This Is How They Died

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The Graywall​

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The cold feeling of metal on his skin was something Cedric doubted he would ever get used to.

The cybernetics that had been grafted into his skin were not as extensive as they could have been. The technicians belonging to the Sons of Ession were supremely skilled, and they had desired nothing less than to outfit their long standing lord with the greatest upgrades credits could buy. Cedric had been less than cooperative, and had finally settled on allowing them the skin grafts required and a phrik underlay beneath the ruined flesh. Anything more was budging on the realm of the unnatural, and the Jedi Master had no desire to draw himself away from the Force in any possible sense.

When the procedures were finished, Cedric was mostly whole. One of his lungs had been replaced with a vat grown organ, and several of his bones were reinforced with a modified durasteel that would make him far more capable of withstanding blows than ever before. Much of his flesh had been ruined via frostbite, lightsaber wounds, and the corrupting influence of Maliphant's power. The Dark Side was beyond modern science, and treating its infectous touch was something only the wisest of sages could do.

Thus it was that the offending flesh was simply removed, and replaced with grafts of pure phrik and synthskin. Cedric's body was covered in these small little spots, but his face, as per request, remained untouched. It had not been left pristine after his conflict with Maliphant, but a few new scars did not warrant disfigurement by metal.

"There's a ship coming to land my lord," one of the ensigns reported. Cedric lofted a brow. "One of ours?"

The ensign shook his head, "No one's scheduled to be arriving now, and we don't recognize the callsign. Should we prepare to receive?"

Cedric exhaled a heavy breath as he stood up from his chair. He had been taking breakfast atop the Graywall's highest tower. From here, he could observe the hundreds of beings bustling below. He envisioned himself as something of a proud father watching his children grown and prosper beneath his watchful eye. As he watched the soldiers drilling, the initiates attending their daily classes, and civilians bustling about to meet their daily tasks, he was brought into that mindset once again.

A warm smile found its way onto Cedric's face as he momentarily allowed himself to forget that Maliphant was still on the run, that the Sith Empire was tearing its way across the stars, and that there was an unknown visitor to his ancestral home.

"Sir?" The ensign asked again.

Cedric blinked, turning about to face the young man. "What's the callsign?"

"Just reads as Blue sir."

Cedric's smile remained. "Unexpected, but not unwelcome. This one is a friend. Give her access to the landing pad at the top of the castle next to my ship, and pull back all the guards. I'll see to her myself."

The ensign nodded and hurried off to comply. Not one to waste anymore time, Cedric marched off toward the landing pad.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Cockpit soundtrack​

For once in her life, time was not a luxury.

There was a fear in the pilot's gut that spread to her throat any moment she reflected back to Kadavo's space. The blueprints Frank had pulled were etched in her mind. In fact, there was a lot taking up space in there - more than usual. The series of events that had occurred since Metellos were enough to overwhelm the lithe clone. And she found out she was an aunt. To a Mandalorian. Which meant she was more biological than she could have ever conceived.

She was relieved when she wasn't shot at, for the first time in weeks, and permitted access to a secured landing pad. S.S. Blue perused easily through the blissful atmosphere and settled to the designated coordinates the attendant had sent through to her. When she landed, she took a second to sink into her pilot's seat and exhale heavily. Her gaze cast upward to the ceiling of her ship while her posture slouched and Frank appeared from the back.

I have the prints ready to share.

"Right, yeah, okay good." She murmured, before fixing her slouched position enough to unstrap herself from the crash mesh. With a flick of her hand, the landing pad spilled from the mouth of her ship like a metallic tongue and she rose to step down into the ramp with heavy steps. It was midway down the ramp that she checked herself and regained her posture to a more amiable presence. In the background, the playlist changed to something a bit more upbeat to support her entrance.


