There But For the Grace of The Force, Go I...

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Corellia - Near Coronet City. The Drunken Dewback Bistro & Bar​

​

It had been a long while since Julius had stepped foot on his homeworld for anything besides a raid, or to drop off guns or something else illicit. There was just too much for him to do, he had always told himself, too many responsibilities. Then, like a lightning bolt from the clear sky, it had hit him. If, in fighting to preserve a people, you yourself became the outsider to them, the unknown... Were you really fighting for what you loved about that group anymore? Or had you become little better than the speeder collector, who bought all the high end models, but kept them put up in a garage and never drove them.

Answers had been slow-coming, and he had swung between extremes of duty and commitment rapidly and often, his life a whirlwind. But things were coming 'round to a center stage and path now. The answer was, sometimes you had to move past what you fought for, to give up all or part, so that others could in turn enjoy that which you yourself loved but had given up. In the end, that was the key for such a fight, you couldn't be too selfish or too giving, or you would lose the fight before it began.

However, there was nothing so morally testing and quantifying in this. Surprisingly, Julius had turned down some work, coming back to the Broken World to visit with the goal of just being at one with it's people. Casual clothing was in full effect, and his warden cloak was draped over the back of his chair, MP1 in a casual low-drop holster attached to the browncoat utility belt, his lightsaber tucked into an inside pocket on his vest, which was left draping open on the side opposite of it. Overall, he cut a dashing, but none too prominent figure. Smuggling was good, and even if for the good of Corellia, he took enough to live more than a paupers life. Socorro rebuilt would take a goodly portion of things.

Waiting, he eyed the other folks in the bistro, wondering... Maybe, just maybe, he should see if he still had the old charm? Chat up a pretty lady or two, see how badly they blushed at his war stories and tall tales. Just see how much the other kind of fight could challenge him. One in particular caught his eyes, she had a scar on her face, but that hardly deterred Julius. Meant she had known hardship of one kind or the other, and served to pique his interest. Until he saw the eyes glance over, the poisonous amber orbs...

Senses reacted out of years and decades of training reached out, and felt the noxious aura of the Dark Side, and he barely kept from reaching into his vest, but managed to instead catch the waiters attention to send her a drink. The particular combo, sure to send philosophical overtones, was affectionately known on Corellia as Solo's regret. A fine honey-wine and a rough and bracing cask strength whiskey met and one dropped a shot of dark rum and white rum into it. It was meant to be shared and mixed together, and in certain circles was seen as the opening to what Corellians might call a 'spirited debate'...Perhaps it was time to know his 'enemy' as well.. After all....

'There but for the Grace of the Force... Go I....'

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

There wasn't a time within the past few years Keira could recall where she had returned to Corellia. Even in its broken state the planet was still home, and it did a fine job of maintaining itself as a hub for all of its lost sons and daughters to return to. And she was most certainly among one of those wayward. Her life up until this point had been nothing more than a conglomerate of fighting against impossible odds and almost always for the wrong side. Recently that had changed at least moderately, what with her working with the Republic, even if that relationship was a bit rocky after all that had happened. It was better than being as self-serving as her younger self had been.

This was the one place she wouldn't stand out, where she could get lost in her own culture and maybe breathe a little easier with the knowledge that she was surrounded by more or less like-minded individuals. They might not have all been fighting on the same side, and their viewpoints on every topic imaginable might be drastically different, but they were all Corellian, and that was enough. Never had she been more at ease with her environment than within that bar, though that could be owed to the lightsaber concealed within the inside pocket of her jacket and her carefully honed ethereal senses as it was anything else. But she wasn't as tense, at least.

Well, she wasn't until she felt eyes on her and a drink was sent her way shortly after. That certainly changed things. Nothing about this explicitly spelled out danger, and the warning signals that would have flared up in the back of her mind remained silent. But she did detect the subtle nuances of a Force aura mingling with her own, and she didn't raise any defenses to bar him out, letting her presence be felt openly while reaching out to touch on his in return. It was nothing more than a mutual acknowledgement of the others existence, and she raised the glass to her lips and drank as if in acceptance of whatever offer had been extended.

He was slightly on edge, that much she could sense inherently, and she supposed it was due in part to her allegiance in the Force. Maybe it was worthwhile to strike up a conversation, if just to see the look on his face when it was revealed she did indeed fight alongside the Republic unerringly. Perhaps it would be best to smooth over that gap before it could be torn into any more of a rift, but she was of the mood to play her cards just as closely as he was. This was a different sort of game, one that hailed back to her tumultuous teenage years after leaving the Jedi, where she had been new to this kind of scene and oblivious to the truly unfathomable modes of nonverbal communication such as these.

In a gesture that was a touch too deliberate to be casual she turned in her chair to scan the room, allowing her gaze to linger on the one that had indirectly contacted her for a few seconds longer than was altogether appropriate, returning to her drink shortly afterwards. Unlike what would have been typical for her she wouldn't simply walk over to him, deciding to play things like this for just a while longer, to see how long it took for one of them to relent. C'mon, I know you want to.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

So the hunt was on, hmmmm? It almost made him laugh really, the coy little game that this one was playing. Romance was likely out of the question, Starchaser and the other radicals in the Galactic Alliance would never stand for it. Hell, they had nearly lynched Chevu, and stripped her of rank and worse, because she had unknowingly bedded a Sith. Or something like that, the exact details were decidedly fuzzy. But even as 'stunted' as some of Julius' more space-wizard abilities were, this woman was most certainly not of the Light.. And was making no move to conceal it either, in any fashion or sense. That? Now that was something to him, particularly when he was doing the same. His own aura? Well it was creeping more towards a sort of grayish Light.

