Whisper on the Wind

[Finley Dawson]

At night the Jedi Monument of New Holstice was visible from kilometers away, a giant pillar of light. Even coming down from orbit, Finley had been able to pick it out from the surface as a blue spark.

It was the first place he visited after checking in with the resident enclave, making the short pilgrimage on foot. At the monument, he found a few other people present, mostly Jedi from various organizations all across the galaxy.

Memory moths fluttered around them, luminous insects that glowed as brightly as a lightsaber blade. Some Jedi moved around the area with large jars catching moths that flew by.

The moths were some of the most incredible things he had seen to date, but his expression remained somber as the monument was meant as a place of mourning.

He approached one the moth collectors, an elderly Khil.

“Excuse me, sir, but is it true what they say? That the memory moths can speak?”

The Khil’s eyes crinkled as he acknowledged the Corellian, sealing a weathered hand over his jar.

“No, the moths don’t actually speak,” he explained with a melodic voice, each word flowing together like a song verse. “But when they flutter their wings, they can produce a sound like a whisper. One name of your choosing, for all eternity. If you go closer to the cylinder, you can hear the whispers of countless names, fallen Jedi from every era since the founding of the Old Republic.”

Finley nodded. “Nearly twenty six millenia and counting...that is impressive.”

“Do you have names to share?”

“I...suppose I do.”

Finley hadn’t thought about it much along the way, on New Holstice for missionary work, but he had lost a quite a few friends over the years. Life as a Jedi wasn’t an easy one.

The Khil held out his jar to Finley, removing his hand to allow the moths to escape. One of them that did began to flitter in front of Finley.

He caught it between his hands, then raised his cupped palms to his face. The moth didn’t try to escape, but tickled his palms with its wings.

There he stood, become quiet as he studied the moth in his hands.

Where to start?

[member="Yasha [/SIZE][SIZE=12px]Cadera[/SIZE][SIZE=12px]"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

New Holstice was far enough away from the Mandalorian Empire that Yasha and only her most loyal retinue took the stealthy Aaranov research vessel to visit. Dressed not in her instantly recognizable wolf-helmed Beskar’kandar, Yasha walked up to the monument in the aliit’gam of Clan Cadera. Simple, protective, anonymous.

“Buir, this place is hurty.” [member="Adara Raxis"] whimpered, clinging to her mother’s leg. The child projected the purity of the Dark Side’s will, a constant expression of the Sithly natures, which sustained her life and health. Bringing her to such a Light-filled place was as risky as firing upon the Behemoth while in orbit of Bastion. Yasha bent down to pick her five year old daughter up, hissing in pain. A grunt echoed out of the woman’s buy’ce, as she cuddled Adara’s face into her shoulder. Those around the Mandalorian and her small retinue were silent, but far from kind. Yasha’s HUD showed the position of her Cadera-clad guards, distances to exits… this was far from a safe place.

“I know, c’yare. I know, it’s bright and feels strange. Like Ba’buir, eh? Think about Ba’buir Gray… alright?” The simple helmet brushed down, forehead to the forehead of the girl. A kiss, in Mandalorian terms. Further on, a Khil spoke to a young man of lost Jetiise and old Republics. Monuments of the dead. Did Jetiise honour their dead? Were they so gifted with reverence for those past, or was their belief in oneness with the Force supercedent?

The spire of light burned at Yasha’s sensitive eyes, her HUD turning the display light down until all she saw was a blue spire of flickers, and moving infrared bodies.

“Why are we here, Buir? I want to go home. I don’t like this place, it feels like fire. Fire, Buir…” Adara whimpered again, as her little brother Reyn clung to his mother’s leg. Yasha pulled Adara’s coat hood up on her head, holding the child more firmly against her own injured chest. Another Mandalorian drifted close to them, putting his hand on the boy’s head. Tuulu refused to let Yasha take this journey alone.

“Ghada, are you sure you should be holding her in your condition?” Tuulu asked in hushed Mando’a, using Yasha’s lesser-known middle name.

“The entire armies of the Sith could not remove her from me here, Tuulu… there’s a… an enclave? Some Jetiise place we need to get to… have you seen it?” The Mandalorians watched the crowds in fear of their own safety and the safety of the children. These were Aruetiise, and outsiders could never be trusted… could they?

Yasha, Tuulu and the two small children made their way toward the Enclave, Adara hiding in her clothing.

[member="Finley Dawson"]

 

[Finley Dawson]

He was still thinking about a name when a female Twi'lek approached them both, bowing in acknowledgment before moving closer to whisper something into the Khil's ear. The jovial expression the man had faded away, replaced with a frown. The Twi'lek nodded, then took a few paces backward in waiting.

"I'm sorry, but it looks like I'm needed elsewhere."

