Sleepwalking

[Armand Temi]

​

High above the Solleu River stood the understated dome of the Funeral Temple of Theed. Dusk on Naboo was quickly approaching, the fireball sun just about to set, the rush of nearby waterfalls providing a lulling cadence of white noise and the spattering of drops on smooth stones.

Livna Zios strolled around the Temple as though sleepwalking. The nearby sounds of the waterfall had calmed her, relaxing her anxious soul. She was at this very location attempting to follow the footsteps of her former Priestess. Why Lady Tiin had come to the Funeral Temple, she did not know, although the Caprine mystic often visited holy places on her own to meditate and reflect.

Was she communing with the ghosts of the Elders she’d slaughtered, thought Livna, thinking back to the bloody day on Iktotch, when Briga Tiin and her Sith Master had executed twelve of the most respected Priests who presided over the Temple of Ax’no congregation? Her mood had turned quite dark today, but hopefully she’d be able to find traces of what brought Priestess Tiin to this very spot.

Livna’s torture at the clawed hands of the Sith Mystic was still a fresh psychic wound; not to mention her run in with another Sith Lord in the Nature Preserve on Garsi which left both her skin and her ego bruised, having to barter for her life, essentially agreeing to become an infochant of sorts for whatever intelligence he needed.

Torches flared inside the Funeral Temple and Livna crept inside to inspect the pyre. The smell of a fresh fire and waft of dust, reminiscent of grey ashes but most likely burning from a nearby field, caused her flesh to goose-bump and a shudder to run up her spine.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

In keeping with the old ways of the Naboo, a corpse must be burned within two days of expiration.

Various incenses and expensive spices lay strewn around the immaculate form of a man freshly deceased, his body well preserved by skilled morticians. The somber aura that permeated the room tasted thick with regret, almost as if the spirit that lingered there had unfinished business with the world of the living. Dusk swallowed the sky and starlight flickered overhead as the eternally burning pyre slowly ate away at all things that were offered up to it. The ashes that fell from that fire would be swallowed up in the river far below, swept away to return to Naboo itself. The restless soul would find comfort in the warmth of the flames, the reality of their impermanence made manifest.

Low chanting rumbled from the chests of every dark robed onlooker as they lifted the cadaver and prayed over it, and one man sloshed sacred oils over the body in steady spurts. Alkor watched from beneath the shadows of his hood as the heat licked at lifeless flesh, and his expression hardened as wails of anguish rose from several members of the procession. Two younger women shed their hoods in sorrow and fell to their knees as a family member became one with their homeworld, and smoke billowed skyward in a black plume.

It was not often that the Jen'jidai bothered to witness such morose spectacles. The family met one another in a tragic embrace, and the deep blue gaze of a Corellian Exile searched over the scene thoughtfully. Normally, when a man died he went on to become one with the Force, or his spirit found peace in some other form. It was a pockmark of the darkness when a spirit managed to persist after demise. At the behest of Plaga, Alkor learned to understand the notions that surrounded death, and to feel the lingering sentiments of the departed.

This death had not been natural.

He kept his thoughts on the matter to himself, and continued to watch in stoic silence as the body began to writhe in the pyre. Smoldering fabric fell away and burned to ash in fluid time with tears just beyond the precipice. "Uncle Vuroja," one small child sniffed, "you never finished telling me the story of the Queen and her Jedi." Hot water stained the cheeks of that small girl as her mother placed a finger to her lips. She belted out another sob for good measure.

"Brother, you were too young to leave us," the mother crooned, "but the will of the Force is beyond us to comprehend. It ought not be questioned."

"Why do people die, momma?" the child managed to croak, each syllable broken. "Why does the Force take them?"

"Hush child," the mother whispered. "Hush..."

Sorrow and bitterness saturated the antechamber as the still hooded men poured salts over the flame and it spat back at them green and golden flames. The corpse continued to burn, but all eyes in the room turned to the shifting colors transfixed. "When one life ends, another begins," the Priest recited, "Naboo gives, Naboo takes away. Her child Vuroja returns now to Her, and to the Force."

The girl broke down again. "Amen," the mother intoned woefully, and a chorus followed her. "Amen."

Alkor crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

"Who among you will wish for peace," the Priest asked, "for those who leave us and go on to join the Force? Speak now."

