Blue Butterfly
It wasn’t uncommon for feelings of melancholy to bubble up in Arthion. Moody by nature, the young Knight often found herself pensive, thinking about some trouble or another, whether it be a matter as mundane as having her outfit ripped or as complex as tackling the deep social inequalities the galaxy faced.
Often, she found that action helped more than simply thinking about the matter. As a Sentinel, she often found herself in far-flung planets, helping with some matter or another. Though she wasn’t keen on following the capricious whims of the Force, she often found it was a good way to reach someplace that needed her help, as if honing her instincts, morphing from a simple feeling to something that guided her.
It was what brought her here, to this little backwater in the Outer Rim—and one that bore a story similar to many of its ilk: a place too far from the reach of any governmental oversight, taken over by criminals that terrorised the population. Dislodging them was not easy… but it was nothing she hadn’t done before. Stoking the courage of the people, assessing how the criminals maintained their control, removing them with a proper and structured plan, and remaining thereafter to ensure the people could settle back into normalcy in the fallout of it all.
However, it sometimes wasn’t enough. Arthion pondered and questioned: how safe were these people, truly? Would they be able to maintain order after she was gone, or would chaos reign?
She didn’t know.
And now, Arthion found herself in the woods overseeing the capital city itself. It was peaceful, and from here, the troubles of the city seemed smaller somehow. Staring down at it, something slowly spawned within Arthion’s mind: a painting, slowly given form in her vivid imagination, possibilities swirling within…
It was a good thing she happened to have her canvas with her.
Setting it up, Arthion began, allowing her emotions and instincts to guide her strokes. There was no pause to think or ponder, her hand seemingly guided by something beyond logic and form. Despite this, she painted expertly, slowly building an idyllic scene based on the view before her… yet it was as if her inner turbulence bled into the canvas, shifting the image to something else. She poured her emotions out and into the canvas, the roiling feelings within almost as a beacon to other Force sensitives… but surely, she was alone.
Right?
Kahne Porte
Often, she found that action helped more than simply thinking about the matter. As a Sentinel, she often found herself in far-flung planets, helping with some matter or another. Though she wasn’t keen on following the capricious whims of the Force, she often found it was a good way to reach someplace that needed her help, as if honing her instincts, morphing from a simple feeling to something that guided her.
It was what brought her here, to this little backwater in the Outer Rim—and one that bore a story similar to many of its ilk: a place too far from the reach of any governmental oversight, taken over by criminals that terrorised the population. Dislodging them was not easy… but it was nothing she hadn’t done before. Stoking the courage of the people, assessing how the criminals maintained their control, removing them with a proper and structured plan, and remaining thereafter to ensure the people could settle back into normalcy in the fallout of it all.
However, it sometimes wasn’t enough. Arthion pondered and questioned: how safe were these people, truly? Would they be able to maintain order after she was gone, or would chaos reign?
She didn’t know.
And now, Arthion found herself in the woods overseeing the capital city itself. It was peaceful, and from here, the troubles of the city seemed smaller somehow. Staring down at it, something slowly spawned within Arthion’s mind: a painting, slowly given form in her vivid imagination, possibilities swirling within…
It was a good thing she happened to have her canvas with her.
Setting it up, Arthion began, allowing her emotions and instincts to guide her strokes. There was no pause to think or ponder, her hand seemingly guided by something beyond logic and form. Despite this, she painted expertly, slowly building an idyllic scene based on the view before her… yet it was as if her inner turbulence bled into the canvas, shifting the image to something else. She poured her emotions out and into the canvas, the roiling feelings within almost as a beacon to other Force sensitives… but surely, she was alone.
Right?
Kahne Porte
