*It was cold; a sensation that often presented itself for the young Seer to feel. Cold: it was not just a temperature, or rather the description of a temperature, it was him. His heart had grown cold over his life; so cold in fact that he let his brother die without doing a thing to stop it. Sure, he could have confronted his brother before he murdered the man in front of the temple. He could have been there standing waiting; but no, he remained in the temple eating a birthday breakfast as everything unfolded just outside the walls.
The young Seer swallowed hard reminiscing over the events of the previous day; his father and twin brother were both devastated and in pain. A pain that he had caused, a pain he had brought forth unto them. Johnathon was alone in his father’s quarters; a place the two of them shared. Svo’k had been in the meditation chambers all day and seeking solace from other Jedi. As for Alex, he remained with his friends and father. Johnathon however decided to separate himself from everyone. Why? He loved his family but the guilt he felt was more than overwhelming, it was consuming and unbearable.
It was his sight that had brought this pain upon him and everyone around him, it was his sight that had always kept him on the brink of insanity since he was a mere boy. It was his sight that had killed his brother. It wasn’t the Jedi that Johnathon knew and respected, it was Johnathon; he had become death. The Seer had been given the power to choose - at least in this case - life or death; for not just one but for two. The innocent bystander would still be alive if Johnathon had acted, but at the time of the decision, in the young Seer’s mind, it was rational. Adrian would have lived on and killed many more had Johnathon not have acted… or would he? Johnathon had always known Adrian was good on the inside, even when it was so dark that you could not see a speck of light in his older Sith brother, but Johnathon knew that in time Adrian would likely see the error in his ways. Johnathon also knew that many more would die before that happened which is why he let Adrian die during the previous day instead of intervening…
None of that mattered now, Adrian was dead and his family was in pain; he was in pain and he had been the cause of it all. The fourteen year old stood up and made his way to his room. One of the hobbies Johnathon had taken up aside from his archiving duties was carving things out of wood. Most of the Seer’s carvings were dark in origin, often times a representation of his visions; there was clearly pain etched into every piece of wood.
The young Seer left his room with a small case in hand, it’s contents unseen for the time being. Slowly Johnathon turned the corner and headed into the small refresher, shutting the door behind him. Once inside, Johnathon removed his black t-shirt, sliding it over his head causing his hair became disheveled when the fabric pulled on it lightly. After setting the case down on the sink, Johnathon turned on the shower so that he could let the cleaning waters flow and begin to warm. Each drop that hit the floor of the shower sounded like a tiny explosion. A single drop making impact against the hard floor of the shower was not unlike the way Johnathon saw the universe: as a drop hits the ground it forms many more droplets and the effects quickly become widespread encompassing the floor of the shower water. It was not unlike evil deeds: for each evil deed that was done ten more took root and began to grow.
The teen sighed silently and looked at himself in the mirror, at his eyes. They had seen far too much. They had caused too much pain, suffering and death. They were the eyes of death and they were dirty.
Johnathon disrobed fully and took the case he had left on the sink in his hand as he entered the shower. Thousands upon thousands of droplets of water hit his body like warm knives piercing through his soul; what was left of his soul, anyway. In the shower there was a mirror; a lone mirror just beneath the shower head likely for shaving. It had clearly been treated with an anti-fogging agent. In the mirror the teen could see his eyes: so crystal clear, and yet so dirty in every way imaginable. Everything about his brown eyes, to him at least, reeked of death and filth.
The water in the shower was a bit more than warm, yet all the young Seer could feel was cold. As each droplet hit him all he could do was think about what he had done and the impact that it had had on everyone he knew and loved. There was much to think about, there was still much more to see, and to learn. He knew full well that in the future he would have to make the same decision he had made and someone else would die because of his logic, his rationalism, and his SIGHT. Who was he? He was death, destroyer of worlds… at least, in his eyes.
The young man slowly opened the wooden case in his hand; the water quickly making the contents wet and warm. The box was nothing more than a protective carrying case for a knife used for etching. The knife's edge was sharp; unfathomably sharp. The water hit the blade and shined in the blue light of the shower. Taking the knife in his right hand, he let the wooden case fall to the ground, inched closer to the mirror, and stared into his eyes.
The teen brought the blade up and steadied his hand by grasping his wrist with his left hand; the blade inched closer to the young man’s left eye. The pointed tip of the blade looked soothing as it was now but a mere millimeter from his eye; the pain would be temporary but the effects long lasting. It was his punishment for seeing and not acting; his eyes had become dirty and they must be removed. The teen’s eyelid fluttered instinctively, striking the blade and cutting the thin layer of flesh that tried it’s best to protect his eye. The young Seer concentrated fully, forced his eyelid to stay open and took a deep breath…*
Svo'k's Rooms
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Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Svo'k's Rooms
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
(In the refresher, in the apartment, thousands upon thousands of warm-hot water droplets rained down from the shower head. Each drop had its own infinitesimal spark of history. Every droplet followed its path according to nature.)
Through the corridors, beyond the apartment, a pale, raven-haired Rain walked her own path within the Temple. According to her own nature, the small, slight woman's faint footsteps fell nearly silently on the hallway floors. Something about her bearing and expression seemed distracted. She did nothing to ask for attention from anyone, although she attracted a little of it on her own anyway. That was her nature, though, and she understood it. For the few men or women who happened to greet her in some way, the ebony-and-ivory young woman tended to pause for a second and murmur a faint but polite word of reply. She didn't need any help, but thank you.
As for her own path, the young woman's presence here reflected choices that ran nearly counter to her nature; if anything. But a difference between Rain and raindrops was choice itself.
(A blade glinted, reflected within pained brown eyes.)
Silently, at the entry to that same apartment, a pale grey hand rested feather-light over the door's touchpad for the space of a few heartbeats. Gently, her fingertips echoed the same motions that others had before her, and the door slipped softly open.
(Warm-hot droplets rained down. The teen raised the blade, inching closer to the eyes he saw as being so Dirty.)
Rain slipped soundlessly through the living room, in the time it took for a single warm-hot droplet to strike low against the side of the shower and slip down until it joined the water on the floor.
(Brown eyes stared into the mirror, past the clinging water droplets.) The young woman's hand touched the door to the refresher. (Distracted, pained brown eyes recoiled in a blink of their own accord. A razor-thin knife blade cut a glancing blow into the skin.)
Rain's eyes were black; infinitely darker than Johnathon's. No pain was reflected in her strange dark gaze, but her eyes flinched just the same. Her left hand pulled a towel from a rack on the wall, in a stumbling motion that was almost mechanical. Being here now of all times, would have been the last thing she particularly wanted to do.
