any other circumstances. Adjusting to her new surroundings had taken the span of a week or more, with most of her time spent either in the quarters that had been chosen as her own or alone wandering the grounds. None had approached her and so she hadn't deigned to speak, understanding perfectly well that this was her probation of sorts, a test to see how fit she was to remain one that fought on their side, though not one of them. Somehow she had a feeling she wasn't doing very well.

Still, at the very least she had been allowed her saber back, one small comfort in a sea of unfamiliarity. It granted her a method of self-defense should the need arise, along with simply being a weight on her right hip that was an assurance in its own right. With every other step her cybernetic left hand brushed across the worn leather grip, briefly toying with the delicate steel links and charm that held their own wear thanks to the unkindness that had encompassed the previous years. I miss this. Somehow. Perhaps not the life and times of a Jedi per se, but having a place to return to at the end of the day was something she certainly couldn't raise complaint to. This was as concrete as her life had been in a long time.

The seemingly empty land she wandered appeared to be holding its breath, keeping whatever secrets it held closely with no sign of giving them up. Something had transpired here, and it was an event of note. It had the air of apprehension about it, one that reminded her far too much of past battlefields that she had walked shortly after the fight had been brought to an often abrupt and impromptu close. This one still held that same sense of not quite complete closure, as if something was about to happen, a strike that hadn't been landed in the previous fights finally connecting with some unsuspecting foe. But that moment of contact never came, and she was left walking alone with her idle thoughts to accompany her and nothing more.

Releasing a sigh she came to a stop, holding herself completely still, eyes sliding shut. Turning her focus inwards she wrapped herself in the ethereal tendrils of the Force, bringing them outwards in order to study the surrounding area with that unique form of a sixth sense. That awareness bled into the environment immediately around her, searching for any abnormalities or something other to latch onto. And somehow they found one, here of all places. Either the resident Jedi hadn't been keeping much of an eye out, or this visitor had managed to get through what defenses had been mustered against just this sort of event, which didn't seem to be much, from her previous excursions. "Sith. I can feel where you stand." Admittedly, her conversation starters needed a little work.

[member="Lady Medax"]

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

She had almost missed the feeling of someone approaching. So lost was she in her own thoughts, that the rest of the world had seemed to fade away, transformed into a simple, far off thing. When her eyes had scanned the area, she had not seen it as it truly was. Nor did she truly see it as how it had once been. A painful recreation of the battle had slithered into her mind, reminding her of how it had all felt, all those years ago. What she saw before her, while an exaggerated tale, seemed worthy of a holo-film. Worthy to be turned into an device of entertainment, as so many tragedies before it had. Her recollection of the event was only broken when a shape darted across her vision.

Instantly she had tensed, preparing a wisp of fire in her hands.

Before her sat a frightened, confused little creature, as lost as she had been her first time here. Just a moment passed, then the ball of fluff rushed away, disappearing into the grass. With a sense of shame once forgotten the ghost disarmed herself. Scared by a frakking bunny... she thought, sighing softly. This wasn't like her. Nyxai weren't supposed to be jumpy or frightened or anxious. They were supposed to be Titans. Champions far above everyone else, always ready to break down their enemies. That's what she had been taught all her life. That she had to be better than the others, or she wouldn't really be part of the family.
It was a shocking thing for her to realize that she cared about that.

Life on Dromand Kaas hadn't been pleasant. Spending time with her family had led to nearly as much mental and physical scarring as her twenty years in the military had. When she had finally left her home, she had seemed more bite than bark- or anything. Abuse did that to people. And when people wondered what reasons she had for being the way she was she gave them nothing. Nothing but a name. Call me Nyx, she'd say, because once upon a time her father had told her she wasn't worthy of the name.

But that had been many years ago, and her father's empire, which had once been mighty, was now dust, chipped away by time, just as the field she now floated above. Though the memories still struck at her, part of her was already feeling a twinge of closure. Maybe it would leave her again sometime soon. For now, however, Lady Medax was able to relax more than she had in months. The visions were over, and she could focus on the world around her once more. Despite what had occurred here... the land felt oddly beautiful. Even with the air stick thick from a thousand dead souls, it still, somehow, felt peaceful.

Until a voice spoke in the distance, that is.

"Sith. I can feel where you stand."

Hmm... Quietly Nyx reached out with the force as well, letting her presence become more known as she searched for the one who interrupted her remembrance. It didn't take long for her to lock onto the signature of another force user. Once that was taken care of, she did the simplest thing she could think of. Without even a second of hesitation she became a warp in the force, teleporting the energy she was comprised of from one part of the field to another, faster than one could blink. Just a moment after the grey warrior spoke she would find a shimmering, blue figure in front of her, standing tall without so much as hint of concern in her features.

"And now you can see where I stand."

[member="Keira Ticon"]​

 

[Keira Priest]

Muscles tensed subconsciously, ethereal hackles raising as a voice spoke in front of her, the second figure seeming to manifest from nowhere and yet everywhere at once. Before her physical senses could entirely catch up Keira was aware that the woman before her wasn't alive, or at least not in the traditional sense. Instead she was a ghost, sustained seemingly through the Force itself. Given what she had witnessed in the galaxy previously, this wasn't something explicitly unusual to behold. Every time she turned her back there was a new ability created, and this appeared as something more or less ordinary at this point. It was better than an attack sent her direction, at any rate.