Decidedly not Dark Sided, nor did he even dabble in it really, he was not a fanatic of the Light either. Nor did he deny emotions or pick and chose which things to be moral about, or confuse the means to an action with the end, or vice versa. There was no selectivism with this man, no not hardly. The Dark Side was not to be trusted, suspect at all times for sure and certain... But it was hardly any worse than some of the deeds he had seen done in the name of the Light. So he followed his own morality, helping out the Alliance when it made sense to because overall they were the best option the Galaxy had really. Not that it was saying much when you took it in full count, but such was their lot.

But his thoughts turned back to the girl across the way, and a devilish smile began to light his face and spread to his eyes. Laughter rolled out from his lips as he shook his head at his own cunning and wit. And so, with a wave, the waiter shuffled on back over, and he bent to Julius as the Green Jedi spoke into his ear. Suddenly he glanced over at Keira, and seemed torn between laughing and running in terror, and bent back to him as if double checking. With a rolled shrug of the shoulders, the waiter seemed to say "Its your funeral" and stepped off, waltzing over to, oddly enough, the juke box in the corner, or what served for it similarly in this time and tech level.

The waiter made a few punches on the jukebox, making a selection and shaking his head decidedly at Julius before he vanished into the back behind the bar. As the tech spun and slowly booted up, Julius made eye contact with the object of his little game, and waggled his eyebrows as the first notes began to drift out over the speakers. A few people were paying them mind and attention now, a sort of predatory pulsing formed between the pair, and the song playing was almost a mocking one to darksiders, given the tone and message of the lyrics that were being sung in it.

As it got to a line about 'Pick up the receiver, Ill make you a believer' Julius merely mimed a comm-unit like motion with one hand, mouthing the words "Wanna talk?" as he winked playfully.

He could keep this up for hours really, he had little else to do on vacation.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rl6fyhZ0G5E

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Throughout the entirety of the song Keira watched him, her head cocking slightly to one side as a crooked grin crept onto her face at his gesture. The song was taken in the opposite manner of his interpretation, and she saw it much more fitting to those Jedi and their ilk that believed they were the undeniable saviors of the galaxy, a gift granted by none other than the Force itself. His meaning wasn't lost on her, however, and she took another pull of her drink before standing, meandering over to the jukebox just as the final notes of his selection faded. After a moment's consideration she picked her own, miming cocking a gun just as the same sound emitted from the speakers, returning to her seat shortly afterwards.

Every note was hummed under her breath, and she looked to him with a raised brow as one of the first few lines spilled outwards, 'You think you're gonna get with me, you're never gonna get with me, you're never gonna dance with me.' Here and now wasn't the first time she had been flirted with, nor was it a first for an impromptu attempt at courting. But instead of lashing out violently as had been commonplace in previous encounters of this caliber she instead settled to match him for every move until someone either folded or undeniably one-upped the other. Or maybe they would actually talk at some point, but she hadn't taken that notion to heart just yet. There was still some more time for play.

It was just as obvious to her as it was to him that the pair had garnered something of an audience within those short few moments. It didn't take any kind of Force sensitivity to discern the nearly palatable tension that had burgeoned between them. In a sense this entire ordeal was akin to two predators feeling each other out, though perhaps for different intentions than a simple fight. Still, she watched his every move all the same, having already determined he likely had a saber hidden on his person and perhaps a few other tricks up his sleeve that weren't quite as noticeable or obvious to her. He was confident, certain in everything that he did, and she respected that above all else.

For just a few seconds she pushed outwards with her presence in the Force, it echoing as a sort of challenge in its own right, but just as quickly that dark volatility shrank back in on itself, returning to more manageable levels. Not exactly a move hell-bent on violence, but it was one meant to maybe provoke him into a more direct confrontation. This was a game she didn't intend on losing, but she was curious enough to want to move things along just a bit, not that he needed to know that. He had nothing better to do, and she couldn't think of anything else with which to occupy her time. This little tease of cat-and-mouse sufficed well enough.

Spoiler

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZsO6a0sLENs[/youtube]

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Oh this one knows the game quite well... Julius old boy, you might have bitten off more than you can chew..

Nevertheless, he pushed aside the self doubt and worry, flashed and gone before hardly even he had recognized they were there, smiling broadly, the smile curling up into a positively lazy smirk. Leaning back, he balanced the chair on the hind legs, and plopped a booted foot up on the table as he did, other foot coming up and crossing over at the ankles, bouncing idly back and forth. This time, though it wasn't his strong suit, he let the pretense die out as his hand came up as if ordering another drink, fingers dancing idly in the air.

As they danced and wiggled, keys on the juke box clicked and depressed. And suddenly the music changed, and Julius' smirk couldn't help but grow. It was one of his favorites, and though it made him rueful to admit it, the tune was approaching 'old'. The gist and thrust, lost on so many who liked to be edgy and listen to it with parts of their head shaven in all black clothing whilst complaining of their trust-fund parentages, was that in the end, the mugger and the priest and the prostitute were all the same, all sinner just shuffling along on the same great galactic coil, quietly wiling and spending time until they closed their eyes for good. And in this case, it sent a myriad of messages, not the least of which seemed to be an utter lack and non-pretense of judgement.

With a waggle of his eyes, he drained the drink in front of him, the rum going down smooth. Funny, that... On Corellia, where the best whiskeys imaginable were to be had, and he got nostalgic with Nar Shaddian rum. It was a particularly strong, dark vintage, the odor of molasses and spices heavy in the air as he sat the empty glass upside down on the table and dismounted from the chair. And he did not achieve it by letting the legs of the chair hit the ground and standing. No, his feet pulled apart, legs bunching at the knees, and his feet landed again on the table, pushing and lifting, sending his body angling up in the air from pressure, as the chair landed and his legs coiled in then out, dancers smooth and catlike as he sauntered to the bar.

