Private Through Time and Space

[Xashe Tistya]

you can take my heart
Coruscant
Takui ​

A lonely light flickered over the floor of the enclave. An unyielding gaze remained planted on the morphing shades of scarlet. Up, down, left, left, right. Soft grunts accompanied each strike as she threw her weight into the training bag. The ritual was her solace, late at night when the temple of the lower levels had emptied. There was no distraction, no people, nothing but the cloud over her head and the perfect place to work it off.

A final blow sent the bag flying backward before it turned and came back. Pulling off her gloves, the mirialan stepped away, tossing them on the ground. A hand floated upwards to wipe the sweat from her brow before falling back, grazing her leotard. Just as she reached for the bottle that sat on the bench, something that had been dormant within her stirred, like a volcano waking from its long slumber.

"Takui." She whispered, frozen in mid-move.

She grabbed for the link instinctively, like a drowning man would a lifesaver. An empty void that had plagued her for years transformed instantly as half became whole once more. With a shocked inhale, the mirialan dropped the bottle in her hand. Her eyes followed as it rolled across the gym floor to another place. They then flickered to the form that stood somewhere else, but was right there.

"Ho-...Where...?" Disbelief clouded her thoughts and her expression. "Are you okay?" She finally managed.​

 

[Takui]

"We're coming out of Hyperspace in 30 seconds."
​

Every time, he held his breath. The sensation of substantiating was managed by the gravitic compensators, but it was different when you could feel it happening. For the time that they hurtled through oblivion faster than light, their existence was fleeting. They ceased to exist in one place in an instant, as if erased. Then in the next moment, they were real again, millions of miles from where they began. So many people never considered the implications of Hyperlane travel because advancements made it an afterthought. Every time he fixated on it, Taku was reminded grimly of his mortality.

Life is precious because it is fleeting.​

Those were his words. In the heat of a moment, thrown in the midst of a conflict between two families he had been part of, his questions began.

"Hey, Taku," the spacer who called out cuffed his shoulder. He glanced up dumbly. "Better get strapped in. The decant is rocky in uncharted space like this." With a nod, the red-eyed youth sighed and leaned against the cold metal wall, one hand tightly gripping a strap that hung from the ceiling. The ship began to rock as their velocity shifted, and a proximity siren blared. Taku had prepared for this moment for four years, but still found himself in disbelief. What had become of the world he left behind? He wasn't deluded enough to believe time would wait for him.

No. He knew better than that.

We can't always choose our teachers –– we can only choose our interpretation of their lessons.
​

The universe around them ground to a halt. For a moment, in the midst of a vast sea of stars, he was one whole being again. He'd long forgotten where or when he'd fallen apart, or perhaps he had tried to forget so many times that he fooled himself into believing he had. As those bright, burning balls of gas took singular form from protracted streams, all at once the things he'd lost returned.

​

"Takui." She whispered, frozen in mid-move.​

​

His fingers pressed against the air in front of him like it was glass. In reality, in fantasy, and in everything in between, he firmly planted his fingers and sought to make the pressure shatter that invisible wall. His fingers wavered through the incorporeal and clutched at emptiness before curling into a fist. Whether the distance between them was a million miles or a single touch, in that moment, she was right in front of him, inside of the Nascent Discovery.

This happened once before, on Arkania. After that, he'd learned how to suppress himself. He'd trained to become insignificant, to go unseen into the dark. Now, he'd stepped into the light and there were no shadows to hide him.

Perfect Balance.

"...Xashe," her name evoked guilt, shame that he knew he'd inevitably face. His eyes found her older, more experienced. The same person, and yet...

"Ho-...Where...?" Disbelief clouded her thoughts and her expression. "Are you okay?" She finally managed.​

Into the unknown he'd ventured, armed with a thousand questions. Nothing had prepared him for the thousand answers that he would have to give in return.

