Private Under the Rain

[Kaila Irons]

Location: [Missing Data], Mid Rim \\ Time: 1400 Standard Hours \\ Spek Zhio

Kaila pulled her traveling cloak a little tighter as she stepped out into the gentle rain, walking back towards the spaceport from whence she came. Her business inside the club was complete, her stolen data that might lead to the location of useful artefact was was now delivered and being deciphered by an agent of sorts, someone trusted by the syndicate and by extension, herself.

She had nothing else to do here now, The data would take days to decode and no one else sought to speak with the masked woman who kept to herself, save perhaps the Astromech waiting for her at the ship.

But then a sudden feeling came over the Dark Sider.

She looked over her shoulder, sensing another presence through the force. The details like alignment or the emotions carried with it were murky, but it was growing closer. Perhaps she could get a better feel if she followed. Kaila had always been a curious one, sometimes too curious for her own good, and spotting another force sensitive in neutral territory away from the war between Sith and Jedi was just too interesting a mystery not to follow up.

And so Kaila turned, head low while blending into the city crowd while focusing her senses on finding and following whoever or whatever it was she felt.

 

[Spek Zhio]

The rain will be this one's, the male Zeltron thought.

Slightly raising his chin so that his eyes could meet the firmament, he squinted to avoid any droplet from hitting them, and peered at the silver-lined gray clouds that cloaked the blue above the jagged low-rise horizon. It was the kind of weather that could worsen with as much ease as it could clear up. A much appreciated change of scenery from the last three stopover planets on his journey to nowhere in particular. All of which, had a unique feature that would linger on his mind and, for him, would become 'that thing' for which the place would be known for.

On the boundless horizon of Jakku, it was the dry heat. Beneath the fog on Nar Shaddaa's lower levels, it was the Sabacc parlors. Under the vertical horizon of Trantor's ecumenopolis, it was that lovely - and very flexible - Twi'lek dancer he met at the cantina. Here, it would surely be the soothing rain. The cold freshness of it and quaint moderation. Weak enough to only slightly dampen his face and gold-embroidered red overcoat, but strong enough to suppress all scents but that of petrichor.

Living paycheck to paycheck was not that bad when you got to experience a vibrant Galaxy and were not chained to anyone or anywhere. Moreover, considering a lack of aspirations beyond meeting the basic necessities and maintenance for both him and the starship, a modicum to spare for the much needed indulgence was enough to keep him happy. Besides, with one delivery down and the next shipment already being loaded onto the Alcyone, there would be no need for concerns over the foreseeable future. He was ready to bid farewell to this place and get a good night sleep on his vessel's private quarters.

For the better part of a GST year, Spek Zhio, the Zeltron spacer whose home was the sea of stars - or, more precisely, the durasteel enclosure of the Azure Alcyone, a retrofitted YT-1930 freighter - had never sat landing gear or foot on the same place twice. Maybe that was the reason for staying out of trouble for so long, as it certainly was not any change in the goods being transported or the methods being employed. Maybe, years of routinely suppressing his presence through the Force, in order to go unnoticed by zealot Jedi and Sith alike, had finally put a dent on his instinctive astrogation. Maybe yet, he was just getting better at it - "And about damn time!" the navigator said to himself, out loud.

Astrogating through the Force - which felt like pulling at the strings of hyperspace lanes, blindly fumbling for a specific knot on an intricate weave - never failed to get him to his destination and often via the shortest, fastest possible route. Which occurred just as often as it being a troublesome one. Nevertheless, regardless of whether the force sensitive would admit it to others or even to himself, he owed to those fortuitous encounters everything he had and everything he was - starting with his ship and ending with his coat. So, in a way, it always felt like he was not using the Force to get to somewhere, as much as it was the Force using him. Telling him where and when to go.

Something much akin to fate.

He shook his head while descending the stairs that lead from the balcony into the street, as if to shake out those dogmas which did not belong on a sober mind. Anyone paying attention would take it as him reacting to the pouring rain after getting out of cover. Not that anyone was but, if they were, they would also see him pulling the long coat closer to his body for warmth and shelter. But what they would likely fail to see in the process, were his blasters, now even better concealed underneath. Although, the opposite could be said of The Kingfisher, now that the vibrosword sheathed at his left hip, prominently peeked through the bottom of his coat.

Spek payed this no mind, for despite it being smelt with cortosis-weave, the weapon's delicate filigree made it seem more ceremonial than anything else. While also, detracting attention from the actual menaces - the two lightsabers with interlocking hilts, neatly stored inside his belt pouch which hung from the opposite side of his waist.

The Zeltron began making his way back towards the spaceport. A moderate but necessary walk, given the narrow alleys on this part of town being intended for pedestrian use only. Speeder circulation was illegal here and, despite law enforcement not having a pervasive presence, he was not about to risk putting an end to a decent streak of uneventful deliveries, just to evade a little drizzle.

Furthermore, absent-mindedly walking in the light rain made for a relaxing post-lunch.

The splashes of footsteps striking puddles and the spatter of rain against the roofs and awnings that ran along both sides of the narrow alleyways, drowned out most other sounds. Even the morning cacophony from the busy streets simmered down, following along the people that caused it, into the inside of increasingly crowded establishments. Their buzzing neon signs making for a melodic counterpoint to the humming of the automated streetlights reacting to an overcast afternoon; both, dappling the facades into a vibrant kaleidoscope. And, as the cadmium glow of the exposed lamps warmed up, releasing undulating vapors whenever struck by a raindrop, they attracted all manner of flighted insects even at these early hours. The thin layer of glass on the bulbs only able to do so much to insulate from the emanating heat, those that landed on them. Quasi-literal moths to a flame.

Inattentive to the route he was taking, Zhio allowed his mind to muse about his current state of affairs. Perhaps he was getting better at astrogation, enough to avoid running into trouble. Perhaps he was getting more savvy at picking the right jobs and steering clear of the path of other Force users and the troubles they always bring. Perhaps it would do no harm to put his improved skills to the test on a trivial matter - if instinctive astrogation could be used to find a path through the stars, why not use it to find a shorter path through these streets? The idea occurred to him upon finally realizing that he must have made a wrong turn, while daydreaming, somewhere along the way.

Casually waving the fingers on his right hand, with it still inside his coat pocket, he tugged at the weave of the cosmos without stopping or changing pace. He felt for a way towards his starship, a trail through the streets, a course back home. But what he felt instead, sent chills down his spine. A wound on the fabric of the Force. One that, despite having been over a year since he last felt similar, sprung up a knowledge of what it was that struck him like a needle prick causing an involuntary muscle reflex.

The Zeltron immediately suppressed his presence through the Force. Knowing very well that if he had felt them, then they surely had felt him in turn. Not to mention that, if they were so inclined as to track him down, Zhio was not skilled enough to fully conceal himself from their scrutiny.

Taking his hand out of his pockets and beginning to swing his arms as if to gather speed, the captain double-backed to look for the familiar pathway towards his ship, the one he had previously taken after landing and that he nonchalantly missed moments before. The goal was to regain his bearings, do it as fast as possible, and get the hell outta Dodge - or whatever this city was even called.

Just as he saw the turn that he had missed, and just as he hastily was about to take it, Spek nearly bumped into a cloaked figure coming in the opposite direction. Facing each other, the first thing that drew his attention was the alluring features of a silhouette the likes of which a mantle could hardly hide. The second, which prompted the third, was the ominous mask beneath the hood. Lastly, the third thing to draw his attention, was the sudden awareness that this was the source of the Force wound he had felt.

Muscle memory kicking in, he flexed his fingers into directing the weaves towards a kinetic pull, that pulled back his coat and opened the pouch on his utility belt. Realizing what he had done, he stopped just before diverting them to pull out the lightsabers that were inside, through the air and into both his palms.

Unfortunately, with the saber hilts now clearly exposed, what remained to determine was how the other individual would react.

