Dominion Re:Storation [CIS Domion of Rodia Hex]

[Hisashi]

R E : B U I L D​

T A G : Saraya Arenais , Kiff Brayde , Tabitha Solus

The High Marshal thought highly of himself.

At the helm of his response was a ragged equivolence. That, because there were so many monarchs and leaders in the Confederacy, compared to handful of High Marshals, his mantle somehow outranked hers. Did the man not understand how his own government worked? How it was the will of those numerous Queens which enabled him to have a job or paycheck? If anything, she outranked him by a longshot - one well placed bill and he would be eating ramen noodles for the next year.

Moreover, the man attempted to take a swing at his own mantle. Queensguard. What the High Marshal didn't know was that his service began with the coronation of the reigning monarch. And he had protected her closely since before then. What happened to her predecessor was unfortunate, but it ultimately was not his fault. "It troubles me that you have an entire sector to safeguard, but do not understand your own government." he replied. "That Queen you 'outrank' is a Viceroy. You know, those politicians that decide how many credits they let you piss away playing this game."

"But here you are. Doing nothing."

Hisashi turned and raised his hand, an act of supreme dismissal. The time wasted confronting the man was just that - a waste. The Queensguard made a mental note to steer the woman away from reliance on anything remotely concerning the Bassadro Sector Armada. Lest her fate be pissed away over a game of sabacc.

​

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: Rodia [Field Hospital for New Arrivals]
Tagging: John Locke | Daegon Corvinus | Seraphina Corvinus
Wearing: XOXO

The way he seemed to lose himself in the gentle moments that occasionally sprung up always caught her attention. John Locke was a man that created weapons of mass destruction, who still managed to surprise her, especially, when he subtly took in the enjoyment and well-being of others. It reminded her of the softness o him that few seemed to see. She could have watched him, watch others, all day. It was peaceful. She could feel his thoughts and emotions radiating.

The sense of hope that was leeching into his bones from the happiness of the family unit before them was palpable. She could feel memories pass through him. Good—And bad. She could feel heat on her face that didn’t exist and knew it was drawn from the empathy she’d been born with. The Force had enhanced her natural gifts in a way that could be entirely problematic.

For as much as they loved; she loved.

Gianna had never taken the distance that John placed between himself and the rest of the world into account. The cup of caf felt warm in her hands, but, despite the heat it made her feel a little more relaxed. It renewed some of her energy stores just as much as the effort John took to bring it to her. The small things he did always felt larger. Was it her imagination?

The Jedi Knight leaned up against the counter, mirroring his stance, and sipped at her caf in relative silence.

“What were you thinking?”

She didn’t tell the Exarch she could feel it. Some part of her wondered if he would view her awareness as an intrusion. It wasn’t. But, would he believe her? Gianna had vowed never to dig into his mind again and she never would. The fact that she had to ask should be telling. She smiled beautifully over the rim of her beverage when he struck a pose and her heartfelt infinitely lighter. He was part man, part machine, but he understood her better than anyone else. For the first time she wondered—Would he want her to try healing him? Would he want her to try and give him his limbs back?

Gianna didn’t want to press. She didn’t want him to think she thought he ought to change. She had long since gotten used to the chill of cold metal. Sometimes it even felt warm, living, as though it had become a part of him. Not for the first time she stopped herself from reaching out to him. He was so close. Always, so close. This was the reason she had hidden his memories.

It was impossible not to feel around him. To feel—To want things that were forbidden.

“Your bandaging skills would do any medic proud.”, she began, briefly, before taking another sip of caf. Gianna could feel a subtle tug at the tip of her heart. John wanted to help. He wanted to be there for this community, though, she also knew there was more to it than that. The flame-haired woman straightened up and reached out to place a soft hand to his chest. Just over his heart. Her aura washed over him in soothing, sweet waves. “You help, John.”

“Just by being here. Being present.”

Her hand remained where it was for a long moment. It was part of him that she knew he could feel. Slowly, she pulled back. She didn’t want to. But, she was too close. He was too close. His smile was too much for her to bear on a good day let alone when he was trying his best to do something, he had no idea how to start. “Come. I can teach you how to suture. You’ll likely have neater marks than I do because your hands will be steadier.”

Infinitely, so. Few things could outdo the precision of technological enhancements.