The tender, looking at Julius with a mixture of amusement and idle irritation at his table being treated so, seemed mildly shocked when he reached behind the bar, grabbed two shot glasses, a dusty green bottle with the Whyren's logo stamped upon it, and then rolled with an easy gait over to his new 'friend'. There was nothing said to her as he sat in the chair, spinning it easily to rest his elbows on the back of it's wrought iron frame. Nor was their any permission asked to join her at her table. The silent game suited him, and he grinned crookedly, nodding as the cork came off the bottle with a heavy suctioned pop.

Each shotglass, a double at that, was poured to the brim, and a quick flick of his hand, finger-tips trailing across one glass, sent it sliding smoothly across the table to her. Taking his in one hand, he lifted it to the light, examining the color, rolling his wrist as if to release the fine earthy odor of the whiskey, and then swallowed it swiftly, depositing it again top down on the wood, and gesturing to her with a raised brow, sandy hair and blue-grey eyes staring into hers in a chiding challenge of her fortitude for not having slammed the drink down yet in the first place. Though nothing was spoken, the look said it all: What, a Jedi is out-drinking you?

Never mind that Green Jedi were about as orhodox as she likely was. The jab at her still stood well enough.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKtsdZs9LJo

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Now he was erring into the territory of showing off, not that it necessarily bothered her. A few years ago it might have sprung up irritation, but Keira had learned the value in carefully observing what another was capable off-hand to aid in measuring what capabilities they might hold in combat. His manipulation of the Force seemed to be tuned for a finer precision, and he was acrobatic in some sense of the word. Both were traits to watch out for if this was to come to a fight, a possibility she hadn't quite eliminated from the list just yet. No moves had been made for any concealed weaponry, and this encounter seemed innocent enough, but the both of them were Corellian, and that often lent more than was needed.

The shot glass was regarded for just a few seconds before she knocked back the drink, whiskey settling with a crisp, cool burn that only those brewed on Corellia ever really achieved. And she knew that Whyren's Reserve wasn't a cheap brand by any means, doubly so after the near-destruction of the planet on which it had been originally crafted. Either he had expensive tastes, or this was just another mode of showing off. She would put more money on the latter any day. In short order her glass was upside-down on the table next to his, and she looked to him as if to say, What's next?

What song he had chosen sufficed well enough, and so she didn't make any move to change it, merely rolling her head in order to pop the bones of her neck in quick succession. He was playing his cards quite well, remaining silent in a bid to force one of them to be the first to verbally communicate with the other. And she might break the silence just a bit later, but for the moment settled for finishing off the rest of the drink he had sent her, that glass top down as well with a subtle manipulation of the ethereal and a minute shift of her fingers. It was her own way of demonstrating that she was capable of much of the same as he, a simple way of keeping even.

Leaning back in her chair she allowed the fingertips of one hand to brush against the hilt of the saber within her jacket, not a blatant threat, but more of an assurance that she was more than capable of holding her own if it came to that. And she almost wanted it to, almost, if just to further understand who he was. That was a lesson from her old mentor that had never quite worn off, that combat was the purest form of knowing another being. Only she would find some manner to make even life-or-death scenarios sentimental in an entirely unexpected way. She certainly wasn't an exception from the age-old saying that Corellians had rocket fuel for blood.

After having taken him in for all that he was and drawing more similarities than differences she was a touch more relaxed in his presence, nonchalant but not entirely open, still keeping herself guarded in a way that most untrained individuals weren't capable of recognizing. But he would see it, and maybe that was why she kept the act up. Finally she did deign to speak, though it was only one word, articulating those two syllables with something of a careful touch, "Jedi."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

She spoke, and his grin widened at the sound of her voice and how she moved. She certainly gave off an odd aura, and air... Something intrigued him to be sure, but not entirely lust or the game of cat and mouse he enjoyed. This one? He might enjoy coming to know her, learn of her. Something in his mind lacked the sharp edge of imminent danger, the Force Sense he honed for fighting. There was no gut twist to tell him death was coming for him at this instant, but there was an air of general unease. She was certainly no delicate flower or porcelain princess to be sheltered and coddled. No, this one might very well be able to tie him up and do as she pleased. Which, Julius wasn't certain would end in the way he would envision it if it was her choice.

Nodding, he waved, both shotglasses spinning and landing on their bottoms, and poured two more, smiling to her. They were less obnoxiously full, a standard load this time. His tastes were not expensive, but they were refined. A simple bottle of Old Salicious blended whiskey would do him in a pinch, but he knew the nuances to tell between different distilleries and blends and the like. This time, he reached out, the gesture slow and deliberate, and grabbed the glass, cradling it in his main hand. That was a signal, really, sharp as any Force tricks or anything. Obviously, he was a bladesman, any that were used to the type would see the signatures of that kind in his movements. So for him to occupy his primary dueling hand with a drink, and let it rest, showed he felt at ease. Either he was cocky and overconfident, or he was just simply not worried if death chose to call today.

"Yep... Everyone's gotta make a livin somehow. How about you, princess? Shall I call you a Sith? Or do you just like playing with fire when mommy and daddy ain't lookin?"

The end line was delivered with a curl of his lip, an Elvis Presley like sneer-smirk of unquestionable attitude and dubious humor and sarcasm. Subconsciously, he shifted himself slightly to eye her better, taking the time to note build, proportions, likely weaknesses. It may or may not yet turn into a fight, this conversation they had just begun. But if it did, it wouldn't hurt to have done a little homework and have a game plan. And to her, it would look like he was just the typical male eyeing an attractive female. Or maybe she would be smart enough to see through that surface glance and know his real intent of sizing her up. Though, certainly, he wasn't complaining about looking.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

For all of the borderline threats inherent in nothing more than how she carried herself Keira reached for the drink rather nonchalantly, mimicking him in that she took it up in her dominant hand as well, in this case the cybernetic left. It was just as much a demonstration of her being at ease as much as it was communicating that she didn't view him as much of a threat in turn, something that could be coupled with her arrogance that had a habit of cropping up at the worst of times. One could attribute it to her following the dark just as much as they could anything else, but there was no doubt she held a confidence of her own skill that was deserved in certain facets and unwarranted in others, something that had a habit of annoying this or that individual at times.