But one thing Spek Zhio was sure of... This event marked an end to the brief halcyon days as of late.

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

It was an unusual feeling that drew her here, the sudden appearance of something in the force that vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. Perhaps that is was why her curiosity had been piqued so thoroughly, like a spark igniting fuel in the dark. She didn't have a trail to follow in the traditional sense, more of a brief "blip" on a psychic radar and a general idea of where it originated from, yet where it might be now or could be later were yet undetermined. As a scholar of such astute study as she, the thought of acting on a plan without every scrap of knowledge with which to inform said action had always been a daunting prospect. And yet the nature of her work had seen the apprentice hurled from that zone of comfort many times before, and with help from such individuals as Leven and other new friends within The Brood, she had become more accustomed to allowing herself to take risks, as the results often yield rewards. She had grown since meeting her, and for that she would always be thankful.

And so she followed that spike of the force to it's origin point a short walk away, about to duck into some back alley when suddenly-

"Mmph!"

Someone bumped into her.

He looked... horrified. Before she could truly take measure of the situation, the stranger's coat flew back as if by the summoning of a sudden wind. She glanced down, noting the presence of... Lightsabers. Whoever he was, he did not appear to be a Jedi outright, his coat too colorful, his garb too rugged to be some stuck up core worlder. Yet neither did he appear to be Sith, not enough black clothing nor did she feel the force in pain at his being here.

It was plenty evident however that this man must be the origin of that strange presence which she had felt, and it was clear that he too felt her own in kind. But of course he did, how could he not? Her own presence in the force equally strange as his but not in that it was hard to feel, rather that it was difficult to ignore in it's chaotic nature. It was as if a cyclone lived within her, an ancient thing that had seen the rise and fall of civilizations past and now come to dwell within her, Dark and malicious, and yet... It was caged. Caged by something younger, something rebellious yet... hurt. The cage hurts, against it's will it hurts and imprisons something even worse within.

But outwardly, straightening her posture as the reality of the stranger's threat is realized, The masked woman appeared almost cold. Almost uncaring.

"I see..." Kaila sighed, the modulated exhale little more than a static crackle behind the mask.

"An understandable choice," A pair of lightsabers flew from under the cloak and into her hands. She held one out in front of her, ready to intercept should he decide to strike while she spoke.

"...But a poor one"

The lightsaber crackled into being, dropping sparks in it's place as a blade of Violet light pierced the overcast light between them, drawing a visual line between the two strangers and sending panicked civilians fleeing the nearby sidewalk in a cacophony of alarmed shouts and panicked gasps. The masked warrior paid them no mind, the faceless visor staring into the hooded man as if staring directly into his soul, unblinking, unmoving, daring him to make a move.


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

Above them, on the wall bending the corner, stood a neon sign announcing the entrance to the 'Purple Lotus'. With a glow to match the epithet and an oblique downward arrow which promised the cantina's entrance just around the turn.

Amusingly - at least to Zhio - the arrow now seemed to point at the stranger standing in front of him, as if identifying her by moniker. Regardless of who she was... what she was could not be more plainly evident had the purple sign above been bright red and glaring the words Sith instead.

His initial concern had more to do with turning over a new (old) leaf, into yet again a downward spiral of whimsical and bothersome encounters. Sure, one day he might just lose an arm, a leg, or his life to such incidents. But ruining his good-luck spell caused him more worry than dealing with whatever he now had to deal with. Therefore, quickly accepting his new reality - as did the bystanders who ran from the odd pair - Spek opened the floodgates shielding him from the Force and embraced the rush that quickly overpowered his synapses. Maybe it was the elation he felt at that moment that caused him to smirk or, maybe, it was the loss of all doubt when faced with the certainty of what was about to happen. Resolution quickly honing his focus into a keen blade.

Her aura, a polar maelstrom of intent and restraint, did not befit the cold assurance of her words. A brief moment of observation was enough to grasp a notion that her power was more in control of her, than the other way around. That it could harm her, more easily than it could him.

Projecting a Force barrier, invisible to those not sensitive to it, the male Zeltron forced the air out of his lungs as if relaxing, making a point of closing back the pouch that concealed his sabers and adjusting his coat. A symbolic gesture of truce, as he was certain she was well aware the act did little to hinder him from drawing them at a moment's notice. Alongside the fact that his guard was still up.

"Look," he began with a genuine warm smile, "let's not rush into something that we could both regret later on.

"This is clearly a coincidence and we both know that neither of us was after the other," was said casually while combing his wet hair with the left hand. "Why not make the most out of this serendipitous encounter, over a few beers? I just came from a great place up the street..."

The captivating rich violet of her lightsaber gave off a stronger emanation than usual, kindred to some of the turbulence surrounding her, which provided a hint towards her tumultuous presence in the Force.

"The Name's Spek Zhio," he volunteered, "Zhio with a 'zh', like in casual or leisure."

He tried studying her. Made more difficult by a veiled face and chaotic nature.

"About my offer, what do you say? I'll even pay the first round!"

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

Kaila would tilt her head to the side.

He chose to speak, rather than draw his blade and attack? She knew Jedi talked first... Talked a lot even, but this was different. There was no confident statement of arrest or prolonged monologue about "Balance" or moral dogma. His words were friendly in that they were bargaining, no doubt to save his life she assumed, but his choice was not lost on her.

Unlike the man who trained her, she did not kill needlessly, and there was clearly more to this than she expected.

"Very well," The saber deactivated and fell from hand, both weapons returning to her belt despite her hands falling to her sides and remaining there.

"They call me Kaila" She bowed her head in greeting.

"...with a Kay"

She added with a hint of amusement, folding her arms behind her back and away from her weapons in an equal gesture of peaceful intent, despite clearly being quick on the draw much like her new acquaintance.

"I will accept your offer, as you've piqued my curiosity. I have to admit that I find your choice not to engage very... peculiar. Are you not a Jedi, as I had assumed? Is it not the order's sacred duty to eradicate practitioners of the dark such as myself?"

Her voice, though electrically tinged by the mask's vocoder, carried with it an Imperial accent that further pointed toward her origins, yet the exact dialect and therefore the planet of her birth would be impossible to determine. The man's visual study of her might yield more results if only to bring more basic information to light. Golden hair spilled from the corners of her hood, loose and frayed at the ends much like the edge of her two-piece cloak that seemed almost like a poncho to shelter her from the rain more than the typically grandiose wear of a Sith Lord. Her boots too were well worn and bespeckled with dirt that predated today's mud.

Even the mask and singular gauntlet she wore about her left hand had seen prior use, the shining black paint worn down to reveal scratches and chipped metal that seemed a rusted brown, identifiable to those who had seen it, as Cortosis. It hid her thoughts from the force even from so close, contributing to the almost uncharacteristic calm despite the turbulence of her signature within the force. Her motives, her feelings beyond that strange hurt that followed in her shadow, all her business was her own.

Ironic perhaps, that one with so many questions hid so much from the world.


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

It... worked? Spek thought. Of course it worked!

Ever so slightly taken aback by her quick reciprocity, Zhio awkwardly bowed as well.

"Pleasure to meet you, Kaila with a kay.

"I piqued your curiosity, did I? Well, my life is an unlocked datapad," he lied, for no other reason than to not over-complicate matters. "While it is true that I was trained by the Jedi, long ago... I... didn't buy much of what they were selling."

Not taking his eyes off of her while letting go of the Force barrier and turning sideways, he motioned with his right arm at the road heading north from the street junction, "Shall we? We can talk along the way." The Zeltron made no efforts to conceal the left hand casually resting on The Kingfisher's pommel. Something told him that she did not need to resort to elaborate ruses in order to get him to lower his guard - or would approve of it, for that matter. Nevertheless, one never knows what other people are capable of, until they do. And he was not about to expose to her an unguarded flank.

He began walking, hoping she would follow.