She set her caf down and turned around to get a suture kit. They were well-stocked for the field hospital having been set up in a relative hurry. Most of what they did were general wellness checks from returning civilians, however, there were always accidents. People were wonderful, beautiful, imperfect things. She also picked up a decent sized patch of synth-flesh for him to practice on.

“Have a seat…”, she encouraged, quietly, ushering him to a metallic stool. “You’ll need a few different tools. Something to hold the needle, toothed forceps, and something to cut the suture with. Scissors usually do the trick. The thicker the skin you’re trying to repair the larger the suture should be.”

“In the field, you can do it quick and dirty if you need to, but here, we have to take everything into account.”

She set out all of the tools that might be required and began to explain the process. There was quite a bit to learn before he would be ready to work on a real patient, but, John was incredibly intelligent. She had faith he would be able to pick it up if he practiced and put in the effort. “But first—Let’s go over the basic principles of wound management. It’s a little more in-depth than applying a dressing or a bandage.”

Gianna added a honeyed smile while she explained, softly, trying to emphasize what mattered. It would become clear that this was something she had studied for a long time. Healing others wasn’t always possible with the application of the Force. Sometimes—It could do more harm than good in uneducated hands. John might wish he hadn’t asked, though, once he saw the homework she would assign.

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

​

WEARING: xxx
TAG: John Locke | Gianna Aegis | Seraphina Corvinus

Rodia.​

​

This planet had been the location of one of Daegon's greatest failures. He had gone as far to chase Alwine Daye to the world in his mission to bring the one responsible for nearly killing his wife and best friend. Muad Dib had been with him, and despite their efforts, they had not managed to capture her. Now he had returned, and it was in an effort to help those who had been displaced return to their homes.​

​

Bacta was needed. That many people packed together in one place would share so many germs, and who better to provide the bacta than the Xucphra Corporation. Considering they held a bacta monopoly there was no one better. As usual Seraphina traveled with him everywhere he went. Today while he ensured the bacta was delivered, Seraphina was going to be doing something she had not done in a while.​

​

Sing.​

​

Daegon could not recall listening to Seraphina sing since she had been shot, and if he had her melody was lackluster. There was a sorrow to her tone which the Demon had not heard since the day he had found her in the garden after the news of her fiance's infidelity had reached her. Daegon had caused that, and his inability to keep her safe had caused this. Her blindness had made her sad. He said he would make her happy, and even as he thought she was breathing her last the question had been asked, did I make you happy... always had been her answer.​

​

Today there were children which needed to be happy, and what better than song. Daegon had convinced Seraphina to sing for the children as they waited for their examinations. For a moment, Daegon sat back and listened as her song danced along the air with the happy melody which he had been so familiar with in recent years. After all, who could subject children to something sad. He smiled. His angel was singing. Daegon was happy.​

​

It was rare Daegon pressed his mind to hers rather than speak out loud. They liked to speak to each other. How could her interrupt her.​

​

"Sing well my lovely Sera. Once the deliveries have been made, I shall return."​

​

A small nod saw him exit as he looked for John Locke and Gianna Aegis . The pair were working with those who were injured and needed treatment. Following the Demon was a crew of droids bringing crates of bacta and other supplies to the field hospital which had been erected for the purpose of resettlement. His eyes landed upon the Exarch, someone who was becoming a new friend and a potential political ally.​

​

"Good day you two... I heard that bacta would be needed!"​

​

Naturally Daegon still had to make an entrance, and as per usual he was overdressed for the situation he was in.​

​

"Is there anything else you need?"​

 

[Rann Thress]

​

Tags: Yusha​

Rann noticed the slight falter in his nephew's face upon asking who his Mother was.

"I see. You need not go on. Yeah, I didn't know who my father was until... very recently."

He smiled when his nephew wished him 'good hunting.'

"Thanks. Me too."

Part of Rann wondered if his desire to kill the Traitors would kill him. Part of him didn't care, either way. He had too much to do to die just yet. But their transgressions demanded death.

"I'm sure the good people of Rodia will appreciate your help. Personally? I'll be honest with you. This is beneath me. This..." he gestured to the bit of destruction around them, "This is a symptom. We fix the damage today. Sure. But when they come back, and they will, it'll be destroyed again. Best option in my opinion? Just kill them. I don't know what their goddess or whatever. Don't know if she's real or whatever. The Terrible Two Traitors. They're responsible. One more so than the other, I think. But it doesn't matter. They both need to die."

