Private Something In The Disorder

[Ishida Ashina]

THE SILENCE IS SO LOUD​

At first, she chuckled at his follow-up. A fool was likely correct, and if not Sardun, she would. She..did. And if only because he’d seemed to have this epiphany after tasting the Darkness on Krayiss. Beforehand, on Nar Kreeta and Bastion, she’d felt like they shared more likeness. As if he'd met her where she was and could share that intensity through similar outlooks and a mutual affinity for a single outcome: Eradicating the darkside.

Now, she felt different about him. Not as harsh as she’d felt when he’d first entered her hospital room, but still uncertain. Uncomfortably wrapped in a space alone, where he’d once occupied with her.

And it resonated within her every time she looked at him. For now, he existed as a manifestation of exhaustion and kindness, his metaphysical mirror shimmering with a pleasant sort of light. But on Krayiss, through her pain and being in-and-out of consciousness, she’d seen and heard things that countered who she thought he was.

"You murdered Lanik Dawnstar, and in so doing, sealed your fate."
"I deem you ..."
"Worthy."

Suddenly, the flora in her hands became far more interesting to look at than her companion, and she focused hard on the brilliant red petals.

"Irresponsible." She corrected quickly, projecting her interpretations of her Master's perceptions. "Not soft."

Soft was a gentle term. Soft was like the waxy leaves she was touching while he spoke, her thumb stroking the veins to the stem and then tracing to the next leaf –– still keeping in step with the Arkanian. Gentle terms like that had no place in the ex-Battlemaster’s vocabulary.

"We are not all blindly devoted to the chase of one perfect ideal, as they are with their Sith'ari."

“No? You don’t think we are?” Ishida asked, eventually trailing her gaze back to Bernard from the colourful arrangement she’d been running her fingers through.

“Maybe we’re just meant to be more tolerant of those following our mutual code as they stumble through to meet our expectations.” Tolerance, patience. Two things Sardun said she had to work on. “And realize that perfection takes..” she gave a nod of her chin to the little purple potted plant Bernard had indicated earlier. “..some serious time and effort.”

It occurred to her, with a sort of surreal detachment, that this had the potential to be one of those conversations that would change the course of their relationship moving forward. And maybe worse, introduce hesitation and doubt in her performance the next time she was on the field. As if she wouldn’t have enough to contend with –– failures from Krayiss and Ziost, and now...this sort of existential hypothesis.

“Regardless, he’d probably hear you out.” A sort of dread crept into the base of her chest and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked forward again.

"Maybe."

Michael had proven himself time and time again to coexist with fellow Jedi who didn’t meet his standards. Sith were the problem; and those that were weak enough to fall to The Darkside. Which had..included Bernard, apparently. But she didn’t add that warning in for fear that it’d impede her next testing question.

“And Lanik?” She pried, “How do you think he’d react?”

Ishida sucked in an involuntary breath, assuming the weight of the question. Lanik Dawnstar’s death was one of those strange things she’d learned about when she’d joined the Jedi –– it had been the first funeral the Order had organized, and it had been related to removing a vertebra from a spine.

Guilt welled up from her belly, swamping her heart when she realized how delicate that territory might be. It was one thing to think about something internally, chew it over in one's mind, but to level it out loud at someone who'd been vulnerable trying felt harsh.

Shaking her head, she breathed out through her nose and a small smile wound its way through the line of her lips. "You're an endlessly fascinating person."

She filled the silence to let him know he didn’t have to respond if he didn’t want to, but she still had to somehow let him know that she knew. And, if she’d heard that he’d killed Knight Dawnstar before the events on Krayiss, she might have trusted it was for the right reasons. But now, somehow, that knowledge combined with Bernard's epiphany, made his intentions feel more like hypocrisy than growth.

 

[Bernard]

There was irony in being labelled irresponsible for taking on an extended measure of responsibility for another being, but she had a point. Even if one accepted the responsibility for the actions of someone who might be turned from their wicked ways, that action, or even process, alone didn't guarantee the safety of that being's future victims. Though, who's to say it wouldn't also lead to the preservation of lives, a possibility that may previously have been buried by the shadow of corruption?

