Private Respect the Crossroads

[Sycorax Laveaux]

It was the middle of a weekday. The halls of Oridin City Hospital on Fondor were bustling as usual, with doctors and nurses hurriedly moving from room to room.

A blond man dressed in scrubs walked with purpose down the corridor, carrying a tray of syringes. He deftly sidestepped a cleaning droid scrubbing the floor, then dodged a doctor jogging in the opposite direction, the hem of her white lab coat flapping behind her like a cape. They were in the ICU, where patients in critical condition were housed.

The man continued to make his way toward his destination: Room 1212, where the Senator of Dahrtag was being kept. Upon arriving at the door, he hesitated, glancing around him to see if anyone else was watching. Only then did he raise a hand to knock.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Then, a darkly dressed form turned the corner.

Alicio had been to Fondor only sparingly since it began officially hosting the Alliance capital. He'd helped Orso and his other aides get settled into new apartments, prepared his office for how he would want it in his sparse visits. He liked Fondor well enough, and couldn't deny it's strategic importance... but a large part of him considered Coruscant of all places as a home. Being away from it for senate meetings felt off-putting, strange.

Not that he spent much time here. Nearly all of his meetings since the move had been by holo.

But then, he heard of Sycorax, a questionable ally of his, being admitted into intensive care. She was stable enough for visitors, thank the Force, so Alicio decided to offer a meeting, under the pretense of business. Why he chose this day, at this time, of all the days and times, he couldn't say. It just felt... important, to be here now.

"Hello," Alicio said, giving the apparent doctor or nurse a shaded smile. "I think I have an appointment here."

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

The blond man’s eyes darted toward the figure approaching from his left, taking in his dark-clad appearance and youthful face. “I didn’t know the Senator was receiving visitors,” he said.

He didn’t recognize Alicio Organa—not everyone cares about the Alderaanian royal family—but he did take note of the fine clothing the visitor wore and the context of such a visit. This was someone rich and probably important.

Just then, the door opened. Immediately a cloud of earthy scent assailed them, the smell of herbs and spices present where one would expect a more antiseptic odor. A tall, thin bodyguard with white hair cut in a flattop style loomed in the doorway, flanked by two other bodyguards. He took a moment to glance between the two, before he stepped aside to let them in.

The blond man’s gaze was momentarily drawn to the floor, his expression showing the slightest surprise. Of course she had her hospital room blessed. Why hadn't he considered that beforehand?

Once a person crossed the threshold, the spell would take effect. The Force could still be felt inside the room, but it was harder to reach, as though the distance between the physical and the spiritual realms had substantially increased. Calling upon it would require more effort, to say nothing of its effect on Force-imbued objects.

Hesitating, the blond turned to Alicio and plastered on a polite smile. "I don't think she'll want me taking her blood while you're here. You go on in, I'll come back later."

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"She is," he said, briefly wondering at the blond's surprise. Was she in worse condition than he'd been led to believe?

The door opened, and had Alicio not kept an eye on the Future, he may have jumped at the sudden movement. Instead, he looked at the bodyguard, and tried for a pleasant nod. The man stood aside, and the scrubbed individual backed off, leaving Alicio another flitting moment of curiosity, but it passed quickly enough. "Thank you. I'll try not to keep you waiting." The former Count peeked a little further into the future, watching as the hospital worker excused himself. Interesting...

With only the briefest of hesitations, Alicio stepped into the room, feeling an immediate blandness in the tastes of the Force, and deciding not to let it get to him. The Future, which was usually as clear to him as the present, became a distant twinkle in his mind. He braved on regardless, scanning the room, and eventually finding Sycorax.

"Senator," he said, giving the Dahrtag representative a curt bow, wherever she happened to be. "Thank you for receiving me."

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Like some types of spicy food, Dahrtagian voodoo is one of those flavors that takes a moment to hit you. And when it does, it hits hard. Suddenly you are in the jungle, every sense overwhelmed by heat and humidity, color and noise, the constant pulse of life filling your ears, your body, your soul. That was why the Future felt distant—the present was too immediate, too demanding, all-consuming.

It wasn’t just the protection ward. The Senator of Dahrtag had converted her sterile hospital room into a shrine to the old ways of her homeworld. The walls were completely covered in ancient religious iconography, and every available surface seemed to hold a little statue or symbol representing the loa, surrounded by offerings.

Sycorax was sitting on the bed, looking pale and shrunken but not yet vanquished. Her hair and face were made up in their usual bold, dark manner, and she wore an elegant black dress which, while stylish, only made her wasted body all the more apparent, delicate bones poking through the lace covering her shoulders.

“Hello, Alicio.” Her greeting was deliberately casual and friendly. She seemed to take some small pleasure in offsetting his curtness. After all, she genuinely liked him almost as much as he disliked her. “It’s nice to see you. How have you been?”

---

“Alicio Organa is there. Kill him too.”

The blond man grimaced, pushing aside a mop that had fallen on him. He was hiding inside a storage closet, clutching a handheld holoprojector in his palm. The hooded figure on the projector flickered, the connection poor but safely encrypted.

“Is it really wise to assassinate the King of Alderaan?” he asked.