"Anyway - and I'm certainly not the right person to ask - but I know nothing of the Jedi eradicating others. With all due respect, if wolves are threatening your sheep, and you put up electric fences... Someone might argue whether you're to blame or not, for the first wolf that gets electrocuted. But you can't be accused of attempting to exterminate the wolves, just because they kept throwing themselves at your fence, of their own volition." He started to ramble a bit, as his metaphor unraveled itself. "I mean, unless you're saying the wolves are stupid and still couldn't figure out the fence was the thing killing them... But then again, aren't you Sith the ones who believe in strength above everything else? Then I guess the wolves weren't that strong to begin with... And the strong are the ones who get to dictate whether the weak sheep deserve to be protected or not."

There was little chance that the bystanders who ran away moments before, were rushing to contact the authorities. Lesser chance even that any local authority would bother to come all the way down there just for a scare - which was all it was, for the time being anyway. Flashing a lightsaber might denote intent but it's not a crime per se... or was it? Zhio was unsure of the local laws. Nah! He felt confident that they would not be bothered.

Besides, people were paying them no mind now, as they were making their way to 'The Last Refu_e' cantina - certainly the last of something, but the missing neon letter made the Zeltron question if it origianlly said Refuge or Refuse.

"But enough of that! The point is, I'm not with the Jedi nor the Sith. You're safe in my company," he studied her once more, "as long as I'm safe in yours." Her mask was not purely aesthetic. That much was evident from what looked like cortosis weave, which had seen plenty of use but still appeared sturdy. There was a chance it did more than offer her protection though, seeing that her voice was being modulated. Furthermore, she seemed to be human or near-human, like himself, so the atmosphere should be breathable to her. Maybe it was a way to conceal her identity or maybe she had prostethic cybernetics.

However, since he considered it rude to openly assume anything about anyone, he kept his assumptions to himself. On top of that, in this particular case, assumptions might have proven to be dangerous.

"And enough about me as well! Tell me more about yourself,"

Had she refuse to say anything, the next five minutes until reaching the cantina would likely be filled with an awkward silence. And upon finally reaching their destination, Zhio glanced around the cramped up place for an empty group of tables, preferably at the back. Turning to Kaila, "Shall we find a... " he asked her with a wink, "more quiet spot to sit?"

He wondered if she would realize he meant for them to stay clear of the other patrons, in case things went south.

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

"Sure," She said almost teasingly regarding his claims about the Jedi. He could very well be telling the truth, he had the power to conceal his presence after all and she did not, despite the incomprehensible strength of her own master. Or he could just be a failed student who learned this ability only after leaving the order, it wasn't impossible. Still, one could learn a surprising amount from another's reactions to such simple remarks. Especially through the force.

"That's at least one thing we agree on, so far"

Kaila would indeed follow him as suggested, although just out of the man's reach unless she had underestimated the length that blade he carried. Still, the almost casual pace which they took and the way she would attentively glance his way every so often made it appear at a distance that they might have even been friends on a casual stroll despite the cloaked woman having drawn a weapon on him mere moments ago. Almost a difference of night and day, how her personal curiosity seemed to abruptly overrule the violent code by which she lived. Some might have seen it as alarming, perhaps a sign of great deceit or even sociopathic tendency, But the truth was that Kaila had always been an odd one among the Sith.

Even so, she was visibly frustrated by his analogy of wolves as she looked off to the side. For one, painting all Sith as being simply stupid was both false and dangerous to assume. Even if one did not agree with their order- which to be fair many Sith did not even agree with the broader spectrum of their own kind- it was still hazardous to underestimate a potential enemy.

"Did you know that the Jedi are responsible for the creation of their- well, I suppose our- order?"

She chimed in, unable to help herself after so many nights spent studying the history of both their respective factions. And of course she admitted to being Sith herself in doing so, though an odd hesitation to do so was evident in her tone.

"The ancient Je'daii Order exiled a small group of masters to the harsh and unexplored outer rim long ago. Over the experimentation of Alchemy no less. They arrived on a world called...

Korriban..."

She let the word hang on the air, studying his reaction, wondering if he knew of the place she spoke.

"These "Dark Je'daii" taught the original Sith species their ways, and the primitives grew into a prospering empire. Until a great war, eventually ending in their defeat, or so the Jedi thought"

"The Republic exterminated all sentient life on Korriban... And a sect of a Jedi called "Shadows" worked in secret to destroy all knowledge of the Dark Side. Story goes they could not bear the shame of their sin; Jedi created the Dark Side, corrupted force by mistake. But the Sith were not truly defeated. They simply moved to a new home, beyond the Stygian Caldera"

She spoke of it almost as a cautionary tale as much as a history lesson.

"But that was thousands of years ago. Recently, I've seen the same thing happen with my own eyes... On Brendok. And yet, I was one of only two Sith present"

There was much more bitter emphasis on the name Brendok, although she didn't expect him to know of what she spoke. It was a quiet world, a peaceful one, once. Even so many days later, it made no sense to her why the Ashlan Jedi were allowed to do the things they had done to such innocent people... Then again, she hardly understood her own master's atrocities either...

Her head was turned low in thought. In regret, until she remembered her "Companion" had asked a question.

"And enough about me as well! Tell me more about yourself,"

"Shall we find a... " he asked her with a wink, "more quiet spot to sit?"

"Are you...? oh" The sith chortled.

She would put the conversation on hold until they had found a suitable corner where they would not be disturbed. Luckily they didn't look too out of place in a spaceport cantina, even despite her all black attire. With her travel cloak hiding the armor underneath, she didn't look too dissimilar from any smuggler or bounty hunter who might wear such a helmet, which was exactly why she wore it so often. Despite her ambitions, Kaila was not some decorated commander of soldiers nor ruler of imperial worlds, nor an official in a fancy suit nor uniform. For all intents and purposes, she was like him in a way; a wanderer among the stars. The only real difference in their lifestyle was simply that she had a destination in mind, while he did not. They belonged in exactly such a place as this.

"Anyway," She continued once they had both sat down.

"I'm not sure what I could tell a stranger so soon that would be truthful... Mm. Save perhaps that I am scholar, of sorts. By trade and by preference. I travel a lot, as you might have gathered, and I know things. Of Sith, of Jedi, of witches and so on"

"I believe some have called me a philosopher," She would stroke the "chin" of her mask

"Although I am unsure. I may need to finalize my thoughts and commit them paper before calling myself such"

"And you?" She asked curiously after a thoughtful pause, idly pointing at him with a gauntleted finger.

"Who are you now, if not a Jedi?"


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

The ornate longsword would have gotten in the way of him sitting down, so he deftly unfastened its scabbard from his belt, even if by doing so had exposed the MA-M2 energy pistol on the holster beside it. Fully aware of this yet paying it no mind, Spek propped the sheathed Kingfisher against the wall to his right, within arm's reach, next to his seat. The table they picked was one out of a group of three that were empty, near a wall at the back of the room. On it, stood a single closed window next to the table. It was the furthest away from both the entrance and the counter, and still a respectable distance away from the service back door.

Kaila was not the first 'talkative' Sith the Zeltron had encountered, and he much preferred those to the brooding, edgy type. He allowed her to talk uninterrupted throughout, only making the occasional nod or mm-hmm sound of acquiescence, to assure her that he was listening. Which, in all truthfulness, he was attentively so. More than that, she might well have been the first Sith with a few opinions that actually seemed reasonable. That she had shown an appreciation for history was another refreshing surprise, heightening his curiosity regarding her tainted presence on the Force.

Her lighthearted chuckle from before, however, sounded peculiar through the voice modulator. Which gave it - and by extension, her - a unique appeal, if only from the bizarreness that exacerbated an already comedic quality. It made Zhio chuckle as well and disarmed much of the apprehension he was under.

"I am..." he began, once her question threw the conversation back to him. Lost... But he did not voice the last word, instead correcting himself after a brief, pensive pause, "A wanderer.