If he and Dagon had been culled from the Jedi's ranks, would the Jedi team on Krayiss have lived to see another day?

He tossed the thought aside. Hypotheticals only ran in circles, built on biases, judgements, and wildly different experiences. They had to go off of what could reliably be known. And, what he did know, now, was that the limits of certain knowledge precluded the actions of other beings.

He mulled over an idea in his mind before he said anything more while his gaze wandered the gardens. Vines rose halfway to the top of the arched ceiling, dotted with flowers of many colours. Below stood artificial arrangements that combined flowers of various shapes and sizes into a patchwork of colour and texture. Her point about perfection carried a subtle implication that didn't sit well with him, but before he could open his mouth to speak she continued.

“And Lanik? How do you think he’d react?”

He veered around and stopped in his tracks. Surprise lingered on his tongue, itself too taken aback to leap from it and out into the world. In its stead, a raised brow and a forward tilt of the head laid an accusation bare that formed on instinct. Ishida's words tapped a cold dagger at his throat that made the hairs on his arms bristle and primed his instincts for retaliation.

"You're an endlessly fascinating person."

With narrowed eyes and furrowed brows he resumed walking, glancing sideways to watch her as they walked the stone path to the other side of the gardens. But his expression softened after a few steps, back to neutral. It wasn't malice that spurred her question, or so he chose to believe.

He turned away from her again, looking towards a short, thin tree nestled in an alcove of vines and flowers at the edge of the hall. Though its branches were narrow and wiry they held up a great crown of leaves.

Bernard brought his hand over his chest and folded his fingers around the elbow of his other arm.

"He'd be proud," though his voice was solemn, his words stood with certainty.

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

She wasn't surprised by the silence that stretched between them for a while. She'd half expected him to find an excuse to leave, as he'd tried before, but he seemed to keep his pace despite the verbal anvil he was carrying now.

Ever onward to Starboard-Eleven with a heavy question that settled between them. Each step felt more and more delicate, and she wasn't sure if it was dizziness or anticipation that was starting to make the peripherals of her vision seem to fade.

"He'd be proud,"

And there it was. His acceptance –– his commitment to stay with her and not run away. To answer the question. Laying another stone in the foundation to the pathway to some level of mutual understanding. Now he knew that she knew.

While she might have known about Lanik, she could only imagine what it meant to Bernard. The full scope of what he'd done remained closely guarded, hidden, and not something she imagined he'd want to talk about much more. Even now, he seemed as though he was wrapping himself up tightly so he could hold himself together and keep from falling apart.

She stopped walking for a second and closed her eyes, letting darkness eclipse her vision to reset the blur that had been collecting like a vignette. When she reopened them, she looked over at the Arkanian's hardened face. His words had been absolute, swift, concise. His expression looked as though he truly believed that.

But Lanik Dawnstar, pinnacle apparent of the New Jedi Order, would have been proud of what Bernard hypothesized. Whereas her Master, Jedi Master Michael Sardun, had been speculated to think it foolish.

What did that mean?

"Is that good for you?"

 

[Bernard]

You are so much stronger than you know, so much potential and such a shining star.

The words echoed in his memory, but they rang hollow still. Whatever star Lanik had seen all those years ago had long faded even when they'd first met. To this day there was nothing resembling even a spark that lay within the Padawan. That which Lanik thought to see was perhaps a facsimile, a mirage cast over the deep flame of vengeance that still burned for the Dark Side within his chest. It had faded, but it still shone a furtive light.

I could only wish to see what you truly grow into.

A murderer? Another failed Jedi? Someone who more resembled the monsters he'd sworn to slay than the warriors he claimed to stand with?

All of a sudden the lightsabre at his side felt heavier. The instinct to throw it into one of the ponds overcame him. The idea that he could even dream to stand among Jedi Knights like Lanik seemed a cruel joke.

Ishida's footsteps suddenly stopped beside him, pulling him from his mind. A step later he came to a halt, too, turning to make sure nothing had happened to her.

That she was still standing came as a relief, but her expression had become unreadable.

"Is that good for you?" She asked

"Good for me? I—" he turned away to look at the grass by the wayside, "I don't know. There are still things I haven't resolved after Lan- after what happened."