In answer, a collective "I will" mumbled from the crowd and the Elder led them in a prayer in their Ancient Language. The Dark Jedi opened his eyes to watch the fire, and the body that faded within. As the congregation seemed to momentarily suspend their realty, he tilted his head backward and allowed the lingering emotions there to flow through his mind, and his thoughts drifted backward, ever backward.

His eyes glazed over as his mind traversed eternity, if only to seek a single man.

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

As Livna walked into the temple, she realized that a funeral was taking place. What an interloper I must be, she thought, slightly ashamed that she was there as a mere spectator. Luckily, the maiden blended in, wearing a somber-colored gown, though Livna wasn’t required to cover up as much as her former Lady. Her arms, and even some of her torso was bare, alluding to the fact that she was likely not a family member of the deceased.

Despite her better judgement, curiosity drove her deeper into the structure until she was among the thick circle of mourners, hiding as best as she could in a cluster of inconsolable women. She realized her long, silvery horns would make her stand out so she pulled up her hood to hide them.

The body, now consumed by flames, began to breakdown and dissolve into ash. Livna had to turn away – while her former mistress enjoyed emotionally wrought and grisly scenes such as this, the Caprine maiden had not stomach for it - and as she did she caught the eye of the Dark Jedi who was also in the temple.

A Naboo woman next to her moved close enough to whisper: “Are you a relative?”

“No, I’m not, but I come to pay my respects just the same.”

She smiled sadly and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief, then went back to watching the pyre. The flames now fueled by skin, bones and body fluids, leapt upwards towards the dome of the temple. Livna was hypnotized for a moment by the calm ritual. There was dignity in this death. Not like the Priests of Iktotch who were murdered, she thought. Their homicides were degrading and gruesome. She sighed and squeezed the hand of the woman next to her, providing comfort where she could.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

His eyelids began to flicker as the abrupt sound of a new voice broke his concentration. His consciousness propelled backward through the infinities, away from its destination and back toward his mortal coil. As the impact of his own essence rejoining his body shook him, Alkor slowly raised a hand to his forehead as it throbbed. It was not often he entered a trance to seek information from those long departed, and when he did, it was best done in a somber setting where none would interfere with him. Nonetheless, her words blurred together as she spoke, still well away from him. Alkor could not understand anything other than a strange, masculine voice that seemed full of sadness.

The spirit had reached back for him, but he was prematurely taken from his meditation. Annoyed, Alkor brushed the hair from his eyes and glanced toward the newcomer, who appeared to be clad as an outsider and not at all properly for the ritual that took place before her. It was not his place to chide her for that, nor did it seem that the woman intended to do so either. When his senses ceased jarring, the Jen'jidai managed to make out the tail end of what she said. "...to pay my respects..."

It appeared that though she did not belong, the woman did have a shred of respect for the dead. Something precious, it was to be said for that. Few people cared what happened to a corpse or the soul that once inhabited it after the life ended. Alkor could tell that this woman was not Nabeen, or if she was, she had been away for long enough that she did not share in the ritualistic mentality of the mourners. So why had she come to this place?

Haunting words from the spirit still echoed fresh in his mind. "The Dark Lady." Could it be that some Sith woman had come to this place seeking something? And had the fallen man denied her? Alkor did not intend to make any such assumptions. Due to the failure of his own attempt to commune with the spirit, it was already passing into oblivion. The generous thing about communication with a spirit was that, if you did not rip it violently from the jaws of death, the force would not rip it apart in a voracious attempt to claim it. It simply passed into darkness, a cold and calm place that Alkor truly believed was the only peace that could ever exist.

That was the kind of humane end he offered. Unlike those who generally sought knowledge from death, he had a measure of respect for those who left the galaxy in search of better things. Alkor Centaris had nothing if not his honor.

"The Dark Lady," he repeated barely above a whisper. "What does that mean, I wonder...?"

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

There was no apparent reason that Priestess Tiin had been at this very location. It wasn’t a large structure and quite open to the public. Livna had to chalk this one up to her former mistress just sightseeing on Naboo and unless she could find more clues to why she picked the Theed Temple of all of the temples in the galaxy, her search had been fruitless so far.