In the distance, a figure emerged. What with all the pleasantries up to this point she'd almost expected a full entourage, but was relieved it was only [member="Cedric Grayson"]. A pep in her step, the young replica picked up her gait to close the distance and not prolong the awkward time that could have been spent observing each other's silhouettes and approaching bodies. Within a handful of seconds, she'd left her ramp and met Cedric with an embrace that was characteristic of the bleeding heart's. A complete one-eighty of her mother's interpretation of the galaxy. Anyone could die at any moment, as a fighter pilot, she witnessed death on the daily. When her friend's were still alive, she let them know she was grateful.

"Oh man," she breathed, and pulled away from the hug after feeling some weird clunks on the collision. "You look worse for wear and yet better than Hoth. What a paradox you live."

 

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For once, Cedric chose not to listen to the whispers of the empyrean.

The Great Ocean was more his home than reality ever was, but today it was telling him nothing but unpleasantness. It was the sort that Cedric was already aware of, and lingering on it would only darken his mood. Normally he would naturally allow himself to brood over the reality of his situation; today was not a normal day.

Casting such doubts aside, Cedric allowed himself to adopt a smile. The warm summer air felt off upon his face after having spent so many nights in Hoth's eternal cold. He found himself missing his armor, and was hyper aware of where his eyes lingered. Often when he wore a helm he could detach himself: not having one left him feeling naked. One's expression told far more than their words, and having it unmasked felt...wrong.

Nonetheless, he could not fight his smile as Loske stepped down the ramp. He was pleased to see his savior, though there was a dark pretense to her arrival. With the war having broken out once again, Loske wouldn't be here for a social call.

He came to a halt a meter away from Loske, but she kept moving forward. his expression twisted with naked confusion as she stepped well within his personal space. Lithe arms drew about his midriff, and he finally began to process that Loske meant to hug him. A thousand alarm bells began to ring in Cedric's head, and all the happiness he'd felt upon seeing her was replaced with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Physical contact was not something Cedric did. It was extremely rare for him to allow another sentient being to touch him, and it had been years since he'd ever embraced someone. The action was a trigger of sorts, and it brought to the fore memories the Jedi would rather live without.

His reality began to shift. The sweet flowery smell of Loske's perfume went from welcome to cloying. It morphed into the scent of burning sulphur, clogging Cedric's nostrils with what he experienced as smoke. Blond hair became that of a raven's, blue eyes darkened to orbs of brown. The warmth of her skin grew deathly cold: akin to that of a cadaver.

Cedric's arms hung limply at his sides as the woman's lips twisted to pronounce words. The ringing in Cedric's ears was far too loud for him to actually hear what she said, but concentrating on her mouth helped draw her into focus.

The dark haired woman and the blonde morphed between one another, as if each were standing in the same place, their realities intertwined and fighting for supremacy. Cedric recognized the both of them, but a singular fact kept that from bringing him peace.

"Caida?"

One was Loske, alive and warm. The other was Caida, very much not so.

It was only then that Cedric realized he was having an episode. Life came back to his eyes as he stepped away from the blonde, his gaze steady and even, a practiced reaction to anytime such episodes plagued him. He drew in a deep breath, then expelled it slowly.

"Loske," he said, as if he'd only just realized that himself, "Sorry, the drugs they have me on make me a little hazy." He lied with practiced ease. "Welcome to Ruusan."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Her lips parted and remained that way, speechless, as soft tremors evidenced from [member="Cedric Grayson"] on touch. He'd had slight pause on Metellos, but she figured that had been unfamiliarity. This time it was a bit longer, and it felt like holding a limp fish. She was glad she withdrew when she did, and managed to observe the pause in the Jedi.

A short "Uh.." manifested when the Ruusan native saluted her with an entirely different name, and then replaced it with her actual and an explanation.

"Lucky," she grimaced. Up until this moment she'd felt pretty sober, but remembered only a handful of parsecs ago she'd slammed whatever she could get her hands on at the last fuel station. It was cheap ale, and just about to kick in. She stepped back, giving him his space and her balance. "Do I get to meet Caida on Ruusan too?