One side of her mouth turned up in a vague resemblance of a smile, head inclining slightly in what passed for a greeting in her mind. "Fair enough." For a time those were the only words spoken, and she carefully studied the other, silently noting any discrepancies while her expression remained nonchalant. The others would have likely been far more on guard when in the presence of a self-proclaimed Sith, but unlike her they hadn't fought alongside the Order in the years previous. Despite all the tales told to younglings things weren't quite as terrible once you managed to adjust. Not that she would be the one to mention that adjusting often included resolving to a state of general apathy.

"Keira." Her name was offered perhaps in some expression of solidarity. Once upon a time she may have been far more timid when it came to approaching one like this, not to mention inciting a conversation for no real reason. Her younger self had been far more reserved. Not timid per se, but less willing to instigate any sort of conflict, perceived or no, with an unknown individual. That had been when she still had something to be cautious about, people to concern herself with and family she was surrounded by. Now all of that was null, her only worry primarily herself. To be fair, she was still adjusting to the idea of being any sort of Jedi. It would take awhile for her to work out the specifics.

This was almost like her time in the Republic - almost. But this time she was the outsider just as much as this supposed Sith, the both of them on some semblance of the same side against those that would like to see their kind removed from the galaxy as a whole. Being an outcast was nothing new. Even considering the idea of spending time with another simply to do so wasn't quite as unthinkable anymore. She really had changed since Ziost, and that hadn't even been so long ago. "I would ask you why you're here, but I can't say it really bothers me. I don't belong, either. Not really." And she never would, that much she had told Connor, I'll never call myself a Jedi. I'm not one of them.

An awkward silence hung in the air between them for a time, and she halfway considered simply abandoning the effort of conversation altogether, but something prodded her to stay. And so she stood there, unsure of her own position on the planet just as much as her place in the galaxy. It wasn't like her to be self-conscious even the smallest amount, so this was something new by itself. Caring what others thought was typically regarded as nothing more than a waste of time. "Why a Jedi planet? I know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't complicated enough for it to be necessary." That really was the best way to describe things. Her time on Voss had been confusing at best, and it didn't seem as if it would remedy itself anytime soon.

[member="Lady Medax"]

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

"Keira..." The ghost seemed to be thinking about the name, repeating it softly to herself for a few moments. Once she was seemingly satisfied she paused. "Traditionally meaning either dusky or dark-haired," she murmured, much quieter. "Fitting." To be honest, she didn't remember where she had learned that. Most likely she had once been assigned to kill some other Keira (or Keiran). Whenever she had been told to end someone's life, she had spent at least a day researching them, their family, and anything that seemed related to them. Most had assumed that she did it to make sure she was prepared for every possible contingency. That was a possibility.

But maybe she just wanted to make sure that killing them would actually do something.

She thought about that for a moment, wondering how many Keiras she had killed, if any. Or how many she would one day have to escort to Chaos. 'Twas a thought that did not last long. The wind came in and rustled the leaves once more, taking a few stray strands, along with her wonders, right away, off into the distance. And just like that she found herself standing idly once more. Simply... watching. Gaze focused on Keira, though not solely locked on her. As if to show her relaxed state she let her shoulders droop, her eyes wander, and her brow stay unfurrowed.

"They call me Nyx." There wasn't much to say beyond that. Over the years she had held many titles, been given many nicknames, and claimed a few of her own. But she felt no need to elaborate on her identity- similarly to how Keira had approached the situation. It wasn't until the smaller woman spoke again that the conversation (if one could call it that) started to go somewhere. Why a Jedi planet? Because it wasn't always so. "I fought here once. We called it the Battle of Broken Pass. It was... some time before anyone considered me a Sith."

Pausing, she frowned, remembering the battle again.

"Twas my first battle- though many came after. I was a Private in the army, fresh out of the academy, and this was the place I was sent to die." Her meaning wasn't literal. But she had been sent to a dangerous land, for a cause no one cared that she didn't believe in, to potentially die for people who did not care for her. "I didn't die here. My kinsmen did. Along with those whom we foolishly called our enemies. We weren't foes, not really. Just kids dressed in suits, playing a game of war that got out of hand, fighting for people who didn't want to get their hands dirty themselves."

"I am here to remember. I am here so that I never forget."

[member="Keira Ticon"]​

 

[Keira Priest]

Dusky wasn't a word Keira would choose to describe herself, even if it was in the metaphorical sense. It didn't quite hold the correct meaning as to what and who she really was. Tainted was a more apt description, and some would go so far as to say corrupt or fallen. Her once unsullied aura all those fourteen years ago had been stained black, ugly and bruised, by all she had witnessed and all that had been inflicted upon her. Three times over she had been twisted to the will of another, broken down and turned around until she was all but an antitheses of her former self. And she had been okay with that, content to allow that darkness to take firm root in her core. But then something had changed, altering her forever. Mere weeks ago, another spark of light had ignited.