Still entranced by the slowly receding torso of the deceased, Livna wondered if her employer would be upset that she hadn’t found anything out yet, for the blonde maiden was not just there seeking information for herself. She had her own master of sorts – a man named Marcus, although she was positive that wasn’t his real name. She sold information to him occasionally and was hoping to find out something here that was worth a couple of credits.

Yet, why should a former servant be anything but that in the galaxy? I should knock on the Naboo palace doors and ask if they need any kitchen helpers, she thought. Livna was normally free-spirited and unjaded. Perhaps the funeral was affecting her mood.

She noticed the Dark Jedi again, hand to his temple as though having a vision. She knew that gesture from her own Priestess who excelled in divination and precognition. If he were a fellow seer… perhaps Briga Tiin had come to visit him? She certainly enjoyed the company of fellow soothsayers and sorcerers.

Weaving through the mourners, slowly and as to not attract too much attention, she made her way over to the hooded man with the dark hair. His mouth was moving, perhaps a prayer or even an incantation. In a very soft voice, Livna leaned closer to his ear and asked the same question she’d been asked moments ago: “Did you know the deceased?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor never noticed her coming closer. The ache dulled his senses, and in his thoughts had trailed away from the present. The sound of a soft, silky voice in his ear demanded attention, so his eyes shifted quickly over to her, albeit sidelong. He did not turn his head to face her, in spite of what he wanted to do. Alkor was never keen on someone coming too close to him, let alone have their lips so close to his ear. His body language did not belie this defensive mindset, however, as he answered the question honestly enough. "No," he croaked in a throaty whisper, "I rarely get to parley with the condemned before they expire, these days."

It was in no small way a cryptic statement, though it gave little away about his intentions. "The family, the friends, and their sorrow- it's just a familiarity. More than any place in the galaxy, funerals remind me of..." he debated on which word to use, for a moment. Master? No, that time in his life was gone. The past? Old friends? "Home," he decided. "It reminds me of home."

Corellia. A lifetime ago, before everything changed, a younger version of the man in black stared up at azure skies with childish notions of freedom. The youthful smile that mirrors once cast back in his face had twisted into an almost lifeless, unfeeling apathy. Corellia spat him out like a flavorless chew that it no longer had any use for. Of course death reminded him of home. There was no going back for him, as there was no return from beyond the threshold.

Though the somber sensation that filled the room dredged tears from the eyes of those gathered, it gave at least one man an odd sense of calm. "And what lure draws a lady dressed so unseemly for the occasion to a place of the dead?"

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

“Do you know for certain that he was condemned?” Livna asked, still whispering her slightly hypothetical question. After all, a debate about good and evil, light and dark in the Theed Temple surrounded by hushed mourners and sobbing men and women wasn’t really going to take place. Not without attracting unwanted attention. But the fact that a cremation reminded him of his home saddened her.

Suddenly Livna felt that she’d intruded far too much on this funeral. And the gregarious horned maiden felt that if the dark-haired man needed to sing his own lament, they might as well do it over a glass of wine or a pint. That was the Caprine way after all. Lubricate your senses with spirits and drown your sorrows in them as well.

She smirked at the stranger’s assessment of her outfit. “I came here thinking the temple would be empty. I’m searching for information. Following a trail.” She glanced down at a sleeveless arm, her shoulder sun-kissed and freckled from spending much of her time outdoors.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?” she asked. “It's Theed, so there are not many cantinas. But there’s a wine and ale house just south of the palace. You’re right I’m improperly dressed and feel much like an interloper here.” She nodded her head at the temple exit, causing her hood to fall to her shoulders, her broad silver horns in full display. “What say you?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Her initial question drew his gaze, as well as a slight frown. Alkor understood most of the galaxy held more optimistic views on death, and about how people went to meet their fate; but the fact remained that in one facet, death was a consignment and those who found themselves at its door or on the other side were given few options. His lips parted with the intention of correcting her for the indiscretion, but quickly they clamped shut just as quickly. Alkor had no desire to chide a girl for her questions, especially if she lacked wisdom on the matters involved.

It was only natural for a mortal with finite understanding to seek knowledge. The nature of humankind, as well as other races in the galaxy was curiosity. A healthy lust for new information helped to cultivate not only commerce, but relations between people, and helped to establish a strive for prosperity. This young girl encapsulated with that single, seemingly insignicant act, all of the things his Master once spoke of with regard to the prospect for creation in the hearts of men. Those who fostered that quality became kind, gentle people who persevered through life's trials.

