Private School's Out || Ashelia

[Var Talon]

TAG: Ashelia Solidor

Shattered.

When it came to the Knights Obsidian, that was the impression that the Echani received. A few months ago? They had been one of the most powerful fighting forces in the Galaxy. Folk from Geonosis to Eshan knew who they were - and how much bite they brought. Yet, after an artifact went haywire...the atmosphere shifted. There was a cloud which loomed over the survivors. A cocktail of survivor's guilt and despair for the most part. Better days were coming, of course. A new Commander had been chosen, recruitment was up; on paper things were on their way back to "normal." But, how normal could things be when the memory of killing a mutated friend still haunted the mind? How normal could things be when even the Roon facility remained broken.

Construction had begun, yet there was quite a long way to go before things were restored. Even then, it would never be the same. Var could tell by just looking in the eyes of his peers. He was fortunate enough to have evaded the Cataclysm. His obligations had not yet sent him walking down the Obsidian path. Yet, part of him wished that it had. He might have been able to lend a hand to these sorry souls. Help in the fight. Something. Because, as it stood now, there was no hope in many of their faces. Just a thousand yard stare. Oddly enough, the atmosphere was enough that it gave the Echani a swift kick in the posterior. It motivated him to look inward - to ask himself, really, did he have what it took to survive something like this.

He was confident in the training of his past. Confident in his experiences in supermax or as a mercenary. But against Hell itself?

Honestly? He didn't fare much of a chance. So, the time came to do something about it. He was talented enough in the Force, enough so that the Knighthood named him a full-fledged member on the spot. However, against monsters, he had no bags of tricks. He wasn't going to be reanimating legions of the dead - or whatever new tactic the Jedi brought out on the battlefield these days. But, he had to do something. That resulted in a trip to the Archives. Or, what was left of them. If nothing else, he could take a look at some literature and find something to work on. Figure out a path. A routine. Something tangible. Thus, as the clock hit noon, the Echani busied himself in browsing the surviving shelves.

Carelessness saw that, while stepping down the lane, he damn near collided with one of his peers. One that he'd recognize as, technically, a superior. "Oh chit," he said, offering an apologetic grin. "Didn't see you there."

He chuckled, and out of manners alone, introduced himself. "Name's Var, looking for some training literature. Any suggestions?"

​

 

[Ashelia Solidor]

F O C U S | Var Talon
T H E M E | Here.
V O I C E | Here.​

Sometimes Ashelia liked to ponder on her life’s choices and how unlucky she seemed to be in every opportunity offered to her. As a princess of her House, she was but a failure, doomed to get swallowed by the wanton schemes that soaked the backstages of court, as nobles could tear each other apart in search of fortune, influence, or titles, forcing Ashelia to nominate herself to a lifetime in exile, or at least a few centuries with nothing but the stars stretching as far the eyes could see. But Iedolas, her lord father and ruler of her kin, had other plans for his daughter, for he was a staunch believer of the sole ideal that a family member should always provide further honor to its kindred’s legacy, no matter what the cost could be for a person’s mind or soul. For eight years she roamed the galaxy’s sewers, served as a spy and agent on Coruscant’s underworld building her reputation on the Hutt’s good graces if there was any, dabbed herself in the slums of Nar Shaddaa, almost got killed in at least twenty different ways gathering odd trinkets, artifacts, exotic animals, prisoners, all in the name of House Solidor. So many had died due to her actions, her mind was torn apart piece by piece and her soul was cast out into the depths of a hellish existence of self-loathing, perhaps it was fear of having his most precious agent committing suicide that forced her lord father on exerting his influence through small acts of ruthlessness bathed with dizzying craft on providing Ashelia with a way of achieving a seat on the most prized order that the Confederacy had to offer.