"I don't know though if hunt is the right word, though. That feels so... sneaky. Anyway."

He shrugged. "It's probably time I stop brooding and fantasizing over this fight. There's work to be done here." He turned back around, observing the cleanup crews and vehicles begin to flood the immediate areas, sweeping the area and picking up debris and parts of droids. Removing all evidence of there ever being a fight here.

"Clean up. Boring. But necessary, I suppose."

He smiled "I wonder what sort of things were left behind."

​

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

Tag: Gerwald Lechner
Location: Unkown [In the Space Between - Rodia?]

​

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

She couldn’t reach him from where she was. Everything was dark, as it always was, but something was different. The former Knight Obsidian looked a little different. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair had grown so long that it passed her waist. She was wearing the Strike Armor of the Knights Obsidian that she had worn to the end. She’d died in it. Fitting—Thar it seemed to come with her now.

Naedira was never quite sure when any of this was real or not.

Was she really able to see him standing among the rubble of some broken structure? Or was it her imagination playing tricks on her again? She floated around him, just as much, as she floated around a few others that she worried over. Her beloved cousin. It seemed that her tether had strained or broken. She was no longer beholden to a world made of glass hurricanes and soul-sucking monsters.

In some ways, this was worse.

Now—She just felt lost. Confused. An invisible breeze stole her hair in the wind and her eyes closed. She didn’t want to look away from the pain that her friend was enduring, however, she couldn’t help. He thought so highly of her but she was little more than an unwanted ghost from a battle that had long since been forgotten. The sacrifice she had made had spared those she cared for. Her brothers and sisters in the Knights. Her friends. Her family. “I’m not strong. I never was.”

Her experience with the Mountain had taught her what real strength was. It taught her what real power was. A beast crushed her as if she had been made of nothing. As if everything she had worked for meant so very little that he could sweep it away with a bellow, a threat, and madness. She still got flashes of the hull of the Fortressa here and there. She remembered going through wall after wall.

Another sentence flooded her ears and she sighed gently.

“I was proud of you before.”

She was just apologetic that she couldn’t stay.

The realm she existed in let her see, but, it was lonely. Not even the Force would take her back. It was a torture of a new kind being trapped between a world between worlds. She was neither alive not was she actually gone. She had never learned to let her spirit stay past death. None of it was within her wheelhouse. Why was she here?

Why couldn’t she just rest?

Perhaps this was her penance for giving in too easily. For her body not being able to withstand the might of a titan crushing her down into dust. For not being smart enough, fast enough, or strong enough.

“I’m sorry, Gerwald. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”

 

[Shuklaar Kyrdol]

R E : B U I L D​

​

Spoiler: Equipment

• Armor:
  • Beskar'gam
    • 'Ysalamiri Birikad' Nutrient Frame
    • Shoulder mounts:
      • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
    • Back mounts:
      • A-03S Verpine Shatter Autocannon
      • MML-02S Miniaturized Missile Launcher
        • 8x Type-12A Anti-Personnel Rocket
        • 8x K-26 Explosive Anti-Vehicle Rocket
    • Left Vambrace:
      • CP-03V CryoBan Projector
      • PC-05V Plasma Caster
      • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
    • Right Vambrace:
      • METL-02V Micro Energy Torpedo Launcher
      • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
        • 2x Type-12A Anti-Personnel Rocket
        • 2x K-26 Explosive Anti-Vehicle Rocket
• Implant:
  • 'Rammikad' Enhancement Package
• Weapons:
  • 2x M-06S 'Skirata' Mra'jitr
  • Bes'phatir
  • DP-02 Class-D Heavy Disruptor Pistol
  • FL-01 Verpine Shatter Flechette Launcher
• Explosives:
  • 4x Det-Packs
• Grenades:
  • 4x CryoBan Grenades
  • 4x NOVA40 Plasma Grenade
  • 4x Class-A Thermal Detonator
• Droid:
  • Jare'la

​

​

​

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la"​

- Mandalorian phrase for the departed​

​

Tag: Hester Shedo | Damsy Callat​

​

Rodia. That was not a planet that Shuklaar had thought that he'd be back to. Not after what had happened. He'd have likely never set foot on the world if it wasn't under threat in any case. Security and added efforts to the reconstruction was the reason that he'd come to the planet this time. He'd brought with him Aran Netra, overall commander of Strill Securities ground forces as well as Nyles Kote. It was partly to show that the company was there to assist in efforts, going above and beyond their contract's terms.​