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Pressing her fingertips against both sides of her head, she relieved some of the building pressure. The garden introduced a lot of stimuli that she appreciated, but had been denied for several days. The antibodies in her system, and the external entrapment of her senses were at a bit of conflict and needed calming.

But she was too curious to really stop asking questions— though he responded, it felt like a slow draw. Like a magician revealing scarf after scarf after scarf from a hat and she wasn’t sure how bottomless his patience was.

“Do you… want to talk about it? What happened?”

Her mouth remained neutral, a thin line.

“Have you talked about it before?”

 

[Bernard]

"I—No, I haven't. But you don't seem well. Did the dizziness get worse?" Concern was evident in his voice. "Are you sure you're okay? Should I call for one of the healers?"

He shoved the bag off his shoulder and began to rummage around inside. After a moment, he pulled free a bottle of water and the morning wrap missing a bite-sized chunk.

"Water? Something to eat?"

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Her hand dropped to her sides, brushing over one another briefly in front of her to make an ephemeral X gesture. Unfortunately, the side-effects of her adventuring out from under the blankets were just what Bernard needed to change the subject. Which just made her headache worse; the pulse of frustration entangled with the brain's attempt to parse through all the stimulation.

"No, I'm fine I––" The frustrated expression that overcame her melted away and she rolled her shoulders back, forcing herself to stand straight and evidence how well she was.

Pressing gently against the water bottle, she nudged it back in Bernard 's direction to reject the offer. "Just got a dizzy spell for a moment, it's more than my senses have had to react to in a long while and I guess they're adjusting." She explained, rationalizing enough for him to take solace that she was being honest. "Thank you. But –– "

It was a strange place to be caught betwixt. A childhood of being sharpened and refined to be a weapon, where human interaction was stifled and discouraged unless there was some sort of advantage to be had within that relationship. Knowledge and finances were the primary motivators that were approved for any of her companions. That worked on Atrisia, but once she joined the Order, those were limiting parameters. And now, she was caught in an eternal struggle of her mother's approach and her father's. Between saying too much, or not saying enough. Either dripping or pouring, leaving companions empty or overflowing. Her mind was like a tide, either holding back or all the waves rolling. And she could never tell if it was the flood or the drought that turned people away.

"You can just say no, Bernard. No, you don't want to talk about it. That's fine. I'm okay with mutual silences.”

Feigning stoicism through the dizziness, she tilted her head in his direction and dropped her touch from the water bottle.

“You don't have to try to find ways to get out of us talking about all your secrets."

 

[Bernard]

His brows rose and he leaned further on his heels, taken aback by her directness for a moment. That he would be avoiding her questions hadn't consciously occurred to him, his concern for another's well-being had taken the reigns of its own accord.

Neither had he guessed the discomfort he felt might have been rooted in the task of unveiling his story. A measure of gratitude, for her astuteness, kindled as the uneasiness unknotted in his stomach. He lowered his head and, as his eyes closed, the corner of his mouth pulled up into a half-smile.

The water and the aluminium foil tube disappeared back into the bag, which then took its place back over his shoulder.

"Alright," he blinked his eyes back open to look at her, crossing his arms. "I don't believe I can give you any good answers, and I don't know yet if I would want to, truth be told. In addition, I will not change the subject in the future, but..."

He held out a hand in the space between them.

"In return, you don't need to feign strength and bravery when you need help in the future either. Deal?"

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

FILL THE EMPTY SPACES​

"Alright,"

Puffing a breath through her nose, she lifted her chin in satisfaction.

"I don't believe I can give you any good answers, and I don't know yet if I would want to, truth be told. In addition, I will not change the subject in the future,"

Well, at least that was honest. She could appreciate that, given he'd just admitted to not talking about what had happened with Lanik all those years ago. That sort of onus that sat silently inside someone, for that length of time, had to be a lot to navigate through. Ishida was certainly not qualified to help, but she was qualified to listen. When he was ready.

Maybe it would come in portions, suitable bits of information when the trust came. People liked to talk like that, she'd observed. Offering little anecdotal stories in intimate tones.

She sniffed a small laugh away, recognizing instantly that Bernard didn't seem that sort. It had always been genuine, even if somewhat withheld.

but..."