But as with all things, life existed in a state of harsh duality. Even those with kindness in their heart held the capacity to commit atrocities. For a moment as he watched her, Alkor wondered what path the girl would ultimately take through life. Would her walk lead toward heaven, or would she plummet toward inevitable hell? His gaze hardened significantly as the ominous air washed away from them and the crackle of flames became the lone sound in the room.

"Following a trail?" he muttered as her words struck him odd. That she might seek someone in a house of dying would seem ineffectual to anyone else, but with his knowledge of the nature of the deceased's end- limited as it may have been- Alkor could not help but entertain the thought that there was some connection. In fact, a palpable sensation that surrounded her and shuddered down his spine cemented his beliefs. In spite of this, he decided to feign ignorance.

Perhaps the truth would become clear with time.

As they parted through the door and it creaked slowly, softly shut in their wake, moonlight kissed Alkor's already pale features and he appeared almost white. The soft glow took his eyes for a moment as he regarded her, then drifted away when he turned away. Gently, the evening breeze washed through his hair and cloak as he began in the direction she had indicated.

"I say," he answered at last once they were beyond earshot of the mourners, "you're following a strange trail. I'll buy your first drink in exchange for your tale. Do you find these terms agreeable?"

He flashed a credit chip between two fingers and held it in front of her, waiting for an answer.

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

The odor of the funeral pyre would cling to the two of them as they exited the temple, the fresh air a welcome relief. But it wasn’t a bad smell as Theed saw to it that the ritual was one of solemnity, and not a macabre experience. So whether it was wood, or oils or incense, the odor in Livna’s blonde locks was more reminiscent of a campfire than burning flesh. The Caprine maiden closed her eyes for a moment, letting the breeze wash over them. Her own dark gown fluttered around her ankles. Livna wore sandals, quite a modest, worn pair. While she had a regal quality, she would not be mistaken for nobility.

She turned to the stranger - now her companion for a drink or two at least – as he spoke. Her eyes watched the credit chit a little too eagerly also attesting to the fact that perhaps, the maiden was experiencing some hard times.

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “You seem like a wise man, and perhaps you can give me counsel on my situation.” There was a slight prickle of wariness, still. Livna had only escaped from her mistress quite recently, but it was likely Priestess Tiin already had hunters on her back, if she'd meant that much to her former Lady. Isn't it silly to think I would be sad to be utterly ignored by Briga after all of this time? Loyalty was a strange emotion, she thought.

“What is your name?” she asked. The ale house could be seen ahead, a warm beacon of light and laughter in a square building with a patina dome as in the ubiquitous architectural style of Naboo.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

She called him wise, and claimed to seek council, so Alkor could not help but to wonder if there was something else this woman wanted. His features betrayed nothing of these thoughts as he watched her quietly. When she asked for his name, however, Alkor visibly frowned. He disliked when people sought that level of familiarity with him so casually. It made sense, if they were to share a drink. Beyond that, though...

"Alkor," he answered. No need to give his full name, though if she really wanted to know it would not be hard to find information about a dangerous criminal on the HoloNet. Even if his crimes were severely dated and his sentencing had been thoroughly carried out well over ten years prior to their current conversation. The door swung open with a flick of the Jen'jidai's wrist and he gestured for her to enter ahead of him. Despite his outward appearance- rugged, tattered clothes and the subtle stink of blood, of you were keen enough to pick up on that- he portrayed the gentility of a sophisticated man.

The words of his master were clear at the forefront of his mind: It is, of course, important that no one ever sees you as weak. Whether it be dressing to fit the occasion, acting in a manner in accordance with proper societal norms, or showing nothing in the face of adversity, it is your duty as a warrior to be fully aware and make preparations to meet the challenge head on. If you are to survive in the chaos of these times, you must be prepared to go to lengths to ensure that you do. No one is holding your hand in this galaxy, Centaris.

Kriff you, Plaga. All your preparation couldn't save you. Alkor hailed the serving girl- a rare sight, since most establishments used droids- and ordered an ale. He passed the chip along to her and turned his attention back to Livna, unsmiling. "Your turn," he said suddenly. "We're not here to talk about me."