"How should I put it?" Spek pondered, glancing from time to time at the terminal in front of him. One of a pair facing each seat on opposite sides of that table for two, and built into it. "I'm sure you could tell right away that I wasn't... one of yours..." he hesitated, searching for the right words. "And... Given that both cults are way too much into the 'you're either with us or against us' mentality, I disclosed having been trained by Jedi... more to let you know that I'm not one anymore, rather than to tell you I used to be.

He leaned back against the chair.

"Not that it matters anyway, but I've never even achieved knighthood."

There was no live performance at that cantina. No Twi'lek for him to gawk at. Still, upbeat music blared from speakers placed all around the place, that did little to drown out the hubbub of patrons and beep-boping of serving droids. Few customers there were human, more were near-human, and a handful were of exotic sentient species. But of the majority it was hard to tell, from them still wearing damp hoods and cloaks, respectively covering their heads and hanging from their shoulders, that had just came from being under the rain.

The pair were the only Force users around - of that he was certain. And, if any of the cloaked figures were bounty hunters or outlaws, they did not appear to be paying them any attention. As for the terminals, besides being used to order drinks; browse a bastardized, high-latency version of the HoloNet; and even play some rudimentary games; they could also be used to change the tunes being aired. Spek halfheartedly scrolled through the song selection while talking.

"No. I am me," he raised his eyes to meet her visor, having selected a piece to play, "and I do not need or appreciate being defined in absolute terms.

"What I do believe in is individual freedom, and my beliefs were at odds with those of my teachers. Now, don't get me wrong. I do still believe that the Jedi's brand of freedom is more sensible than that of the Sith I've encountered. But still... it wasn't mine."

Leaving them had not been easy. It was the only life he had known. The only home he ever had. From then on, he stopped belonging to anything, anywhere, or with anyone. He did not just left home, he renounced it. Always on the move at first, feeling the constant need to run away from or towards something - likely both. Until one day finally realizing that a journey does not need a purpose.

The journey itself can be the purpose.

"My brand, is that each individual's freedom should be bounded only by someone else's. Not dictated as a means to gain power or control." The song he had chosen had not started yet. Reading the screen, he noticed how there were a dozen other songs ahead of his in the queue. He sighed and continued. "It's like this, you're free to slap me if you want, but I'm also free to not want to be slapped by you. So, ideally we could reach a compromise, and the people on that other table over there should have no say in the matter.

"Where to draw those lines... It's not a simple affair. I'm well aware of that, and I don't claim to have all the answers. What I do know is that I disagree with both Jedi and Sith about where they choose to draw them."

He wondered whether his metaphors were getting through to her. Whether he was making himself clear enough, and whether she would not read too much into his analogies. Unlike before, when she demonstrably felt upset at his previous wolf-and-sheep parable.

"So, who am I? I'm a traveler at heart and a freighter by trade. Mostly - but not all - of the time I could technically be called a smuggler. I do it to live and make a living, but also to help those oppressed by unjustly drawn lines.

"In a sense, I'm an ethical smuggler, if you will."

Giving up on a song that would not play, Spek slightly bent the index and middle fingers of his right hand in an upward motion, causing the window to open as if by itself. The sound of pounding rain far surpassed whatever came next on the playlist queue.

Also, He thought a little fresh air would do them good. Something stank in there, and he would not dare to attempt a guess at which bodily discharge was the culprit. It made sense to him then, why no one else had occupied those tables.

"Well then... Shall I order for the both of us?" he asked, pointing at his terminal and ready to make good on his promise. "What will it be?"

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

He paused but would come to identify himself, initially as a wanderer. It was a word that felt... Kindred, and had her leaning in to listen a little more closely.

It seemed her original theory had some evidence behind it now, as Zhio was never a fully fledged Jedi Knight, if he was telling the truth. She believed him however, even despite whatever tricks he had learned. If her were secretly some exiled knight than he may have reacted more violently to her upon her show of force on the street, something she would have expected from a Dark Jedi or exiled zealot.

Instead he had chosen a diplomatic approach, and far friendlier than what she would have imagined from a Jedi Knight. Whether out of fear or a genuine desire to remain on good terms, she did not know for sure. Both were possible and she would not rule out any odds but she believed that if it were out of fear then it would have been an instinctual response, a gut reaction to her very sudden appearance rather than any particular lack of confidence.

After all, he had demonstrated an ability which she at least considered to be powerful. While it was entirely possible that hiding oneself from the force was an innate quality of his, a power that had manifested on it's own and before any other- not unlike her own Pyrokinesis- it was seemed to her that this was a rare occurrence even if worth noting. Considering that he appeared older than herself to some extent, his training as a padawan would have ended quite some time ago, but if this power of his was not innate than it was entirely possible that he had been trained outside the order. Perhaps even by multiple masters, at least in the use of individual abilities as she had secretly been.

Either that or he was self taught through painstaking years of research and experimentation.

It was something she considered because of his way of talking about personal freedoms, the way he spoke leading her to believe that he take issue with authority in many forms, something that she could paradoxically empathize with.

It gave her pause.

Kaila leaned back in her seat, still sitting in absolute silence as her masked visage would tilt just a little lower. She wasn't looking directly at him anymore, rather a mental picture he was painting.

It was reflection. She didn't like reflection.

The simple truth was that she didn't agree with her master and often disagreed with the action he forced her to take. She had no particular love of the empire nor the Kainate and yet here she was.

She had to remind herself why she continued however. Remind herself that, though it would take time and preparation not too dissimilar from the work she had done today, that her servitude was temporary. That this would all serve a purpose in the end. Her purpose. This would all be worth it when she was free.

"Well then... Shall I order for the both of us?" he asked, pointing at his terminal and ready to make good on his promise. "What will it be?"

"Mm?" She looked up and away from that mental image they had both been painting.

"I'll take a Dantooine ice-twist"

It was slightly pricey, something typically served on Zeltros despite the name. She had developed an almost spoiled taste thanks to Saryn's expensive tastes and near limitless which she had been allowed to share in for a time. She didn't have access to those resources here, but if the smuggler was buying, well... she could live with that.

Then going back to her thoughts, she looked out the window Zhio had opened, letting the gentle rain touch her naked fingers, the ones on the hand opposite of her gauntlet, watching the droplets coil between them while idly turning her hand over. The mask, which she may have forgotten was on still, adding to the strange aloof yet empty feeling that surrounds her.

"Your reason for leaving the temple is... intriguing. Not new to me exactly, but not what I expected to hear"

Her voice had a humming quality even over the electrical interference, like she was thinking aloud rather than making conversation.

"Do you still believe in destiny, Zhio?"


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

If you knew Dantooine at all, you knew two things. That it was home to several ancient Jedi temples, and that it had a temperate climate. Therefore, one might have thought the twist here to be the ice.

When in fact, it was the price.

Zhio could not help but wince at hearing her request. He scrolled down and selected the drink twice, somewhat surprised that they even had it on the menu. The gaudy cocktail was something you would expect to see served on a tropical beach somewhere on the Inner Rim, like on Zeltros - where he had never been, despite being the homeworld of his ancestors - and not on such a scruffy establishment on the Mid. He was not surprised with how much they were asking for it, though. But for her to desire a cold drink in this weather, when there were plenty of (somewhat) decent, local brews available... That carried a certain tinge of either sadism or hedonism with it.

The Zeltron had his fair share of both as well, so he could not blame her for the slyness. Besides, he would have done the same had the roles been reversed. And so he smiled as if being caught with his pants down, while retrieving a couple of credit chips from his coat's inner pocket.

He figured he could go by with skipping a meal or two, anyways. But may he loose his second liver if he was not going to drink her under the table and make the most out of it!

"Destiny?" He paused, studying her helmet. Wondering if she could fit a drinking straw through that. "What made you think I've ever believed in it to begin with?"

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

"Hmh" An imperceivable smile spread behind the mask.

"I can see why you left the temple then"

She flicked some of the rain off her hand and out the window from whence it came, turning to face Zhio again.