Her triumphant expression faded slightly, hitched on a linchpin of negotiation.

"In return, you don't need to feign strength and bravery when you need help in the future either. Deal?"

Four fingers stretched toward her, suspended in waiting for her agreement. For a few heartbeats, she looked at his gloved offering. So intently it was as though she found the stitching of the seams fascinating.

Strength and bravery were parts of the core of her training. The word help and asking for assistance had been forcibly removed from her vocabulary early on in her training. You're not delicate like a flower. Her father would scold. If you must be delicate, it's delicate like a bomb. Explosive, dangerous. Always dangerous.

Drawing out a long sigh, she shifted her weight on her from foot to foot and moved her hand to meet his in a firm hold.

"Fine. Deal."

Her grip loosened, about to alter the deal further.

"Just don't tell my dad, hm?"

 

[Bernard]

"I will take it to my grave," he said with enough deadpan gravity to make it almost convincing.

Almost. Despite the serious expression, he couldn't keep it straight for long, finally dissolving into a chuckle.

This brief instance of frivolity was a welcome change. They hadn't even spent an hour conversing and yet it felt like all the galaxy's gravity had coalesced between them. Moments like these, where there was space for laughter, seemed like rare glimpses of light on the horizon.

He half-turned back to the path toward Eleven-Starboard, indicating they continue. But in his thoughts, he took pause, looking up and to the side in a moment of consideration.

"Your dad?" He asked.

The elder Ashina had been briefly mentioned by her before, as her instructor in the art of blade-work, but he couldn't much recall anything beyond that. Except that something about him seemed to also be a rather disruptive force in her family.

"What's he got to do with that?"

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

"I will take it to my grave,"

If this day had gone any differently, it would have been a short trip. The statement itself was ridiculous, and if he weren't such a stonewalled individual who seemed to take himself very seriously, she might have actually believed him. Until he laughed.

It was infectious enough sound for her to nervously mirror it, her countenance making apparent the discomfort in that thought on how close that grave situation had been, but then loosening into honest mirth.

With her hands back at her sides, they took a step in forwarding motion before pausing.

As beautiful as the gardens were, she wanted to get to this place he'd deemed thought interesting enough to intentionally start at. So even when he stopped walking, she continued slowly. She couldn't make much headway given she didn't actually know where this Eleven Starboard was though.

"Everything." She admitted with a shrug. She'd come to terms after she'd left Ashina Estate and after she'd met her exiled brother for the first time, how controlling and severe he actually was. Under his tutelage, she'd just been too busy to question anything.

That was probably why he'd been so against her leaving. It's exactly what her brother had done twenty years prior, and the whole reason she'd been born.

"Anything other than strength and bravery doesn't bring honour to the family." Her explanation sounded natural enough, but her tone dipped when she said the family; as if she were trying to replicate a more masculine, authoritarian tone. "Even if just a show, hurt can't happen in front of others. That's just," she sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "Weakness, and weakness is next to uselessness."

Her voice took on that mimicry tone again "My heart is not a home for cowards."

 

[Bernard]

"What an exceptionally lonely way to live."

If he were a more compassionate man, he might have felt empathy for the hierarch, but as it stood, there was only a distant sense of familiarity that evoked reflection.

His thoughts began to wander, connecting distant points and contrasting shards of glimpses. He continued walking beside her, eyes fixed on a distant nowhere.

"Did he send you to the Order to beome a Jedi?"

The stone path wound its way around several more flowerbeds and trees planted in remembrance of great heroes of the Jedi Order, until the path straightened out on approach to a large gate several times the size of both Ishida and Bernard. It stood wide and arched near the top. Faded gold metals coated its surface, and blue details created the images of Jedi Knights, their sabres held before them in solemn salute, on either door.

Something about them imparted a sense of exultation, however. Bernard could never quite place it, but he'd settled on the brush strokes. They were wild and broad, almost improvised, yet they painted a clear and meticulous scene. It had all the dignity of a Jedi, but with all the vibrancy of nature.

Near the floor, a smaller set of doors, just tall enough for humanoids, were nestled into the design, flowing into the rest of the metal nigh seamlessly. At a glance, they didn't appear to exist at all.

