Tools for the Transition

[Ilias Nytrau]

[Between this thread and that thread...]​

​

LOCATION​

Ilias' ship, Oa​

In hyperspace, enroute to Laekia from Zeltros​

​

Leaning against the doorframe to the assigned quarters of his 'senior' padawan, Kala'ndryl Ryj, he looked in on her, watching her sleep or pretend to, their little 'exercise' on Zeltros having gone more-or-less precisely as planned. The data gleaned was valuable to him and important to her development as a Jedi, no matter how the girl felt about him because of it; he knew she understood, and the effects of being subjected to the particular atmosphere of Zeltros with her physiology would pass soon enough. Did he pity her situation? To a degree, yes. He was only half-human, after all. She, however, was the least of his worries - she had the basic training to give herself some measure of comfort, and self-sufficiency whenever possible, whenever reasonable, was to be lauded - as they had added to their numbers a young man who was, according to how his blonde student had handled the man... not lacking in the department of physical attractiveness. An observation he would do well to keep in mind, from here on out.

For that young man, [member="Avonus Nothrael"], it would only get worse before it got better. Such would be the effect of removing a person of his particular innate ability from the equation that was the atmosphere of Zeltron pheromones, good feelings, drugs, and a party that never ended. It had been less than two hours since they had left Zeltros, so the brunt of the withdrawal was still a ways off. Sure, he could make it all go away with relatively little effort, but there was considerably more that the newest of his students could learn about himself, and exercising care as to what situations he exposed himself to, by suffering through it. At least, that is, until he better learned to control what the Force had seen fit to gift him with.

But he was not cruel. There was still something he could do for the very, very green student to help him help himself in the easing of the pain that was to come. There was some measure of knowledge he could impart before Avonus Nothrael no longer had the majority of his wits about him. So he left the doorway of the quarters of Padawan Ryj, and passed by the galley and the 'fresher to arrive at the quarters assigned to the dark-haired young man, giving the door a gentle three-note tap with the knuckles of his right hand.

"If you are awake," he said through the door, "there are some things I would like to show you."

It was midnight, but if anything, the bartender formerly of the Violet Blue was accustomed to the 'late' hour. For the ginger master, however, the concepts of 'late' and 'early' in the passing of the hours in a day meant little.

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He’d started to feel seedy almost immediately after leaving the planet, but then he just figured it was because of anxiety and thus nothing to worry overmuch about. He’d not had to pack much from his apartment, the place had come fully furnished and his total personal possessions were enough to simply fill four boxes, three duffel bags and of course his guitar and case. He was simple in needs really and didn’t acquire ‘things’ almost compulsory like the vast many did. The anxiety over this new change was a peculiar thing and he didn’t understand it, but as time went and he started to feel worse he wondered just what exactly was going on. He’d started to feel sick to his stomach and shivering, it made no sense.

Of course the whole situation was a strange one and part of him wondered why he’d even believed it. No one in his whole wretched family that he knew of were force sensitive, how could he be? Yet for further weirdness he didn’t feel like it was fishy, if anything he’d had the strong desire to move to follow and that, like everything else was just...freaky. Naturally he took it in stride, the worst thing that could happen was that it wasn’t true and then he’d go back to his life, thats all. He at least owed himself to find out if this was true of course, if he did have talent the worst thing he could do it let it keep being rogue. Wasn’t Power something one had to train lest it take him over?

Well, the last thing he wanted was that, so, off he went with the hot chick and dour ginger. He’d bundled himself in the blankets, trying to get warm despite the chill in his skin, the shivers and the sweat when the knock came. He stared at the door a moment and then had this sudden suspicion, did the redhead know what was going on? That got his temper poked, he threw off the blankets and stumbled off the bed catching himself on the wall. Yep, he’d have to be careful because it seemed like his legs were the next thing to act weird. He walked out the door and stalked over to the man catching his shoulder glaring at him. “You know what’s happening to me don’t you…”

It wasn’t a question, not exactly, for his gut said he did and that upset him. He didn’t know why he was feeling like feth, but more importantly, he wanted to know how this stranger even knew.


[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

"Of course," he said, offering little more than a smile, "what kind of healer would I be if I did not?"

The question was entirely rhetorical, and if Nothrael deemed it at all necessary to answer the question, he would likely get no response to his answer. With his keen set of eyes, Ilias gave the young man a once-over, his senses covering much more in-depth ground than his optic organs could manage. Yes, it was progressing exactly as it should, though the speed of onset was utterly fascinating and nothing he would mention, lest he come across as coldly scientific with a hint of desire to dissect... which was not the case, if only for the simple reason that the young man was alive and infinitely more suited to not being dissected while still in the land of the living.