"I assumed simply you had been exposed to their teachings, once. Because both... religions... believe in destiny. We both believe that the force has a will. I... I hate that it has a will. That it has a destiny for us all"

Her frustration with the predicament was evident even if it did not manifest in the typically explosive manner one might expect from a practitioner of the Dark Side, but rather a simple confession.

"You speak of freedom, and the harmful lines being drawn- and I agree- But I wonder how you would feel if you could see the truths that I have. That the force itself cuts lines into all our freedoms"

There was brief pause and a glance out the window again as it occurred to her she had more to explain. He was no Jedi but neither did he seem to be a practitioner of the dark side as she was, and so he would be missing important context to her view of the world and of the force, a view that even many Sith did not share, as they were far less unified in their beliefs than the Jedi.

"I believe, as both Sith and Jedi do, that the Dark Side of the force is a corruption of it's will. To me at least, the Dark Side is simply a method by which I bend the force to my will. Because I refuse to make peace with something that takes agency from me"

"Perhaps it was a good choice on your part, to get out while you still could. Knowledge is power, yes, but also a burden"

She would stop to thank a serving droid who quickly brought their drinks, and it was at this point that Kaila realized how peculiar it was to order a drink and still be hidden away behind a mask.

She would lift it away from her face, tousled but soft and golden hair spilt across her shoulders, the lifting of this metallic veil first revealing doll-like skin and dark red lipstick, followed by eyes that were equally gold as her hair with the dark side, glowingly dimly in the dark interior of the spaceport cantina. She looked almost shy, eyes darting sidelong, knowing that her mental ward had been removed with that mask, that both he and the force had access to her thoughts or at least whatever emotions she might feel until deciding to hide them away behind that cortosis wall again.

But it also put more immediate sources into the open, as appearances could speak volumes in her experience. Kaila was at least a decade his junior, certainly not old enough to be a master in her own right but far too old to be a mere Acolyte taking classes at Jutrand Academy.

She couldn't help wondering if that would alter the perceived power dynamic, knowing that she was not quite a Sith Lord just yet but a student in her own way. He might grow bolder, decide that he could have taken her if they'd dueled earlier, perhaps even try his luck this time.

But for now, she would idly sip her drink, observing his reaction to the loss of her ward and to this introduction to her views on the force.


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"I don't think it has though. A destiny. The Force, I mean" he reflected, while absentmindedly toying with his credit chips, adroitly rolling them across the knuckles of his fingers. "I guess we're arguing semantics at this point. But will and destiny can mean very different things.

"It depends on how you define them, I suppose..." After a brief moment of contemplation, he came up with what he though was a good analogy. "For example, if I drop these credits, they're destined to fall from my hand. But I have the free will to choose not to play with them like this, or to practice and get better at not dropping them instead." With a swift sleight of hand he revealed an open and empty palm, and then did the same with the back of his hand. The chips were gone.

"Everything is bound by the laws of cause and effect. The question is... are we on railspeeders confined to their magnetic tracks? Or on hovercrafts, limited only by the potency of their repulsorlifts?

"The roads are laid down before us, we get to pick and choose which ones to take." That sometimes there was only one path ahead and the choice was whether to take it or leave it, was left unsaid. "What I disagree with, is the idea that a single choice is enough to lock you into a path of no return. Determining who you are. Who you must become. There are always detours along the way, and you can always go off-lane as well.

"As they say in Corellia, all lanes lead to the Hydian."

Glancing out the window at the warm glow of the streetlights, he was reminded of something.

"But then again, we are all just prisoners of our own natures." Moths to a flame.

Interrupted by a serving droid, Spek was about to produce his palmed credit chips when the sight of Kaila removing her helmet gave him pause. It was not merely her delicate features or the modest amount of make-up that elegantly enhanced them - Zhio had expected to see at least some amount of squashed helmet hair on top of her head. It was not even the slight eccentricity of caring to maintain such an appearance, despite seemingly electing to keep it hidden. Not even a disfiguring scar, burn, or cybernetic implant was in sight.

What surprised him the most, was her coyness. Could it all have been a hoax or was she genuinely feeling apprehensive and exposed? The latter was not at all farfetched, just by the simple possibility that she was not comfortable with taking her helmet out in public or among strangers. The former was still a strong possibility for the cynic in him, though. And, for a split second, the former Padawan considered reaching out and probing her mind in order to get to the truth.

He promptly brushed the idea aside. Not only because it would certainly compromise any vestigial mutual trust between them, but mostly because invading someone else's mind and privacy was not something he agreed with, despite possessing the tools to do so.

Instead, hoping that the young woman would take his hesitation as bewilderment, while at the same time not feeling offended by it, the spacer fixed his hazel eyes on her beaming golden ones and announced, "Don't be alarmed. Just excuse me a for bit..." With his best disarming smile and a cautiously raised left hand, he reached accross the table for the right side of her face. Pretending to pull the two credit chips from behind her ear, he threw them with a wink, at the now empty tray being carried by the droid.

Picking up his own drink, he waited for the server to confirm the transaction and leave the two of them alone again, before continuing. "It's like the intersection we were before... The paths were there. We chose to take the one leading here," Spek studied the oddly-shaped bulbous glass in his hand with a raised eyebrow, "or are you suggesting that our encounter was fated from the start?"

He paused to take a sip, after which he pressed his lips into a thin line. The mixture was somewhat accurate. All too sweet on the lips for his taste, but still aptly feeling like molten lead going down his throat. Notwithstanding, for a beverage that was intended to be served chilled, this one was nearing room temperature. Therefore, and without a second thought, he employed cryokinesis and began to cool it on his hand. Condensation freezing into ice crystals across the surface of the glass.

Zhio prefered to let Kaila take the initiative to ask him if she wanted it done to her drink as well. So as to not risk insulting his new drinking partner with unbased assumptions, in the event she was able to do it herself - or just did not want to.

"Although... We sometimes attribute meaning to meaningless coincidences..." He searched for an example. "Like the fact that my ship lacks a navicomputer but I don't need one."

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

She would idly sip her drink while mulling over yet another one of Zhio's odd but simple analogies. However, his hypothetical exposed a glaring issue in her own argument that was simple enough to rectify, but was clearly a mistake on her part for not clarifying; The difference between true destiny, and managed outcome. To call it "Destiny" was a gross oversimplification on her part and that of the greater Sith and Jedi religion in general, which had been so commonplace in her study material that she had assumed the difference to be a common metaphor.

But then there was also,

"But then again, we are all just prisoners of our own natures."

That. She did not like that, but not because it wasn't true. It was something she had considered before, something that made her wonder; had she not been forced to take this path, would it have mattered? Would she still have become who she is today?

It was something Kaila tried not to think about too often, especially considering that.

She may never know who she was before the Sith.

Whoever she was now, Kaila found it ironic that she and Zhio were in such stark contrast and yet similar enough to meet here and find some common ground to stand on. Two wanderers, one in it for the journey, the other for the destination. A woman controlled by destiny, a man unshackled by fate.

He was also... A rather unserious fellow. She watched curiously, if a little concerned, as she he leaned across the table to reach out for her, Kaila's face scrunching in confusion until he "pulled" the credits back and she realized it was all a joke. A quite cheesy joke.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, supposing there was a certain charm to it.

Then as the serving droid left, She watched his drink suddenly chill, eyes darting in confusion at each forming speck of ice until she realized that another contrasting characteristic of theirs was on display.

Kaila glanced to her drink, then up at him as she slid it forward some.

"Would you mind...? I'd do it myself but, well..."

She held up one finger, and forming a single candle flame above her finger tip, waving gently in the cool breeze brought in from the open window. Pyrokinesis, the very thing that had started this entire journey, brought the attention of her master down upon her. It was also the innate power for which she was best known.

"or are you suggesting that our encounter was fated from the start?"

