Private The Best Medicine

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Alliance Hospital Vessel Restoration
​

It was never his mission to make certain an Alliance victory. Tython and its dark moon Bogan remained under Imperial occupation despite a well-coordinated bid by the Alliance and the New Jedi Order to reclaim the ancient homeworld of the latter, and the painful call to pull back any ground forces was made. Thurion, seeking to complete his task as issued by the Force itself, had gathered to him his young charges and commenced the Winterwalk, bringing the party of war-torn padawans with him aboard the support vessel Restoration as it prepared to retreat along with the rest of the fleet. They appeared unexpectedly, boarding the medical wing in a maelstrom of snow and mist in a manner as mystical as the titanic knight had first taken the field.

Whilst his charges rested or were busy receiving treatment, Thurion found himself wandering the near-endless medical wing, pained by the amount of casualties sustained, Jedi and otherwise. But it was likewise a heartwarming sight, as comrades-in-arms banded together to care for one another through heartfelt acts of emotional support. For every man wounded, there was just as many tormented by what they'd experienced.

A young zabrak woman caught his eye, being attended to by a nurse while bedridden. The nautolan nurse seemed flustered, likely over-worked and overwhelmed by the sudden influx of patients. She was so distraught she had trouble recharging the bacta spray, to the point of finding herself on the brink of giving up. Without uttering a word, Thurion took the medical instrument from her trembling fingers and inserted the fresh bacta without issue, then handed it back to her. Grateful, the nurse applied the spray.

"Why don't you go take a break," he told her, squeezing her hand for comfort. "I'll see to this one in the meantime." She did not argue, accepting the offer of covering for her most graciously. As she scurried off to the break room, Thurion took note of the patient's name — Azurine Varek . He chuckled at the realisation.

"One of Valery's."

 

[Azurine Varek]

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Outfit: Clothing | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Lightsaber

Azurine honestly couldn't tell how long she'd been out for. Coming out of the battle of Akar Tsis half dead and then going straight into a rescue for those trapped inside a Blackwing infested space station had absolutely done a number on her. Even her species' natural physical resistance could only take so much before she finally collapsed under the amount of injuries she'd received. The Restoration had been much closer than anything else when her body finally gave out on the way back, so she'd been taken into the intensive care there.

It was worse than expected; she'd had some internal bleeding, a couple of bruised ribs, gravel rash on parts of her chest, a lightsaber slash to her thy, and an actual concussion —though luckily for her the only bites she had recieved from the infected were to her cybernetic right arm which hardly even left a scratch— among other things. Despite that, this certainly wasn't the worst level of injury she'd ever received in her life. Iridonians were known for their ability to take a near impossible amount of pain or damage and still survive.

Her survival wasn't a matter of question (at least not from these physical injuries). It was only how long it would take before she'd regain enough strength to pull herself back into consciousness.

Azzie's slumber had certainly not been as restful as one might have hoped, as evidenced by the pained expression on her face and the twitches of her body, and the occasional murmered whispers that sounded almost like cries. Not even during her time in the first rebel alliance had she ever been surrounded by the sheer amount of dark power that she had been out there, and it had affected her more than she'd let on in the midtst of combat.

Finally, her amethyst hued eyes fluttered slowly open, and she gasped. The light of the room was almost blinding as she tried to gather her bearings and figure out everything that had happened since her collapse. She instantly attempted to pull herself upward into a sitting position, stopped only by the pain in her chest. The clynically metalic and white room was unmistakably medical, but the man with blond hair and eyes like depths of a dark blue cloudless sky sitting beside her was not someone she recognized. His aura, though, kept her heart from racing. It held a steadfast bravery and kindness, a strength of the light that wasn't overwhelming but instead comforting. Whether or not she knew his face or even his name, his presence was a welcomed becon in the dark.