"You shouldn't call me Sith, and as it stands 'princess' would be as unwise as anything." Never had she taken to pet names of any sort, least of all from those that had made advances even remotely similar to his in the past. But he seemed better disciplined than any of them had been, so the chances of him winding up with broken bones or other trauma, at least right away, were slim. With a smirk manifesting she toyed with her glass, cybernetic fingers playing about the rim absently. This was just about how she liked things. Being able to hold any form of conversation was a luxury with how the galaxy was faring, and she would welcome any kind of social contact so long as he didn't happen to get too daring.

For the briefest of seconds she considered her response to his final and likely semi-rhetorical inquiry before firing back a retort, "Mommy and daddy were murdered a long time ago, but you could say I like playing with fire. You'd better be careful, or you're liable to get burned." Inclining her head slightly as if in challenge she knocked back the second double just as easily as the first, looking to his glass with a raised brow just as he had done hers, matching him move-for-move in his own game. Far from the sort to play coy, she preferred to strike closer to the heart of things and examine the reaction such a strategy elicited. Nine times out of ten, that was more telling than anything else. "How about you, then? You just doing good so you have a story to tell at the bar, or is there more than meets the eye?"

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Hey now, your worshipfulness... Don't get things twisted... I just happen to be looking for a dancing partner for the night maybe, but you seem like you've probably got two left feet and your shoes tied together anyhow. Hardly someone I want stepping all over my toes, can't imagine they teach a princess how to dance proper like..."

Smiling, he took the double back casually, the reaction to her return look not even visible or able to be felt. The look had been noticed, that much was for sure by how she acted. So she was attentive, at the least of his assessment. And it was entirely possible the action got under her skin a little bit, but if it had she was taking it well. If it hadn't... Well, then she was a cool customer and it warranted a bit of respect from the rogue. However, his return salvo in the verbal battle was quick, pointed, but said without rancor or irritant. In fact, it was said with a bit of a wistful quality to it, accompanied by a gesture to her with his fingertips, the hand moving up and down. It spoke of regret, of potential wasted.

Almost the gesture would seem to say, in particular when combined with the words Julius spoke, that it was a shame such a nice package lacked the content to back up the wrappings, so to speak. Not quite an insult really, but a clear statement that Julius felt she wouldn't be worth his time to 'dance' with, and most definitely couldn't keep up with him if they did. While not specifically designed to insult, he wanted to see if she riled or jarred from his statements. To see her limits and how she acted when he kept his cool but cut to the quick of the matter and twisted the knife a little. This time, he poured for him alone, and took the shot as he drank, sliding her the bottle smoothly when he was done. Two-fold, that gesture there.. It was both 'I wont be waiting on you' and 'Keep up if you can then'...

Then, for a brief moment, there was a slight clearing of the snark and snide, and he nodded to the glass and the bottle, as an afterthought. What he said next wasn't traditional, but it was certainly fitting, and seemed very 'Corellian' to say. The last bit of it, in particular, was an old funeral benediction relating to the Corellian practice of funeral pyres and the creations of soul diamonds.

"To your folks... Hope their fires burned bright at the end of it all, like stars in the night sky...."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

If his mindset was anything like hers Keira knew perfectly well just what sort of dance he was referring to, and she certainly didn't mind testing just how well Jedi happened to be trained these days, even if he likely knew just as many dirty tricks and underhanded tactics as she did. Never had she crossed blades with another Corellian. There was a first time for everything, as the saying went, and a bar was just as fitting a venue as any. She didn't manage to quite bite back a quiet laugh at his commentary in regards to her 'dancing' ability. "Saltan valoramosa n telval mord." Old Corellian was a language that had been passed down in her family for generations, and in some ways was the last shreds of her culture she had managed to hold onto over the years.

"I imagine they don't teach princesses to dance very well. But a crime lord's daughter is a different story altogether." Her lineage had never been something she felt was worth disguising, and in a way she was proud of where she had come from. It had given her a different perspective on life than most were capable of obtaining, and had assured at least some kind of proficiency in the unorthodox methods of combat from an early age. "I suppose you wouldn't know anything of that though, right? You Jedi are supposed to uphold a higher standard in the galaxy, Corellian or not. I wouldn't think they'd let you get too close to people like me without a blade at my throat. The Dark Side is something to be feared, after all." A wry sort of smile twisted her lips.

When the bottle was slid across to her she caught it just as easily, and she poured herself another drink before firing it back to him. At the sentimental words offered her expression sobered, brow furrowing slightly as a swell of emotion surfaced within her, though she managed to push it aside and swallow the lump rising in her throat. Just as quickly her features smoothed over, and she managed a nonchalant shrug, though a sort of wistful look lingered in her eyes. "When you make your living in the criminal underworld somebody's bound to catch up to you eventually. No one can run forever." And no one could beat the odds, despite the saying that existed in regards to their people.

That poignant moment dissipated entirely when she emptied her glass, and everything was back to normal for all intents and purposes. The volatility of those thunderclouds had returned to her eyes, and a half-smile that spoke of a dangerous amusement turned up one corner of her mouth. "Ohna fulle guth, Jedi."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"I don't know where you got your information on me princess but.."