She shook the cloth open with a quick, silent movement while she crossed the last few steps in the small room. (A few drops of blood fell to the shower floor and mingled with the water.)
Averting her ebony-black eyes firmly upwards, the raven-haired young woman opened the last door with her free hand. Warm-hot water droplets streamed down onto the floor outside the shower and made Rain wet. The thin, barely 5'3'' woman in newly-damp grey clothing bit her lip. Her knowing gaze stared up to meet Johnathon's eyes behind the raised knife.
She sighed at the thin line of blood on his face. Her hand held out the large, now damp, bath towel.
"Here." Her soft voice started off as calm, not too different from a grave elder-sister of some kind. A thin undertone of pleading crept in at the very end, which hadn't been quite intentional.
Warm-hot water was pattering on the floor, making a shallow pool.
Rain gave a small shrug of her shoulders.
Through the corridors, beyond the apartment, a pale, raven-haired Rain walked her own path within the Temple. According to her own nature, the small, slight woman's faint footsteps fell nearly silently on the hallway floors. Something about her bearing and expression seemed distracted. She did nothing to ask for attention from anyone, although she attracted a little of it on her own anyway. That was her nature, though, and she understood it. For the few men or women who happened to greet her in some way, the ebony-and-ivory young woman tended to pause for a second and murmur a faint but polite word of reply. She didn't need any help, but thank you.
As for her own path, the young woman's presence here reflected choices that ran nearly counter to her nature; if anything. But a difference between Rain and raindrops was choice itself.
(A blade glinted, reflected within pained brown eyes.)
Silently, at the entry to that same apartment, a pale grey hand rested feather-light over the door's touchpad for the space of a few heartbeats. Gently, her fingertips echoed the same motions that others had before her, and the door slipped softly open.
(Warm-hot droplets rained down. The teen raised the blade, inching closer to the eyes he saw as being so Dirty.)
Rain slipped soundlessly through the living room, in the time it took for a single warm-hot droplet to strike low against the side of the shower and slip down until it joined the water on the floor.
(Brown eyes stared into the mirror, past the clinging water droplets.) The young woman's hand touched the door to the refresher. (Distracted, pained brown eyes recoiled in a blink of their own accord. A razor-thin knife blade cut a glancing blow into the skin.)
Rain's eyes were black; infinitely darker than Johnathon's. No pain was reflected in her strange dark gaze, but her eyes flinched just the same. Her left hand pulled a towel from a rack on the wall, in a stumbling motion that was almost mechanical. Being here now of all times, would have been the last thing she particularly wanted to do.
She shook the cloth open with a quick, silent movement while she crossed the last few steps in the small room. (A few drops of blood fell to the shower floor and mingled with the water.)
Averting her ebony-black eyes firmly upwards, the raven-haired young woman opened the last door with her free hand. Warm-hot water droplets streamed down onto the floor outside the shower and made Rain wet. The thin, barely 5'3'' woman in newly-damp grey clothing bit her lip. Her knowing gaze stared up to meet Johnathon's eyes behind the raised knife.
She sighed at the thin line of blood on his face. Her hand held out the large, now damp, bath towel.
"Here." Her soft voice started off as calm, not too different from a grave elder-sister of some kind. A thin undertone of pleading crept in at the very end, which hadn't been quite intentional.
Warm-hot water was pattering on the floor, making a shallow pool.
Rain gave a small shrug of her shoulders.
Sometimes 10,000 sleepless nights are what it takes.
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Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
*The curtain opened much as Johnathon had seen it happen well before it did, the teen lowered the carving tool from his eye, placed the tool on the ledge before shutting the water off. A small little stream of blood trickled around the outline of his and down the teen’s cheek. Without surprise or hesitation Johnathon took the towel from the other Seer and glanced at her as he turned away to dry his hair. After that was at least halfway accomplished, the teen wrapped the towel around his waist before turning back to the fellow seer and cocked his head to the side.*
“Curious, you’re early, thirty seven seconds early to be exact. It is symbolic more than anything Rain, I deserve punishment, even if it accomplishes nothing more. I could say you should save your breath but we both know that’s not going to happen…”
*The teen found his pants and pulled them up underneath his towel before folding the towel perfectly before setting it back exactly where it came from in what appeared to be a rehearsed and daily ritual. The teen then once again turned to the other Seer in the room and stared into her eyes for a long moment, the young Seer knew this was going to happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it except perhaps an attempt to be unpredictable which would be difficult or near impossible. Neverthelss, the teens head and chest ached, they pounded with guilt. So in a quick motion he turned and picked the tool back up and held it in front of him halfway between himself and Rain. He stared into the cold steel, seeing around it the vision splitting so it appeared as if he saw right through the cold steel and took in the entirety of the other Seer’s face.*
“You have an interesting name.”
*The young Seer cocked his head to the side trying to blur the vision even more and muddy the lines between what he saw as rain and what he saw as the blade of the carving tool. As he subtly changed the orientation of his eyes and squinted ever so slightly at last they were one.*
“That’s you right there and what you see is me. We are death, angels of death, our blackened wings hidden to others but we can always find one another no matter how young or old we see each other for what we truly are….killers. We see death all around, sometimes we can stop it but we choose not to. That’s the damning word right there, ‘choose.’ What other beings in the galaxy really have that power in anyway similar to us? We are unique.”
*A single tear formed in each of Johnathon’s eyes, one mixing with blood and rolling slowly down the young Seer’s cheek.*
“So you’re here to stop me, how selfish of you. What I planned on doing would not have killed me, it would have only scarred me and as we both know neither of us need organic eyes the wonderful and oh so glorious force shall provide plenty of visions to make up for any sort of physical blindness. So you’re selfish, trying to save one of your own kind from only slightly scarring himself. There are thousands of other people in the galaxy suffering and dying right now…WHY ME?! YOU COULD SAVE THEM! YOU KILL THEM BY YOUR WASTED AND SELFISH PRESENCE BEFORE ME!”
*The seer gripped the tool and lowered it to his side squeezing it tightly as he glared at the Seer standing in front of him. The teen was furious at her, not only had she ruined his plans to adequately punish himself, she put another a Seer before anyone else in the galaxy. It’s not that Johnathon was a crusader for justice or anything he was not, he was more of the mindset that if you’re going to save someone from pain or death it should be an innocent and not another seer.*
“I see you, remember? I see you when you were younger than me. I see you with my father, you saw him and did nothing to stop him during his dark days. You saw my brother and did nothing to stop him, you could have saved lives, you did nothing. Yet you’re standing here now.”