​

Beyond the few HAT-01 Busayr-class Heavy Assault Transports that were ferrying supplies and personnel to the planet, there were no other company ships in the city or outside. It had been Nyles' decision, given how crowded the airspace already was. 1st Jurkad Verde Tank Battalion Kad'b Marev's D Company and several dozens of personnel from Breshig War Forge Consolidated were in the city aiding with the reconstruction efforts as best as they could, with MCD-01 Gar'gotabor maintenance/construction droids assisting the organic personnel.​

​

1st Jurkad Verde Mechanized Infantry Battalion "Shereshoy" had landed their A, B and C companies to assist with providing security for company personnel, but also for the returning Rodians, as well as be on standby in the event that the crafty shabuire that they fought here weren't quite finished with their plans for Rodia. Shuklaar fully intended to oversee the entire process, but there was something that he had to attend to first. Rodia may have been the site of their clash with the radical group calling itself the 'Agents of Chaos', but it was also the site of one of the company's greatest mistakes.​

​

Rodia was where the Ram'ser-class super-heavy bomber Ashamur 1-1 under the command of Ver'alor Vral Netra engaged in accidental friendly fire. The action cost the Confederacy five of its Dauntless commandos. Shuklaar understood that on the battlefield, decisions had to be made quickly. They were given the green light to engage any and all hostile targets. At the distance they were operating at, visual identification of a man sized target in the chaos of the engagement below was unreliable at best. He'd personally reviewed the instrumentation and the recording of the incident. For whatever reason, the commandos' IFF tags never registered on the bomber's systems.​

​

Shuklaar had got to know Vral Netra better through the course of the investigation. However Vral had long been vouched for by Nyles, and he trusted Nyles with his life. He'd put his life and the lives of the whole system really in the man's hands, trusting him to buy time for the evacuation and then get them to safety. Vral Netra and his crew had a made a mistake, a mistake caused by equipment that was never made to work together in this capacity, apparently. He'd been informed that there'd be an official investigation. He wouldn't be surprised if he lost the contract, but he'd stand by his vode no matter what they said. What happened was an accident, just that.​

​

Still, they had a lot to learn from this. It would do them all some good to understand the gravity of the situation. It was for that reason that he'd insisted on both Aran and Nyles being present for this. He, Nyles, Aran, Rorke Kote and a six man fireteam of Jurkad Verd were en route to the location in a IFV-01 Trataab'morut Infantry Fighting Vehicle. None of them really said anything, they'd had a spirited enough conversation on the way down to the planet and when they'd dropped out of hyperspace in system. It was about then that the vehicle's scanners picked up a collapsing structure.​

​

Rorke was about to give the order to move in when a moment later another CDF unit in the area called in that it was clear. "It's clear, alor, just a little accidental non-conventional demolition, apparently. We'll go around the other way to avoid them." Shuklaar nodded. 'Non-conventional demolition' was code 'force user caused destruction', and was a lot more polite than 'that jetii/dar'jetii shabuire broke something'. Something one had to keep in mind if you wanted repeat clients. He sighed as he felt the IFV turn and change direction. What other new and interesting ways was the galaxy going to find to make the somber task more interesting he wondered.​

​

 

[Tabitha Solus]

Objective: Break ALL the things!
Location: Some weird computer room? Too many blinky lights. They should stop.
Tags: Hisashi
​

Tabitha expected purple, when she "broke in" to the building, but come on now. Even the floors and light fixtures were purple! Have some variety! Monochrome was just so boring to look at! The Confederacy's only saving grace on their interior decorating faux pax was that the lights themselves weren't tinted purple.

Oh this door looks important!

Stopping in front of a particularly funky looking door, Tabitha stepped forward to open it and looked inside.

"Huh. Who needs this many computers?"

Leaning her head back out into the hallway, Tabitha looked to the left... Looked to the right... And left again. No one in sight! Grinning with gum between her teeth, Tabitha walked deeper into the room and looked around. She couldn't tell what this room could be for, but there were A LOT of little blinky lights going off and on around the room.

Kind of headache inducing, really.