Also, thank you for not shooting me out of the sky." She took an exaggerated bow of gratitude.

We've heard much of Ruusan. Never visited. Frank interjected, introducing himself again at the side of the blonde pilot. You look better than when we last met. How are you feeling?

 

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Reality returned slowly, as it always did. Only those that had undergone a change in that reality understood just how intense it could be, and it often took time for that intensity to lessen into nothingness. Cedric had experienced it so many times in his life that he'd simply grown used to it at this point. The smile he gave her was weaker than it had been initially, but it still carried warmth. He was making an active effort to seem normal, per se.

"I'm not sure if lucky is the apt word," Cedric mused as he reached up to scratch the back of his bare scalp, a nervous habit. His lips parted to speak more, but then she asked of Caida. It was his own fault for allowing himself to succumb to the hallucination - she deserved an answer after saving his life.

"Oh, no I'm afraid Caida hasn't been here in a long time," he replied matter-of-factly. It hid the grief that wracked his heart at the mention of her name, though it was unlikely Loske would pick up on his hidden displeasure.

Eager to change the subject, Cedric willed his smile to seem legitimate, turned about, and waved for Loske and Frank to follow. "I have a new ensign and he really wanted to. Lucky I wasn't taking a bath or something, wouldn't have gone well." Cedric joked. It was easy for him to simply shift between moods on command, and he found the pleasant aura that seemed to follow Loske was intoxicating enough to ignore thoughts of the dead.

"It's a lovely world. The troubles of the galaxy seem so far away here." Cedric mused, "I'm doing a lot better. There's a few new metal bits in me, but everything else is running more or less the way it did before Hoth. Mostly."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Lucky depends on the hallucinations I guess." Loske decided to go out on a limb with her next statement, grateful for her tenure with the Taliths in giving some merit to her assumption. Forlorn glances, drawl of tone, wistfulness of intonation - those usually equated to a sense of longing that couldn't be solved by closing distance. This was something she'd learned. "Seeing the dead can be uncomfortable."

"For your ensign." She replied quickly to the suggestion that things would not have gone well. "Wouldn't be our first plasma dance this week, hm Frankie?" Loske looked toward her droid now, looking for support on the fact that taking them out with a simple ensign's word would be plausible. He gave a definitive toot of confirmation.

They started to walk, and her usually pep-in-her-step walk was slightly encumbered with the percentage she'd heaved down on the ride over. This was probably the second time in her life she'd been any level of inebriation. However, being a clone, her components and tolerance to alcohol was lower than average. A single can of ale could do as much damage as a well aged, two finger pour of whyren's reserve.

"So you're super bionic now, hm?" Loske touched her palms together, and the braces on her wrists connected to give a low, cerulean glow. At the same time, the ship she'd arrived in clammed up and withdrew the ramp. Giving two indicating flashes of lights - signalling it was locked. Withdrawing her hands she gave them to her pockets, and a limp shrug. "Science sure is mental."

That indication sent her down a mental path of trying to unfurl the realities of her own existence, and the fact that her brother had made a family. Mostly unbeknownst to him. She'd only found out because she'd hunted down the woman and..uh, found out about the whole niece thing. "I'm glad you're better, and that there's still some normalcy in the galaxy."

She inhaled at this point, although it was somewhat spoiled by the scent of the spaceport's emissions and less so the natural air Ruusan had to offer. There were memories here. Ones she could feel deep down, although untouched by her true conscience and awareness.

Frank was growing impatient, and frustrated at the human indecencies of conversation when such important matters were at hand. He didn't agree with Loske's handling of information.

We've come to you for help. Frank interjected plainly, purposely wheeling in front of them and pausing.

"Woah woah, way to set the mood first." Loske looked abashed, before vaulting before the droid and clambering to cover his triangular eye that would project the blue hologram of the plans they'd managed to scan.