*Johnathon took his carving tool and stabbed it violently into his upper left arm slicing through tissue and muscle as he pulled it down a good two to three inches before ripping it out and throwing it across the room. The pain was excruciating, but blocking pain out was something Johnathon did on a daily basis. The teen picked up his black shirt from the floor and painfully put it on, the shirt itself was tight and covered most of the wound that he had just made on his arm, a wound that was far from ever being fatal but one that made a point.
Blood dripped down the young Seer’s arm droplets splashing on the floor as he glared at Rain. The young man reached out with his right hand and touched her on her right cheek.*
“You failed. Anything you’d like to say, any excuse you’d like to make Rain?”
“Curious, you’re early, thirty seven seconds early to be exact. It is symbolic more than anything Rain, I deserve punishment, even if it accomplishes nothing more. I could say you should save your breath but we both know that’s not going to happen…”
*The teen found his pants and pulled them up underneath his towel before folding the towel perfectly before setting it back exactly where it came from in what appeared to be a rehearsed and daily ritual. The teen then once again turned to the other Seer in the room and stared into her eyes for a long moment, the young Seer knew this was going to happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it except perhaps an attempt to be unpredictable which would be difficult or near impossible. Neverthelss, the teens head and chest ached, they pounded with guilt. So in a quick motion he turned and picked the tool back up and held it in front of him halfway between himself and Rain. He stared into the cold steel, seeing around it the vision splitting so it appeared as if he saw right through the cold steel and took in the entirety of the other Seer’s face.*
“You have an interesting name.”
*The young Seer cocked his head to the side trying to blur the vision even more and muddy the lines between what he saw as rain and what he saw as the blade of the carving tool. As he subtly changed the orientation of his eyes and squinted ever so slightly at last they were one.*
“That’s you right there and what you see is me. We are death, angels of death, our blackened wings hidden to others but we can always find one another no matter how young or old we see each other for what we truly are….killers. We see death all around, sometimes we can stop it but we choose not to. That’s the damning word right there, ‘choose.’ What other beings in the galaxy really have that power in anyway similar to us? We are unique.”
*A single tear formed in each of Johnathon’s eyes, one mixing with blood and rolling slowly down the young Seer’s cheek.*
“So you’re here to stop me, how selfish of you. What I planned on doing would not have killed me, it would have only scarred me and as we both know neither of us need organic eyes the wonderful and oh so glorious force shall provide plenty of visions to make up for any sort of physical blindness. So you’re selfish, trying to save one of your own kind from only slightly scarring himself. There are thousands of other people in the galaxy suffering and dying right now…WHY ME?! YOU COULD SAVE THEM! YOU KILL THEM BY YOUR WASTED AND SELFISH PRESENCE BEFORE ME!”
*The seer gripped the tool and lowered it to his side squeezing it tightly as he glared at the Seer standing in front of him. The teen was furious at her, not only had she ruined his plans to adequately punish himself, she put another a Seer before anyone else in the galaxy. It’s not that Johnathon was a crusader for justice or anything he was not, he was more of the mindset that if you’re going to save someone from pain or death it should be an innocent and not another seer.*
“I see you, remember? I see you when you were younger than me. I see you with my father, you saw him and did nothing to stop him during his dark days. You saw my brother and did nothing to stop him, you could have saved lives, you did nothing. Yet you’re standing here now.”
*Johnathon took his carving tool and stabbed it violently into his upper left arm slicing through tissue and muscle as he pulled it down a good two to three inches before ripping it out and throwing it across the room. The pain was excruciating, but blocking pain out was something Johnathon did on a daily basis. The teen picked up his black shirt from the floor and painfully put it on, the shirt itself was tight and covered most of the wound that he had just made on his arm, a wound that was far from ever being fatal but one that made a point.
Blood dripped down the young Seer’s arm droplets splashing on the floor as he glared at Rain. The young man reached out with his right hand and touched her on her right cheek.*
“You failed. Anything you’d like to say, any excuse you’d like to make Rain?”
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
Rain had already set her jaw at Johnathon's touch, before he'd ever raised a hand toward her. Two precognitives even thinking about outthinking one another could be like standing in front of a mirror and peering into the reflection of the same mirror being reflected in the one behind you — a thousand times deeper into infinity. The milky pale woman shuddered when premonition and reality struck each other, but she didn't flinch away from his hand.
(Ow...)
The floor was her anchor. The deafening shock of a trillion voices, the lives, deaths, histories, shatterpoints, Johnathon's searing rage at her, the stabbing throb of his (Hers? He was angry at her when he did it...) arm when he'd ripped a knife through his flesh, his own bitterness and grieving, the touch of his hand on herself peaked, went nova, and burned themselves out behind Rain's dark eyes. There was more to her than this.
Without pause for breath or thought, the small woman shifted to her tiptoes and calmly reached up to slap Johnathon's face. Waves and galaxies crashed all over again; her mind flinched. Rain's fingers burned and stung with the grief from the tears and smudge of blood that clung to her hand. But she and he were both here.
"I know what my wings look like." The elder young woman informed Jonathon in the quietest, calmest of tones while she looked up at him, eyes as dark as starless space.
"Yours don't have enough color to tell. They're barely even open. It just hurts while they start to. Now... You should sit. The universe will keep living and dying and spinning on its own without either of us for a few minutes."
Whether the teen followed her direction or not, Rain sat down on the floor. She didn't seem to give any heed to the cooling wet tiles beneath her.
"The difference between us and the rest of sentients isn't having 'Choice.' It's having Sight. You can't be ignorant. Like it or not, whether it seems fair or not, we don't get to be." The raven haired young woman gave a shrug of her small-framed shoulders. "It doesn't mean they don't have to choose, too. They do. Every moment. But most people only feel constantly reminded about what's right in front of them… And we have.. More. It's a huge galaxy. Very few people are foolish. Even with the ones who are, most of them still have holonet headlines. They know pain is happening, but it's easier for them to stop thinking about it when they don't want to deal with it. That many of them allow themselves to be ignorant for so long, and what they do or don't about it; it's something they're accountable for. It's different for us."
Stopping for a second, Rain glanced at her smudged fingers and then back at Jonathon.
"It's not your turn again. You screamed for a while before and I'm barely halfway through answering. But tell me if you're following so far. Yes or no."
(Ow...)
The floor was her anchor. The deafening shock of a trillion voices, the lives, deaths, histories, shatterpoints, Johnathon's searing rage at her, the stabbing throb of his (Hers? He was angry at her when he did it...) arm when he'd ripped a knife through his flesh, his own bitterness and grieving, the touch of his hand on herself peaked, went nova, and burned themselves out behind Rain's dark eyes. There was more to her than this.