A former acquaintance once commented on how what went on in the head of the ginger master could fuel endless and infinitely interesting discourse, at which Ilias had simply gave a small laugh, saying nothing.

"At least you appear to still have your wits about you," he observed, "which will be necessary for our discussion, which will include, but not be limited to what is happening to you now, and what is to be done about it."

He glanced back down the corridor towards the galley, the hand still on his shoulder bothering him not at all.

"How do you feel about tea, Mister Nothrael?"

[member="Avonus Nothrael"]

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He removed his hand, mostly because at that point he had the irrational desire to strangle the man, he naturally attributed this to whatever was wrong with him. He gave a sort “Whether or not I have any wits, is entirely debatable.”

He did after all follow two strangers on no more than just their words, to who knows where and thus came down with a nameless sickness. Yeah, one had plenty enough fodder to question, but he kept his mouth shut. He felt worn out already, his very bones aching, the offer of tea made him shake his head “I’ve been trying to drink water, but like...it turns my stomach, likely tea will do worse and I’d rather not be heaving my guts up.”

The very thought made him feel ill, if he couldn’t sip water without problems, tea would likely just come right up again. Nope, he’d pass on that thank you very much. The redhead had a funny way of talking, actually, even how he carried himself was odd, it was kinda weird. He eyed him quietly, waiting for the man to lead wherever they were going to go, using that time to take him in. There was just something off about him and he just couldn’t explain it. The woman hadn’t done this to him, actually he’d have loved more of her company, but that thought was fleeting and more than a little wistful.

She was interesting, something about her drew him in and he’d love to learn more about her and see what could happen. True, he’d had a few lovers in the past, but he wasn’t the type to spend one night and move on. He liked learning about the company he was with, no strings attached, just time and then when it was over parting amicably. Mostly they left him, not the other way around and while it was a disappointment, he didn’t take it personally. It wasn’t like he had much to tempt someone in making it more permanent anyways. Take now for instance, he’d hared off without much notice packing and leaving without a backward glance. It had been a long while since he’d last wandered, but he knew eventually he’d leave Zeltros.

Would he wander again? Probably. Its what he did. He had plenty of money saved up, he didn’t blow it like some of those he worked with had. He knew he’d need funds to travel with and to live off of so he spent only what he needed and stashed the rest. He was practical and thrifty, he made good money at what he did and while he wasn’t rich perhaps, he was well off. Actually, the truth was he really didn’t know what all he had saved, he just knew that it was plenty for him to get by. His work was such that he could find work wherever as long as a bartender was needed.

His biggest issue right now was finding out what was wrong with him and getting over it. Even if he was having doubts about his present company.



[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

"Fair enough," he replied, having considered the words of this man, and his demeanour at present - a mood entirely foul.

It was to be expected, especially at this age. When one was already filled with some measure of experience in the universe, the life of a Jedi was a massive culture shock, the differences stark and jarring. He could see why the ways of the Jedi in millennia past were preferable, but at the same time, those who came to this life later on brought with them their life experience, and that had other benefits. Undeniable, and it made the Jedi stronger. It was more of a benefit than a detriment, in many ways, even if it was a much harder path than for one who had lived it their entire life, as he had.

Given that the consumption of tea was out of the question, by extension, the smell of it would likely not be welcome, either. They would have to speak somewhere else. He considered the options for a moment, weighing them, and selected a location.

"The cockpit, then," he said out loud, then looked at the only other male on the vessel, both his eyebrows quirking upwards by a few millimetres, before he turned and began moving towards the aforementioned location, beckoning Nothrael to follow, "tell me, are you feeling any pain?"

[member="Avonus Nothrael"]

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He narrowed his eyes and held his tongue, was he kidding? He looked ahead and let out a sigh “My bones are aching. Are you reading my mind or are you responsible for this happening to me, cuz you can’t have just gotten a lucky guess.”

Because he was either incredibly spot on or doing something weird to be able to ask his questions at just the right moment. It might explain why the man didn’t seem to be concerned with it being contagious, but it was a thought that only upset him more. He’d never showed any force talents, not even as a child. Hell he never heard of a grown adult getting stuck with an awakened gift, how could it be true? The idea of having talent actually creeped him out, because there was a level of responsibility never thought he’d have. He was happy being mundane, happy that so far his life had been as it had. Power changed everything and from his perspective, being attuned to their ‘force’ usually meant a life cut short in someone’s war.