"Did we actually succeed ...?" She finally asked, her voice soft and more hoarse than it had sounded in her head. The answer she assumed she would recieve had a worrying fear twisting through her since she hadn't been lucid enough at the time of her departure to have been able to tell. She had been wisked away from the temple and pulled into that rescue mission before she had time to fully process the fall she'd taken from multiple stories in the air to save—

Her eyes shot wide now that the battle fog had been lifted, "Master Caltin ... is he alright? Did he survive?"

Thurion Heavenshield​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

As her amethyst eyes opened, her guardian met her weary gaze with one of comfort and kindness whilst raising his hands in a bid to make her lie back down. "Easy there, easy..." he calmed, leaning forward to brush a wayward lock of hair from her face.

"Caltin is safe and sound. It'll take more than that to level a brickwall his size," he held back a laugh for her sake. "He was brought aboard another ship, however. You will be able to see him once our forces regroup. Regrettably, the battle did not end in our favour."

Leaning forward, Thurion began the painstaking process to disentangle her hair from her horns, giving her time to digest the outcome of Tython. It was an act of kindness he was glad to undertake, for it hearkened back to the many combined hours of tending to his daughter in the same manner, and he missed it dearly.

"Azurine Varek. I know that name. You are one of Valery's apprentices, are you not?" He smiled, fondly. "Don't worry, she is safe as well. Grandmaster Noble is a very dear friend of mine, and she knows how to pick her students. That is all the testament to your character I'll ever need."

Finally proved successful in untangling the last knot of hair, he sat back and admired his work while at the same time getting a better look at her face.

"There she is," he beamed a smile down at her. "There's our Azzie."

Azurine Varek

 

[Azurine Varek]

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Outfit: Clothing | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Lightsaber

"He ... he blew up a chunk of the moon ... it was coming right at us." Azurine found herself repeating the events now that she wasn't in the thick of it, finally begining to process what all had been the reality of the situation, "He was falling. I ... had to do something ...." Part of her was still in disbelief that it even happened, recalling her off the wall split second plan to get to him.

Thurion's voice quickly brought her out of her own thoughts, and soon, she found herself chuckling a bit at the brickwall comment, though she winced from the dull pain from her bruised ribs. Caltin Vanagor fought like one, that was for sure. There was definitely so much she could still learn from him in the future, but she wondered if the old man was always as grouchy as he had been out there.

She hadn't realized just how disheveled her shoulder-length raven colored hair had become, so much so that the braids across the left side of her head that she usually wore had practically come out in knots around the two crowns of horns that circled her skull. At least not until the guardian before her started to work to get it detangled. He was ever so gentle, even being careful near the more sensitive skin at the base of her horns. It was a comfort that instantly reminded her so much of her father —who'd passed long before she'd ended up suspended in a cryosleep for centuries— and all the bittersweet sadness that came with it.

"Don't worry, she is safe as well. Grandmaster Noble is a very dear friend of mine, and she knows how to pick her students. That is all the testament to your character I'll ever need."

The words crashed through any remaining guard Azzie could have had, and she slumped back completely into the pillow with relief. Master Valery and the others were still alright then. She remembered everyone having made it off the station safely, but anything after finally collapsing under the weight of her injuries was all blank. If any of them had been infected or worse ... she didn't know if she could take it so soon after losing her rebel team. "Thank the stars ..." she muttered quietly, leaning against the comforting touch to anchor herself. Despite this, there was still heavy air around her, like the echoes in the force were almost mourning

"We failed, didn't we ..." she eventually stated, her voice holding the painful realization that peirced through the fierceness of her spirit. Her face scrunched as she fought the tears. They'd escaped, They'd successfully rescued the infiltration team from the infected space station, but they had ultimately been unsuccessful.

We failed. I failed ....

Thurion Heavenshield​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

He read the devastation in her eyes before she even uttered the words. The realisation that the battle had been lost — that their sacrifices were made in vain. "No," he said softly, getting out of the chair to sit on the edge of her hospital bed. There he took her hand in his while cupping her cheek, all in a bid to soothe her spirit.