Tossing another stick of gum in her mouth, Tabitha looked over the nearest console. It had a bunch of colorful buttons, that surely did different things when someone was working. It would be a shame if they got... switched around. Pulling her vibrodagger out of its sheath, Tabitha got to work unlatching the buttons from their places.

Would someone mess something up and get in trouble after Tabitha left? Probably. But! Not her circus not her monkey.

Rearranging the buttons in no particular order, Tabitha stood back from her work, and smiled. She only wished she could be around to see which poor Confederate messed something up and got in trouble for it. For now though, she had more trouble to cause! Looking around, Tabitha got an... interesting idea.

'dara had pasted some spooky dooky Sith runes on her hand on Dxun to mess with the Jetii.

Tabitha remembered some of them.

This was gonna spook somebody and it was gonna be hilarious.

Spinning her vibrodagger in her hand, Tabitha walked over to one of the walls and started to carve into it. A squiggly line here, circle there, curly flourish in the middle...

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal paused to look back the way she'd come as Jalan Riyadosh called out to her. The presence of others was not unwelcome, though it was infrequent when she was out and about. Probably had to do with all the 'weird' and 'strange' and 'terrifying' things they associated with Witches. Most didn't seem to hold the same phobia when it came to Force Users, however. They dealt with similar matters... albeit less effectively. As it would turn out, however, the owner of this voice was one of her kind. That would make sense of the situation then. It'd explain the lack of discomfort in using her title as well.​

​

As the pale Witch looked back the sense of Otherness grew. Surged closer. A tendril wrapped itself about her right ankle, and drew her green eyes down toward it. Ah, so that was how it would be was it?​

​

Seconds or minutes passed before Jalan ventured into the deep far enough to catch sight of the Nightmother in the dark. A globe of pale light floating in the air nearby illuminating the ground on which she stood. Her back to the other Witch.​

​

At the sound of feet drawing closer, Vytal turned and regarded Jalan for a moment. "You don't have a fear of animate plants, do you, Dear?" Scattered about the ground were severed pieces of root that would easily have gone unnoticed. Perhaps mistaken as shadows or fallen matter from the tunnel having been bored into the planet to raise the dead, or naturally from where their bones rested in a large, vacuous chamber. Ordinarily, anyway.​

​

"Left over from the seed we planted to strengthen the Risen, it seems. Will need to uproot it before we leave or it'll make a mess of things above. Feeling alright?" she asked calmly. Animate plants weren't that strange, really. Oh, to most people it was terrifying -- plants just did not do that. Vytal had seen a planet infested with near-sentient fungus. Fast growing, agile roots was hardly as shocking. Besides, how else would they have grown on the bones of those they'd risen? Just seemed the seed had forgotten to stop, or some source of power below was sustaining the effect.​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Saraya Arenais]

​

Rodia. ​

Mila had watched from afar as the planet and its culture was torn from its roots, rocked by the hands of terrorists and traitors. Many of the royal households had been forbidden from taking part, even in a humanitarian capacity. At the time, it had made sense to Mila. Naboo paid its dues to the Confederacy in other ways. There was no longer a need for royalty to make a valiant show of riding into battle side by side with their people. ​

That was the stuff of fairy tales. Their worth lay in diplomacy. Their weapons were words. Battles fought in ballrooms and across wooden desks. That was where they were needed.​

Far beyond that, at the time, some had considered Naboo to be fortunately situated. A lengthy journey even by hyperdrive. Had they sent their personal military to aid them they would have been met with a scene of unprecedented destruction, despair. Death. The aftermath of the battle, useless to anyone save the fires that raged through already crumbling structures. Fortunate. That was the word that had been used. With all the tragic irony it implied. They had been so far from the turmoil. So far from the loss. They had been safe. ​

But they were safe no longer. ​

The young Queen stepped from the shuttle and into the Rodian sun. That alone was enough to force her to acknowledge the true extent of the damage caused to the once-great city. She knew this part of the city, familiar to her in a pristine recollection of childhood memories. The landing pad had been dark then. Shadowed by a towering skyline that blocked out the light and cast the ship in a cool, welcoming shade. Before the callous destruction, Rodia had been a vibrant planet. ​

Now? It reeked of burnt cinders and melted durasteel. Plumes of thick black smoke were still streaming into the skies, tainting what should have been pure blue with unnatural darkness. No wonder Hisashi had insisted on sending a security team a full day ahead.​