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Livna was not at ease with introverts like Alkor. She immediately wanted to draw out more of his personality, but that normally had the opposite effect, making the reserved individual withdraw more. Therefore with metaphorical kid gloves, she did not pry into his last name, nor make irrelevant small talk.

She entered the tavern before him, not really noticing his disheveled attire, and quite honestly, Livna had been rambling around the galaxy herself – it wasn’t as if her garments were freshly pressed and without stains. Once they were seated, the Caprine maiden ordered a glass of Naboo wine, and while it wouldn’t be as strong as the wine from the Caprine vineyards, she knew it would be satisfying, especially after the jarring scene of the cremation. When the drinks arrived, she took a long, slow sip from her glass and savored the dry, scarlet liquid as it slid down her throat, coating her insides like velvet.

Licking her lips, Livna said, “But we could talk about you if you want...” Trailing off, she realized, she was again prying into the man’s background, and while he had a graceful, confident presence, there was something about him which made her wonder if he was hiding something. Kriff, I’m not really that perceptive, but perhaps that will better with time and by using the Force, she thought.

Hesitating for a moment, suddenly worried Alkor was a spy for Briga, she took another large gulp of the Naboo wine. Nothing like a little alcoholic lubrication to dislodge those nagging worries, Livna mused.

“I am a former servant for the Priestess of Iktotch, Briga Tiin. While you likely haven’t heard of her, she is a powerful figure on my homeland. She represents the goddess for my species, the Caprine. And some of the more well-studied mystics say she is the reincarnation of the goddess herself. Up until recently, this was rather good for my life. The Priestess provided everything I could need and was a relatively patient and generous Lady.” Livna’s eyes turned downcast for a moment, staring into her glass, her fingers worrying at the lip of it. She met Alkor’s dark eyes once again.

“Until she joined the One Sith. And then things changed for me.”

Her breath hitched in her throat momentarily. Livna had never shed a tear over her situation, being the extremely dutiful servant she’d been, but in this Naboo alehouse, she was almost sure she would burst into a round of sobs. Hold yourself together, you silly goat!

“Atrocities were committed upon myself and the other handmaidens,” she finished. “I showed my Mistress unwavering loyalty, and she turned around and punished me at her Master’s whim.”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"No, thanks," Alkor answered after she displayed interest in knowing more about him.

He accepted the ale- Tarisian- and took a sip. The hops they used on the underdeveloped planet were a product of the nature of its wild side. Everywhere beyond the city limits was almost entirely jungle. Terraforming efforts had been in place for many years to make it more habitable, though it proved a slow effort. Alkor liked it only a little less than Corellian, which said more than a little about the brew. Spicy, but muted by just enough malt to give it a smooth and refreshing flavor, the pale amber liquid sloshed over his tongue and down his throat quickly. With a slight nod, he approved of the drink.

Livna had a story he disliked from the beginning, however. Tales of religions and priestesses immediately evoked imagery of willful enslavement, tired and deluded people living their lives to appease a supposed greater power. When she mentioned the name of Briga Tiin, and that he would not know her, Alkor silently agreed that he did not. When she went on to explain that she joined with the One Sith, Alkor was instantly gratified in that respect. He had no desire to know Sith, or to associate himself with them. Though his expression remained calm, his thoughts swirled like a maelstrom.

Her tragedy confirmed both his thoughts on the mater. Religion corrupts, and the Sith were a sickness. Together they could only cause more pain. These manifestations of pure darkness offered nothing of substance to the galaxy, only taking and taking until there would be nothing left for anyone. Conceited career traitors on the path to self-destruction, and all they left were victims in their wake. Sympathy was not his motive, however. His eyes flickered with disgust, but never pity.

"And you feel hate for her?" he asked calmly. "Or is it that you're overwhelmed by sadness?"

Again he tasted the ale and it seemed to become more delicious with the second sip. It was rare to stumble upon a finely crafted rendition of this particular brew in the mid-rim. It offset the bitterness of her story, if only slightly. "More apt, the question should be 'what do you intend to do now'?"

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

The great thing about the velvet, dry and heady wine was that it dulled all of the senses the more you drank. And Livna swallowed deeply from her glass. The Caprine was a revelrous species. and she was not a stranger to alcohol. And tonight she did not hold back. The girl ordered another before she was done with her first and second, attesting to how much she wanted to escape her circumstances.