"You didn't fail. None of you did. Caltin told me about how bravely you fought, able to keep up with the likes of him. But when you partake in as many campaigns as he or I, you soon learn that despite everything going according to plan and everyone doing their utmost, it still isn't enough to claim victory. Like the old soldier's proverb goes: 'No amount of planning survives the first engagement'. There are always unforseen outcomes in the heat of battle."

He ran his thumb along her lower eyelid to wipe away the first tears escaping.

"You mustn't equate military defeat to personal failure, Azzie. It's not your fault."

Thurion leaned forward to place a tender kiss upon her forehead, the tips of her horns grazing his nose and cheeks. He would have embraced her, were it not for her many injuries. As he sat back up, he spent a moment pondering. His head turned to look down the medical wing, then back to Azzie.

"I know just what you need," he told her as he stood and proceeded to unhook her from the machines surrounding her. Being a student of medicine himself, he'd already concluded that they were mostly there as a precaution to help alleviate any sudden pain or to measure her vitals. Once freed of the mechanical terror, Thurion began wheeling her out of her alcove and down the spacious hall filled to capacity.

"I've studied and mastered various fields of medicine since I was a boy, and if there is one thing I've discovered in all my years tending to other peoples' ailments..." He stopped them in front of the cafeteria devoted to patients and their loved ones. "...it's that the best medicine is always something sweet."

He parked her bed over by one of the empty tables, from where she had ample view of the assortment of snacks and sweets. "So, what's your poison? Chocolate bar? Strawberry cake? I'm partial to ice cream, myself," he pointed to the various signs depicting popular desserts.

Azurine Varek

 

[Azurine Varek]

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Outfit: Clothing | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Lightsaber

"No amount of planning survives first contact with the opposition, Azzie."

Those words repeated through Azurine's mind, shifting to how she'd heard it said before by Raeth once a long time ago. Back when they continued to fight the first Empire and their loss ratio was so much greater than their sucess. Losing was something she was used to, given how most of her life had been one form of war or another. This just felt ... different. As if her heart took the blow of it harder here than with the others.

Maybe it was the amount of pure dark strength that she had never seen before all concentrated in one place. Maybe it was the fact that she was trying to prove —not just to others, but to herself as well— that she wasn't just a lost ancient relic brought into a time she had no business in. Or a combination of both. She wanted to prove that Master Valery Noble was right in her decision to take her as a student, and maybe someday she might be able to follow those footsteps to the council.

"You didn't fail. None of you did. Caltin told me about how bravely you fought, able to keep up with the likes of him.

You mustn't equate military defeat to personal failure, Azzie. It's not your fault."

A small spark of realization moved through her eyes as he spoke and gently wiped her face. She had never had the luxury of getting to hold dreams like that in the rebellion. Her only goal then was to be as much of fire under the bums of the Empire as she absolutely could be, to bring hope to a suffocated galaxy or die trying. Now, though, even with the remnants of the Empire seemingly taking the victory, there was a fire that she could hold onto, which allowed her to think further than just the next battle.

"I just want to help lead people to hope. I ... I want to be the Grandmaster someday ... " she spoke the words outloud, as if saying them would make it easier for her to believe that she could have a goal like that now. She turned her gaze to Thurion, the amethyst color of her eyes shifting with lavanders and deep royal blues with her confusing thoughts attempting to tell her that she wasn't good enough for something like that or that she'd never be a leader worth following.

Before she had the chance to think herself further into a spiraled loop, she was being unhooked from different machines. Her expression quickly changed from confusion to amusement, finding herself laughing even. She would have attempted to get up herself, but she was already being moved. It felt a bit rebellious to be doing this. No doubt one of the nurses would lose their mind for it, and that alone seemed to bring that spitfire light back into her aura.