“Queen Karr!” Mila’s gaze was snatched from the scene, drawn to a face that beamed despite his surroundings. “Welcome to Rodia! Many thanks for making the journey, your majesty.” A soft smile formed on Mila’s face. “Sam. It’s so good to see you again.” Striding forward, much to the chagrin of the Queensguard that stood by either side of the loading ramp, Mila embraced the sandy-haired man. Time had worn his face since last she saw him; the impressions of crow’s feet beginning to form in the once supple skin near his eyes. “I was so sorry to hear about your father.”​

Sam shrugged as a heavy sigh fell from his lips. “You know him… down with the ship.” Mila could only frown, placing a comforting hand on his bicep. Words weren’t worth it. They would never be enough. Sam was the first to break the silence, doing so with a hearty breath that drew his shoulders up and put the smile back on his face. “You said you had a reason for visiting, your majesty?” His smile morphed into a grin, one that Mila recognised all too well, and one that she was all too happy to mirror. The last time they had met she was just a child, no older than thirteen. Young, foolish, willing to appease Sam’s wild and precarious nature. How times changed. ​

“I did.” Mila finally responded as she slid her arm into Sam’s, who began to direct them away from the landing pad. “Beyond the formal things… I recalled the bond between our fathers. The struggle your father went through to set this business up, how much it meant to him. To all of you.” Sam nodded. His was a rags to riches story. Before his sire invested in the founding of the factory that had made them their fortune, they had been destitute. One unfortunate event away from death at any moment. “I can imagine my father would turn in his grave if I didn’t offer you the credits to rebuild…” The burley Rodian man paused in his step, mouth agape as his gaze drifted to Mila. “Not from Naboo’s funding, obviously.” Mila quickly pointed out. “From my own personal savings.” Sam shook his head immediately. ​

“I won’t hear no for an answer.” Mila cut him off before a word could fall from his lips. “I could not live with myself if this tragic and pointless war destroyed everything you and your father worked so hard to achieve.” A look of determination crossed her sun-kissed features and found a permanent home. “If it helps you can consider this a payback, for all the times you managed to show me what a real childhood was.” Though he still had failed to say anything at all, Sam’s expression dropped into what Mila could only describe as pitifully sympathetic. Mila waved it off, which seemed to be the action that helped the man find his words.​

“If you insist, Mila.” Sam shrugged heavily, shifting the shirt across his back. "I don't know how I could ever repay you." A warm smile formed on Mila's painted lips as she shook her head incredulously. "You can start by showing me the factory. Regrettably, I cannot stay for long, but someone will be along shortly to help you assess the damage and give you the funds." He nodded and followed it with a dramatic hand gesture that pointed her to the end of the street and a lower then necessary bow. "Very well, your most royal, regal, highness." The young Queen laughed and shoved his shoulder lightly with the palm of her hand as they began the short walk to the factory. ​

Rodia would have Naboo's help in rebuilding, in more ways than one. ​

 

[Ascendant Muse]

R O D I A​

The place called Home.

For any soul who had been displaced, there was no greater feeling. To slide the key into the door and to know that the four walls yet stood was the definition of relief. Warmth. Safety. Community. Home. For billions of souls, that sensation bubbled within their chests. The people had returned, from dome to dome, and would resume their lives to the fullest.

There, of course, was work to be done.

Material things were lost, yes. Fresh cracks existed in the infrastructure that would be mended with time. But in this, they had that time. Together, the Southern Systems and more would band together to see its sister made whole. Together, Rodia would once again be that place called Home.

Note: From this point, the Dominion will be submitted for review. This does not mean the thread has ended - feel free to continue your stories!​

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Naedira Darcrath

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

The words echoed in his ear as he began to work. It was a monumental task, separating the rock from the rest of the debris. Gerwald did not actually think he would accomplish his task alone, but he remained away from the rest of the crowd. He had been broken in his own way since Taanab, since the day Naedira had died. So much of who he was and what he felt had been denied up until that point. Gerwald knew, but something had been stolen from him that day, a chance, an opportunity to simply express himself. The Mountain had taken something Gerwald feared he would never get back.

“I’m not strong. I never was.”