Without pause for breath or thought, the small woman shifted to her tiptoes and calmly reached up to slap Johnathon's face. Waves and galaxies crashed all over again; her mind flinched. Rain's fingers burned and stung with the grief from the tears and smudge of blood that clung to her hand. But she and he were both here.
"I know what my wings look like." The elder young woman informed Jonathon in the quietest, calmest of tones while she looked up at him, eyes as dark as starless space.
"Yours don't have enough color to tell. They're barely even open. It just hurts while they start to. Now... You should sit. The universe will keep living and dying and spinning on its own without either of us for a few minutes."
Whether the teen followed her direction or not, Rain sat down on the floor. She didn't seem to give any heed to the cooling wet tiles beneath her.
"The difference between us and the rest of sentients isn't having 'Choice.' It's having Sight. You can't be ignorant. Like it or not, whether it seems fair or not, we don't get to be." The raven haired young woman gave a shrug of her small-framed shoulders. "It doesn't mean they don't have to choose, too. They do. Every moment. But most people only feel constantly reminded about what's right in front of them… And we have.. More. It's a huge galaxy. Very few people are foolish. Even with the ones who are, most of them still have holonet headlines. They know pain is happening, but it's easier for them to stop thinking about it when they don't want to deal with it. That many of them allow themselves to be ignorant for so long, and what they do or don't about it; it's something they're accountable for. It's different for us."
Stopping for a second, Rain glanced at her smudged fingers and then back at Jonathon.
"It's not your turn again. You screamed for a while before and I'm barely halfway through answering. But tell me if you're following so far. Yes or no."
Last edited by Rain on Thu Sep 10, 2020 11:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Sometimes 10,000 sleepless nights are what it takes.
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Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
Johnathon saw and felt the slap long before it happened, he knew it was coming but did nothing to stop. Perhaps it was something he did to feel normal, to pretend that he didn't know it was going to happen. It stung, not really physically but the slap brought with it the pains of a thousand galaxies and the visions that had burdened the older Seer.
He shook his head and gritted his teeth at Rain's touch, he had felt it when he had touched her, but that was done with such malice it almost blocked it out. The young man regretfully sat down across from rain and stared into the other seers eyes, he was listening and understanding what was being said, the concept was not lost on him, but perhaps his youth prevented him from truly seeing the whole picture.
"The floor is dirty. It needs cleaned. I don't give a s**t."
The seer reluctantly bit his tongue before going on another rant, one that would have perhaps taken longer than the first one, but he was in a listening mood as his arm began to throb. There was something about Rain, that made the young man want to hear what she had to say, despite the fact that he knew just about what was going to happen next. But why not just do the dance?
"Yes, force save us all, yes I am following."
The young Seer stared intently at rain as he leaned his back against the outside of the tub.
He shook his head and gritted his teeth at Rain's touch, he had felt it when he had touched her, but that was done with such malice it almost blocked it out. The young man regretfully sat down across from rain and stared into the other seers eyes, he was listening and understanding what was being said, the concept was not lost on him, but perhaps his youth prevented him from truly seeing the whole picture.
"The floor is dirty. It needs cleaned. I don't give a s**t."
The seer reluctantly bit his tongue before going on another rant, one that would have perhaps taken longer than the first one, but he was in a listening mood as his arm began to throb. There was something about Rain, that made the young man want to hear what she had to say, despite the fact that he knew just about what was going to happen next. But why not just do the dance?
"Yes, force save us all, yes I am following."
The young Seer stared intently at rain as he leaned his back against the outside of the tub.
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
This was… hard.
Rain sighed faintly while she realized that pausing to let Johnathon say anything had been a poor idea. Her thoughts could feel so fragile and wispy… Even her deep convictions were sometimes a thin voice in a blaring haze…
((("—hunting a shark... it will—" "—eek an audience with you—" "I was trained as a fighter." — "If it is not peace, how can there be peace?" "It's time to go." (It wasn't that Sergimot didn't like the Jedi, He just wasn't sure if they liked him snooping around their old temple and slicing into memory banks.) *touched down in the tower hangar.*(He turned, raising his right arm, putting his full weight into it) "..society thinks I am the strange one yet it is they who lack—" "Cousin, you're b.. "—discuss the urgent crisis that the—" The platoons marched below in perfect interval, saluting as they passed. "Shhh, I told you not to talk about that Dek! They're family by blood, if not by law." "What is a friend? Define the nature and existence of a friend." "—you manage you finances from now on—" "—sanity or logic. Some w..." "'..eing infuriating.." (punching the nearest pillar in frustration) "Three hours it is." (The fans were roaring in anticipation of the most epic rock show in the history of the galaxy.) "Doggie Mizza Gwyn!!" *Naren grinned and raised his shackled hands.* "Is this—is this happening now, or in the future?" "Citizen? No. I am an officer of the law." ((I haven't forgotten you.)) "Wow... I had no idea you were capable of that... just... wow..." *A squeal of terror can be heard, somewhere, in the room.* "We cannot sit on our haunches and allow the republic to fall around us!" ERROR. FILE CORRUPTED. "Yes, yes I.I do." *With the addition of even more large predators, the young Nautolan started to freak out. He found the deepest river in the fountain room, ran to it, and dove in, hiding near the bottom.* "—YOU CHAUVINISTIC JACKA**!" "Come on!" (The girl caught the young Devaronian's attention, and not because of his usual criteria.) "Let's play operation, shall we?" "That's a nice skimboard you have there; where did you get it?" "He was your friend?! He was a murderer." *Explosions reign upon Coruscant as...* "—not consider myself to be 'cold' or a monster." "...worry, I won't steal anything..." )))
Her palm still tingled with the angry smudge of blood that had last thundered through veins at a heartpounding speed. He'd been so angry at her...
(Shh… It's okay.)
Taking a breath, the bone pale young woman caught the threads of her own thoughts and drew them back to herself; strengthening her will in the face of wild, silent storms.
"We are… different, Johnathon," she murmured as she continued to brush the thin smudge of blood off of her fingertips.
"Aberrations. Who sense… more than the minds we've got are made to handle. You can practice until you can live with it, or hide from it all the time, or struggle through it and let it drive you insane instead. I don't care how much you see or you think you see. I don't care if you think you know what I'm going to say. Or if you can say it with me while I do it. Knowing three times over doesn't count for anything if you don't listen once.
You are Not judge and jury for the universe. Space and the ages are big. We're tiny. Everyone is. With everyone, you're responsible for your self. For what you make and do with it."
Even being as quiet as she was, the thin, small woman's voice resonated with a deep certainty. Whether despite that or because of it, Rain was shaking with the effort.
