Private Which Witch?

[Damien Van-Derveld]

Dathomir, it had been far too long since Damien had set foot on the planet's soil. The former nightbrother had left the morning after his ritual tattooing and rite of passage into adulthood and had not looked back. For a time he knew he was being used by his grandmother for her own purposes, being lauded as some grand dark side savior, but Damien did not want to believe his own flesh and blood would do such a thing to him. When he had finally accepted it, he knew he had to see what else was out there, find others of his name and see what life in the galaxy was truly like. This only led to even more disappointment.

Everyone in the galaxy seemed to have their own agenda. Whether it was one clan of witches, a smuggler ring, or a massive galactic government, it seemed that universe ran on a system that wanted to use individual as a means to an end.

Damien sighed as the wind blew dust in his face. His eyes closed as he took in a deep breath, inhaling the once familiar scent of the world deep into his lungs. There was something different about it, a new fragrance which had not been there before.

Sith.

The young wolf had heard of their occupation. Those who did not bow to their way of life were exiled, purged from the planet in one form or another. Damien had abandoned the ways of Dathomir the day he left. A new way of serving the living force had been discovered, another religion, other spirits. Even then Damien was growing disenfranchised with it all. In many ways the pup was still looking for himself, even though he was no longer a pup. He did not know what he expected to find on this trip, perhaps it was a simple visit down memory lane. Whatever it was, Damien hoped for some sense of closure in the end. If he was going to walk away from his past for good, he needed to visit it once more.

His feet led him to his old village. Nothing of it seemed to stand other than a few of the structures which had been built into the cliff. There was one which still stood that carried significant importance. As Damien stood in the arena where he once did battle to prove his strength and mettle as a nightbrother, images of his fights flashed in his mind. The faces of those weaker than him haunted his memory. Closing his eyes once more, Damien replayed the sounds of the contest until something changed. There was movement, footsteps. Someone was approaching.

"Who is it?"

Damien turned to look, seeing nothing but shadow he shrugged and moved on.

Faegard

 

[Faegard]

Even after I had acquired the Phantasm, I'd been too hesitant to return to Dathomir.

The Sith terrified me. In the end, I'd finally realised how I was letting myself down. After originally discovering my home planet's current occupation, I'd embarked on a journey to acquire the Phantasm specifically to be able to get back there. But what did I do? Ran in the opposite direction. The fear got the better of me, as usual, and even though I had the tools I needed, I had been too afraid to go back.

Until today.

Where I found myself was some old village. I could feel a sharp ache in my chest as I subtly moved like a shadow amongst the few remaining structures as the wind battered that the side of my hood and the hem of my cloak. The pain and loss was twofold. On the one hand, this place would have once held a lot of memories; a vibrant history, bustling with life and culture. It left a sad, melancholy taste in my mouth to watch it sit quietly. On the other, while this place would have a lot of memories for any who survived... there were one for me.

I wasn't even able to feel that sad nostalgia, standing on the ground that had birthed me. Even if all you had here were memories... I didn't even have those. It was a selfish thing to think; I shouldn't feel jealous of someone who would taste only loss.

Hearing movement, I shook my head of the thoughts and with a stifled gasp, stole away into the shadows.

It was a young man, one who seemed to have the very sad, distant memories I was just lamenting. Curious, I followed him. He stood in the remnants of some old sparring ground for some time, closing his eyes. Taking the chance, I crept a little closer. However, as I did, I misjudged a step, knocking loose a few pebbles that tumbled down the short slope.

Reacting instantly, I spun around a corner, pressing my back against the wall, cloak held tightly against me.

Who is it?

I swallowed, jaw clenched shut.

Before long, the young man moved on. However, as he turned to leave, I chanced a glance after him.

"W-wait!" I stammered peeling away from the wall and stepping out into the light.

Unsure of what to say next, I merely stood, waiting to see how he'd react.

Damien Van-Derveld​