 

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Cedric was not pleased with her observation.

He did well not to show it, his expression that of stone. It seemed Loske had a better emphatic reading than he had initially interpreted, and having his hallucinations called out so simply left him feeling naked and vulnerable: two feelings he was not comfortable with around the blonde.

Still, he found himself somewhat impressed with her emotional intelligence. Very few could see past the mask he wore daily. The majority of the Essonians had no idea that anything haunted their liege-lord. It was a deception that he was keen to continue. To see their lord as human would reveal his faults, and such things were not something the Jedi Master was willing to reveal to those that followed him.

Loske, however, had seen right through it.

"You're smarter than I took you for," Cedric admitted honestly, his guard lowered now. Perhaps she might understand the demons that haunted him, or perhaps she simply meant to take advantage of them, as so many in the past had. "I don't do hugs well, or any physical contact. It takes me back to...well, unpleasant times." Was all he was willing to divulge for now.

The chamber he led her and Frank into was luxurious. The landing pad was a personal one, and led directly to Cedric's apartment atop the castle. Black furniture decorated the warm room. The floors were coated with dark wood, and the walls made of old stones that had been lain across one another like bricks. A fire crackled in the corner, and the sounds of orchestral music played quietly from a loudspeaker hidden away somewhere.

"You'll have to show me the plasma dance later," Cedric snickered as he guided Loske and Frank over toward an island near the kitchen. It was solid marble, a mix of blacks, grays, and browns that assaulted the eyes as much as it attracted them. "I'm glad that you're glad I'm better," he snickered again, his mood lightening as he took as seat at the island.

The Jedi paused, a brow lofted as Frank asked for help. "Consider the mood set," he mused as he cracked open a bottle of Balmoraan Bluesky. "What's the problem?"

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"I guess I'm not smart enough to respond enough to cut you the way that statement just did." Loske murmured, grimacing and folding her arms tautly. She decided to give him a pass for the drugs he was on, and her heightened emotional state. Otherwise, there'd've probably been a tongue lashing in there beyond that snide quip. There was a sensitivity exposed, and it was best to leave that for now. They'd been through enough and she was about to ask more of him. He'd been honest to every turn up to now, no sense in pushing boundaries.

Frank and Loske followed [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s cue, both of them taking stock in the décor, recognizing it as a benefit of having a roots in a home. People who had time to invest in their surroundings meant to spend time there, or make it count while they were there. The pilot and droid often spent their times in different bunkers provided by different Alliance Exiles, or Coalition quarters. She'd had an apartment on Sullust, but thankfully sold it before things had gone too sour.

"You may get a chance to see it sooner, rather than later." The pilot sighed, removing her hand from Frank's eye and allowing him to hoot angrily at her while she rested her arms on the opposite side of the island. She placed her head in her hands, propped up by her elbows, and gestured to Frank.

On request, the droid projected a blue hologram of the station he and Loske had come from.

Instead of saying anything Loske projected a bashful, loopy grin.

"Fun, right? Sith Empire specialty. We think it's some sort of super weapon.." she twirled her finger, as if asking the droid to spin but instead the hologram, half baked, rotated. "It's only a partial rendering, what we were able to pull by flying in that near."

 

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Cedric remained silent for a few moments. His thoughts coalesced slowly, as if hindered by the bluesky he poured down his gullet. In a sense, they certainly were. His smile faltered somewhat, though he did his best to maintain it. Loske had been a surprisingly amicable companion thus far, even taking his supposed insult in stride. The Jedi Master felt himself struck with a sense of guilt as he eagerly downed the bottle of Balmoraan Bluesky.


"I just said something shite, didn't I?" He asked, a brow lofted. The powers of bluesky limited the mind. Whatever limits might have kept his mind from traveling to the depths was lost now. He saw Loske as she was. A beautiful woman giving him the simple time of day. The rational part of his mind, the part that was coherent, told him that she was his friend and little more. The animal part of him, the part that understood her told him she was that beautiful woman.