"I came now, because to my mind, the biggest shame that I felt clearly would be to let you drive yourself into insanity, damage your senses as punishment for your other senses, and then bleed and cry and mourn your brother's death alone. Yes. Other people are hurting now. Where I would have mattered. But I'm one soul in this huge, bright, giant... twisting galaxy. I've only got one body... And eventually I learned to do the best I can, stand by it, and not beat and break myself about it afterwards."
She bit her lip, reaching to rub her forehead and temples. "Getting there was... hard... and I had some help. A lot of help. Or else I would have ended up... I don't want to think where. Neither do you. You can be mad at me for a while longer if you want. Or start yelling again. But what you could be matters. So do you. And I care."
Rain sighed, finally giving in and letting her faltering voice fail. She swallowed and took in a breath around the tight, small feeling in her throat. Reaching into her bag, the small young woman pulled out the folded length of cloth. It was dyed the rich midnight blue of a late evening on Naboo, the fabric woven by a gentle hand. At the small seamstress' shop, so many weeks before this journey had brought her to the city planet, the length of fabric had passed Rain's painstaking scrutiny; and no other being's hands had touched it since that time.
"I brought this for you."
Rain sighed faintly while she realized that pausing to let Johnathon say anything had been a poor idea. Her thoughts could feel so fragile and wispy… Even her deep convictions were sometimes a thin voice in a blaring haze…
((("—hunting a shark... it will—" "—eek an audience with you—" "I was trained as a fighter." — "If it is not peace, how can there be peace?" "It's time to go." (It wasn't that Sergimot didn't like the Jedi, He just wasn't sure if they liked him snooping around their old temple and slicing into memory banks.) *touched down in the tower hangar.*(He turned, raising his right arm, putting his full weight into it) "..society thinks I am the strange one yet it is they who lack—" "Cousin, you're b.. "—discuss the urgent crisis that the—" The platoons marched below in perfect interval, saluting as they passed. "Shhh, I told you not to talk about that Dek! They're family by blood, if not by law." "What is a friend? Define the nature and existence of a friend." "—you manage you finances from now on—" "—sanity or logic. Some w..." "'..eing infuriating.." (punching the nearest pillar in frustration) "Three hours it is." (The fans were roaring in anticipation of the most epic rock show in the history of the galaxy.) "Doggie Mizza Gwyn!!" *Naren grinned and raised his shackled hands.* "Is this—is this happening now, or in the future?" "Citizen? No. I am an officer of the law." ((I haven't forgotten you.)) "Wow... I had no idea you were capable of that... just... wow..." *A squeal of terror can be heard, somewhere, in the room.* "We cannot sit on our haunches and allow the republic to fall around us!" ERROR. FILE CORRUPTED. "Yes, yes I.I do." *With the addition of even more large predators, the young Nautolan started to freak out. He found the deepest river in the fountain room, ran to it, and dove in, hiding near the bottom.* "—YOU CHAUVINISTIC JACKA**!" "Come on!" (The girl caught the young Devaronian's attention, and not because of his usual criteria.) "Let's play operation, shall we?" "That's a nice skimboard you have there; where did you get it?" "He was your friend?! He was a murderer." *Explosions reign upon Coruscant as...* "—not consider myself to be 'cold' or a monster." "...worry, I won't steal anything..." )))
Her palm still tingled with the angry smudge of blood that had last thundered through veins at a heartpounding speed. He'd been so angry at her...
(Shh… It's okay.)
Taking a breath, the bone pale young woman caught the threads of her own thoughts and drew them back to herself; strengthening her will in the face of wild, silent storms.
"We are… different, Johnathon," she murmured as she continued to brush the thin smudge of blood off of her fingertips.
"Aberrations. Who sense… more than the minds we've got are made to handle. You can practice until you can live with it, or hide from it all the time, or struggle through it and let it drive you insane instead. I don't care how much you see or you think you see. I don't care if you think you know what I'm going to say. Or if you can say it with me while I do it. Knowing three times over doesn't count for anything if you don't listen once.
You are Not judge and jury for the universe. Space and the ages are big. We're tiny. Everyone is. With everyone, you're responsible for your self. For what you make and do with it."
Even being as quiet as she was, the thin, small woman's voice resonated with a deep certainty. Whether despite that or because of it, Rain was shaking with the effort.
"I came now, because to my mind, the biggest shame that I felt clearly would be to let you drive yourself into insanity, damage your senses as punishment for your other senses, and then bleed and cry and mourn your brother's death alone. Yes. Other people are hurting now. Where I would have mattered. But I'm one soul in this huge, bright, giant... twisting galaxy. I've only got one body... And eventually I learned to do the best I can, stand by it, and not beat and break myself about it afterwards."
She bit her lip, reaching to rub her forehead and temples. "Getting there was... hard... and I had some help. A lot of help. Or else I would have ended up... I don't want to think where. Neither do you. You can be mad at me for a while longer if you want. Or start yelling again. But what you could be matters. So do you. And I care."
Rain sighed, finally giving in and letting her faltering voice fail. She swallowed and took in a breath around the tight, small feeling in her throat. Reaching into her bag, the small young woman pulled out the folded length of cloth. It was dyed the rich midnight blue of a late evening on Naboo, the fabric woven by a gentle hand. At the small seamstress' shop, so many weeks before this journey had brought her to the city planet, the length of fabric had passed Rain's painstaking scrutiny; and no other being's hands had touched it since that time.
"I brought this for you."
Sometimes 10,000 sleepless nights are what it takes.
-
Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
The young teen looked at Rain and continued listening, he knew what words were coming and at first he had even mouthed some of them as she was saying them, but then something struck deep within him, a certain understanding that wasn't there before. Johnathon swallowed hard as Rain's words struck deep within him, touching on an area that had been buried deep within him for most of his life.
Johnathon looked down eyeing the tiles on the floor, he was starting feel a bit dizzy but now was not the time to worry about what was happening to his body, that could be fixed. It was his mind that was at stake and Rain made some very valid points and he was able to sense the genuine care behind her words, much more than a fly on the wall watching as he always felt he was. This was something that was squarely directed at him, love and care went into her being here. The young man gritted his teeth, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that someone who could have been anywhere else in the galaxy helping people, was here helping him, but they were tiny yes, the young man knew this, he sighed and his eyes caught Rain again.
"I."
Johnathon tried to gather his thoughts and put them into words, but all he could see was the body of his lifeless brother lying on top of Derry Angeles, a Padawan that Johnathon greatly respected, everything about that moment just made him squeeze his eyes shut as hard as he could.
(I'm sorry.
It's okay.
It's over.
I'm… relieved.
I wish this hadn't…
I'll tell them goodbye for you.
The Force be…
Why did you have to do this?