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

With a small, subtle nod, she readily agreed with his appraisal of the Ashina lifestyle. Coining loneliness as an apt descriptor. Isolation was promoted, and she'd rarely been afforded compassion outside of her mother's support.

"You're good at asking for help, then?" She asked, challenging back with a sidelong, evaluative glance.

For the most part, she was grateful for his measured response. He didn't prolong the interrogation or impose counter-arguments. Once again, he saw the walls, studied the stones, and worked around them. Not trying to knock walls down, nor climb over them. Simply observe and find another way.

"Did he send you to the Order to beome a Jedi?"

"Hah –" she exhaled. "Absolutely not."

If her father was still in his procreating prime, and hadn't already exiled one of his offspring, Ishida was certain she'd be banished from the Estate and the bloodline. As it was, the heir and the spare dynamic between her brother and herself was almost bankrupt, which meant their father still depended on her name to exist the same as his for legacy's purpose.

But she didn't say all that –– it was too much.

They seemed to fall into a cadence of swapping small, bite-sized intimacies about themselves rather than full stories. Little ingredients here and there, without an eye to the entire recipe.

"He didn't send me. He would never willingly le---no. I left Atrisia to find my brother with The Order. Inosuke Ashina . Do you know hi-–" her sentence remained unfinished, realizing they were drawing to a standstill. She drew in a sharp breath of marvel and let it fill her cheeks and lungs before whistling it out again.

Following the structure of the door, Ishida's neck strained to follow it all the way to where the archway intersected with the ceiling. To steady herself, and keep the promise of not feigning strength, she reached to Bernard's elbow as temporary support. Only for a few seconds before she retracted and looked back at a height that didn't stress her nape.

"Starboard Eleven?" She assumed.

 

[Bernard]

"You're good at asking for help, then?"

"Ah, uhm, point taken. I suppose we could both improve in that area."

"Hah—Absolutely not. He didn't send me. He would never willingly le---no. I left Atrisia to find my brother with The Order. Inosuke Ashina. Do you know hi-–" architectural marvels cut the thought off before it could be finished, and a whistle announced astonishment befitting the impressive construction feat.

A tug on his arm made Bernard turn from the massive artwork to find Ishida holding on for balance. That's different. Why is that different. He brought his sleeve up to cover his mouth, feigning that he was rubbing his shoulder to cover a most subtly reddened smile with a mind of its own. Her half-question slipped his mind.

"Starboard Eleven?"

"Yup, well, Eleven Starboard," he corrected, once more centred.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on either door and pushed against the barriers. Slowly, and with more effort than expected.

"I think you'll like it."

The doors opened to silent darkness. A stillness in both volume and air marked the first sensation, along with a pitch blackness that gave way to hardly any light pouring in from the gardens.

"Looks like no one's in. Perfect," he stepped into the darkness, turning to Ishida before he was fully obscured.

"This'll be a lot better when it's completely dark, come in," he waved, nodding his head to the side to complement the gesture.


A low hum permeated the Force inside. The doors would close behind them, moved through the Force by Bernard, and darkness would become everything.

"Reach out through the Force."

Many, small immaterial threads pulled at them in the metaphysical realm. All of them cold, and laced with a tension that pulled at the very core of one's being. Coaxing out something deep within that needed only for the levee to break, with a single thought of permission, to draw out something luminous. The moment that levee would break, and Ishida'd reach out through the Force, that tension would fall away and be replaced with a superbly subtle static electricity.

Thread by thread, small points in space would illuminate, hanging as singular specks of light in a black ocean. At first, only one light appeared, then two, three, a dozen, two dozen, turning the space above them into something like a star-filled night sky, but soon, structure began to emerge from the chaos of dots. Light after light coalesced into lines, arches, circles, rectangles, triangles, in all sorts of shapes and sizes that, soon enough, gained coherence in the image of buildings of light materializing out of thin air.

On either side of them, short houses with curved rooftops not unlike those found on Atrisia rose from nothing, outlined in golden light. Soon a street took shape before them, leading down to a central square market where a taller building stood, its single clock tower rising far above the others around it. Behind it, still, rose even taller buildings, some the sizes of cloudcutters. Archways, stairways, and bridges criss-crossed all over the horizon, weaving behind and in front of constructions that seemed capable of grasping the stars themselves with their height.