"Both of them in fact," Livna said. But then admitting she had no idea how to in act any time of revenge, she said, "I don't know."

"I just want to make sure that I'm safe, that I won't be a rabbit chased by the hounds. Every time I turn my back I'm a target for a Sith. I can't decide if I want revenge or just… nothing. I may want to just live my simple life away from it all," Livna admitted.

The Caprine wanted to thrive, but on her own terms and not under any overlord.

Remembering she was in company, she said, "I can't bear to hear another fact about me. What about you, kind sir? Why is it that we're drawn here together tonight."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

It came as no surprise that she felt either of the aforementioned emotions, let alone both. For someone untrained in the ways of the Force, it came naturally. Such responses came reflexively and were cultivated through experience. Compounded by the abysmal truth of her former master being a Sith, hate was almost the knee-jerk response. Sadness almost seemed to play an uncharacteristic aside. Both were creatures that when fed grew into outright enmity. That was the beast that the dark side of the Force inevitably gave rise to, if left unchecked. It was the monster that the Sith sought to become.

Her desire to liquefy her problems flowed inward through her lips as easily and readily as the words flowed outward from them. He waved the serving girl off when she came to inquire about whether or not they would be eating, instead offering the universal signal that she should bring more spirits. The girl, who's name he had not asked- it would probably not occur to him to do so- ordered more drink before she even finished the last. Alkor leaned forward and rested his lips against his folded hands as he considered her and her words. Such a lack of base control for her impulses. Or was it that she had been in control for so long, she no longer wished to stay herself from them? He would make no assumptions on her behalf.

It did seem silly that she would consider running. In a galaxy rocked by the throes of constant war, nowhere that she went would ever be safe, or truly free. Even the illusion of freedom that the Galactic Alliance and Republic cast over their people eventually faded, eclipsed by somber reality. Taxes, unjust laws, penalties for breathing in the wrong direction- there was nowhere to go that was not stifling. Letting go of the urge to seek revenge was markedly one form of freedom, if not a complete one. Alkor was certain it would not be the answer she wanted if he gave it, so he elected instead to remain quiet. Whatever path she decided on, it would be her own to find and to traverse.

Her penultimate goal, it seemed, was that notion of safety. At that, Alkor felt his eyes slip shut. A younger, less civilized Alkor would have given himself over to laughter. He knew enough of sociological constructs to recognize it would not improve her situation, or her mood. The alcohol might, for a time. Was that truly the sort of reprieve she wanted, though?

It was when she asked what 'drew them together' that Alkor did clamp down on the muzzle of his laughter. It smacked of an antiquated belief in fate, or the will of the Force. His striking eyes peered at her, half open. It appeared that she was a persistent woman, and that to validate her existence at this time, at this table, she needed to feel some kind of connection with the Dark Jedi. Even if it were nothing more fleeting than his own circumstances.

He denied her even that. "Ale," Alkor answered. "Sufficient enough answer for me," he added. To compound the assertion, he raised his mug and some of the froth spilled over the rim.

It was too long a story to recount, in truth. Even more, Alkor rarely conveyed his thoughts, reasons, or goals to others. There was a time once when he had. His ability to trust was infinitely soured by how that had ended. "You want to live safe?" he asked. "You were born into the wrong galaxy for that. There are no safe places. I can tell you that taking life will never bring you comfort. It may satisfy some part of you, or slake some thirst, but it will never be a warm and pacifying sensation. Murder rips out a small piece of your soul and replaces it with numbness. As you grow colder, it hurts less. Or at least, it feels that way. The pain is still there. You just don't feel it anymore."

He stared hard at his hand, and the ale that he grasped. "There is no capacity for regret. You can't afford it. The moment you mourn your actions, you damn yourself to more pain. More suffering. More anger, turned inward into a vicious cycle of self destruction. I'm sure you are familiar with the concept to some degree."

The ale moved to his lips. He drank, and it sloshed down his neck. Alkor stared quietly into the distance. "That path will never yield safety. You will always be staring over your shoulder. Best to forget about revenge."

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Livna did not have the unusually sturdy constitution for alcohol that a Zeltron did, but she could hold her liquor coming from a culture that prided itself on revelry, wine-soaked festivals and hedonistic behavior. And whether it was her own need to drink her problems away or just a general unease at knowing her companion was fairly introverted, she sipped deeply from her glass again, not worrying what Alkor thought of her.