"What's on your mind?" He finally asked, electing to deflect whatever else he might have been feeling. Such were the result of intoxicants, and thus not valid to the Jedi Master. Nonetheless, he felt these things all the same.
Cedric's brow furrowed as he eyed the hologram. "We have to stop them," He mused, "Somehow...this is madness."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Yeah, that's uh...also why I'm here." She leaned back and drummed her fingers on the counter. "We never talked about that whole...we thing." Loske gestured between the two of them with a pointed finger.

"I was only able to figure out your situation on Hoth because you spoke to me, and I was in the Elrood Sector. Two sectors away from where you were. That seems impossible from what Frank and I have been able to uncover about telepathy, but we're scant in Jedi resources.

Is galactic range communication common for Jedi? I'm starting to think you were right about the whole Force Sensitive thing. Even if it stops at being a two way radio."

 

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A pleased smile found its way unto Cedric's face. The Jedi Master was pleased to be right, of that nothing could be denied. Cedric had often been rather devout in his beliefs that he empyrean worked to his ways, and Loske's words only served to prove that assumption to be true. The pleased smile that found its way unto Cedric's face was undeniable: it was the result of affirmed beliefs, and nothing had ever been able to command such power.

"It isn't common." he confirmed as he extended his senses far beyond where they were. He felt nothing violent nearby, no Wampas or similar creatures that might prey upon their weakness. Content, Cedric allowed himself to divulge more than he might have intended.

"But it is possible," he added, "Between rare individuals. The fact that you were able to understand what I said was a bit of an alarm." Cedric continued, "You have a particularly sting connection to the Force. it's why we could speak. I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised you haven['t embraced it."

Cedric mused as he downed a good half of the bottle. Anything to escape the demons that seemed to be chasing him at all times. Loske was just another of that long list of distractions, keeping Cedric away from the perils of responsibility.

"You're definitely force sensitive. What remains to be seen is what that means."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She pulled a stool around by hooking her ankle to the leg and plopping down, all the while gesturing as she spoke for emphasis. And she figured the physical movements may bring her back to coherence.

"I think that's all I can do. I've never had anything to embrace up until that moment." Eyeing the emptying bottle curiously, the clone fidgeted slightly. This place felt very proper, and she was intruding in a hurry. She'd already got his stalwart commitment to stopping whatever The Sith were up to, even that she felt a bit guilty of. Of course he would agree. That's what he did, and that's what she'd chocked his character to be up to this moment - what with that whole guilt trip speech about the innocent that he'd delivered on Metellos.

That's why we're here. Frank prompted.

"Yeah, I'm hoping to run my team onto whatever that thing is to try and destroy it. But, we're pilots, operatives and skilled, but our weapons are limited to what can be manufactured. It'd be good to have some uh," she leaned back, moving her eyes from the bottle of whatever it was he was consuming so readily. Seemed [member="Cedric Grayson"] dealt with information overload similar as she did. "Sith-appropriate firepower on our side. And if you have any more information about this whole..Force thing so I could maybe be some more use out there."

 

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The Bluesky was as intoxicating to look at as it was to drink, The liquid was a bright blue color, and had a tendency to draw eyes. Cedric had been keen on the drink since his earliest days with the Jedi Order. Even the most capable of Jedi needed an assist every now and then, and Bluesky served as the ultimatum for the Jedi Master. The drink was berry-like in flavor, but few partook due to its off-putting blue color. It just didn't provide the 'intoxicated' look most would require.

The Jedi Master waved a hand about as he spoke, clearly intoxicated. "I understand that. Nonetheless, I can try and teach you what I know. Could be use to you, or maybe at the least you'll understand the basics," Cedric mused as he drained his glass.