When at last the serving droid was out of earshot, Zhio finished his musings on destiny with an interesting question that she had not thought to ask herself. Were they fated to meet? She did not believe in a traditional definition of destiny, but it was entirely possible that the force had influenced their meeting in some way. After all, was it not their shared connection to the force that drew them together? Like moths to a flame.

Kaila sat back to think on it, arms crossed.

"Not exactly... I don't think-? hm. I don't know yet"

It would have sounded like a cheesy pickup line just say yes, and she wasn't entirely sure either.

"When I use the word destiny, I realize that is an oversimplification of how the force interacts with the galaxy. It does not exactly control the outcome of our decisions, we have a will of our own and it is very difficult to overrule one's will, however... It manipulates"

She looked up then, hoping that he might see why it alarmed her so. But she did not expect anyone to understand, not in a world so dependent on it.

"Let us say that you had dropped those credits. You might think that they were destined to fall, Because it was your choice that they fall, gravity being the method by which you enact your will. Now let's say I had plans for those credits, and I snatched them from the air before they fell. That's what the force wants to do, but rarely can"

"Instead," She took a deep breath, knowing how conspiratory she might sound going forward.

"If I were the force, I might draw the attention of that serving droid and put a hurdle in their way, my foot for example, and cause them to fall before you even dropped the credits, so that when you did, the droid would intercept them"

"Cause and effect, as you said" She held her hand out, squeezing as if she had caught the hypothetical credits

"The Force uses cause, we suffer the effect"

"Have you ever wondered why force sensitives are behind every major event in galactic history? Or what about smaller things? did the events leading up to your training in the Jedi temple happen by chance or because The Force influenced events that would put the Jedi in your path? Maybe it wanted you to learn and then leave, to become the "Ethical smuggler" you call yourself today, either because it wants you to help those people, or because by meeting them...

The Force is guiding you somewhere"

It could be that the force wished for these two to meet, or perhaps it's desired destiny for him lied elsewhere, the only course for the navigator was to either plot his own or allow the force to plot one for him.


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Would you look at that! Fire and ice!" Spek jokingly remarked, placing his hand a good fifteen centimeters away from her drink. He then drew the heat away from it with the Force, gradually, so as to not shatter the glass from thermal shock. His hand warming up and the crimson complexion of his skin darkening into maroon. "We couldn't be more different if we tried!"

Spek let Kaila know he was done by swiping his hand above the tabletop, palm facing up, as if the flourishing finish to an illusionist's performance. Resting his chin on the left hand, elbow propped on the edge of the table, he nonchalantly sipped on his drink while paying attention to what she was saying.

Waiting for her to reach a natural conclusion to her train of thought, so as to not interrupt it, he observed at the end, "You read too much into my silly examples." Apparently she had a proclivity to do so, as much as he had one to come up with them in the first place. "But I was right, you know? we are arguing over semantics," he finally concluded. "I mean, I think I do get your point and it's close to what I was saying. It's just that we ultimately disagree on some key parts of it - which is obviously fine!" He was sure they actually disagreed on several major parts of a lot of things.

Her eyes were mesmerizing. Almost the color of his but not quite. They had a peculiar glow to them, like pools of molten gold. A color that did not belong on any human eyes he knew, but Zhio could not quite figure out to which species they belonged to exactly. Maybe they were the result of some Force manifestation - a Sith thing, perhaps.

From her words and her tone, he grasped that, despite standing on antipodes and heading in the opposite direction, they seemed to share the starting line. At times, Spek had to reason with himself whether he was not subconsciously and accidentally probing her feelings - he was not. For much of what he felt had been left unsaid by her, was being perceived intuitively by him. As only kindred spirits would be able to do.

"I don't believe that the Force has some major purpose for us."

She was an attractive woman, no doubt about that.

"Bottom line, that's it."

But was Zhio feeling attracted to her?

"If it has a will, I don't believe it cares much for us little guys."

It was much more than her looks...

"I just don't believe in that kind of fate."

There was some sort of commonality between them. A shared affinity of sorts.

"To me, fate is what happens when you do what you can with what's been given to you."

He concluded what it was that they had in common. She was an orphan like him - either literal of figuratively - and of that he was certain now. His only inquiry to himself was if had they had each other's upbringing, would their roles be reversed at that moment?

"Also, to your last point, I don't think there's any big mystery to it," he commented. "Has anyone ever wondered why the rich have more stuff than the poor? It's the same principle, really, I'd say..."

And an even more pertinent question crossed his mind... Was the feeling mutual? Could she be attracted to him? A Sith? Without realizing, he smirked. How would that even work? I would need eyes at the back of my head at every second! But amusing thoughts aside, he had to admit to himself that there was some allure to the danger, which aroused something in him. Bah! I'm just imagining things, anyway!

"This kindling we've been given at birth, has the potential to start a fire the likes of which those not born with it can ever hope to achieve." His own words were rousing him. "Not all Force sensitives are born with the ability to reshape the Galaxy, but compared to those without..." Her last sentence was now pounding at the back of his head. The Force is guiding me... "There's just no possible comparison between us and them."

Guiding me where? With a creaking sound, an advancing layer of ice covered the outside of the glass he was holding. Where? The glass cracked. Still holding itself in once piece, a single fracture from top to bottom was formed. "Where?" He spurted out, noticeably annoyed.

Realizing what he had done to the glass and how he had verbalized his thoughts, Spek shook his irritation off and, visibly embarrassed, tried to pretend like nothing had happened. "I mean," his tone returning to normal, "where do you think the Force, could hypothetically be guiding me?"

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

Kaila sighed initially, nodding in confirmation of her own suspicions rather than his words. To hope that someone might finally understand would have been unwise, for she believed in- even more so than fate- in odds. And the odds of an enslaved cultist convincing a free spirited wanderer of what she saw were hopeless to begin with.

They could not be, as he said, more different if they tried.

Even so, perhaps it would have felt nice, to find that common ground with at least one soul.

"This kindling we've been given at birth, has the potential to start a fire the likes of which those not born with it can ever hope to achieve." His own words were rousing him. "Not all Force sensitives are born with the ability to reshape the Galaxy, but compared to those without..." Her last sentence was now pounding at the back of his head. The Force is guiding me... "There's just no possible comparison between us and them."

Well, she knew who would agree with that statement at least.

"Be careful, you almost sound like a Sith" She hummed somewhat teasingly.

But then her eyes narrowed as something peculiar was now happening. The ice in his glass creaked, spreading rapidly until cracks formed in his glass, all the while he looked lost in thought even before finished speaking.

"Zhio? are you...?"

Where. The question gave her pause even before he explained. She was silent for awhile, holding her chin in thought. It was hard enough to piece together what the force wanted from herself, and even that was a guess. It had already put much suffering in her path, enough that sometimes she wondered if it wanted her to turn to the dark side in the first place.

It was entirely possible that it wanted them to meet but why? And where could it possibly send them next? And did it mean them harm?

"I'm... unsure. I have yet to find my own place, let alone the place of another"

It was a far from satisfactory answer and she knew it.

Surely it had more to do with him in this moment than with herself, as it would have been better to send someone besides an Ex-Jedi to convert her to the light if that were it's aim. Perhaps it wanted to expose Zhio to the dark? But then, there were much easier ways to turn one to the dark side. Pain and loss, suffering in general was the quickest path to the dark side, certainly for Sith at least.

"Don't take this the wrong way but... I do hope it did not mean for us to meet today, that just this once it is happenstance. The path I walk is paved in tragedies, it's first steps are pain that not many would have survived. It's... not something I would wish on another"

"Unless you've taken those steps already? and your demeanor belies such a loss"

She looked up at him inquisitively, but those eyes held concern in equal measure. There was something about him that made her feel as though this meeting was important in some way, but what exactly? It would be difficult to answer either of their questions while they remained mere strangers as they were now, and she wasn't comfortable trying to probe his mind to change that fact either.