Decorum wasn’t one of Livna’s strong points, nor her species. She only held a modicum of it being trained as a servant in the Priestess’s strict temple, abiding to her Lady's whimsical and quiet inconsistent rules.

The Caprine smiled as the Dark Jedi said ale was what drew them together. Why yes, in its simplicity that was the reason and she did value the simple pleasures in life. But Livna believed in a higher deity… perhaps not Ax’no, she thought sullenly, resentful that her own goddess had smote her with bad luck and provided a sorrowful life so far.

Alkor’s words were tinged with bitterness and perhaps regret. Her eyes glanced downward into her glass, watching the crimson liquid as though it would tell her fortune. She gazed back into his piercing dark eyes and asked, “But it appears you have not completely forgotten. Is there someone you wish revenge upon?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"The past is a tool," he asserted in response to her question. "It can be your tool, or a tool for your enemies to use against you." He placed the mug on the table and held up a hand. "If you discard it like a child, fearful of the pain that lingers there then you only look away from a wound that has not and will not heal." He leaned back in his seat and moved his robes to one side, which revealed bloodied bandages on his abdomen. The scent remained fresh despite the deep crimson color. "If you wear it like armor, it can never be made into a blade to strike you."

The path of a Dark Jedi existed in duality, exemplified in his words and his actions. He spoke of unhealing wounds like the ones that wracked his body with constant pain, and how they were a weakness. But that weakness, given the proper circumstances and training could be made into strength. Alkor allowed the robes to fall back into place and grabbed his drink once more.

"The moment you forget what forged you into what you are, you give up understanding and control of yourself." The liquid splashed his taste buds again, and his eyes slid shut. "So no, I have never forgotten. But it does not control me. I am the Master of myself."

He watched her gaze carefully before answering the last part of her question, then decided to simply gauge her response. "All of my enemies," he told her, "are dead."

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Livna peered at the bandages, feeling a little like she did at the Theed Temple, as though she were intruding upon something intimate and sacred. She reached her hand out impulsively longing to feel the wounds on a tactile level, but withdrew it, afraid to touch as she was not beckoned to, nor was even sure she wanted to.

“Are they always there?” the flaxen-haired maiden asked, realizing it was a bit of a hypothetical question. And why? But again she felt as though she were treading into over-familiar territory to which she’d not been invited.

And yet, if all of his enemies were dead...

Livna paused and drummed upon the table with her short claws. The wine had made her more relaxed now, like a velvet blanket covering her organs, especially the sore heart she carried around with her. She didn’t want to be overly bold with the Dark Jedi, but now was a good a time as ever to let him know what was really in her mind. She hadn’t been hiding it, not consciously.

But it had been there all along.

“If I asked you to… if I could offer you something…”

Filled with resolve, her blue eyes met his dark ones, but she didn’t look away. He seemed the type to take pity on a broken-winged bird like herself, but there was a chance she'd read him wrong.

“Would you kill one of my enemies? I know you may not be an assassin, and honestly there’s not much I could offer…” Livna trailed off. Great, you're making this sound incredibly enticing, she thought darkly. She had no credits of which to speak. No vessels to trade, nothing of value at all.

The horned servant wrapped a long lock of hair around her finger, slowly twirling it, appearing much like an angelic succubus for a moment. “Except myself of course.”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor watched her as she spoke and when she began to second guess her words, he leaned forward and gazed at the woman without a word. Her desire was real, but her tenacity wavered. She was intruiged by his wounds, but was there fear underlying that? Something in her demeanor bespoke a very real uncertainty. It was as if she did not know what she wanted, or if she did, she was not entirely certain of why. He could feel it teeming in the force, the microscopic levels of confusion and doubt that wracked the woman, but also something else.

Something devious.

Her body moved in a manner consistent with seduction. All the traits were there- the subtle craning of the neck that came with flirtation, the jumbled speech that smacked of shyness, and the offer of herself as payment rendered. She wanted something badly enough to make the trade off seem appealing. And to most men, it would.