The Jedi was hyper-aware of just how much he had been drinking, but he found that he did not entirely care. If something bothered Loske, she would tell him. He didn't need to watch his language. "I like to identify as Sith-appropriate," Cedrid snickered as he filled his glass. "I can deal with them, if you've need of it," Cedric offered Loske a wry wink as he slid his empty glass across the bar. a servant droid took the glass, eagerly cleaning it before anything else could be said.

"I can teach you whatever you might like." Cedric mused as he reached out, booping Loske on the nose, "Just let me sober up first."


[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

From what Loske has been told by her brother, a Jedi could turn the affects of alcohol on and off. Modifying the molecules of their body and either staying or preventing the reaction. It seemed a godly manipulation, so she’d always been enamoured by it. So when cedric suggested he’d have to sober up first, she assumed it was a hospitable comment considering she’d been a bit tipsy when arriving.

When his finger touched her nose, she smirked. So much for not enjoying physical contact. Although slightly subdued by elixir, the pilot's hands were still lightning fast from imbued training of the steel hand. Her grip caught [member="Cedric Grayson"] before he could draw away and she moved it into the form of a taut handshake.

"Deal."

To not agonize him too much, she let go and leaned back in her seat. "I have a feeling you're not often like this. How much information can I get out of you in this state?

Like, who's Caida?"

 

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Loske was certainly right on that observation.

The bar rarely ever saw the Jedi Master, and when it did such occasions were usually following victories in battle. He was not much of a drinker, the Jedi way taught its followers to be against such things, and when he did partake it was almost always within the privacy of his own room. Today, however, was different.

The patrons within the bar had all sidled out slowly. It hadn't been packed to begin with, but Cedric's subtle mental manipulations had bid them to go on their way for a variety of reasons. If he was to be honest with Loske, then he had little desire for eavesdroppers.

Blue eyes narrowed as he stared at their interlocked hands.

"Caida was my little sister," he said quietly, his demeanor shifting the moment he spoke her name. His pleasant mood soured, his shoulders slumped, and a pain came to his eyes that bespoke of long buried tragedy. A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he withdrew his hand, favoring his glass over physical contact.

"She died when the Sith within my empire betrayed us. One of the men whom I thought was my friend deceived her. They had been involved with one another, as teenagers tend to be. When the coup came about, he betrayed us. When she wouldn't come with him, he raped, and then murdered her." The glass was brought to his lips. Cedric downed all of its contents in one long swig.

"He is the only man whom I have ever tortured. Brought me to the brink, but I killed him before I could go any further." Cedric's honesty was partly the drinks, and partly a desire to simply speak of what had gone on. So few knew he even had family, let alone what had happened to them.

"She was the greatest Jedi I've ever known. Kindhearted, genuinely kind too, not just because it was expected of her. She loved everyone she met simply for being who they were." His brow furrowed. "Being good came so easily to her. It was all such a waste."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske swallowed her empathy in a large lump, suddenly very aware at how empty her hands were. Instead, she folded them and exhaled. This was the second woman she'd heard spoken so fondly of after she had perished, by whichever means. This was unfortunately far more severe than Inari the Healer. She hoped that one day, when she moved on, she'd have touched so many hearts. And that she'd have a family to speak to her.

She looked downward at those empty hands of hers, suddenly forlorn with her thoughts. Turning herself outward, her body gave way to a shiver - physically bringing herself back to [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s story.

"Your family has been through so much. You've been through so much. What's keeping you going?"

 

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No one had ever asked him that before.

Cedric's brow furrowed as he fought to find a response. It did not come easily. A heavy sigh fell from the Jedi Master's lips, and he found himself shaking his head unconsciously. He brought the empty glass up to his lips for another drink, only to down nothing but air. Evidently Cedric was too intoxicated to notice, or he simply didn't care to pay attention. Likely a mix of the two.