Here he stopped a minute, and seemed to think as he looked at the woman, eyes strangely vacant. He couldn't decide if he was actually attracted to this nut-job in front of him, or if he wanted to shove a burning blade of blue-white plasma through her eye and be done with it. He, as she kept pointing out, was supposed to be a Jedi, right? Women, no people, like this were his sworn enemy and foe to be dispatched at all costs, or so he was taught. But here she was, talking and walking, so to speak... Her eyes were decidedly yellowed, but she didn't possess horns or a forked tail, and he doubted there were any cloven hooves under the table. So where was the maniacal laughter and endless slaughter and bloodshed he was told about? That he himself had seen and fought against? It simply wasn't there...

So he took the bottle, dispensing with the glass, and just straight up downed the equivalent of several shots from it, wincing a bit and sliding it towards his companion.

"But you are mistaken.. I haven't lived life in some sheltered Temple talking down my nose to other people. Sitting in pretty apartments in high towers debating how others should be allowed to live. I didn't chose this either... I'll level with you, kid...Some bastard up and plucked me from my parents, and I spent years thinking my old man and ma were terrible people for trying to keep me from the Order. By the time I had a brain to question it and leave that lunacy, they were dead. Whatever kind of people they were, they didn't deserve my hatred. Nor do you, really."

There was another pause, and he leaned back, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, but instead of attacking, he looked at her. Slowly his hand went to his vest, and he pulled out a lightsaber from it, dropping it to the table with a thud that echoed finality in it's noise. He made no move to touch the blade, instead merely shaking his head, looking at the thing as if it were an albatross 'round his neck, an anchor weighing him down, Blessing and curse.. Whatever his wants, whatever man he might be underneath the sneer and bluster? It was irrevocably altered and changed because of some set of happenstance at birth. For good or ill, his fortune and his fame would be decided in this thing, and he gestured at the blade finally with a knifing hand, tinges of rage and regret spiking in his aura.

"That label you keep throwing at me? Jedi? I never wanted it, never laid claim to it even once yet. But people have been shoving it down my throat since the first time I figured out I was different. Your kind argue about labels, judgement, moral elitism of the Jedi. I don't give two creds what some space-monk on Lothal or Coruscant or wherever it is the Order hides now thinks I should be doing. I keep trying to, and i'll be damned if I can muster it up to do so. All I care about anymore is me and mine, and keeping my home and friends safe... 'Til you cross that line or harm someone who don't deserve it? I don't get involvd anymore...I just set limits on what i will do when it comes time, because sometimes a means is not justified by the end...And I see myself as more than a collection of ill-planned decisions made poorly in the heat of the moment...You want me on guard, ke'dem? Koccic sulng il pla, then..."

...With that, the rage spiked, then seemed to be smothered and quashed, almost as if fed into something. Serenity descended over the before furious man, and the table rocked for a moment before suddenly flipping over shoving towards Keira with a burst of telekinetic force, the lightsaber on it flying into Julius hand as he spun away from the table and lashed out with a clearing strike, slicing the fine glass bottle of whiskey clean in half from the hissing blue-white beam of light leaping from his fist, showering his 'dinnner guest' with shards of glass and a spray of whiskey spraying at her face.

As the commotion settled, save for panicked denziens fleeing the bar-bistro, he stood a few feet back, eyes full of a calm fury, blade held in a raised guard at his shoulder. There were no more words, no first moves. They had played long enough, now it was time to dance ... And if the upcoming performance matched her sarcasm and wit? Well, Julius might be in love, and the errant thought was met with a genuine Elvis-smirk as he recognized it wasn't too far from true despite it's intent. Or he might have to kill her. The decision hadn't been made in his mind yet.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

A spur-of-the-moment telekinetic barrier was erected in order to dispel the shards of glass and splash of alcohol. The table itself was dealt with in a much more straightforward manner, saber seeming to materialize in her hand, orange plasma blade thrumming into existence and bisecting the wood, another application of telekinesis preventing the two halves from harming either of them. He was smart, fast, underhanded and willing to do what was necessary in order to give himself the upper hand. At the end of things he reminded her of herself, and she wasn't sure how much she liked the idea of that. If he was anything like her, then he was the decidedly better half.

The weapon was held in a relaxed grip, with no proper stance being taken and no attacks made. Instead she mulled over all he had revealed to her, laying out a number of aspects about himself except for apparently his name, and for some reason she cared about that minute detail over everything else. "You mind telling me your name, chumani? Figured it was common courtesy to get that much before crossing blades. I'll even start first, if you'd like. Keira Ticon." The bow of her head that was offered was half-serious at best, the hardened edge to her otherwise playful smile whisking away any thoughts that she was doing this purely for the sake of niceties.

"I used to be a Jedi once, you know. And not just in name alone. The whole nine yards." It was a facet of her past only those truly close to her were aware of, but there was enough similarity between the two of them that she somehow felt the need to further bridge that gap, even if it wouldn't change much. "A Jedi found me on Corellia when I was around twelve, I decided to accompany him, and the rest is history." Her head cocked slightly to one side. "I can't say it was a way of life I overly enjoyed. Too much talking and hardly enough actually getting anything done." Her naturally headstrong attitude hadn't helped things along either, of course, but that was beside the point.

"Unlike you, though, I wised up and left. They weren't worth my time anymore. As it happens, you learn more useful things outside of the Order anyhow." Her commentary had shifted from playful to its usual cutting edge, shifting from a way to have fun and pass the time to a method of goading him into attack in less than a heartbeat. She was better prepared for combat than small talk, so it mattered little. "Suppose you can guess at where that left me. Turns out the Dark Side isn't as bad as they say either." It had been a safety net first and foremost, something she fell back into when her own thoughts became too much to handle alone. At this point, however, it was what she knew.

At that point the duo were left mostly alone in a now empty room, save for a few brave souls that decided to stick around for the time being and observe the ensuing fight. Somehow she had a feeling they wouldn't be remaining for long. This match already had the capacity to become dangerously destructive. But she wouldn't quite be the instigator, not yet. No, she would let him strike out and make the first real move in joining the fight. This had been of his own doing, so that was only suitable. "Come on, then. You had the stones to start this. I want you to prove that you can back it up."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Julius Sedaire.."