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"I told you already," Spek said, bitterly at first, but gradually finding his way back towards a more jovial tone, "don't call me a Sith just because I'm not a Jedi. Unlike them, I'm allowed to get passionate." He threw her a wry smile.

"Sorry for losing my shit there for a bit, it's not your responsibility to have the answers to question I didn't even know I had."

She had just struck a nerve. Was he really empathizing with a Sith? Was she seriously sympathizing with him?

Fuck it!

"Now, This is going to sound stupid, I already know it..." Finishing what was left of the ice-twist with a gulp, he gently placed the glass down before continuing. "I feel like we somehow have enough stuff in common, that we can understand each other.

"So here goes nothing...

"I have no place either. I was adopted by the Silver as a baby. Apparently, left at the steps of their temple. I owed them a lot - they literally saved my life as an infant! And, while I do see myself as a pretty centered person," he gestured towards the crack on his glass, "most of the time. The more my... teachers... tried to pull me in to their ascetic ways, the more I felt like I was being oppressed, and the more I fell into my... passions.

"The more I tried to suppress that side of me, the more I felt like something was off. The more something felt off, the more my progress was hindered. The more it was hindered, the more trouble I had letting go of my emotions.

"It turned into a vicious cycle. And I must concede now, that the Jedi were right in teaching to let go. It just... wasn't in me. The first time I truly felt free was after I had just left them. Sure, there was a lot of self-doubt and apprehension prior to it. But, after I did it, it felt like lifting a weight off my shoulders. And I've never stopped being on the move, ever since.

"The thing that pushed me over the edge, was witnessing hypocrisy, first-hand. How in strictly adhering to their rules, people suffered pointlessly. But then there was that talk about wisdom, and how it was all for the greater good, and how helping a few now might condemn many later. But screw that! What point is there in being a beacon of light, if you take the easy route and only shine it on a few?"

He picked up his glass and shook it a few times. As if doing it would conjure up more of the spirit.

"In no way, shape, or form is this supposed to be a competition. We've all experienced... bad stuff. It's a part of being sentient on this Galaxy. And that's why I feel that, if we have the power, then we also have the obligation to help others to not go through what we have. I feel like under different circumstances we could've been friends." He attempted a smile but it came out crooked and defeated. "Maybe we still can?"

He braced himself for her reaction to what he was about to say. After a long sigh, he continued.

"I've told you before, you guys, the Sith, are abhorrently evil. I despise you lot. But then again, I try to see the individual and not the label. You seem like a pretty reasonable woman, who had immense pain and suffering thrown at her. I have no desire to eradicate you, as you've put it before. But I will stand in your way if you... stop being this reasonable.

"I guess... What I'm trying to say is... Make me understand.

"Share your pain with me."

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

At first she was expecting a lecture, wondering if perhaps her joke had landed so poorly that he could no longer tolerate her presence. But to her surprise, this was something else. A display of passions, perhaps a demonstration of his need to help the downtrodden and the feintest embitterment toward those who had the means to do so but chose for one reason or another not to.

He called the Sith, and by extension herself, Evil. Even threatened to stand between Kaila and her goals should she stop being "reasonable", and yet... He wanted to understand.

She wasn't sure that he could understand, not to the same extent. Not if he had yet to experience the pain necessary to truly taste the Dark Side. He had pain of his own it seemed, But not enough. Yet, if she were to share a glimpse of what she had seen, then just maybe he could begin to comprehend?


Knowing what must be done, Kaila downed the rest of her drink and then quickly reached into her mask. When her hand emerged from that dark work of Sith Alchemy, it was as if she had pulled a halo from that faceless visage, producing a gleaming silvery band that seemed to whisper softly until she placed it upon her own head.

"This is something I've created to enhance telepathy. It will help us both share things with one another"

There would be a hint of unease in her voice, unsure if she was truly prepared to allow herself such vulnerability.

Nevertheless, she must push forward.

"Now, you may see and hear things that aren't me. But they are under my control"

She reached out with a hand, then her mind.

"If it becomes too much, warn me"

Her eyes shut, and like a tide steadily rolling in on the unsuspecting, her thoughts and her memories began to appear.

<<You're awake!>>

<<My name's Saryn.>>​

<<A Sith is not controlled by fear,>>​

<<We do not bow.>>

<<fear is controlled by the Sith.>>​

The psychic echo was erratic until it began to take shape, accompanying images forming as Kaila wrestled with her own mind for control, memories, though there was no rhythm to which order they came.

A woman looming over her amidst the ruins of an ancient Jedi temple, eyes a blinded white, hair dark as a moonless sky. They carefully remove a kyber crystal from a stone contraption, and an uneasy alliance is formed. The room darkens, they are somewhere else now, drinking wine. Kaila snaps, placing one of her lightsabers against the other, threatening to destroy it. A malevolent spirit is forced to flee it's hilt. It was the same exact saber that Kaila had threatened Zhio with earlier that day, black and wrapped in red cloth from Dathomir. The two women unite in their efforts to purge the spirit from Kaila's body and they grow quite close. She cannot decide if she trusts her, but fears losing them all the same.

Everything darkens, and a voice rumbles through both their minds. Deep, cold, uncaring.

<<Escort my apprentice to her quarters and tend to her wounds, but do not dull the pain. There is strength in suffering.>>

A man towers over her, eyes black and red centered as if an eclipse bore down upon her. A tower named Darth Carnifex. Kaila lays on a floor of cold metal, clutching a broken rib. She was different then, years younger, with short hair and eyes like a field of lavender. There was pain in those eyes, but even more than pain was fear. But she is commanded to stand, and even if shakily, she does, sword in hand and charging her master. Only to be knocked to that cold floor again.

<<you lied to me... I never had a choice!>> A young Kaila screams at someone she considers a friend, her only friend at that. She does not mean it, but still she shouted. She sees tears falling, and regret seeps in.

A new day rises, and Kaila is once again thrown to the floor, her arm broken and limp. The same pattern is repeated for months on end; Carnifex breaks something during training and she is given barely enough time to recovery before doing it all over again. But each time she lasts awhile longer, each time she becomes more and more ferocious. And over time that young woman and her soft lavender eyes is chipped away. Her hair grows out, her eyes steadily become golden with the dark side.

Eventually she finds herself in a surgeon's office, explaining that she is Vahla, that her bones are made of soft cartilage. One day the surgical droids begin to inject her with a liquid metal. She screams, feeling it attach to her soft bones and then harden.

Training remains brutal, sadistic in new ways. But she does not break, and she outlives the other students. She is made to kill some of them, by her master or because they sought to kill Kaila first. After her first few, it becomes routine to her.

One day she is allowed into the expansive archives of the Kainate, spending most of her time there in blissfully quiet study. Under the guidance of her master, who tailors her study material to what he will one day demand of her, Kaila learns fascinating and dark secrets. History spanning back to the ancient empires of Korriban and the foundation of the Sith, military campaigns beyond the battle of Yavin, and strange cults who had existed since the 400 year darkness, and documentation of the peculiar powers they possessed.

As Kaila puts down one such book, the memory is changed yet again. She is sitting inside a rank tomb, bodies of dathomiri men ancient and fresh are scattered around, some reanimating around her while she is locked in study. She tries so hard to blink, to close her eyes for even a moment, but it won't let her. Her mind is her own, but her body is not, for she is possessed by the malevolent spirit.

It is using her to complete it's research, tirelessly studying the legends of Darth Plagues and Emperor Sideous, learning the art of Essence Transference. But something is wrong. It tries sifting through her memories, anything that might use to possess her further but... There is nothing.

Kaila wakes up suddenly, surrounded by hospital machinery and guarded by sith soldiers. A young servant is sent to collect her, though they both believe it is an offer, not an order. It feels as though this is the very beginning, that beyond this point there are no memories to be seen no matter how hard Kaila tries.