Gerwald lifted his head and turned toward the sound of her voice. She was there, in a way. The Obsidian Strike Armor which Gerwald had loathed to wear because he could never shift in it adorned her figure. It had always been more flattering on her than him, if armor was ever made to be so. Something was different, off. She looked tired, as though the fight and will to remain was fading.

The lupine took in a deep breath and sighed.

“Your strength has always been one of will, Naedira. Strong will, strong heart. There are few that would have stood against the Mountain as you did. It took strength, determination, to stand between him and the rest. You stood where others cowered.”

It was a simple truth, whether she would see it or not. He chuckled. It seemed they both saw the best in each other. She had been proud of him before, but what had he displayed for her to take pride in. Gerwald had left his home and people, turned his back on family, and seemed to abandon those he cared about. Death and despair seemed to surround the decisions he had made since joining the Confederacy. Yet, she had been proud.

Why was she apologizing? It was not her fault that death had taken her, or the Mountain had killed her. Naedira had chosen to fulfill her duty and protect. What did she have to apologize for.

“Naedira please,” Gerwald said as he moved to work on moving another pile of rock and brick away from the metal which was becoming visible underneath the pile. “Of all people who should be apologizing it should be me. I was not there to help with the mountain. I chased after him foolishly, came close to death because I allowed my rage and desire for revenge to blind me. We failed you on Vylmira. I failed you on Vylmira.”

Gerwald felt his words catch in the back of his throat. Ironic as it was, but the lupine had yet to let himself simply cry or grieve for the loss of his friend. He had been saddened by the fact he had lost his chance to tell her he loved her. Gerwald had been angered by the fact a Sith had snuffed her life out without a single care simply because he could. The lupine even trained himself to use the pain inside as fuel for the strides he had made in becoming stronger in the force, but Gerwald had never stopped to simply grieve.

Several tears fell before he faced the woman again. He was still so stubborn as to not allow her to see him cry.

“I am only stronger and better because I refuse to let go of the idea that one day you will be back, and I will finally get to tell you the one thing I should have that night at the ball when we danced.”

The scene had never left his mind. It was seared on his memory forever.

“I had just dipped you… you looked at me, knowing I had lied about not being able to dance, and it was like time stood still in the that moment, even as I let you back up onto your feet. I knew it then, and I should have just said something. I should have told you how I felt then.”

Gerwald continued the work. It had become his new addiction, his way to cope. Working up a sweat, physical labor, demanding routines, all of it was a way to deal with the aggression and anger. In truth Gerwald could not blame Naedira or the Mountain. He was not angry with either of them, and likely never had been.

Gerwald Lechner was angry with himself.

“I had promised I would be there… after what happened on Eshan I told you the next time I would be there… and I wasn’t.”

 

[John Locke]

Location: Rodia
Tagging: Gianna Aegis | Daegon Corvinus
Wearing: This

​

Dark eyes dropped down, staring into the depths of the caf mug, staring at the steaming liquid for a long moment. He could see the glowing turquoise of his eyes for a moment, reflected in the dark liquid like stars caught in the night’s sky. The stars that had always seemed so out of reach, the goal that he’d finally reached only to find that it wasn’t so different from home. The man took a deep breath, letting the aroma of the hot drink fill his lungs before he breathed out with a soft sigh, letting his gaze lift to meet his companion’s eyes as he let a small smile pull at the corner of his lips.

“I was thinking about a smile.”

The smile of the little girl running back to her parents, innocence and hope for the future all wrapped up in that bright smile. The grateful smile of a mother seeing her child able to run, to move without seeing pain written across her face. The smile on a healer’s face at seeing a family reunited, at seeing a little bit more happiness brought into the world. The memory of red hair and a bright smile that had kept him going in the depths of the dark days he’d thought he was losing his mind. The smile on his parent’s faces when he brought them to their house. It was amazing, the difference that a smile made, what it could mean coming from different people. Pride, hope, joy and fondness.

The galaxy could be a dark place, it could be filled with all sorts of horrors that could weigh on your mind and soul. From the dark ambitions of the sith to the monsters that inhabited the depths of space and the dark underbellies of planets. Even the acts of the denizens of the galaxy the great and small contributed small everyday things to the horrific acts that swept across the galaxy like a raging wildfire. Like a curtain of darkness. Yet, within that oppressive dark pinpricks of light still existed, moments of joy and bright gleaming smiles.