Adrian.
Peace…
I'm here though. )
None of this was ever said allowed, but Johnathon had felt it when he felt the last breath escape his brother's body. He clenched both of his fists and tears began finding there way out of his tightly closed yes, young man sniffed a bit and tried to wipe them away with his good arm. He opened his eyes upon hearing Rain say that she had brought something for him. Through teary eyes he reached out and gently took it from Rain's hands and looked down at it.
"I...I could have saved him Rain. He was my....my brother and I let him die." Johnathon tried to wipe the tears from his face but they just kept coming. "I knew what he...he had done and...what he...was going t.to do. I...I killed my brother Rain....because I saw him....I killed my own flesh and blood....I loved him Rain and I killed him." The young man buried his head in his hands, his arm throbbing from where he had hurt himself. "I...how do, I tell my dad? Adrian knew, I had seen this and he knew I did nothing. Those were some of his last thoughts, I...felt them and I felt the pain of betrayal in his heart. He..he didn't deserve to die that way...knowing his own brother had allowed it."
Johnathon continued sobbing, he brought the cloth to his eyes, but he couldn't tie it, not with his bad arm. The young man looked at Rain pleadingly, not saying a word, but she would have known what was being asked of her. The young man's heart sunk deeper and deeper until he felt no natural pain, only the pain of grief and loss.
Johnathon looked down eyeing the tiles on the floor, he was starting feel a bit dizzy but now was not the time to worry about what was happening to his body, that could be fixed. It was his mind that was at stake and Rain made some very valid points and he was able to sense the genuine care behind her words, much more than a fly on the wall watching as he always felt he was. This was something that was squarely directed at him, love and care went into her being here. The young man gritted his teeth, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that someone who could have been anywhere else in the galaxy helping people, was here helping him, but they were tiny yes, the young man knew this, he sighed and his eyes caught Rain again.
"I."
Johnathon tried to gather his thoughts and put them into words, but all he could see was the body of his lifeless brother lying on top of Derry Angeles, a Padawan that Johnathon greatly respected, everything about that moment just made him squeeze his eyes shut as hard as he could.
(I'm sorry.
It's okay.
It's over.
I'm… relieved.
I wish this hadn't…
I'll tell them goodbye for you.
The Force be…
Why did you have to do this?
Adrian.
Peace…
I'm here though. )
None of this was ever said allowed, but Johnathon had felt it when he felt the last breath escape his brother's body. He clenched both of his fists and tears began finding there way out of his tightly closed yes, young man sniffed a bit and tried to wipe them away with his good arm. He opened his eyes upon hearing Rain say that she had brought something for him. Through teary eyes he reached out and gently took it from Rain's hands and looked down at it.
"I...I could have saved him Rain. He was my....my brother and I let him die." Johnathon tried to wipe the tears from his face but they just kept coming. "I knew what he...he had done and...what he...was going t.to do. I...I killed my brother Rain....because I saw him....I killed my own flesh and blood....I loved him Rain and I killed him." The young man buried his head in his hands, his arm throbbing from where he had hurt himself. "I...how do, I tell my dad? Adrian knew, I had seen this and he knew I did nothing. Those were some of his last thoughts, I...felt them and I felt the pain of betrayal in his heart. He..he didn't deserve to die that way...knowing his own brother had allowed it."
Johnathon continued sobbing, he brought the cloth to his eyes, but he couldn't tie it, not with his bad arm. The young man looked at Rain pleadingly, not saying a word, but she would have known what was being asked of her. The young man's heart sunk deeper and deeper until he felt no natural pain, only the pain of grief and loss.
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
Rain saw and felt it. She was sitting on the wet floor barely a few inches from the crying Johnathon, the cooling emotion of whose blood was still lingering on her skin. She was who she was… And there was no way that she couldn't have.
Still… not everything seen should be directly spoken of.
The elder, and smaller, of the two carefully handed Johnathon the woven length of fabric. She didn't say anything for a minute or two while she watched and listened to him; only shifting her right of leg up against her torso so that she could rest her chin on the top of her knee.
After a long few moments, or a short era that lasted only for a minute, she swallowed, and did her best to shape thought into words.
"Loving someone… and putting that person to death… don't exclude each other. It would be nicer if they did. But living is.. bigger than 'nice.' And they just don't. I think most of the Jedi know it… Not all of them, but a good number… and a lot of other good people. And many people understand it, who aren't 'good'… Derry does… I'm not judging whether what you chose was loving, Johnathon. Or if it was right. But it doesn't change that you loved him. Parents and children, and brothers and sisters, and cousins, and lovers and friends… at the hardest points… A lot of them have been the ones to cry and say an apology.. and stab a blade in someone's heart. Because whether they were right or wrong… they felt what the other one was doing. So some of them are the ones who changed it."
Rain sighed, brushing away the curtain of raven-black hair that was threatening to slip down into her face again.
"Adrian made bad choices. He had a bad start. But he made bad choices. If he'd stayed on that path for longer… Then what? There are too many cross points.. and they're all finished now. But I see more pain than anything else… It's a hard to find good in any direction. If he was still alive, it would still be hard.
You and Svo'k need to talk about that. Alex too. And that's going to be hard for everyone. But today isn't the day."
Standing up, the small ebony and ivory young woman moved beside Johnathon and knelt down so that she could wrap the midnight blue cloth over the eyes that he'd wanted to cut out. She tied the blindfold neatly around the younger man's head, using a neat, tight, knot and just the correct amount of pressure.
Then she stood again, and contained her own abject desire to shudder while she offered him a hand up. The spark was waiting. Worlds and eons, and a searing blinding headache if she forgot herself and let her thoughts try to focus on any of it for a millisecond, and 3,000,000,000,000 living breathing, laughing, screaming, speaking, thinking, feeling distractions, and sunbursts and cries of outrage and depth of emotions and crashing ships and Johnathon's grief and regret—anything that the core of his mind threw at her—and… a forcefully shoved-away instant of something ugly and much harder from her mind that would have taken either one of their breaths away, replaced with an even briefer flicker of someone she missed, and then again with sheer force of will and caring of her coming here in the first place, and new births and deaths and kaleidoscopes of possibility… from both of their perspectives… were all… agonizingly… there. For both of them. But so would the real and physical touch of her smaller, cool, and milky-pale complexioned hand holding and clasping his for just a second while he stood up. And somewhere wrapped in all of that, and no farther away than a grip of the fourteen year old's hand, was proof that she was stronger than rainstorms. And that she knew he could be, too.