Over the course of several long moments, the city rose out of the darkness and illuminated the massive hall with golden-yellow light. It was beauty on a scale that rivalled, or perhaps even surpassed, Coruscant's.

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

LUMINOUS SPACES TO FEEL AGAIN​

Ornate and golden, the massive gateway seemed to take a measurable amount of Bernard’s strength to get the smaller doors to fully admit them.

"I think you'll like it."

While he worked to get them open, Ishida stayed in her spot. She focused her vision on a single point to remain grounded, centred and aware of herself relevant to her surroundings. Her cheeks were starting to prickle, the early shadow of nausea tickling against the inside of her mouth. By the time Bernard had succeeded, and turned back to engage her again, she’d swallowed it back down and was feeling less like she was swimming in her own head.

Already, things were revealing themselves to be quite unexpected.

With an entryway as spectacular as Eleven Starboard’s, she expected glorious light to spill out of the entrance and fill the space with blazing glory. The exact opposite happened: A vacancy of light that Bernard disappeared to.

"Looks like no one's in. Perfect,"
"This'll be a lot better when it's completely dark, come in,"

Arching a brow, she moved forward at his invitation to be alone in the swallowing shadows. So absent of light that it was like an all-consuming void that he beckoned her into. And for half-a step, the thought that this was the perfect place to end a life fluttered through her mind. To balance the scales of her earlier intentions. In reaction, her composure slipped and she patted her hips to feel nothing.

Gratefully, that gesture was probably only a vague movement. Anything thereafter concealed entirely once he closed the door. In the darkness, details were impossible to make out. Which was, apparently, perfect. In the discretion of blackness, Ishida’s lips twisted into something small and thoughtful.

All this nothing was disorienting, and she instinctively groped about the metaphysical to lend sight where human limitations made her blind.

"Reach out through the Force."

“Yeah, I..” her brows furrowed as if he could see her demonstration of flusteredness. Impatience was taking over again, clawing at the present and trying to pull her forward into the future as quickly as possible to circumvent the wait. But that wasn’t fair –– He was being kind and generous, there was no harm to his intentions that she could sense. Instead, oozing genuine excitement and anticipation to share this someplace he’d promised. With the time he’d promised and sacrificed to be around and help her heal. Ishida exhaled, centred, and acquiesced with a less combative reaction.

Muscle memory took over, and despite the room making it impossible to see, she closed her eyes and probed.

She felt light before she saw it. Buzzing at first, an electric hum that expanded into something that touched her: A calmness, wide and growing, that began to bloom in her chest. She could feel its weighted serenity spreading through her shoulders and spine, and as it roamed through her muscles it lessened the correctness of her posture. When she felt as though she might melt, she opened her eyes.

Countable diamonds sparkled and shone overhead, twinkled and duplicated until they could no longer be quickly associated with a number.

“Bernard..” She sucked his name in through a shocked breath while the stars continued to replicate.

How could she ever have predicted this?

In voiceless reverence, she watched it connect, grow, build, and define itself.

At first, it looked like an undefinable network of conduits, wide, tendon-like connections bridging, thrumming and humming as thinly glowing golden threads. All along the contour lines, they became solid and structured, taking the shapes of places where people lived, dreamed, worked, built lives. Homes.

Wonder-filled awe overcame her countenance and softened the corners of her mouth, the slope of her brows, the tightness of her jaw. All residual pressure lessened as the spectacle consumed her, drawing her towards it. She wasn’t even aware she was moving if she was moving at all in this weightless enamourment.

It was breathtaking to look at, wonderous and luminescent. She smiled: Bright, white and happy.

Whether or not it was Bernard’s intention, Ishida felt like she was having another one of those disassociated moments. Like this was a scenario she was wholly immersed in and a part of, but at the same time relegated to an observer. An observer who noticed when new buildings folded into existence, collecting lines and shapes into glistening reality. When the clocktower started to accumulate at the end of the pathway, she saw herself react with girlish excitement and step forward onto the path and turn once to Bernard to flash pure elation at him, and then getting lost in the process again. Illuminated by a city created by starlight and Ashla’s gentleness, something about this stood out as unique on her timeline. A profound multidimensional clarity resembling a piece of gathered stardust, making it stand out on this strand of time as, at the very least, a bump.