He walked over Finley, handing over his jar. The Corellian accepted with one hand, while still holding the first moth in the palm of the other.

"I think you can find much better use out of this."

Finley didn't have much to say at that point, just glancing between the man and the jar, a few moths escaping back into the night sky. The Khil's expression softened, giving the younger man a small pat on the shoulder, before retreating from the monument with the Twi'lek.

Now he was alone again, but this time with a jarful of moths. Now that he had more than one, it became much easier to settle on the first name, but no less painful. He held up the first moth close to his face, able to make out the fine details of the insect's body beyond its glow.

Finally, he whispered a name.

Even up to that point, he was skeptical that the moth would work like advertised, but sure enough, a few moments later, its wings fluttered producing soft sounds that started out as unintelligible whispers.

"Cheriss Anaro..."

His eyes widened. "Well I'll be..."

He raised his hand, finally releasing the moth. It fluttered away, heading right for the glowing pillar. After it was absorbed into the light, he lowered his hand and allowed another moth to perch on his thumb.

One moth down, many more to go.

This would be a long night.

The Jedi that initially handled the visiting Mandalorians were certainly polite, but not friendly. Quite a few of their patients were victims of Mandalorian raiders operating all across the lawless regions of the Outer Rim. However, what really drew their ire was the youngling among them, positively radiating with darkness. It was unsettling to them. One of the higher ups was called, while the some Jedi stood with the Mandalorians in the lobby being quite tense.

Finally, they would appear, a senior Khil the glided down the hall. As he came near the Mandalorian party, his black eyes immediately focused on the girl. His expression was stoic, as unreadable as the Mandalorians behind their armor.

His gaze then turned up from the girl to the adults around her as he prepared to speak. He addressed no Mandalorian in particular, all of them looking the same to him with no one readily identifiable as the leader.

"Good evening, I am Grooda Vand, one of the Masters who oversee the Holstice enclave."

He bowed slightly as part of his greeting.

"What brings you all here?"

[member="Yasha Australis Cadera"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Ghada, the Jetiise are noticing. Time to go.” Petra Cadera’s voice hit all the buy’ce comms. From her sniper’s vantage point farther off, she looked through her scope-droid’s electronic eyes and watched for global movements, patterns in the beings. Being weapon-less as she was instructed increased the pressure of her gaze. Her voice would be her only defence in this hazardous place.

“The moths, Petra… what are the moths? That man was doing something with the moths.” The Infernal in disguise continued into the Enclave, watching the daggers and the terse replies with the efficiency of an old soldier. Alone, they would bother her not. Had she not brought the children, had she not put [member="Adara Raxis"] through something as painful as this, had she not hoisted her second-born along to calm his sister, Yasha would feel none of the fear. Instead, she would have felt the wonder of the environment. The excitement of seeing a new place.

The Mand’alor who barely knew life outside her own Empire’s space would have been exactly what she was: a twenty-five year old wide eyed traveller who for a moment could act her age over her responsibilities. Yet, the Light terrified Adara.

It hurt Yasha’s eyes. A flutter stole her belly. Walking into a bastion of Mandalorians’ own sins, holding one of the Jetiise’s was far from the moment of exploratory wonder the young woman should have been seeking.

Reyn toddled over to one of the Jetii and giggled up at him, all glee and happiness in his chubby cheeks and cerulean eyes. The three year old reached for the cloak the Jetii wore, burbling in Mando’a about bath robes and jammie-jams. The Jetiise looked funny! And comfy! And Reyn wanted to play.

“Ram’ika!” Tuulu pulled Reyn into his arms, to prevent the toddler from skittering away to the next Jetii guard. The boy lived without fear, with parents like Yasha and [member="Kaine Australis"], there was no fear bred in him. He sucked on his hand as Tuulu strode back to Yasha and Adara.

“Buuuir…” Adara’s breath came in shorter and shorter bursts, her diminutive body shaking under her clothes. “Buir I want Glomkhoduil… You’re being mean! Buir please, take me home!”

The chid wailed, a natural express of her Dark energies swirling around them.

“Daaaar’ika. Dar’ika! They’re wearing pyjamas! Lookit! Lookit pyjamas!” Reyn giggled, taking his suckled hand and splattering it on Adara’s sleeve. The girl whimpered, rubbing her eyes and peeking from under her hood to see the people ‘in pyjamas’. Her panic subsided enough that Yasha panted out a held breath.

“I am Ghada Cadera. This is my vod Tuulu Cadera, and my children… Ram and Vigdis.” Yasha put her hand on Adara’s hooded head. “… I’ve come from Mandalore, to see if the rumours of Jetiise healers are true. That within your lore is the capacity to heal anything.”

Stepping closer to Grooda, Yasha kept her voice low. “My daughter… her life was saved by a Master of the Sithly arts… please if you value those around you, and I have no knowledge of whether Jetiise value life, please take us somewhere private. With less of your people, she is getting agitated and it is imperative she keep calm.”

