Private Where the Shadows Lie

[Maeve Linahan]

It was said death stalked the ruins of Dar Sheol.

Once a great city nested on the coast, it had long since fallen into ruin, left to rot in the sands and blistering sun of Baltizaar. Some claimed ghosts still walked between its marbled towers. Others rumored that monsters haunted its skies and serpents waited in the lagoon, swallowing up anyone who dared to come too close.

No wonder it cost Maeve a fortune to be led there.

Resting on the starboard side of the ship, she looked out to the horizon, the morning sun breaking over the waves. She'd paid a local fisherman handsomely in order for them to take her and Cale Gunderson to the ruined city. It had taken a great deal of convincing, maybe a little intimidating, but eventually, the fisherman caved and accepted her payment.

Now, already she could spot the lost city ahead, glittering in the dawn. To her sharp Firrerreo eyes, it looked nothing like the stories claimed it was: frightening, eerie, or wreathed in shadow and fog. No, rather, in the light, it was almost beautiful. Almost inviting.

Maeve glanced over her shoulder back to Cale. It'd been months since they last spoke, celebrating in the aftermath of slaying a Sith Lord, and she was glad to be in his company again. He was one of the few Jedi who didn't make her want to tear her own hair out. One of the few she trusted her life with.

"We're not far," she told him, offering a spyglass. "Take a look."

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

The world was beautiful, the company pleasant, the seas calm, and none of it did anything to save Cale's stomach. Raging battles in the vacuum of space, duels with Sith Lords? That he could do no problem, but something about the sea had set Cale to illness. It'd been a largely unpleasant ride, one he'd spent leaning over the railing as he tried and failed to keep down what he'd eaten for his last meal, but when they'd come closer to their destination, Cale had found the strength to force himself upright and over to her.

"About time." He muttered, more relieved than he had been about anything in quite some time that this torment was getting close to something resembling an end. He took the spyglass when offered, and gave the forgotten city a once over. Ruins had always given him the wrong feeling, perhaps it was the result of one of his life's laundry list of horrific happenings, though it didn't much matter in the end. When he stared at the city Maeve saw as inviting, Cale instead saw the city as it was rumored to be.

Still, empty, dead.

"That certainly is a city." Cale muttered as he offered the spyglass back to Maeve, a faint smile on his lips as he let the dry remark roll off his tongue. "Here's hoping that's all there is to it." He wasn't supposed to be open about his desire to move from one fight to the next, it wasn't particularly Jedi of him, certainly not fitting for one with the rank of Master. But it was the truth, even if he didn't say it.

Cale lived to be a Jedi, but he also lived to fight, and some part of him hoped something worth clashing with waited for them there. But even if Dar Sheol was home to nothing but bones and cobwebs, at least he'd be off the wretched boat soon.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve resisted the urge to grin at Cale's seasickness. Did she feel bad? Maybe. Was it funny? Slightly. The man had fought Sith Lords, downed glasses of scotch stronger than a punch to the gut, and yet for the last hour, he'd been busy on the port side hurling his insides out.

It was an almost welcome sight from the otherwise hard-faced Jedi Master.

"Sorry, by the way," Maeve said as he approached. "I should have warned you we would be traveling to the ruins by sea. I just didn't think you were… well, new to it."

She fought back another smile and looked out to the city ruins. Ancient spires and temples made from marble and sandstone struck out from the shore and she saw little else to it. No movement. No sound. Just crashing waves and gusting wind.

Despite Cale's answer, Maeve sensed his itch for a fight. How? Because she was the same. Jedi as they were, she craved battle as much as a drink, and when she wasn't stirring a glass of wine, she was out on the hunt, pursuing Sith Lords and Dark Side artifacts. If only to be spared of boredom, she hoped Dar Sheol lurked with something worthwhile.

"Just a city," Maeve repeated after Cale. "Nothing more to it."

"Oh, that is no ordinary city," said another voice.

Maeve spun around so fast her head nearly flew from her shoulders. Behind them, the fisherman waited, a grimace resting on his wrinkled and drooping face. She barely had enough time to stop herself from punching him in the face out of sheer surprise.

The fisherman lifted an overgrown brow. "Tell me, what have you heard about Dar Sheol?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

"Not new to it," He grumbled out his answer. "Just never been fond." It didn't help that Cale thought frequently of Manaan when on the water. Of all the fights he'd been forced to partake in as a puppet of a long-gone regime, the war for the water world had been the one he regretted the most dearly. It hadn't been the most horrific, or the most cruel, but in the midst of his battle with a Jedi Master, Cale had found himself not wanting to die.