Though the table definitely looked delicious in a way, she couldn't stop herself from laughing even harder. The Zabrak people were primarily carnivores. It was ironic to her in the most hilarious of ways, but the gesture was so incredibly kind. She could barely even pick up on the sweet smell of the different treats. She could smell which had been cooked in animal fat because that was a smell adapted to be the most appealing for them.

Of everything there, she had to hedge her bets on the fried dessert that was covered in a powdered sugar and fruit glaze of some kind based off of her nose. "That one there, I think it's called a beignet?" One of those probably wouldn't hurt, maybe make her a little constipated if she had too many, but nothing major. "It's too bad ice cream doesn't sit well with my stomach, I guess," she did her best to crack a joke, happy to be in a situation that she could.

Thurion Heavenshield​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

"A fine choice, madam," he bowed in the way a server would, before turning on his heel and pass on their order. "I'll have one of those," he pointed, having already forgotten the name. "And strawberry ice cream! Just... the biggest one you've got," he held his hands wide as if to indicate size. "Please and thank you!"

The girl behind the counter eyed the strange customer with wide eyes, seeing a giant but hearing a child's order. The way he was chomping at the bit for ice cream did not necessarily fit his size and apparent age, not knowing the size of Thurion's sweet tooth, which seemed only to increase with old age. He practically bounced with excitement back to Azzie carrying the tray of desserts, giggling like a school boy.

He placed the tray in her lap, presenting the baked goods on top of a plate and a napkin, whilst he parked himself beside her in one of the chairs with a tremendous cone of delisciousness in his huge hand. Whether he looked silly or not he could not care less, for the pleasure he took in even the smallest things outweighed any feelings of embarrassment.

Eagerly he licked the tower of ice cream, methodically working his way around the cone to keep it from running down his fingers.

"This, right here? Best part of any day," he said, his beard and moustasche turning pink.

"How's your bay-nay?"

Azurine Varek

 

[Azurine Varek]

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Outfit: Clothing | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Lightsaber

Azzie was about to attempt to get up, hoping to help with the name of it, leaning forward to swing her legs over, but she found herself laughing a bit too hard to actually do so. She only knew what it was herself because of those she used to fight alongside so many years ago. For the most part, it was just fried pastry dough covered in powdered sugar, sometimes—like in this case—also served with a bit of some kind of fruit sauce. It was one of those things that made her wish her senses were better attuned to sweets. She would love to know what it tasted like to someone else.

Her laughter only got worse seeing just how excited and exaggerated Thurion had gotten, and the expression from the woman behind the counter only made it that much harder for her to quell it. He had so much joy for someone who had just taken such a large defeat. It was baffling and, at the same time, truly inspiring as much as it was a little silly.

"Thanks, Master—?" Azzie cut herself off as if asking a question. She really must have been out of it when she woke, realizing she neglected to ask for his name. His aura was extremely bright, so she could assume he was a master of some sort, but that was about it. Hopefully, he'd fill in the blanks.

She happily accepted the tray, not necessarily working at it as quickly. She'd learned from experience that if she was slower with something like this, it would be even less likely to cause some issues with her digestion. Looking up when he'd started speaking again, she almost choked on the bite she had taken, chuckling once again at the sight of the pink staining his beard.

"It's great," she said, finally managing to get the words out, "Thank you."

She paused for a moment before finally asking, "You must have been on Bogan, right?" She fully accepted the possibility that she could be wrong in that assumption, though, given how fast everything had moved around her on Tython.

Thurion Heavenshield​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Each and every laugh he was able to bring out of her was like a salve, to him as much as it was to herself. Already the pain and shame of a battle lost were all but evaporated, and he could see the person hidden beneath such sorrows. She was a beautiful soul, radiating beauty and joy in each smile. This is who she was — her true face, coaxed from the pits of despair where it had slumbered. He'd told her a harmless falsehood earlier:

'Tis laughter that is the best medicine, and he was most pleased with his prescription.