The servant introduces themselves as "Saryn" and they quickly become friends. He clothes her, he brings her chocolates, and when she is eventually brought to Carnifex, he sneaks her painkillers and stays with her to sooth the pain on many occasions. Their relationship becomes complicated but mutually beneficial and sometimes even debaucherous. It is her only comfort in that dark place.

But one day something changed. The memory reverts to that tomb in which she was possessed, years have gone by since she last saw Saryn and it is he who comes to free her from the spirit. It doesn't work, she can still it's voice, she has control again. She and Saryn try pick up where they left off, living together for a time while she tries to recover from her extended imprisonment. But one day she discovers that in her absence, Saryn has married her master. The man she feared most in the galaxy, the man she hated most.

They grow distant and-

<<You weren't supposed to see that.>>

Kaila's voice was the most clear it had ever been, and it abruptly broke their psychic connection. She was looking out that window again, jaw clenched, knowing that she had let herself dwell on the memory of one and only friend for too long. She had lost control of the thread.

Even over herself, she had no control, even now. It made her blood boil to think about it, after reliving the many times which others had taken control from her, how the force seemed to toy with her by taking it from Kaila again and again. No matter, she would get better. She would overcome herself and then, one day, the very force.


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

The Zeltron laid both forearms on the table, forming a triangle with his torso, his left hand resting on top of his right wrist. He made it seem casual, covering his golden bracelet with a left hand, while covertly turning up the discreet dial on it. The bracelet captured the natural pheromones produced by his kind. His potent natural pheromones, which enhanced his attractiveness and amicability. He preferred to leave that part of his physiology suppressed at all times, for the same reason that he did not like to use the Force to affect someone's psyche. It felt like an underhanded method of depriving others of their free will.

Now, fully dialed up, not only would the bracelet stop suppressing the stimulating chemicals, it would heighten and direct their effect by releasing the ones it had already stored. Those chemicals rarely, if ever, had any effect on Force sensitives. Whose soma and soul would intrinsically block them. As such, Zhio released the pheromones not to gain some kind of upper hand over Kaila, but rather to help with another natural feature of his species. Empathic telepathy.

In fact, and likely unbeknownst to the Sith sitting across the table from him, Spek would subconsciously pick up on someone else's emotions and let them affect him. His previous outburst, being evidence of just that.

This capability of his - and his species - could also function in reverse, projecting his subliminal feelings onto her. The chemical cocktail he was now fully releasing, was merely a means to enhance that feature. And, seeing as Kaila had retrieved a device that, according to her, would facilitate some kind of melding of consciousnesses between the two, he was about to lend a helping hand and make the experience more memorable. On the one hand, there was a possibility that it would do nothing at all... On the other hand, it could give them both one hell of a trip.

Before he knew it, they were both experiencing each other's intimate, past events. Timeless, all at once, he lived through his pivotal crossroads as well as hers. Their brains attempting to process the torrent of consciousness, hopelessly shuffling them out of order.

He lived through hers.

She lived through his.

They lived through both.

* * *​

Nihil.​

​

Not a darkness given birth from the absence of light.
Rather, the absence of everything.

Nothingness.​

The same reality of an unborn mind.
No different than a rock, being eroded from a mountain, on a barren planet orbiting the remnants of a dead star.

Oblivion.​

And amongst that darkness, something wriggled. An itch that you could not scratch. A voiceless cry echoing in silence.

Death.​

A Scream.​

Life.​

Brilliance, as never before. Washing over him like a summer's breeze. The kiss of a solar wind.
Hyperlanes, like threads of light, dancing around the curvatures of spacetime.

Euphoria.​

Myriad empty worlds with fire and ice and eruptions and stillness and gases and masses and nothing.

Nothing.​

Boundless. Endless. Void. Light.
All around him! In him! In the far reaches of the cosmos. Stars. Nebulae. Cradles.

Life.​

A song.​

Death.​

Tingling beyond the immeasurable. Lights sparkling and fading. The Force. Ever enveloping.
From one place to the other. From nowhere to everywhere and back again...

And again...​

And again...​

Life.​

And again...​

Life.​

Again...​

***​

Everyone he had ever saw. Talked to. Knew. Felt.

All their feelings appropriated by him. By his emotional telepathy. The horizon of the self melting away. Forgetting where the line was drawn, which emotions were his and which were not.

Not knowing if he had them, anymore.

...Or ever.​

Faces. So many faces. All blurred.

Of people he had met. People he had worked for. Syndicates. Jedi. Sith. Families. People.
Passing by with ghostly visages. All their idiosyncrasies...

...All that they were.
​

Training with lightsabers. Meditating over ancient wisdom. Reading about civilizations gone. Hearing about ancestries preserved.
Never knowing his.

...All that they dreamt.​

Driving speeders. Flying starships. Shooting down starships.
Killing before they could kill, with the exhilarating apathy of the push of a button.

...All that they feared.​

Running away. Leaving everything behind. Keeping them. A bridge to the past.

Kimber.

...All that they loved.​

Nishalorite.

...All that they hated.​

Ghostfire.

...All that they hoped.

...All inconsequential.​

Meaningless to the void.

Not one.​

Meaningless to him.

No one.​

Just passing through.

Alone.​

Free to take in everything. Nothing.

...Meeting her.​

Abandoned. Dead. Reborn. Carrying him through the sea of stars.

...His ship.

...Sole companion.​

Nihil.​

​

***​

Like that, it was over. He was back to reality.

But something was left behind, and something was brought along, anew.

Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

Kaila stared emptily at the grey sky outside even as Zhio awoke from their shared trance. There was so much to process between the two of them; complex emotions, memories they did mean to share, others which came potent and untethered, and now the things they would think- of themselves, of each other- now that the door was closed. Or at least, merely cracked.

Exhaling sharply, she decided to focus on what he had given her, rather than memories she had already lived.

His was a murky mind, memories transparent, hard to see if you didn't know what to look for. But there were common themes she recognized at least; Death and Rebirth, Losing oneself amidst the crowd, becoming more like them than himself, or concerned that he would at least. But there was so much more, something incomprehensibly expansive moving across the galaxy. But how could this be a memory? Unless...?

"That power I sensed earlier... the one that brought us together. It's something to do with you senses, isn't it? that's why you have no navicomputor, The force is your navigator."

Perhaps it wasn't some grand reveal to Zhio as it was to herself, but if she was right, if he could see such vast distances through the force, than he had the potential to do great or terrible things. Assuming that was what she had been seeing inside his head, what with all the hyperlanes and empty worlds, fire and ice and all that.

There was more though, much more, and it was confusing. So few clear pieces for her to latch onto.
She wanted more of his memory to latch onto. She needed more, so that she could ignore the few she'd made since losing all of them.

Ah, if only she knew psychometry.

"What does "Nihil" mean to you?" She threw him a sidelong glance, unsure why that word felt important to her just yet. Perhaps he would know more.


Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"It's no big deal," he answered her first question. "Instinctive astrogation. A lot of people can do it."

Rubbing his eyes, that were still getting adjusted to real light again, a shiver ran down his spine. Feelings that were not his, rushing back.

"I wouldn't say that's why I don't use a navicomputer. I don't use one, because my ship doesn't have one." Aloof, he started playing with the terminal. it was about time for round two. "And don't try and say fate brought me and my ship together. Coincidence did. If I needed a navigation computer, then I would've just keep looking for a different one."

Corellian whiskey it was.

"I'm the navigator, the Force is just my astrolabe and star chart."

He hesitated. Maybe she would be willing to return the favor and pay for this round. He started counting his credits, pretending to check if he had enough to pay for his drink.

"Nihil? It's... just a word, right? Related to nihilism. It just means nothing." Why was the word of relevance to her? He clarified, "Not that it doesn't mean anything. It means nothing, as in, it means the absence of anything."

She was clearly evading having to address her side of the shared experience. Zhio was not about to press her for it. And in all truth, he was curious to understand what she was trying to get at with that line of questioning.

Kaila Irons