And now her old self was back, mostly. Perhaps she wasn't wholly present most times, always seemingly lost in the spider's web of her own thoughts, but her former persona was returning, piece by cracked and broken piece. Now, perhaps, some of that duskiness was returning. A faint, metaphysical light had emerged from her aura in the days previous, one still cloudy but most certainly brighter than it had ever been before, brighter than even she could remember. For once in her life she was beginning to feel whole. That sensation of not quite belonging had subsided to levels where it was manageable, where she felt as if she could engage in conversation like this without completely breaking down. Where she could finally be free.

All of that, brought up by the apparent definition of nothing more than her name. Sometimes it was funny how her mind worked, drawing conclusions and meanings from the simplest words and phrases and taking things in an entirely different or far more in depth direction than had ever been originally intended. Perhaps that was why others seemed to tired of her company so quickly. No, it was best not to delve too deeply into those thoughts. Besides, she was in the middle of a conversation before she had so carelessly wandered off into the meandering twists and turns of her own thoughts, paths she could easily find herself lost on if she didn't pay careful enough attention. Watch yourself, Ticon, and closely.

Somehow she had a feeling no real response had been anticipated after the story was told. Or at least, not one of the traditionally empathetic sort. So instead she settled for a slow nod at first and nothing more for a time, attempting to collect her thoughts into some semblance of order. There really wasn't much to say in return; nothing worthwhile, anyway. Maybe the tale had been woven in expectation that she explain her own reasons for being here. Or maybe not. Conversation really was difficult for her to even begin to comprehend. Why couldn't people simply ask what they wanted without turning things in seemingly hundreds of different directions? Being blunt and straightforward really wasn't that difficult.

"I guess I'm not entirely sure why I'm here. I could leave. I just don't have anywhere else to go." A part of her had shied away from that final admittance, viewing it as an inherent sign of weakness. In her life she had always been expected to have all the answers to every problem, or at least some makeshift solution, and typically she did. But when it came to her own issues she was always at a loss. Never would she explicitly state that to anyone, but she was. "For me this place is purgatory. After getting out of hell, this is where I wound up." That wasn't a complete exaggeration, but it was close enough to the truth at this stage in her life. "And I have a feeling I won't ever really be escaping."

[member="Lady Medax"]

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

There was, for a moment, a sort of peaceful silence. The kind that wasn't really there, but only appeared to be present. Neither of the women were visibly upset or concerned. Nay, the softness that fell over them seemed to fit things, if only from the outsider's perspective. Inside their minds things were a far different story. Dusky had spawned a series of thoughts for the younger lass, taking her away to someplace very far, yet eerily close. Her mind wandered in the same moment that her companion's went to a very specific, very familiar, place. A room with stale white walls. A single buzzing, pitiful light on the ceiling.

A man telling her that she had nearly died to protect a worthless outpost.

Now, as Dusky thought of how she had evolved over the years, they stood where a war had waged, and the ghost felt her sense of peace fade once more. Although she did not scowl, or frown, or furrow her brows, her discomfort was clear. It lingered in her eyes. A far-off look, a gaze into an immeasurable amount of distance, something akin to the famed thousand-yard stare. If she still had lungs, her breathing would have stopped. But there was nothing for the air, the wind, to flow into. She floated without movement, letting the quiet become them. To the outside world they seemed to be simply taking a moment to reflect. To think.

But neither was really, truly, at peace.

Together they let their thoughts drown out the outside world. It was a simple minute or two, a minuscule within a small, drawn-out conversation. Nyx did not mind the break in speech. Nay, to her, 'twas a wondrous thing. A few moments could do a lot for an anxious mind. Though usually moments like these only worsened her nerve, the situation they were in actually needed a breath. Neither woman was on the world for the grandest of reasons. There was a lot for both of them to ponder, and with neither of them feeling a need for consistent conversation, this time of reflection was practically a God-send.

Of course, it could not last forever. What had begun had yet to finish- and Nyx hated to leave stories half-finished. So, even when the distance faded from her eyes and her thoughts returned to the present, she waited, watching the woman without a word. As it was, she did not have to wait for long. Just a few moments passed before Dusky (as the Zorren had decided to call her) spoke again. Something about her speech seemed hesitant, but the ghost didn't deem it important enough to pay much attention to. Instead, for once, she fully listened to her companion. Though once, upon the mentioning of purgatory, she let out a soft chuckle.

Then it was her time to reply.

"After the reaping, I ended up on Alderaan. Nice enough world- when your brain isn't trying to get you to paint it in blood, that is," she said, a crooked smirk on her lips. Despite the harshness of what she said, and despite the humor in her expression, she spoke rather plainly, as if the whole thing was rather casual. Part of her wondered if Dusky had meant what she had said literally or not. There were those who never got dragged to Chaos, after all, she thought. The smirk faded, and her expression became as plain as her tone. "Voss is nicer, if you ask me. Most of it's quieter. Not the worst place you could get stuck. Though the Gormak ain't exactly fun to look at."

She didn't know what else to say.

[member="Keira Ticon"]​