It was funny how these things just suddenly started poofing into his head. He’d never shied away from the things he had to do, but the idea of being Gifted was terrifying. He rubbed the center of his forehead trying to push it all away, he needed to kick whatever got him ill before he could tackle the storm of thoughts brewing in his mind.


[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

"I am a Jedi healer, Mister Nothrael," he began, glancing back as they moved towards the more-or-less agreed upon location, "It is my duty and responsibility to the beings of this universe to be knowledgeable in what is happening to their bodies, and how to best rectify what is happening to them."

He folded his hands behind his back, and continued walking.

"It would be against my code as a Jedi and my oath as a healer to do this to you," he said, leaving out that it was simply because the boy was innocent, and not an assailant, as his knowledge of the biology of countless species could be used in defense and offense, providing it did not kill, "I am afraid you have done this to yourself, through your own choices."

As soon as he said this, they entered the cockpit, and he gestured for the young man to sit in a seat just behind the chair of the co-pilot. That done, the ginger master took the piloting seat, and swiveled around to face Nothrael. He was fully expecting questions, especially after having told the man that his current state was entirely his own doing.

[member="Avonus Nothrael"]

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He gave a snort as he sat “Thats bull, I didn’t choose this at all and none of my choices involved anything that could affect me like this. More to the point, I’ve never been prone to any strangeness that would have said to me or others I was Gifted. Hell, till now I’d never even seen a Jedi, let alone two.”

So there he thought impudently. He was ordinary, just a bartender and not at all prone to anything unusual. It wasn’t true of course, he just didn’t know that Zeltros had been where his Gift awakened and that his talent was a lot more subtle. As he was right now he didn’t know he was an Empath, but were he exposed to any strong negative emotions he’d recoil and see proof. However in his fragile state those same negative emotions would probably hurt him as well.

Zeltros had the unusual ability to breed euphoria, which made people happy. He hadn’t needed to learn to close himself off from the bad because for the most part he had never been exposed to it. While he’d not had his Gift when he arrived, he had eventually had his awakened merely from all the concentrated stimulation around him. What made him a good bartender was now making him suffer and he had no idea at all.

He wasn’t angry, which given the circumstances one might expect him to leap in that direction. He was incredibly skeptical, but why else would he be here? Maybe only to a Jedi he had like some glowy beacon on him saying ‘Here be a fledgling’ or something along those lines. With proof he’d be willing to accept the situation, but not till he had it. The other alternative would be to expose him to what he’d been feeding off of and he’d feel the effects immediately, though it would only stave off the effects he was going through.

He swallowed feeling more nauseous, he sat back closing his eyes the color draining a bit from his skin. He wasn’t sure if he’d have to make a run to the bathroom or not and wasn’t certain he’d be able to even move to get there.



[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

He leaned forward, perching elbows on knees, lacing fingers underneath his chin, and quietly observed Nothrael as he spoke. Physically, the young man was in a sorry state, and though the healer could alleviate the symptoms for him well and completely... what would be gained by that? What would be learned? For the sake of their discourse, which was necessary, some small, temporary relief akin to the hours-long window of effect for anti-nausea medicine would be reasonable.

"You are an empath, Mister Nothrael," he said, plainly, unlacing his fingers and holding out one large, pale hand to [member="Avonus Nothrael"], "now if you would lend me your hand, I am willing to provide you some respite from what ails you."

Once the symptoms temporarily abated, it would most assuredly be easier to work through what this young man needed to know, to impart to him everything required to make his decisions informed ones. There would be no leading of the figuratively blind, here, for if anything, that was not on the list of ways to build trust and rapport. As he waited for the requested hand, one question did occur to him for the asking, but it would perhaps be best to leave it for when the dark-haired man was less nauseated.

It helped that he was keeping his own emotions level, as was par for the course, and subdued, in addition. Grace and politeness, indeed.

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He stared at the man for a moment, it made no sense, but the more he thought about it there was a sense of rightness to it. A good bartender read people, was that what it was? He never thought it was more than just a mundane skill he’d learned, but if the ability he’d just been named to have was also the source, it made weird sense. He still wasn’t sold to the whole thing of course, but he didn’t think he was being lied to either. He was just about to take his hand when his stomach had had enough, he got up and staggered towards his room colliding with the doorframe on his way in. What little that was in his stomach came up, but then his head started to pound and pain arched its way along his body making him gasp.