The gesture of respect was returned to the woman, without a hint of mockery or contempt, and no perfunctorily edgy flips or such. Genuinely there was reverence in the movement, and again he radiated a calm that was almost dangerous. In battle, it was almost always this way now a days. Gone was the passion and recklessness of the times before in his youth. Loss and pain had tempered him on the Outer Rim, and self-knowledge and discovery had further drilled into him the lessons of a life lived on the edge of the blade. Softly, his feet padded forward, stalking almost as his voice quieted and his eyes seemed to sadden. It was likely inevitable to come to this, if he were honest. But he regretted it hadn't been avoided. Something within him told him this woman was more than what she appeared on the surface to his life. A great turbulence to the calming seas he sailed through. The events of this day would long scar him, even if her blade never did.

"I was a Jedi, I do not know what I am now... I have fought beside the Mando'ade... Slaughtered in the name of the Light, and shown mercy to those condemned to Darkness...Seen the rise and fall of our world... Been to the Unknown and stared into the Void, and had it stare back into me. I've left behind everything but my flesh and bones. Doaba ol'val tru, min larel ..."

The last phrase seemed to tumble and wrench out of him, as he felt his gut twist, telling him to strike and to strike now... So he lunged forward, Force blurring him to incredible speeds. The blow was nothing fancy, utterly no flash or polish to it. But it was pointed at an utterly odd area for someone in over their head with minimal skill. Instead of the head, or the neck or the arm, it went right for the thigh, aiming to cut across and down and sever her left leg at the knee if it connected in full. Simple, but efficient and quick and ruthless almost in it's very design and nature. Decidedly not something most Jedi would go for. There was dueling, with codes and conduct and rules... And then there was this here... Something more, at once deadly and at once inexorable.

As a star slowly is fed into and destroyed by a black hole, the events unfolding were just as inevitable in the end.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Everything about this was wrong, and painfully so, that knowledge cutting through to her core. There was nothing to say the two of them should have been anything other than enemy, but the blood that may as well have run green through their veins should have been enough of a mainstay for peace. This time a fight hadn't been what Keira had sought out, but as always violence had a way of latching onto her even if she didn't want to be found. It pained her to raise her blade against one that she should have gotten on with by default, but she wasn't quite as regretful as her counterpart. There had to have been some want there to instigate this conflict, and he would get what he supposedly desired.

Once he stepped forward she shifted back, his movements too fast to process. All she was able to do was draw on was the ethereal to supplement her reaction time, buffeting away his blade, though not before it sluiced across her flesh, leaving its own mark. It took all of her strength not to immediately crumble to one knee, though she did switch nearly instantly to favoring that leg. That meant no tricky maneuvers unless she wanted to risk further injury, though the prospect had never overly concerned her before. Cybernetics had been brought into the galaxy for a reason, after all, and her left arm was a testament to that. If she had to add another, then so be it.

Even after being struck she didn't lash out with any retort, due to doing what she could to quell the pain just as much as her learned restraint that didn't seem like such a good idea to have now. No, she would have much rather just kicked his teeth in, but that pang from before about them being of the same people still rang true. It wasn't right for them, two Corellians with nothing left to lose except perhaps their lives, to strike out against each other in such a violent and erroneous manner. But here they were anyhow, emotions and thoughts having been pushed to the edge , and, without anywhere else to go, being released towards the nearest target that just happened to be the one sitting across from them.

Her complacency didn't last overly long, and with a twist of her hand she sent a burst of the Force towards his midsection. The strike allowed her to remain stationary, as was necessary to the moment with her injury, but it was still capable of dealing its fair share of damage all the same. "Forget about what you are and figure out who you want to be. That's all that matters." A friendly piece of advice that she was never quite able to abide by, and she didn't expect him to either.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The wave of telekinetic force slammed into his gut and sent him stumbling across the space in their makeshift arena, eventually backing into and almost tripping over a chair. In transit, it had doubled him over, driving the wind out of him and a slight cough at the end showed it had probably hit something good, as he spit out a bit of blood and grinned from crimson stained teeth as his spittle turned slightly colored with the coppery tasting blood. The blade was held out and up, point twitching and tracing in a warding gesture. Telekinetics weren't his strong suit, and he would need to at least make a study of the subject to maybe see how he could guard against it better. Couldn't be that hard.

In all honesty, it would probably be something he could have dealt with a bit better had he not been so distracted. The strike had been moderately successful, she wouldn't be able to match him in any sort of acrobatics or speed now. But it was the feelings washing out from his opponent, the knot and tangle of emotions that truly hit him even hard. Even as he stood and assumed a guard stance, he hadn't yet made any advances, his muscles taut, tendons in the jaw clenching and un-clenching in indecision. This was his job, supposedly, his sworn duty to abolish the Dark Side and those of under its' sway. But somehow, this didn't feel right... There was no righteous joy or satisfaction of zeal in these strikes and his plans.. Just regret...

Regret that it had to come to this, that because of dogma, he could not give this fellow sentient a chance. Sure, there were some that were beyond redemption, beyond hope and care. But maybe there were others out there? Those who could be saved, or who whilst under the sway of the Dark Side, might not be a bad person in point of fact. Maybe not everyone in every case needed to be killed... What was that phrase he had read in a Holocron back in the days of his Youngling training?

Only a Sith deals in absolutes...

By the very definition of that phrase, and by more he had begun to witness, there wasn't much difference between the Jedi and Sith except for semantics really. If only a Sith dealt in absolutes, then in the end killing everything Dark Sided was just as bad as the Sith killing and slaughtering indiscriminately. What gave them the moral right and superiority to declare such unilateral rules and regulations? And then never change them? Judge a person by their deeds, not by their words... That seemed fair to him. Keira hadn't started this... He had... By the philosophy of the Jedi, she deserved it.. But did she really? The question disturbed him, as he wiped the corner of his mouth and spit blood again.