"Aye, that I was," he nodded before sticking an ice cream-covered thumb between his lips. "Nasty buisness, Bogan. A moon where darkness reigns supreme, with ashen soil and where the light of the sun doesn't seem to exist. A land of perpetual night, and yet," he raised a finger, "it ought be held in the same esteem as Her sister, Ashla. Poor, poor Ashla. The ancient Jedi knew to respect the darkness in all of us whilst striving towards the light, hence both moons were considered sacred."

Having regained control of the base of the strawberry goodness, he could finally work his way down from the top. There was a strategy to the madness. He sat back in his chair, its somewhat flimsy frame creaking from his size and weight. He put his feet up on the opposite chair underneath the table, getting himself more comfortable, all while focusing his attention on the girl in the bed parked next to him. A strange sight, they must be.

"Heavenshield," he chose not to leave her in suspense any longer. "Though, it's just Thurion to you. We've broken bay-nay together, after all!" He was about to offer her a handshake, only to recoil and wipe his sticky palm against his knee, then offer it anew. "Pleasure to meet you!"

Azurine Varek

 

[Azurine Varek]

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Outfit: Clothing | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Lightsaber

Azurine couldn't exactly say that she knew much about Tython before the battle, and even then, a good part of the history was lost on her. She had heard the names Ashla and Bogan in passing from one of her old team members in the rebellion all those centuries ago who had been a Guardian of the Whills, but given everything they needed to devote their attention to, she hadn't really thought to press him on it further back then. She could guess their significance, at least, by the different pulls from the force and the colors of the auras they gave off. She appreciated the information he provided, which gave her more questions and slowly began to poke at her curious nature.

" Anneliese Kaohal was supposed to be on Bogan too. She's alright?" She asked, taking another bite of the beignet to distract herself from her worry for her fellow padawan. She looked at her like a the little sister she never had, but always wanted, and she hoped she'd made it through alright.

For a moment, she focused her attention on the man before her. His aura gave off such a brilliant glow of leadership and courage. It reminded her so much of her father, the man who'd taught her the traditional Iridonian forms of combat, devoted his life to the protection of government officials, and fought until his final breath—gave his life willingly—so that she could escape the slaughter of her family clan by the first Empire. It made a soft but bittersweet smile grace her lips.

I wonder if he would be proud of what I've done in life...

Her thoughts were cut short when she finally got his name, Thurion Heavenshield. It had such a regal tone to it, which was fitting. She held out her cybernetic right hand, a prosthetic that went all the way up into her clothing and would only stop just below the shoulder, but couldn't stop the laughter that came out once again when he desperately tried to get the ice cream off of his own hand.

Taking his hand, she did her best to make sure she didn't accidentally squeeze too hard. She was still getting used to the updated prosthetic that had been made for her, and given it had no synthetic nerves, she was trying to figure out the new threshold for pressure. "It's a pleasure, Master Heave— Thurion. You can just call me Azzie."

"I don't know if it's wrong of me to ask, but... what happened to the other moon, Ashla? It was in pieces from what I saw." She asked after a brief pause, her obnoxious curiosity finally getting the better of her.

Thurion Heavenshield​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Having worked his way down to the cone, the gentle giant chowed down on the wafer with gusto until none remained, ending with him licking the last remnants from his fingertips before wiping his hand and lips more thoroughly with a napkin. By the time she inquired about Anneliese, he was busy holding back a dairy-laden burp, dismissing her worries with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, of course," he replied, pointing across the ward. "She and her sweetheart are over in that direction, somewhere. They were with me on Bogan, and they too fought bravely, though they — not unlike yourself — seem to be of the opinion that the Alliance retreat was somehow their fault." Fishing out a long, elaborately carved pipe from within the folds of his knightly robes, Thurion began to sprinkle hand-crushed pipeweed into its chamber whilst placing the mouthpiece between his lips.

"But, of course, you're all still so young, and when you're young the entire galaxy rests on your shoulders, does it not?" He chuckled, a low rumble escaping his throat as he produced a match and held it between thumb and index finger, made a snapping motion using his middle finger, causing its combustive tip to light up using natural friction. Lighting his pipe, he discarded the match and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs under the table.