He dropped to the ground curling into a ball, the whole room spinning. It felt like every nerve in his body was getting stabbed with needles, he couldn’t even think, his mind clouded by the pain of it all. Blessedly it wasn’t long before he passed out altogether, but it made conversation at that point impossible.

[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

When the dark-haired young man got up, Ilias followed, concern lightly etched into his features, but not alarm, not even when the remains of his meal(s) came back with a vengeance on the deck, and the individual those vomitous remnants came from slumped sickly and wearily to the deck. He watched in silence, waiting, somehow knowing that sleep would take [member="Avonus Nothrael"], and then, only then, would he collect the younger man off of the deck plating, minister to him in whatever way he felt prudent, whatever way would not infringe on the trials that Nothrael would need to endure. This amounted to cleaning him up just a little, tucking him into bed, and carrying through with that small measure of respite he had said he would give, after checking over his symptoms once again, only to find that the effects of the cold turkey withdrawal were getting much worse before they got better.

Well, regardless, the respite given... It would be enough to allow him some relatively fitless rest, which would help in the long run. Perhaps providing anti-nausea medicine would be a more familiar measure for the young man. He would think on these things, as he went to tend to his own needs, while Nothrael slept. As was his way, in recent centuries, he would offer prayer, and meditate on the Force, seeking continued assurance that his methods were right and true. He did want, after all, to do right by the bartender they had found on Zeltros.

Anything less would be unacceptable.

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

Waking up in bed wasn’t the worst thing he could think of, but when he tried to move and found he had hardly any strength he started to worry. He didn’t get sick much, aside from a cold every so often, he took care of himself and wasn’t given to excess. He knew he was very sick just from the state he was in, but how could being an ‘empath’ put him in such a state? It didn’t help that he had to pee, whether his body wanted him to move or not, he would be damned if he cried for help. Stubborn was what he was, but also he had pride and his just wouldn’t bend that much to allow some strange man to assist him in such. He might be able to find humor if there was a woman involved, but blessedly he was sure he could get it taken care of alone.

With a lot of effort and plenty of muttered curses, he managed to peel himself from the bed and used it to keep himself propped up. A wall, then door frame and then he managed to get back to the bed to worm his way into it. His strength tapped out again, but he didn’t fall face first on the floor. It was unreasonable to be angry, but he was, at himself. He blamed his condition on himself, but really he wasn’t to blame for he’d had no idea. It was better to blame himself than the Jedi who’d found him, neither his student nor the man himself were at fault either. So he blamed himself and was angry because that was easier than doing something dumb ad blaming them for no reason.

He doubted the redhead would agree with his reasonings, he had that whole old man on mountain sage thing going that actually kinda irked him. That ‘I know everything and know what’s good for you so shut up and do what I want’ thing. That in turn made him want nothing more than to imp in and ruffle his feathers. He decided that since the guy had ‘found’ him that he was gunna be stuck with him so that meant he was going to be the one to teach him. It was only fair that since he wouldn’t be suffering if the man hadn’t shown up then he had to be the one to help him learn to keep it under control. He didn’t like it, not one bit, but something in the great wide verse decided to gift him with Power and he wasn’t going to run screaming to hide from it.

So if his life was gunna be mucked up, so was his, but he was positive his methods would be a lot more fun. Oh yes, sick as he was now he was determined to make up for it, somehow, but first he had to get rid of it. After that he could plot to rid the sage of that old crust he seemed to have, wasn’t that why his student had dragged him to a bar? It was the only thing that made sense, maybe his being here was in answer to a cry for help or something. Whatever the reason he would do his best, if nothing else he could be diligent in whatever he was supposed to learn. At least this guy was better than someone else, there was a lot of dark in the wide verse, at least the shiny took pity on him and nabbed him first.

[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

While Nothrael slept, restorative rest that would help his body shrug off the ravages of addiction, the ginger master puttered about the ship, doing this and that, and spent time in the 'seat', assuring of their course. They would make with Laekia soon; it would be good to reconnect with the comfort of the modest abode he maintained upon the world that served as the main base of operations for the Levantine folk. It was a strange decision, even for him, that he should call anywhere other than the Republic his home. Even in this political landscape that was still so very new from his perspective, but who was he to argue with the will of the Force?