The instant Johnathon was on his feet, Rain squeezed his palm, and then just as instantly released the contact, rubbing her fingers against her other hand as if trying to wipe away the tingling from an insect sting. But when the small-framed woman looked up at Johnathon's covered eyes, there was a calm look in her dark ones. She found a faint smile for him. There was understanding sadness in it, but it was still a smile.
"Your arm should be bandaged. And.. more clothes would be good, too."
Still… not everything seen should be directly spoken of.
The elder, and smaller, of the two carefully handed Johnathon the woven length of fabric. She didn't say anything for a minute or two while she watched and listened to him; only shifting her right of leg up against her torso so that she could rest her chin on the top of her knee.
After a long few moments, or a short era that lasted only for a minute, she swallowed, and did her best to shape thought into words.
"Loving someone… and putting that person to death… don't exclude each other. It would be nicer if they did. But living is.. bigger than 'nice.' And they just don't. I think most of the Jedi know it… Not all of them, but a good number… and a lot of other good people. And many people understand it, who aren't 'good'… Derry does… I'm not judging whether what you chose was loving, Johnathon. Or if it was right. But it doesn't change that you loved him. Parents and children, and brothers and sisters, and cousins, and lovers and friends… at the hardest points… A lot of them have been the ones to cry and say an apology.. and stab a blade in someone's heart. Because whether they were right or wrong… they felt what the other one was doing. So some of them are the ones who changed it."
Rain sighed, brushing away the curtain of raven-black hair that was threatening to slip down into her face again.
"Adrian made bad choices. He had a bad start. But he made bad choices. If he'd stayed on that path for longer… Then what? There are too many cross points.. and they're all finished now. But I see more pain than anything else… It's a hard to find good in any direction. If he was still alive, it would still be hard.
You and Svo'k need to talk about that. Alex too. And that's going to be hard for everyone. But today isn't the day."
Standing up, the small ebony and ivory young woman moved beside Johnathon and knelt down so that she could wrap the midnight blue cloth over the eyes that he'd wanted to cut out. She tied the blindfold neatly around the younger man's head, using a neat, tight, knot and just the correct amount of pressure.
Then she stood again, and contained her own abject desire to shudder while she offered him a hand up. The spark was waiting. Worlds and eons, and a searing blinding headache if she forgot herself and let her thoughts try to focus on any of it for a millisecond, and 3,000,000,000,000 living breathing, laughing, screaming, speaking, thinking, feeling distractions, and sunbursts and cries of outrage and depth of emotions and crashing ships and Johnathon's grief and regret—anything that the core of his mind threw at her—and… a forcefully shoved-away instant of something ugly and much harder from her mind that would have taken either one of their breaths away, replaced with an even briefer flicker of someone she missed, and then again with sheer force of will and caring of her coming here in the first place, and new births and deaths and kaleidoscopes of possibility… from both of their perspectives… were all… agonizingly… there. For both of them. But so would the real and physical touch of her smaller, cool, and milky-pale complexioned hand holding and clasping his for just a second while he stood up. And somewhere wrapped in all of that, and no farther away than a grip of the fourteen year old's hand, was proof that she was stronger than rainstorms. And that she knew he could be, too.
The instant Johnathon was on his feet, Rain squeezed his palm, and then just as instantly released the contact, rubbing her fingers against her other hand as if trying to wipe away the tingling from an insect sting. But when the small-framed woman looked up at Johnathon's covered eyes, there was a calm look in her dark ones. She found a faint smile for him. There was understanding sadness in it, but it was still a smile.
"Your arm should be bandaged. And.. more clothes would be good, too."
Sometimes 10,000 sleepless nights are what it takes.
-
Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
"We both know that I'm not going to talk to them about it. They do not understand they aren't like us...."
Her words were so meaningful, so dignified and thoughtful, he almost wished he didn't know they were coming for a moment. It was as if every word was picked carefully before being spoken, they all had a singular purpose and they all had their own duality of meanings. It was if everything in the universe was revolving around both of them at this particular moment. He watched her stand to come and help him with the blindfold, he felt her touch against his head and tried not to outwardly wince as the fabric tightened around his head and the midnight blue drowned out the light of the room and his inner eyes opened. He saw everything in the room as it were, but with different shades of color, he couldn't define the color of the light that enveloped Rain, nor could he fully understand what he was going through at the moment, it was so forceful and so raw. His arm was throbbing again and he heard her mention something about a bandage and more clothes. The tee and the pants would be fine, as wet as they actually were and as annoying as that would be for the rest of the day that was the least of his concerns our problems.
"I...like this, it's like seeing everything for the first time, it's all the same yet different somehow."
He turned and walked towards the mirror, the midnight blue cloth covering his natural eyes he still saw his face and a hue of a color surrounding him, for a moment his wings spawned before his eyes, he could hear the flutter they produced as he stared at them in the mirror. He turned and to the side as a typical young man his age might do when looking himself in the mirror checking out his build and muscles. Johnathon however was looking at the wings and the color that seemed to change the longer he looked at them. His brow lowered and a small almost unnoticeable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he banished it away. He turned back to rain, blood soaking through the sleeve on his shirt and running down his arm. She was right in coming here, she was right in giving him the blindfold, he could see that now on so many levels.
"Dad keeps a medical kit in the cabinet, he has bacta patches in there, I'll bandage it."
His head moved around again still taking in all of the new sights that the blindfold had unveiled for him.
"You're not judging if it was right or wrong. Yet, I don't sense, that it was actually the wrong thing to do objectively, that's the problem Rain. The guilt is overwhelming and it feels like someone stuck a knife in my chest and twisted it, but I know it wasn't actually wrong on any moral level at all.... ""
He paused.
"And if that's not wrong then what is actually wrong? Is there wrong at all in the universe or is it just what it is? I've seen so many things, you see, you know the kinds of things that I have seen. If it's not wrong of me to kill my own flesh and blood then can I walk up behind the spice dealer on the street while he is selling spice to children younger than me and slit his throat? Can I do that Rain? Is that wrong Rain? I don't think it is...because that kid overdoses and dies that night Rain. He dies by choking on his own vomit and his parents find him the next morning, his face blue and his lifeless eyes staring back at them, their pride and joy gone, but if someone stopped it....."
Her words were so meaningful, so dignified and thoughtful, he almost wished he didn't know they were coming for a moment. It was as if every word was picked carefully before being spoken, they all had a singular purpose and they all had their own duality of meanings. It was if everything in the universe was revolving around both of them at this particular moment. He watched her stand to come and help him with the blindfold, he felt her touch against his head and tried not to outwardly wince as the fabric tightened around his head and the midnight blue drowned out the light of the room and his inner eyes opened. He saw everything in the room as it were, but with different shades of color, he couldn't define the color of the light that enveloped Rain, nor could he fully understand what he was going through at the moment, it was so forceful and so raw. His arm was throbbing again and he heard her mention something about a bandage and more clothes. The tee and the pants would be fine, as wet as they actually were and as annoying as that would be for the rest of the day that was the least of his concerns our problems.