The hologram shook its head. “It isn't his royal blood that concerns my master. It's his power and influence in the Senate. That thranta-humper is no friend of ours. It would be better if he were gone.”

Sighing, the blond glanced at the half-formed doll he had made. A small sample of Sycorax’s blood would have completed it, and he could’ve finished this job from the comfort of his yacht, plunging a needle through the doll's heart or head. But of course things couldn’t be that simple. "I expect double the pay for two targets. No, triple. He's royalty, after all."

"You'll be richly rewarded." The hologram held up a finger. "Be careful with him. I hear he's a Jedi in all but name."

"He's also currently inside a priest's protection ward."

"Then make sure he never leaves it. I would hate to have to clean up your mess. Byron out."

The hologram disappeared, and the projector began to smoke, a self-destruct mechanism frying its internal components. Tossing what was left of it aside, the blond cracked his knuckles. "Time to do this the old fashioned way..."

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

“Hello, Alicio. It’s nice to see you. How have you been?”

There was a beat of silence from the Alderaanian king, as he observed a pale, skeletal Sycorax with shrouded eyes. It was difficult to focus- the pounding of the Force in his ears, the explosion of flavors on his tongue after that initial drain, was proving to be quite the distraction. Not to mention a nagging, persistent worry at the woman's condition.

"I'm fine." He stepped back, leaning on a hip, failing to match Senator Laveaux's casual energy. He didn't often feel fine, but he didn't exactly have grounds to complain. Not while his conversation partner was in the ICU. "The children enjoy Alderaan well enough. They keep pestering our new chefs about making nuna nuggets." A glimmer of a smile appeared and faded, just as quickly. "When we first moved from Coruscant, I'd been thankful the kids would finally grow up somewhere with fresh air. Now... I have more reason to be thankful for our departure."

Under normal circumstances, he would've eagerly returned the question. But not this time. Instead, he looked around, noting the decorations, the religious iconography. He turned to a small statuette, observing it with a curious eye. He didn't reach out, not with his hand, not with the Force.

"What are they?"

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

In response to her question, Alicio regaled her with the minutiae of his private life. Sycorax smiled and nodded as he blathered on about his children and the Organas’ recent move from Coruscant to Alderaan, though she could not relate in the slightest to the domestic tranquility he described.

Afterwards, he didn’t bother to extend the same courtesy and ask her how she was doing. Not that her sorry state wasn’t already apparent—and who actually wants to discuss one’s ailments? But she supposed he meant it as an insult. It was as close as Alicio Organa could get to insulting someone, anyway.

"What are they?"

Her carefully penciled eyebrows rose. It was rare that anyone cared enough to ask about her faith, and if she brought it up, well… “The loa are certain powerful spirits, likened to gods or saints. They can enter our world to ride—er, possess the living, and through them offer advice, admonishments, and healing."

She focused on the specific statue he was looking at. It depicted a kindly old man with a long beard, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and balancing a bindle against one shoulder. “That is Legba. 'The old man who guards the crossroads.' He controls the crossing over from one world to the next, and can be called upon for protection.” Evidently Legba was the point from which the protection ward originated. Or the little statuette was, at least, the carved wood noticeably imbued with the Force.

Sycorax grew somber. “If something happens to me, Alicio, you must be wary of my replacement. She'll be everything I'm not—a sweet talker, with honeyed words and pleasant smiles, easy to get along with. She'll seem like a better person than I am, willing to do all the nice, charitable things I vetoed. But it will all be lies and hidden agendas. You must not fall under her sway." Her eyes narrowed. "Because if you let her undo all of my hard work, I'll haunt your ass."

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio could taste the Force in the little statuette. It caused him to pucker his lips, so potent was the flavor. He knew Sycorax was... weary of the Force. It was a little ironic that her way of dampening it required the Force. He knew of other traditions that held similar beliefs. His mood soured at the memory.

Still, the story of the Loa struck a chord with him. It reminded him a little of Alderaan's own religious traditions. Great spirits of myth, able to protect their people with magic. He'd never put much stock in Grimtaash the Molator, but he understood the power of belief, of... shared purpose. The meaning that it gave.

The way Sycorax spoke about her successor... it caused Alicio's eyes to sharpen with thought. "My wife is one of the best healers in the galaxy. And I'm passable, as well." Alicio let a wry smirk through, expecting an abrasive, or perhaps a cheeky reply. He had to offer, regardless. "I would like if you'd let me try to help you."

"...Do you expect to meet him soon, Laveaux?"

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

"My wife is one of the best healers in the galaxy. And I'm passable, as well. I would like if you'd let me try to help you."

“I know how Jedi healing works,” she said. “You’d have to know what’s causing the problem in order to fix it.”

It is impossible to convey in words the anguish of having an illness that confounds the experts, rendering you unable to know what is happening to your own body. Sycorax sounded numb to it all, her tone flat. “The doctors can’t figure it out. Their tests are inconclusive. They say it’s like chasing a moving target.” She spread her hands. Absent the bandages she usually covered them with, their gruesome deformity was on full display. She was missing fingers; the skin of her palms was warped and scarred where it had melted under intense heat. Even her fingerprints had been burned away in the inferno.