When he first heard the man stir, Ilias smiled, and tottered into the small galley to get some tea going - even if the dark-haired one would not take tea, the hybrid ancient would. He always did, if it could be helped, and it had been an awful long time since he had gone without tea. He could be resourceful, and had made it work with the local foliage on many a world when caught without an already known and favoured blend at his disposal. As he set the kettle to boil, he listened to how the newcomer to this vessel relied on his own strength and pride to take care of the most basic acts that he would not need assistance with under normal circumstances. It was all well and good, for the healer was only listening for any sounds indicating injury.

Once the water boiled, and a mug of tea was left to steep, it was a more than reasonable hour of morning and as such, Ilias elected to visit the door to the quarters that [member="Avonus Nothrael"] occupied, rapping softly with backhand knuckles so as to alert the young man to his presence.

He would await a response.

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He wiped a hand across his forehead and sighed softly, the knock making him jump and stare at the door. It was incredibly creepy that he had that good of timing, he settled back against the pillows before he answered. “Come in…”

He wondered if all Jedi were like that or just this guy and decided it didn’t matter, it was creepy regardless. Gatta wonder if I’ll end up like that too, I mean...if I’ve got the Gift it makes sense I will. That thought was just as disturbing, he wasn’t ‘normal’ anymore. That now he was a freak and he didn’t realize just how much he’d been happy not knowing. If he was any other person he could start resenting it all, could have even before, but he didn’t. It wasn’t like he’d been the one to poof it in there and what not, no, this had always been so. Acceptance was easy, liking it was another matter and he didn’t, not at all. He wasn’t gunna wallow and be depressed either, that wouldn’t change anything. No, what he wanted was something to drink and a punching bag, but that would have to wait.

[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

Invited, he slipped in with a silence that belied his size, but did not sit once he was within, eyes looking over the concealed form of [member="Avonus Nothrael"], the obvious question gnawing at the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out. So he asked.

"How are you feeling?"

It was always best to treat the new ones as they might expect to be treated, and in most cases that meant imploring them to divulge any information about themselves, including their physical and emotional state, rather than employing the ultimately unintrusive sensory Force ability to know how the individual was feeling without being asked. It might be seen as an intrusion, as there was no foundation of trust to make any sort of assumption that it would be okay.

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He shrugged “Drained, mostly, still trying to digest all this stuff and wondering whats going to happen. Not gunna deny that this...position I’m in is just random, figure I wouldn’t be like this if its not true. So, how am I supposed to get all this...under control. Are you the one who is going to train me? Where am I going to live? How am I going to support myself? I’ve got a lot of questions and since I’m stuck in bed, might as well get answers. Oh and I’m not going to spontaneously sprout any extra body parts am I?”

The last question was mostly a joke, but he did wonder just how much weirder things would get, what to expect. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answers he might get with out right asking that question.


[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

A small smile crept onto his face. These were all good, very valid questions, and he could see a lot of discussion coming from it all. Perhaps it would be good to take care of anything else before having that chat.

"Before I answer your questions, Mister Nothrael, I have tea steeping in the galley. Is there anything I can get you while I tend to that? Something to drink, perhaps?"

It was always good to be prepared.

[member="Avonus Nothrael"]

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

What he wanted was alcohol, but he seriously doubt the man had any. “Tea sounds good, not sure I can hold down any solids, but the tea makes for the perfect test. And please, just call me Avonus or better yet, Von.”

Well, there was hope for the man, at least he could smile, though he wasn’t sure if it was from his humor or the simple fact that he’d asked questions. He certainly hoped the man had a sense of humor, else things would get dull.

[member="Ilias Nytrau"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

"I have my ways, which I hope you will come to understand."

A further smile was pulled out of the ancient master. Oh, the expectations of humanity. Everything in its time, trust and bonds, learning and understanding. There would be a lot of work to do as there always was with each new student, but it was worthy work, for the good of the galaxy and the people within it.

"We will discuss matters of address when we tackle the answers to your questions. I will return in a few minutes. Excuse me."

With that, he turned and headed back to the galley, going about bringing another mug of tea to steep, while pulling the steeping insert out of the first mug and giving it a careful sip. No, no sweetener was needed. Just a few minutes and the other mug of tea would be perfect.

[member="Avonus Nothrael"]

 

[Avonus Nothrael]

He couldn’t recall a single person to ever call him in such a formal way. It was strange and oddly very uncomfortable, something he’d have to chew on in his own time to figure out why. He scooted into a more comfortable position, though it left him feeling more tired again.



[member="Ilias Nytrau"]