"Forget about what you are and figure out who you want to be. That's all that matters."

Here he hesitated, before he stood up, extinguishing the saber, though he still hold it in a grip where it cold be ignited and brought to bear in a moments action. A long, lingering look was spent on Keira, full of something unreadable in eyes or aura. Regret to match her... Questions flitting across his mind at a rapid pace and discarded without answer half the time. The saber in his hand seemed to tug at his mind, his facial muscles going slack for what appeared to be a moment or two. Internally, it might have been much longer. Something seemed to be going on, his presence in the Force swelling beyond what it was before, as if constraints were finally let go. Suddenly he spoke, his eyes coming back into focus.

"I don't know who I want to be... Might not ever know that or be able to say it...And that suits me just fine...But I know who I don't want to be anymore... I can't keep playing their games. I'm not like you, the Dark Side just doesn't appeal to me. Too dangerous to slip and fall over the edge into truly bad things. But if attacking you without provocation beyond your particular brand of religion is what I have to do to be of their version of the Light Side? Then maybe I'm not of either side really, not anymore. I don't see how that makes a Jedi different from a Sith, really... I just want my people safe. My family safe, what little remains of it now-a-days... We're too scattered and broken, whittled and winnowed away under wars not concerning us. By powers that don't care for us except as boots on the ground... I've tried, and the Alliance doesn't care.. They turn a blind eye to it, too fixated on the war with the One Sith and winning at any cost. The Republic is too worried about forms and procedures and bureaucracy to pull their heads out of their arse and help us. And the One Sith? They just want to crush us and use us Corellians like any other resource..There has to be something more we can do, something better we can become."

The readied hand dropped and relaxed, saber of the Skywalkers still gripped tightly in it but no longer at guard height. He looked at her, concern in his eyes oddly enough. A slight step was taken towards her, his other hand up in a warding, calming gesture for her. There was no harm meant from him anymore, the pain radiating off her enough to make his decision final in his eyes. No more fighting, unless she pressed the issue with him. And with her leg sliced up like that, it would be no more than he'd deserve really. So his shoulders relaxed, sagging a bit, entire stance loosening softly.

"So no... I don't know who or what I am... But I won't be the kind of person who hurts someone like you, or anyone, without reason...It just isn't me, and I have to stop pretending it is."


[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

So now he decided to think rationally, disregarding his duty as a Jedi in favor of what sense was to be made of his own morality, uninfluenced by an outside source. And it was about time he had done so as well. Typically, at this point a biting sarcastic remark would have already passed her lips, but Keira remained decidedly silent, merely watching him. From the moment he struck Keira had drawn the ethereal forcibly into her core, and refused to release her hold even as she witnessed him relaxing and standing down. It wasn't within her capacity to shift down and out of her combat-ready mindset so quickly, though she did at the very least extinguish her saber and slacken her grip on the hilt.

That her attack had dealt out some amount of damage was enough to relieve a modicum of the tension between them, the pain seething through her leg a reminder of her own shortcomings. Mending that would have to wait until later, however, as the standoff between them was broken once he spoke. Still she didn't break the stalemate on her half of the bargain, taking her time to completely absorb the depth of his claims and discern what amount of truth they held. He was being sincere so far as she could tell, speaking words that most in his position wouldn't have dared to utter. There was no mistake as to his heritage, and she couldn't help but flash a crooked smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

When he stepped forward her first inclination was to take a step back, but she held her ground, knowing now that she had little to fear from him in way of a threat. Peace had been wrought just as easily as violence, but she wasn't quite certain as to the permanence of the decision made. It was her natural state to always be at least somewhat on guard, a facet of her personality that would likely never change. A threat nearly tore its way out of her, but she stayed her tongue. The warning was clear enough in the inclination of her head that signaled an acceptance of his treaty and the predatory gaze that lingered for a few seconds in her amber gaze: if he crossed her again, there would be no holding back.

The muscles of her jaw ticced visibly, and she forced herself to completely break from her stance, still not quite relinquishing her weapon so long as his own still remained. "You'd better get to work on figuring out who you are, or you'll just be wandering aimlessly without much of a purpose. Believe me, I've been there. It's not a place you want to find yourself." In that she spoke entirely from experience, having gone years without truly knowing just who she was and what she wanted out of life. He didn't need to suffer the same, and it was perhaps due to their shared Corellian heritage that she wanted to do what she could to prevent it. Or maybe she wasn't quite as callous as everyone seemed to believe.

"We don't make for much of a people when we're all out in the galaxy on our own agenda with no sense of unity after Corellia in the state it is now. If we're ever going to amount to much, that needs to be solved first. Maybe then the Green Jedi, and all the others, can finally come together again. Then we can see about dealing with the rest of the galaxy." This was a strangely optimistic attitude for her to hold, but she didn't particularly mind it. "And the Republic isn't all it used to be. Not after what happened on Chazwa and Roche." Two days she had a feeling she would never be able to shake from her memory. For a moment she hesitated, before extended her hand for him to shake, "Minmin volgoth noh petchuck."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"I was there on Roche... I guarded the medical teams... I felt them die... Felt her die... Felt that danger... Shatterpoints... I've learned that's what they are called, what I felt.. Something changed in that moment, in that battle... Someone, or something, has gone beyond the point of no return. A chance at a tipping point, a choice was made, for better or worse, then. I've fought in wars... I've killed men, women... Things I'm not even sure the species or gender of. But that? That was nothing more than lambs to a slaughter, trying to make a point of egotism."