He could sense her uncertainty, the doubt that followed. They formed a brilliant, unseen latticework that gave the Mirialan woman form. Takui violently shook his head in that moment, forcing his gaze away from her. He felt his cheeks flushed, burning, his forehead hot as the memories flooded back into him.

"Taku?" the captain placed a hand on the man's shoulder and leaned close. "You good?"

"Yeah," he whispered, waving the man off. His gaze returned to Xashe, distracted, dazed, dilated. As the other man left him, Taku raised his voice a fraction and repeated the word, this time with more certainty. "Yeah, Xashe. I'm fine. You look... different."

Xashe Tistya

 

[Xashe Tistya]

"Yeah," he whispered, waving the man off.

So he was real. Bittersweet dreams for months after his vanishing had made her suspicious of her mind in the moment. When a stranger's presence outside of their domain assured her otherwise, she let out a sigh of relief. The rug being pulled from her when she would awaken was like losing him again.

"Time does that to people."

The murmur was laced with sadness and regret as she looked upon him. Wherever he was, and wherever he had been, had restored the spark he'd lost when they parted. He looked whole, happy, healthy- and though a part of her was more relieved than any known language could voice, the irony of her own statement struck. Unresolved hurt of days gone by bubbled into a shield of fury. An aura of shame surrounded him, so powerful tears welled in her eyes when she focused on the haze. It begged her to understand. She could feel it all, yet her own memories wouldn't give up their venomous hold.

"Why?" The world around them rippled with the weight of the word as it escaped her lips. "Why, Taku? I told you to do what you had to do, but did you really have to run from me, too?"

As tears threatened to make their presence known, Xashe turned away, blinking hard. The question had begged asking for years, but the answer wouldn't get them anywhere.

"Did you at least find what you were looking for?"

 

[Takui]

"Why?" The world around them rippled with the weight of the word as it escaped her lips. "Why, Taku? I told you to do what you had to do, but did you really have to run from me, too?"​

How many questions just like this had he asked? Loaded, volatile, fueled by pain and bound together by every scar that had healed over the original wound. They always rent the flesh and made it bleed anew. The truth in the lesson was that there was no answer, but that was never enough. Vanity, selfishness, pride...

The Human Condition.

Things that a Jedi foreswore in their vows, those emotions and attachments that bound them to their ephemeral bodies. The reason he still wore a Padawan braid, the reason he never took those next steps in the path of the Jedi. Her sharp words loomed over him like they held a blade to his throat. He could feel the sentiments that threatened to asphyxiate him if he dwelt in that dark place too long, if he gave himself over to the maelstrom that now pulled at both of them.

His gaze began to focus as he slowed his breathing.

Plant yourself firmly in the here and now. The past will seek to pull you back. Its allure is in its familiarity.
Its venom is in your guilt. The desire to change the past, to make amends.
What was, was.
What is, is.​

What will be, will be.

"Did you at least find what you were looking for?"​

As quickly as he composed himself, Xashe hit him with an even harder, heavier question. This time, he blinked slowly, and his eyes remained closed for several seconds. When they opened again, he relaxed against the wall of the ship and regarded her with a contemplative gaze. He considered what kind of answer she wanted, and the answer he would give. Four years ago, Takui would have gone to great lengths to spare his friends pain. He would have picked his words delicately. He would have skirted the painful truth as much as possible.

"What was I looking for, Xashe?" he asked.

As soft as his voice was, the words were stern. He did not soften or blunt them. "I found many things. I learned much, and in learning, I found more questions." The bitterness in his words reached to her, but there was no anger in that sentiment. Tired acceptance and... something else?

His gaze swept lazily over the crew of the ship, hastily checking the area for debris and assuring that all the cargo was strapped in place. No one seemed to show any interest in his conversation, or if they did, he couldn't tell. When his eyes snapped back to Xashe- both in front of his eyes, yet not- he folded his arms.

"I learned that there is no simple answer to any question."