"That's a good question," Cedric deflected as he glared at the empty glass. A pregnant silence fell over the room as he considered his words. After a few seconds of silence, his lips finally parted to speak. "Faith and duty." He finally relented.

"Faith in the Light. Faith that all the blood that has been spilled was for something." Another pause, "Duty to my people. Duty to those the Sith would destroy in the future. I am a tool to be utilized in defense of the people, and nothing more."

The stare he gave her was pained by the very definition. "I keep living because I need to see the day the emperor is ended. After that, I have nothing else to live for. I'll be free."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"ah, the Force giveth, and the Force taketh away." The pilot commented sagely, leaning back on her stool. All individuals in the galaxy seemed to have some grand motivator. For those that were unequipped with the metaphysical, such as herself, it was to use her talents to thwart the oppressive squadrons that threatened the skies. For others, who weren't created with purpose and strapped to a particular skill, it was whatever their hobbies or passions were she supposed. For a moment, her mind wandered to her dear friend Abel Groves and his dreams of working on the farms. A nurturer of the land, dedicating his life to the soils and harvest. Some would say it was a simple life, but only marginally. The calculations and dependency on weather and nature required planning and problem solving. It was just a different way of life than to be motivated by a morbid purpose, such as [member="Cedric Grayson"].

A terrible purpose.

She watched him as he spoke, and it seemed as if it were the first time he was coming to terms with the sentences. Each breath he drew and shaped into explanation was foreign and drawled. She was probably making him uncomfortable.

After this emperor, there will be another. You humans shouldn't see time as something so linear and finite.

Loske had almost forgotten that Frank's constant presence was still in the bar.

He was oddly speaking very wisely. In the recesses of her mind, faint conversations about the eternal struggle bubbled.

"After that, you'll live with a different sense of duty. Knocking this emperor off his throne can be your goal for now -- you mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling."

That was a quote from a holofilm she was quite fond of.

 

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Cedric sat in utter silence as Frank and Loske spoke their piece.

The droid poured him another drink, and he downed it eagerly. The liqour was comforting, and some small part of him was telling him to stop drinking. Another part was telling him that this was why he avoided the substance, because he loved it far too much. It numbed the constant pains aching his mind, and it removed whatever inhibitions kept him from speaking his mind.

The drink was emptied. The droid poured another.

"I don't have anything beyond this emperor," Cedric retorted, a hint of bitterness to his words. "My homeworld's gone. Perhaps I'll rebuild, but that's far off." he paused, brow furrowing once again. Loske would note that Cedric was quite intoxicated. His eyes were red and hazy, his words heavily slurred.

"A life without love is a life of suffering." He affixed her with a stare that held a lifetime of suffering. "I have nothing, Loske, and it is too late for me to rectify that - and I'm okay with that. That's my role in the galaxy, but if there's any lesson I can give you, it's that you should never forsake the people you love for your goals."

He drew back another swig. "It'll ruin you."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The time for cheekiness and being upbeat had expired as soon as she'd prodded into [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s gruesome history. Everything in the room had a heavy sombreness to it that made the lithe pilot inexorably uncomfortable. She couldn't see herself forsaking people - there was nothing more that she yearned for other than a life with a family, and surrounded by friends. Helping the galaxy. She was a bleeding heart, aptly titled by her brother - who, thankfully, was still alive. She hadn't felt him die.

His eyes were wan, tired and full of pain. She hoped she never looked like that.

"You have me," Loske offered, unable to restrain herself from reaching out across the table and patting whatever part of his hand that was exposed. She was going to hold it, but opted against that. "We can be friends, that's a form of love isn't it? Philia I think was an ancient term for it...." she drew her hand back and perched it under her chin to think. When she was confident that was indeed the correct word, although she couldn't remember which civilization had coined it, she placed her hand on the table between them again.

"And as your friend, I'll let you give me more lessons tomorrow. And I'll try not to pry too deeply into your past again - though our track record has been pretty bad for that. Sorry."