He reached out then, taking her hand in his with a firm grip and shaking it. His, if she felt it, bore callouses the trademark of a swordsman, the burn-scars of the knuckles, the rough skin. Lately conflict was all he had been, really. The pursuit of it, the study of it, the practice and theory of it. Often as he could, the enactment of it. Darius was who knows where in the galaxy, being his own man and his own Jedi. Hopefully figuring out his own mess of a life, no thanks to Julius. A shaking aura, still torn between striking her down and regretting what he had done to her, gave tremors in the Force. For a moment he regarded her, eyes holding hers steadily before he managed a stronger grin than the last. While he wasn't entirely sure in the end of what lay ahead, with the same surety that he had approached her with, he knew that the whole reason his life was in Chaos was simply a lack of balance. Though the advent of such a force in one such as himself was.... Challenging... To say the least.

"I am a man. Not sure if I am a good one, or a bad one, or somewhere in between. But for now, that is enough purpose. The worry over titles, over definition, has landed us in a lot of this mess in the first place. I don't have a purpose, but I won't find it in their wars. By the insanity of religion, and the blindness of dogma, I have seen the worst of atrocities.. I think what is more important is what we do, rather than say."

Here the bladesman released her hand and gently reached up, tapping her nose with a long finger. The gesture was sly, and almost intimate, but chiding as well. It seemed to say that she knew, as well as he, that she was likely speaking half to herself. For once, the bravado and flash seemed subdued, behind all that, coming to the fore was a more focused gaze, a tilt to the head, a look to the eyes. It spoke of things he strove to forget, but that the Atrisian who had trained him - Marasun - had prized in him. A certain empathy, combined with an intelligence that was less of book and academia, and more of the heart and street. There was little doubt, whenever he slowed down long enough for his mind to catch up, this man had a fierce mind behind the jokes.

"Neither will you find purpose there, I think... You speak from experience, but not from wisdom or lessons realized and learned. Aliha sel valle volgoth?"

Turning, as if expected to be followed, he put no hand out to offer to help her. If she wanted it, or needed it, he would be there, it was his way. But he would not demean such a kindred, if photo-negative, spirit by insisting it was weaker and needed the help he could provide. He seemed to not acknowledge that what had been her high point, questioning and lecturing him, had turned into a reversal as fierce as any riposte of his in combat. Indeed, if the last bit of time was any indication, there interaction would prove to be one of constant strife and challenge, in many ways.

"Now.. I likely need a little bit of a look-over, and your leg could use some bacta, at the least... Ever been to Socorro?"

As he waited in the door-way to leave, without a single motion, the music in the juke-box changed once again.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eU0XjA64nj4

 

[Keira Priest]

Her only response to his recollection of the battle was to nod along to what was said, and it seemed for a moment that Keira was lost in her own thoughts and flashbacks as to what had transpired that day. Nothing good, to be sure. "I was there, too. That clone army of the Republic's you've probably been hearing about? Yeah, that's me." When he brought about the point of egotism she couldn't help but chuckle dryly. "That's what you get when you're dealing with Mandalorians." Her men had been raised and trained alongside them, so some degree of higher respect was likely in order, but after her clashes with them in previous years she couldn't muster much. Never mind the fact that she had picked up some of the language and had an appreciation for the culture.

Just as his own her hand was rough, grip firm but not quite in the sense that an exacting pressure was exerted, though something was there which spoke of her self-assuredness. Conflict seemed to be what she had been groomed for ever since her first lesson with the Gen'Dai Dark Jedi she considered to be her first and only true mentor. Combat was sensible in that it had no true rules other than those you chose to put in place, and honorable tactics were largely meaningless, unless one was concerned with their own personal reputation. However, unlike her he didn't seem to find the same sort of peace there, though he was still very much conflicted in regards to their current relationship.

"And you'll find your purpose in those actions. But you're right, we won't get much of anything out of fighting their wars. Except, for me, it's a bit more personal now than it has been in the past. I have people to take care of and watch over that I consider family, and that's what drives me to remain with them. If that means I have to kick a few teeth in for the supposed greater good to keep them safe, then so be it. Force knows I've done enough killing to be good at it." That was neither a prideful nor shamed admittance, merely a statement of fact in itself. She knew what she was doing on nearly any battlefield, and the bar fight that had nearly been joined wasn't even the half of it.

When he tapped at her nose she cracked a smile and gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow, a reciprocation and acceptance of his previous action. It was a sign that she was at the very least at ease with him now, but looking deeper it indicated that they were one step away from being enemies and another closer to a rocky sort of friendship, the only sort she was able to forge. He at the very least had managed to crack through her exterior, something that had become increasingly easier of late as she opened herself up to life and the possibilities of simply feeling. It was a new experience for her, but one that had brought about a metamorphosis that brought her closer to the light even as she walked so willingly in darkness.

"Experience is the greatest wisdom there is. You can read about a lot of things, but living them is something entirely different. I know for a fact that I haven't survived this long just by reading about saber combat in the Jedi archives. No, I was pushed in sparring matches until I couldn't tell the difference between them and an actual battle. Maybe that's why so many Jedi die." It was an offhanded comment, but one that could be taken a multitude of different ways depending on just how it was received. This time she wasn't quite intending to get under his skin, but had a funny way of irritating others even if that wasn't her endgame. Sometimes it was better for everyone if she didn't talk at all, but unfortunately she wasn't the greatest at learning that lesson.

Adjusting her weight to her injured leg experimentally she eventually made her way to the doorway, limping but refusing to show any outward sign of struggle despite the taughtness to her jaw that spoke of an unacknowledged pain. "Doaba ol'val tru." That was the only response uttered to his inquiry posed in the same language, and it was meant not as the farewell it was often used as, but as a want of the two things that had been lacking in her life of late. Two things she had a feeling the both of them negated simply by existing. "Can't say I've ever found myself there, no. But I suppose now's as good a time as any to change that."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]