It was something he’d been missing far too much recently, those moments of brightness, of happiness. John knew he could find a million and one excuses for it, for letting the darkness creep into his vision. A million excuses but the truth of the matter was that it was a choice that he’d made, that he’d been making all his life. Ever since he’d decided to push Locke and Key towards the stars, he’d thrown himself from battle to battle, delving deeper and deeper into the world of politics and society. It had made him who he was, a power in the galaxy, a name that was known the galaxy over, but the cost…the cost had been more than he’d thought to pay. The nightmares, the icy claws that fought for purchase on his soul, the names and faces of those dead he could never allow himself to forget. There were days when the cost, the weight felt overwhelming, as if he couldn’t breathe beneath it, as if it would overwhelm him, leave him broken.

And then he came here, then he saw a smile that made it all worthwhile.

Dark eyes dropped down to stare at the mug of caf for a moment, staring at the still surface before he lifted it to his lips. The cyborg took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the liquid before he lifted his gaze up to meet Gia’s green eyes.

“There’s so much darkness out there it’s easy to lose track of the light that still exists, that we’re fighting for.”

In the end, it was light and goodness that proved to be the only thing really worth fighting to protect. A little girl’s giggle, a mother’s hope. A healer’s relief, a candle of light burning in the dark.

John felt Gianna’s hand press against his chest, the touch stilling him as he let his dark-eyed gaze settling on her face. It had been so long since they’d been that close since he’d felt that. The soothing aura that seemed to surround Gianna, lift everyone around her almost without conscious thought. That goodness that lifted just being in her presence that was one of the things he…it was one of the things.

“Not enough. I can never do enough.”

The man’s voice was quiet, rough. The woman had a way of slipping past his defences and rendering his years of experience as to nothing, to shatter the mask he wore like it never existed. For that brief moment, pure emotion wrote itself across his face, sadness touching his eyes, leaving him…exposed his vulnerabilities on display. The truth was he was a monster, a trader in people’s lives and futures. The weapons he created, the carnage that he’d caused in the galaxy, there was no forgiving it, there was no way to redress those scales. In comparison, Gianna was a bastion of what was light and good in the world. John had seen her take more and more of the weight, of the woes of those around onto herself, bending but never breaking under the weight. Yet, she’d never judged him, she never would.

He wanted to be able to do more, he needed to be more. To be better. It was the only way he could think to be worthy to stand here, to support and help. To be the man she saw when she looked at him instead of the monster he saw in the mirror.

He could feel her pull back her hand, the slight weight vanishing from his chest as the man raised on of his own, pressing it against the spot hers had occupied. There was no warmth there, no softness, just to cool hardness of the metal, of mechanical precision. The mechanical precision she was praising even as he felt the weight of the metal like chains around his heart.

Cold, calculating, hard. But at least useful for something.

One foot reached out, hooking through the legs of the metal stool, pulling it around as he lowered himself into it. This was a job he could focus on, this was something that he could understand. It took a few deep breaths for John to centre himself, to sink back into the mindset of the engineer, this was what he did just with another medium. He let her words flow over him, sinking into the lesson, it had been a long time since he was a student, but this was one lesson he was determined to master.

It was there that Daegon would find them, bent over the piece of synthflesh, dark eyes staring unblinkingly down as one after the other John laid a line of sutures down with the same precision as he might solder one of his projects. Precision he could manage, the myriad of other thoughts and tasks that were involved in learning this…those he would get.

The cyborg barely looked up, his cybernetics had already allowed him to observe the man’s approach, the building’s camera’s had already tracked the Viceroy. One metallic hand rose, gesturing down the hallway for a moment before John sat up straight, pressing both hands into the small of his back as he stretched before looking at the crazy-haired man.

His cybernetics were cutting edge but he just wasn’t as young as he’d been when he was an engineering student learning to manipulate metal and electronics.

“There’s a storeroom down there we’re using as a hub for supplies, the protocol droids can arrange to dispense it to the wards as they need it.”

The hospital hadn’t exactly come with the protocol droids, but local families had donated them and it had been easy enough to convince them this was just a really really complicated and chaotic party they were trying to manage. The automatons were in their element, able to show off their programming like they’d never managed before.

“Try to snag the silver one, he seems to be adjusting to the situation better than the others. Beyond that, roll up your sleeves and pitch in. We’re kinda understaffed so even if you can run supplies or just sit with people and help settle them it’d take a weight off.”