Then she was back in her body, fully present and content. In the beauty of the room, she didn’t seem to care if she melted or crumbled in whatever its process demanded because she was, for maybe one second or more, sweetly forced to surrender to the unconditional intimacy of the starboard’s horizonless structure.

“Wow.” She managed through a thin breath and stopped her potential wandering to turn and look at her host through the delicate radiance. “This is...is this real?”

 

[Bernard]

The stars of eleven-starboard never failed to captivate attention, even after the dozenth time. Something about a true labour of love, a lifetime's work, such as this held an entrancing quality. Perhaps it was the spirit of the artist that left an imprint on their work, an echo of the love and devotion to their craft, that resonated so much with him. Or perhaps it was simply the stunning beauty of physical light brought about by the Force. Either way, he was deeply appreciative of the wonder that graced the halls of Prosperity.

"Bernard," Ishida's voice reminded him he'd come with company this time.

"Huh?" His inquiry was swallowed by the awe of stars.

Brilliant light flashed his way and left in its wake perfect joy. Ishida seemed to dissolve into the stars, captivated by the beauty of the city taking shape in light. She smiled and smiled, and stared in awe at the wonder of eleven-starboard. It was entirely unlike her, but it fit her so well.

Bernard caught himself lost in something other than the artwork. He rubbed the side of his neck, then tucked his hands away in the pockets of his jacket as he sauntered to catch up.

"Most of it. We can walk around in here for hours without seeing everything," he said, stopping beside her.

"We can start there though, see how you're holding up, hm?" He indicated the clocktower with a nod. "There's a place to sit down and finish off the rest of those morning wraps right at its base. Great place for a game of cards, too."

Ishida Ashina

 

[Ishida Ashina]

LESS LIKE A DEADLY WEAPON​

The more they pressed into the multi-dimensional golden tapestry, the more Ishida noticed the care that had been subtly interwoven in. The delicate connections and shimmers reminded her of some of the most ornate murals within Ashina Estate or the training dojos.

They could wander for hours? That sounded as exhausting as it did exhilarating. And he reminded her of that soon enough ––

see how you're holding up, hm?"

Her expression of wonder shifted back to the moment, and her brilliant grin became toothless at the mention of her impairment. For a few minutes, she’d forgotten. Stretching out in The Force and seeing it reward and welcome her had been enough to feel the serenity she usually felt.

But he was right, progress was not perfection.

With a sigh, she nodded.

“This is pretty overwhelming.” She agreed, before hastily adding: “But in a good way" so as not to alarm him and kick his caregiving into overdrive again.

The walk to the tower's base was mesmerizing, and despite all its intricate, indescribable beauty, she adjusted to look back to the Jedi at her side. The one she'd thought about killing.

What would have happened if she'd lunged at him? Perhaps he'd have died, not put up a fight, or maybe he'd have been swift enough to react and they'd struggle. At this juncture, if it were the latter, he might have put her in a place to surrender. Which would not have been ideal. But all those potentials and theories all meant one thing; he'd never have had the chance to show her this. To walk with her now, through the gardens and through the golden city.

And knowing that was scary, and it formed a lump in the pit of her stomach. Especially when he offered more and more of his time. He'd said he would stay but it was more than just words, he was doing. A lot.

"Thank you, for this." Ishida said again, more concentrated on the overarching dedication and less so a reaction to him offering her water when she caught a dizzy spell. "For coming, for staying and for.." she closed her eyes and drew in a breath, held it, and let it out.

"I should have been nicer to you when I found out about your Force severance. Your reaction compared to mine is just ––" she hem-hawed her next words, passing them between her cheeks before she dropped to take a seat. The energy it took to apologize was enervating. To her relief, the golden sprawl managed to support her weight and her mind was blown all over again.

"I'm sorry."

Sorry wasn't a word she'd said in a long, long time.

"I'll be better, I just –– that lonely way to live?" Her arms wrapped around themselves. "It's hard to change."