That desperation had carried the day, fueled the dark presence in command of him, and kept him alive to carry out more horrors another day. The rock of the boat and the roll of the platform that day where sabers had been lost and only fists remained were all too similar. And, in the midst of his brooding, he'd also accepted he just wasn't meant for sailing, regardless of his history.

Then the fisherman got to talking, and Cale found that the man's proclamations made for a decent distraction from his stomach beginning to clench once more. Before he could stop himself, he let out a small chuckle at Maeve's surprise, his gaze lingering on the clenched fist that had likely been meant for the man who'd forgone any sort of formal introduction.

"That it's a city, and it's empty." He answered the fisherman matter-of-factly, all too sure that the native would be eager to tell them in detail just how wrong that was.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve resisted snorting a laugh at Cale's answer to the fisherman. Oh, that was the truth. Dar Sheol looked nothing more than a hollow and abandoned heap of stone on the shore. Beautiful, yes, but little else to it than the stories and rumors attached to its name.

Of course, Maeve knew better than to underestimate tales of ghosts.

The fisherman nodded sagely and looked out to the waters. "Indeed it is empty, but only to the outside eye. Dawn and under daylight is when the city and the lagoon is safest, when the dead sleep and the serpents rest in the seabed. But when the tide rises and the sun sets? Dar Sheol becomes more than a ruin. It becomes a haven of the unnatural."

The old man clasped his wrinkled hands. "How about I tell you two a story?"

Maeve bit back a grimace. "Oh, no. There's no need for—"

Completely ignoring her, the old man continued anyway, "When I was just a boy, my father once took me out to these waters to fish for crabs. Night was approaching though, and from the city, in the dark, I saw something lurking. Watching us. I could not describe it, but it was nothing like I'd ever seen..."

The old man went on for what felt like an eternity, attempting—and failing—to describe what he saw. By the time he was finished, Maeve was ready to lunge overboard. Had his breath not smelled like a graveyard, perhaps she might've taken an interest to his tale, but it offered very little information on what she and Cale would be expecting ahead.

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

Cale couldn't help but laugh quietly, a bemused smile spread thinly on his lips as the man seemed to bulldoze his way through Maeve's protestations. On and on the old fisherman rambled, and Cale wondered when the last time one of his children or friends sat down and simply talked to him, as it seemed like he was trying to make up for lost time. It was a more sympathetic assumption than he usually would've made, but he latched onto it, and nodded along to the man's words.

"Thank you for the warning, friend." He set his hand on the man's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "But worry not, my partner and I here are well suited to confrontin' things that lurk in the dark." The agriworld drawl he spoke with was a little thicker than usual as he gave the man a nod of appreciation.

"We'll be well-prepared now, on account of your warnings. Thank you, friend." And with that, he turned from the man, and made towards the boat's exit ramp as they grew closer and closer to the ghost city they'd heard so much about, yet learned so little. He let out a long sigh, and a slight grin grew from the smile he'd worn.

"Gettin' friendly with locals is your job ain't it, Miss Shadow?" He teased with a chuckle.

Maeve Linahan ​

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Well, the two of ya stay safe," said the fisherman warmly, glad for the company even if Maeve was not. "Got to say, Dar Sheol's a strange place to spend a honeymoon, but it ain't my place to question it."

Maeve stood up from the railing. "What? We're not—"

"Ah, here we are," the fisherman went on, once again ignoring her completely. "You two best gather yer things and ready for landing. I've no plans to linger overnight."

The old man turned and walked off to steer the vessel towards the city's bareboned dockyard. Maeve wasn't pleased, but she was just happy to be rid of him. Didn't matter if Cale could tell.

"My friendliness has a limit," she told him and gave a smirk. "So, tread carefully."

The ship listed to the side. Waves lapped against the hull and as Dar Sheol loomed ahead of them, the abandoned pier fast approaching, Maeve stood by the unextended boat ramp and looked over to him again. She could no longer deny the tug of curiosity she was feeling after his last words to the fisherman.

"Your accent," she noted. "I have always wondered—I know you were born on Coruscant, but I thought you were raised prim, proper and pampered." She lifted a brow in his direction, recalling their conversation back during the victory ball. "I mean, you look the part of a farmhand, but did you spend a year undercover raising cattle?"

Maeve resisted the urge to laugh. There was nothing wrong with that, but picturing Cale shoveling manure and shearing bantha hides made for an amusing thought.

Cale Gunderson​

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