His intentions were but a mystery to the female. A child never knew the thoughts hidden inside a parent’s mind, but as he had expected of her, Ashelia earned her place as one of the Lord Marshal’s that found themselves with a proper seat on its council, and there, the elzeri was given a newer vista on being able to assume an entirely dissimilar bright future, all within her grasp, and to prove that, Ashelia chose the Frontier as the province to be guarded and defended on this new opportunity given to her. In time, the girl found that even on this profession she would find tribulations to be resolved by her soul, like being tossed on the field as another bloodhound, on fighting her way through desperate dark nexuses created by the foulest beings in the galaxy and being forced to watch as her new home was reduced to one of the hadean levels of horror that filled the Unlight. At least, it had its little pleasures, as she soon discovered and out of the crumbling debris of that disaster, the Obsidian Council reshaped itself and provided Ashelia with the opportunity of finding a sanctuary to heal her own soul.

Little pleasures.

On Solitude, she was given a seat and the opportunity to be herself. The Frontier was one of the most injured places in all the Confederacy, for it hosted refugees fleeing the tempestuous lines destroyed by what she liked to call, the Chaotic War. A nigh-endless conflict that raged throughout the galaxy for decades, where every single cell had its finger pointed on someone else’s face, blaming them for something. On the east, the New Imperial Order undeservedly fought for dominance with the Sith Empire, using this New Order as an ideal for their foul deeds, bullying the entire galaxy to submission, their war was now almost expanding to the unknown charts ruled by the Eternal Empire, adjacent with the feeble hands of the Alliance, conquered by their democratic fictitious dreams of equality and corruption, and there was the matter of the Bryn’adul, rampaging planets, plundering, burning and destroying everything in their path on their unending hunger. In her opinion, they were all to blame, murderers and usurpers, annihilating cultures, making use of oppression, blasting all in their path, and pulverizing everything she had once believe in her innocent childish dreams of spring. The silly beliefs that children are taught to nourish in their youthful days, but now she knew what was hidden from her gaze, what sort of macabre scenario lurked among the stars, and unknown to her, Ashelia was now closest to understanding the mind of her sister better than anyone else.

Still, despite the solitary peace she made for herself on her new life on Solitude, life had a strange way of picking her up, and the gods enjoyed spitting on people’s eyes to remind them how fragile their existences were. And her lord father contacted her again, this time he wanted a scroll, one safely kept inside the Obsdian vaults, and as he did in the past, Iedolas appealed to cunning, to malicious remarks, to what she had once owed her family’s name and seduced her on this task, almost as if he knew, and he probably did that she was going there to study herself. The female promised herself that this would be the last time, the last she soils her honor in the name of the serpentine sigul of House Solidor.
“One last time.”, her lips whispered to the silent shelves as her fingers entwined on that small piece of treasure. Entering the library wasn’t as hard as someone would think, not for a Lady Marshal, everyone else seemed to avoid getting close to her when she passed them by, they nodded with their heads, harshly and minded their business, few had the nerve of meddling on a Marshal’s business, which served her purposes perfectly, and much like a burglar, Ashelia hid the scroll inside her clothes before anyone else had any chance of seeing her doing it. Both nostrils released a long, relieved sigh. Just enough time for a stranger’s voice to echo behind her back, making both her pointy ears to jump up and down, as her head slowly turned in his direction, offering only a glimpse of her golden eyes.

"Oh chit," he said, offering an apologetic grin to the emotionless expression that took over her own. "Didn't see you there." He chuckled, and out of manners alone, introduced himself. "Name's Var, looking for some training literature. Any suggestions?"

Almost uncomfortably, the left corner of her mouth, visible to him, twisted into a nigh-gentle smirk. Was he just being polite? Or did he saw her grabbing the scroll? He wouldn’t have any suspicion on her actions, she was a Marshal, but the issue regarding having too much confidence in her actions was that of fearing the unknown, the elzeri had no idea of who was who in the Obsidian Order, a few faces were known to her, but most of them were that of strangers, and strangers had an odd way of knowing too much. Calmer than a fiddler in his craft, the female turned her body to face him, her eyes started to measure him, from head till the dirt on his boots before focusing her gaze on his own, and molding a smooth tone to manner her speech.
“Long days and pleasant nights.”, as it was customary of her people when dealing with strangers. The palm of her right hand went to her chest, properly introducing herself and buy herself more time to assess if he was a threat, or not. “I am called Ashe of the Council, h-how may I assist you in what you seek? And what would this endeavor be all about? Exactly.”