Alkor continued to match her gaze for long after she dropped the metaphoric bomb. He did not blush or avert his eyes. "Until you understand the weight of a life, you have no right to ask that one be taken." Alkor reached to his hip, unclipped the saber there, and tossed it onto the table. Its heartbeat was fire, bloody fire like the supernova that birthed its crystal. Darkness coursed through it, and if she gripped it, she would feel a power far more seductive than any feminine wiles. "Take my blade and kill me," he told her, "then, once you've done it, go and find your enemy and do it yourself. A warrior fights their own battles. If you want a man dead, look him in the eyes as you end his life. Take responsibility for your own actions. Don't pawn them off on others and pray to your worthless goddess that you stay pure. There's no such thing as innocence. Not in this world, not in the next."

He waited for the blow. If it came, then that would be it. He had taken enough life in his time that if his own were added to the pile of corspes, he could be content for it to end that way. But he could tell, if this woman had the capacity to take life she would have already done it.

She did not have the stomach for death, let alone murder. "Drink if you like," he said, "kill me if you have it in you," the crowd in the alehouse stared at the two in silence as he spoke and did not seem to care about any of them. "But don't waste my time with conspiracies to kill or offers of your body. You were robbed of your dignity, but you've made no attempt to take it back. All you're asking for is an excuse. Not an answer."

[member="Livna Zios"]

 

[Armand Temi]

In a way things were easier when Livna lived on her home world of Iktotch in an insular Caprine village away from the main capital. Her beauty and curves could be used as currency there. But in the great wide galaxy, proving your worth appeared to be more than just batting your eyelashes.

Luckily the horned maiden was a quick study. And fortunately for Alkor, Livna was just tipsy enough to begin an evening of potentially bad decisions.

With a metallic scrape, she slid the lightsaber closer to her and palmed it, assessing its size and weight. Is this how the Dark Jedi received his unusually fresh wounds? By picking bar fights with those he met at strange funerals? And yet, Livna did feel the power of his saber as it beckoned her further to ignite it, to feel how it cut through the air and furthermore sliced through flesh. The weapon pulsated with a dark energy that was difficult to resist.

And no, Livna wasn’t interested in taking his life, but she was intrigued by this shadowy exploration that the enigmatic man offered up to her. “You’re right,” she said plaintively. “I would much rather save a life than take one. However there is evil in this galaxy that needs to be eliminated so no one suffers the way myself and others have.”

She slurred her words slightly, still holding the saber. “Innocents… born into a life that they did not choose, and bondage that cannot ever be broken. Like slaves.”

Her eyes came back into focus and she stood suddenly. Livna smiled and held out her clawed hand to Alkor:

“I suppose it’s not fair to those in this tavern to spar right here like two pit fighters. Come, let’s find a more secluded place so that I may take you up on your challenge.”

While Livna wasn’t a warrior, she like all Caprine, had been taught to spar with their horns, to head-butt their opponents and wrestle them to the ground, part ritual, part self-defense. Even the female of the species were instructed at a young age to be able to defend themselves. And while it had been awhile since she’d practiced it, she was just drunk and foolhardy to want to attempt it with Alkor. He was already wounded after all. How much of an opponent could he be, her inebriated mind told her?

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Challenge? She must have been drunk if she took it that way, and Alkor was clearly less than amused by the notion. If she were drunk enough to want to fight a man who she now know to be a Force Adept, or at the very least skilled with a lightsaber, there were a limited number of ways that the encounter could end. Most of them were bad. He stood, but did not take the hand she offered. Instead, he held his hand out with the palm facing upward. His expression was expectant, and his intention would be clear. Give me back my lightsaber.

"The street will suffice for a brief exercise," he stated as he strode past her and pushed through the door.

"Sir, your tab-" the barmaid fumbled behind him and offered back his credit chip. He took it and tucked it away.

"Close it out. I'm finished here." Alkor did not bother to look back as the door swung on its hinges and he stepped out into the wide street just outside. There were several Naboo here and there, but it was mostly open. A few patrons from the bar squeezed themselves through and watched the smaller human and the "strange, horned woman" as they gathered in the middle of the business district of Theed. Alkor stood upright, but did not remove any of his garments as he would for a more serious bout. Instead, he watched her quietly.

"You have the opportunity to rethink this decision," he stated calmly. "No one is forcing you to prove anything. You can go back to living quietly, and not a soul will fault you."

[member="Livna Zios"]