[member="Finley Dawson"]

 

[Finley Dawson]

The tension was so thick in the room that one could cut it with the lightsaber. Many of the Jedi presents didn't want the Mandalorians there, rarely anything good coming from their appearance. The last time the Mandalorians had shown up on New Holstice, it had been as an invasion force.

However, the antics of the other youngling with the armor-clad Mandalorians, a small human boy, introduced some levity in the room. He was a cute kid doing cute things. None of the Jedi smiled, and the Ithorion that had become the focus of the boy's attention only offered a quizzical expression, but collectively their hearts softened just a smidgen with humanity on display. It was the first time that any of them had seen (what they assumed to be) a Mandalorian child.

So there was flesh and blood behind those iron suits, after all.

However, they stiffened right back up as the girl, a walking nexus of the Dark Side, cried, polluting the room with her tainted essence.

Eventually, her cries died down to a few whimpers. Master Vand remained stone-faced, but he could understand the girl's fear, surrounded by strangers of an opposing alignment. That alone could cause discomfort ranging from simple nausea to straight up pain.

Finally, one of the adults addressed Vand, a tall female that kept the girl close by. As the veteran healer had begun to suspected, she revealed that the youngling had been affected by Sith magic somehow. What was curious was that she pointed out that the purpose was to save her. The Dark Side couldn't truly be used to heal, but only pervert life. How did it affect the girl now? The Khil was now quite interested to continue speaking with woman an examine her daughter."

"Here on New Holstice, we take a vow to help all those need, especially those who ask. You have my word that we'll do what we can for your daughter."

His stoic mask finally broke as he looked down from Ghada to the girl, eyes crinkling in his version of a smile.

"Yes I would prefer we speak in private," he agreed with a nod. "With just you and your daughter. I'm sure it was a long trip from Mandalore, the rest of your vod can relax in the common area as we talk."

He looked over to his Twi'lek companion. "Master Wyn can take them there. I believe the dinner service is still on, if you would all care for some refreshment."

[member="Yasha Australis Cadera"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Ram’ika giggled, putting his hand on Tuulu’s visor. “Tuu-tuu! Tuu-tuu put down! Play, Tuu-tuu, I wear jammies too!”

“You want to play, eh? Shall we play starfighter?” Tuulu hefted the boy up, and tossed him in the air, catching him to a cascade of giggles. He tossed the child again, swinging him around for the boy’s own amusement. He set Ram down and watched the boy run around, flapping his arms as if they were wings. Beyond the metal skin, Mandalorians believed in two inalienable principles: The collective oneness of Manda, and the Aliit. Family.

It was the only reason fit enough for a Mandalorian to fight for all costs, to protect the children, provide the members of their vode. That alone was the truest expression of their beliefs, and Tuulu was a loyal believer. The tension rocketed back up in the room when [member="Adara Raxis"] fretted. Tuulu chased after the boy and picked him up again, cuddling him to his chest.

“Ghada, no. You can’t trust him alone.” Tuulu shook his helmeted head. He took hold of Yasha’s arm and yanked. “I cannot allow you t-“

“Allow me!? Obey me.” Yasha snapped in a whispered hiss. Tuulu took his hand off her and bowed his head.

“Elek, Haran’Alor…”

“Ram’ika, my love. Are you hungry?” Ghada leaned over and ran her gauntlet-clad hand over the little one’s cheek. He grinned and bounced in Tuulu’s arms, nodding his tiny head.

“Please take Ram’ika to get something to eat. We'll join you soon.” Measured was the voice, which leaned down to the shorter man, and slid her buy’ce against his. “Courage, vod.”

The hidden meaning. If something were to happen, take Ram’ika and run. Tuulu growled, and looked to Master Wyn. “We are your charges, it would seem. I hope for your sake the food is plentiful, this boy eats like a gurlanin.”

Ram grinned and set his hands out, pretending to be a lupine gurlanin the entire way to the hall. “Grrr! Rawwrrrr! Arf arf! Grrrrrooooooowwwrrrr! Awooo! Feed me! Feeeed meeeee!”

Ghada watched her son and her protector vanish, and cuddling her daughter close, continued forward. “I know nothing of Jetiise vows. I know nothing of Jetiise at all… but today I will trust you have better motive than a mother’s worst fears.”

She would follow where Grooda led, humming lullabies to calm her desperate daughter. Adara continued to fidget and whimper, clinging to her mother with a ferocious desire for home.

“The last time she was distressed to excess… she called someone. A dark presence from across the Galaxy. I must keep her calm. I don’t know how she did it… but… once we are secure I can tell you what I know. You must have questions, I will answer what I can.”

[member="Finley Dawson"]