"You're not allowed to fail, is that not so, hmm? Hogwash. We all fail more often than we succeed — that's what makes victory taste so sweet. You'll go on to fail more tomorrow, and the day after that, and yet the world keeps turning. The sun still rises in the morn' and sets in the eve'. Giving up in the only true measure of failure. Every great person you grow up hearing about failed plenty in life, but they sure didn't quit. And neither will you, because you're Valery's kid."

Just as he drew in a deep breath and let out a cloud of white smoke, he caught himself. "Oh, pardon me! Southmark pipeweed from back home, totally safe to inhale. Just takes the edge off, as it were. Didn't use to partake, not until... Well. We each have our way of coping." He wasn't going to go into detail here and now, not with a bellyful of yumminess and joy. His jovial exuberance did take a noticeable turn for the worse with the mention of Ashla's destruction, however. It was not a pleasant memory.

"This was not the first time Tython has been fought over, Azzie," he took a more measured puff of his pipe. "Years ago, when you would have been but a youngling, the Brotherhood of the Maw assaulted the system and its hallowed moons, attempting to enact some dark ritual. Crazy, savage folk, they were. Caltin, Valery, myself, and Jedi from all across the galaxy banded together to defend the ancient homeworld of our creed. The resulting battle was... apocalyptical. The ground quaked and split open; magma sprang from its deep scars; crescendoing in a tsunami washing away the battlefield."

Too incredible to believe, perhaps, but nevertheless true.

"The Mawites shattered Ashla and sent pieces of it raining across the planet's surface. Total pandemonium. They believed it would break our spirit, of course, but it did nothing of the sort. They achieved their symbolic victory, but we won the field that day, and subsequently wiped the Brotherhood off the map!" Worked up, the giant thumped the table hard enough to make nearby patrons jump in their seats. Feeling stared at, he sought refuge in his pipe.

"Sorry."

Azurine Varek

 

[Azurine Varek]

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Outfit: Clothing | Glove | Right Arm
Weapons: Lightsaber

Azurine was definitely relieved to hear that Annie was okay. She had yet to formally meet the other whom Thurion referred to as her sweetheart, but at least they both made it off the moon in one piece. Knowing that now put a bit of her twisting thoughts at ease.

"But, of course, you're all still so young, and when you're young the entire galaxy rests on your shoulders, does it not?"

The master's words sat on her more than she expected, but she certainly chuckled alongside him. He was right, though. Taking on every failure as if the fate of the galaxy was on her was ridiculous and unrealistic. Yet, at the same time, she came from an era of history where it had fallen on her and those like her. The galaxy was a much darker place then, and she had been only thirteen years old when she had willingly taken that burden onto herself for the good of others.

What an honor, what an injustice.

Her struggle to come to terms with that shift in the way things were now at least had a valid reason, and it was something she needed to work harder at understanding. "Where—well, more like when—I came from, we couldn't always afford failure because it could have easily meant the deaths of whole worlds... Sometimes, I forget that I'm not in that position anymore."

"And neither will you, because you're Valery's kid." The statement held a specific type of encouragement mixed with the pressure that came along with being taken in by the Grandmaster. The only true failure was not using one's mistakes to learn and grow. She knew that. If she ever wanted to lead—to be a source of light that people could rally around—she was going to fail over and over again, and she was going to need to take it in stride. Thurion's words sank deep into her soul as she did her best to internalize the message. "Perfection does not a hero make." She whispered the words, probably an old proverb she'd heard a long time ago.

Azzie listened intently to his story, her eyes wide with a curiosity as well as a new understanding of the history. After witnessing a piece of a celestial body begin to fall towards the surface of the battle for herself and being part of the resulting actions, what he said didn't quite seem so far-fetched anymore. The most dire situations she had once thought she could find herself in paled in comparison to that. It made sense just how angry Caltin had been on the field now. That wasn't the first time they had fought there.