"I...like this, it's like seeing everything for the first time, it's all the same yet different somehow."
He turned and walked towards the mirror, the midnight blue cloth covering his natural eyes he still saw his face and a hue of a color surrounding him, for a moment his wings spawned before his eyes, he could hear the flutter they produced as he stared at them in the mirror. He turned and to the side as a typical young man his age might do when looking himself in the mirror checking out his build and muscles. Johnathon however was looking at the wings and the color that seemed to change the longer he looked at them. His brow lowered and a small almost unnoticeable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he banished it away. He turned back to rain, blood soaking through the sleeve on his shirt and running down his arm. She was right in coming here, she was right in giving him the blindfold, he could see that now on so many levels.
"Dad keeps a medical kit in the cabinet, he has bacta patches in there, I'll bandage it."
His head moved around again still taking in all of the new sights that the blindfold had unveiled for him.
"You're not judging if it was right or wrong. Yet, I don't sense, that it was actually the wrong thing to do objectively, that's the problem Rain. The guilt is overwhelming and it feels like someone stuck a knife in my chest and twisted it, but I know it wasn't actually wrong on any moral level at all.... ""
He paused.
"And if that's not wrong then what is actually wrong? Is there wrong at all in the universe or is it just what it is? I've seen so many things, you see, you know the kinds of things that I have seen. If it's not wrong of me to kill my own flesh and blood then can I walk up behind the spice dealer on the street while he is selling spice to children younger than me and slit his throat? Can I do that Rain? Is that wrong Rain? I don't think it is...because that kid overdoses and dies that night Rain. He dies by choking on his own vomit and his parents find him the next morning, his face blue and his lifeless eyes staring back at them, their pride and joy gone, but if someone stopped it....."
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
Re: Svo'k's Rooms
(Eyes burn from crying. The man sweeps his braid behind his shoulder and takes another drink. His throat was tight and raw from the sobbing already; now it burns from the liquid too.) She swallowed uncomfortably and rubbed her temples. (The boy grew strong, and ran with the cats and the swords while the boy she’d just—Johnathon stretched his wings in the mirror, and he wasn’t maimed. He could thrive either way, but that—hurled the deathstick into the grass—his uncle grieves and heals. They all do—The blood mixed with the water, containing a slow acting poison —neat little knife bit through his arm, so much like the one the child picked up in that wretched black—The braid was gone, he stood on the doormat, he’d made peace with everyone but her. But the swordsman thrived and never needed to heal. Was that right? The boy goes to him after—past the blinding—It burned her—Rain had been a child, too—when—But, she—they made no sense in the sand—why would—million points of—No, the younger seer was wrong here.—light with the shatterpoints in—pain—She didn’t Know. She saw—but the—line of spice dealers was—the party ended when they noticed—the woman held the bowl for him that night and stayed awake to keep him from choking on—she had almost none of the scars yet—The living father and sons spoke and healed and his wings were blue—he’d carved a clumsy shape in her arm, but he was three then—That wasn’t his—blinding too different but it made no sense—man might stand in the room past the twisted statues with black wings while her thin—Swordsman stepped in front—it didn’t have to—lifeless—Stop—not even—mind running—She wouldn’t do it.—but why—intensity was—Stop.)
Rain swallowed the tightness in her throat and turned her eyes back to the fourteen year old.
“I know that you should talk to them about it.” she quietly repeated. “They will listen. It would do you all good.”
The small woman stood up and stepped between the teen and the mirror he didn’t need. She washed the cold smudge of blood from her hands, and the gentle echoes of weavers’ pride from the blindfold, and Johnathon’s calculated fingertips on her face, and the guilt, and the warm sun on the outdoor loom by the lake.
In the mirror, she looked past her reflection to the taller youth behind her. He already stood stronger and less crippled than he had while he grappled with the newest questions. He could be so many things. He mattered. She folded her arms around herself and watched his reflection in the glass. A trickle of blood fell from his elbow to the floor.
“The spice dealer made his own choices, but he is sixteen years old with his own mess of life that led him there. He sees the grieving parents the next morning. He finds his way out from the gang. He brings a girl with him. She becomes an activist. They work with authorities to form an outreach in memorial of the lost ones. Or—the first boy is killed on the street, so now the younger one lives on to graduate and become a teacher who ripples countless lives. The girl isn't rescued. She falls deeper in the cartel until someone murders her, but in that worse life she has a child…. There are a quintillion moving shatterpoints, Johnathon. I am sorry you lost your brother. You should talk to Alex and Svo'k.”
Rain didn't sigh or bite at on her lip. She pulled herself together to give a tremulous smile to the youth's reflection.
“They're grieving, but it's not all ugly. I love you. They love you, too. I... am... going to go now.”
Breathing out, she walked past the spice dealer without harming him and left the room.
Rain swallowed the tightness in her throat and turned her eyes back to the fourteen year old.
“I know that you should talk to them about it.” she quietly repeated. “They will listen. It would do you all good.”
The small woman stood up and stepped between the teen and the mirror he didn’t need. She washed the cold smudge of blood from her hands, and the gentle echoes of weavers’ pride from the blindfold, and Johnathon’s calculated fingertips on her face, and the guilt, and the warm sun on the outdoor loom by the lake.
In the mirror, she looked past her reflection to the taller youth behind her. He already stood stronger and less crippled than he had while he grappled with the newest questions. He could be so many things. He mattered. She folded her arms around herself and watched his reflection in the glass. A trickle of blood fell from his elbow to the floor.
“The spice dealer made his own choices, but he is sixteen years old with his own mess of life that led him there. He sees the grieving parents the next morning. He finds his way out from the gang. He brings a girl with him. She becomes an activist. They work with authorities to form an outreach in memorial of the lost ones. Or—the first boy is killed on the street, so now the younger one lives on to graduate and become a teacher who ripples countless lives. The girl isn't rescued. She falls deeper in the cartel until someone murders her, but in that worse life she has a child…. There are a quintillion moving shatterpoints, Johnathon. I am sorry you lost your brother. You should talk to Alex and Svo'k.”
Rain didn't sigh or bite at on her lip. She pulled herself together to give a tremulous smile to the youth's reflection.
“They're grieving, but it's not all ugly. I love you. They love you, too. I... am... going to go now.”
Breathing out, she walked past the spice dealer without harming him and left the room.
Sometimes 10,000 sleepless nights are what it takes.