“Even if you or your wife could help me, I’d have to leave the protection of the loa for you to do so. That is a risk I can’t afford to take.”

"...Do you expect to meet him soon, Laveaux?"

For several moments, Sycorax said nothing. Then, she gestured to another statuette which occupied its own corner of the room. “There is Erzuli. She is many things, but one of her spheres is good health. Another is hope.” She smiled faintly. “I’ve never had the honor of being possessed by a loa, but if it did happen, I’ve always hoped it would be her.”

There was a knock on the door. Sycorax heaved a sigh, then nodded to her bodyguards. "See who it is."

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

The Force could also be used to sense the problem. But Alicio didn't fight her tooth and nail on the point, especially since it was made moot by her second. He didn't understand her insistence to be around the loa, whether it was for religious, or protective reasons. But if there was a chance to even discover the underlying issue... of course, Alicio wanted to take it.

Instead, he allowed his attention to be drawn to another statuette. This one, a being embodying hope. Alicio allowed his faint smile to mimic Sycorax's, though he couldn't quite banish a growing sorrow in his heart. "I... hope you get that chance, too." He didn't understand entirely what getting possessed by the loa meant, but if it were to happen, Alicio figured being possessed by hope wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Not paying much mind to the knock at the door, Alicio continued his questions, stepping a little closer to her bedside, unperturbed by the nasty, melting burns on her arms. "Why is it risky, to be without them?"

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Erzuli was depicted as a beautiful woman, mid-dance, with long hair and a flowing, feminine dress. There was evidently more to her than just health and hope, but her role in the room was protective, like Legba.

"Why is it risky, to be without them?"

Sycorax’s smile was thin. “You saw for yourself the sort of enemies I’ve made. Werdegast may not have the Force, but he employs those who do. Do you remember the young man who stood next to him in the mausoleum, the one with the colorful cloaks?”

Werdegast got the attention of one of his enforcers. "If he tries to follow through on his idiotic threat, take care of him. But don't kill him outright. He smells delicious, and I'm calling dibs."

“His name is Byron Devorak. He’s a bocor, a sorcerer. They have powers that even the Sith wouldn’t dare to dream of.”

Her bodyguard opened the door. Outside stood the same blond from earlier, still sheepishly holding his tray. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “The doctor is insisting you have bloodwork done as soon as possible.”

Sycorax heaved a sigh. She had been poked and prodded so much as of late, you would think the doctors would've had enough samples of her to last a lifetime. "Very well. Let's get this over with."

The blond entered and the bodyguard slid the door shut behind him. Another one of the bodyguards, an aquatic alien, watched him as he crossed the room. Round fish eyes suddenly widened. "Gun!" he hissed, reaching for the blaster at his hip.

Too late. The blond drew his concealed weapon first, firing a spray of silenced bolts at the guards.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio found a grim frown. So, Sycorax's home had it's own dark Force traditions. He crossed his arms, conceding defeat, and none the happier for it. "I remember him. I... understand."

The doctor from before was allowed inside, and again, Alicio paid him little mind, save for a small, acknowledging nod. Alicio turned back to Laveaux, a quiet discomfort in his eyes. "Regardless, I find it difficult to accept-"

There was a subtle taste in the air, past the spices and distractions. Quiet, but there- if he weren't so specialized in his precognition, he would have never felt it. Danger.

Alicio wheeled around, just in time to watch the blond man spray the guards. Not waiting to see the result, the king of Alderaan hefted the first thing he could get his hands on- a non-attuned, metal statue- and threw it dead center at the would-be assassin. The area was bathed in dark blue as Introspect was lit, and Alicio positioned himself in front of his fellow senator's bed, taking up a defensive pose.

Would he be able to deflect blaster bolts in this room? He wasn't sure, but he was more than willing to try.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

The beginnings of a smirk were already curling Sycorax’s mouth, a coy response prepped and ready to leave her lips. But then she saw by the look on Alicio’s face that something was wrong, and her little smile faded.

Before she could ask what, Gill cried out that the phlebotomist who was there to draw her blood actually had a gun. One of the blond's automatic blaster bolts hit the fishman in the arm, sparing his life but preventing him from firing his gun in defense of his boss. The other two guards hit the floor to escape the spray.

Both reached for their weapons, but the one over by the door, Karl, was faster. He drew his pistol and fired at the assassin, who used the metal tray full of syringes he had been carrying as a shield. The shot blackened the surface of the tray, but failed to penetrate the metal.

At the same time Alicio grabbed the metal statuette and chucked it at the blond, the second guard tried his shot. The assassin moved out of the way to avoid the former, and wound up dodging the latter as well. He fired again, his aim more precise, hitting both of the formerly uninjured guards. Then he turned toward Sycorax.

Alicio stood in the way, his lightsaber ignited. The assassin’s eyes widened as he realized that if the Alderaanian were smart—if he did not hesitate—he could dispatch him before he even had a chance to take a shot. His finger pumped the trigger of his overheated blaster, hoping to complete this job before he lost an arm. Or a head.

Alicio Organa​