When Thurion's hand hit the table, she found herself less startled, rather empathetic. Wiping the powdered sugar off her fingers, she reached across the table to place her hand on his in a show of solidarity. "Maybe someday we'll find a way to piece Ashla back together. Restore that balance and show the history there the respect it deserves. I don't know where to begin with something like that... but it's gotta be possible somehow, right?"

Thurion Heavenshield​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Feeling her hand on his, Thurion gratefully turned his hand over, palm against hers as their fingers hooked into each other. In his other hand remained his pipe, smoke rising gently from its lit bowl. She was a sweet girl; enough so to remind him of his daughters.

"I am sure it is possible to stitch Her back to together, given enough powerful Jedi with deep knowledge of celestial bodies. But I've come to regard the shattered moon a fitting metaphor; the once-united Jedi Order, broken into its various sects and enclaves spread across the galaxy, with the big piece being the New Jedi Order. I count myself lucky to have spent the first decade of my life under the old and ancient banner, until hubris and arrogance tore the Republic and the Order apart."

He set down his pipe and placed his hand on top of hers, caressing it. While her being from another era was unexpected, it was not unheard of. Some of his most treasured friends and loyal companions came from a different time as well, so he was not shocked by this revelation.

"I can only express my profound condolences that you were reawakened into this new age of strife, having just survived the old. It's no wonder you gravitated towards Caltin then, who lived to witness the horrors of Order 66."

Thurion rose from his seat, still holding her hand as he stood by her bedside, looking down on her with the greatest sympathy whilst taking the tray from her lap and setting it down on the table.

"Did you leave behind many friends, Azzie? Family, a lover?"

Azurine Varek

 

[Azurine Varek]

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Outfit: Clothing | Glove | Right Arm
Weapons: Lightsaber

Thurion's gentle touch and sympathetic gaze bore the weight of centuries, a man weathered by time yet still tender in his manner. Azurine's fingers curled instinctively around Thurion's hand, seeking the comfort his presence offered. Though it was not merely an act of comfort but an acknowledgment—a bridge between two souls separated by time yet bound by shared grief and understanding.

"The Galaxy is rarely kind." She started, though there was still a strength of hope deep in her purple eyes. "What I've learned is that it's all of our jobs to be that kindness in whatever ways we can. A sun doesn't stop burning during an eclipse, so why should we?"

Azzie's gaze flickered to the faint trails of smoke curling from his pipe, its steady rise a stark contrast to the chaos he spoke of. "Maybe you're right about Ashla. Maybe it's meant to remind us that even fractured things can still shine—can still hold meaning."

"I can only express my profound condolences that you were reawakened into this new age of strife, having just survived the old."

She found herself chuckling more than she expected to. Though his words were kind and assuring, which she greatly appreciated, it was kind of funny to think about. "History really does repeat itself, doesn't it?" She joked, letting the teasing grin envelop her face. "Honestly, without something for me to fight for, it probably would have been a much more difficult adjustment." Her eyes shined with a curiosity as he spoke of Caltin's time before this.

Azzie hadn't known that about him, but it certainly made sense to her in a way. "I guess a rebel soul knows when they've met another one, huh? We tend to be wild ones, afterall." She joked at her own expense, with a playfull gleam in her eye. She had only been a toddler on Iridonia when the great purge had happened, but she remembered the stories her comrades used to tell her about how dark that day really was.

Her teasing gaze darkened for a moment, eyes falling to the table. So many centuries she'd lost to time, along with everything she had known and loved. "Yeah, I, uh... I was part of the first rebellion. My team, the Outlyers, they were the closest things to family I had then. And my master—" She cut herself off, chewing on her lip for a moment. Her heart ached, the pain left behind from a deteriorating dyad ever present in her chest. "He took me on despite the dangers, and without him, I wouldn't be here."

Thurion Heavenshield​