Keenava Dira

The leaves follow the wind. They fly. And—without friction—they would do so freely. Keenava could still feel the force singing through her lower body. Her muscles were spongy and responsive. Her stance was an adaptive one. Instead of putting all her weight on her heel and toe, Keenava put her weight on the balls of her feet. Therefore, when Kirlocca’s wave of energy washed outward, Keenava launched into the air and flipped backward. She allowed her body to follow the flow of the blast and touched down twenty meters away on one of the large trees that lined the outskirts of the landing pad. Her maneuver mitigated most of the damage, but she could feel soreness in her calves when she found purchase with the callused soles of her feet. The exertion was not negligible, and she needed a moment to let the vertigo pass, but Keenava didn’t let it phase her. She felt alive. The skin of her upper arms rose from the exhilarant activity. The corners of her mouth were up, and you could see the ivory-white teeth of an open smile on her ebony face. Once her head cleared, Keenava put what energy she had left back into her legs and launched herself close to where the Wookiee and her new master stood. “What did you feel when combat began? How did you harness the force, and what did you find in the depths of yourself when you harnessed the force to strengthen blows?” Keenava heard the questions as her adrenaline subsided, attempting to let them wash over her mind as she came down from the spar. “I suppose, when the combat began, I felt some trepidation. My most recent fight was on the planet Falleen. It was intense and fraught with dark-side corruption, which tested my resolve. And before that, all I knew was my former master's strategy. Each fight had stakes. My teachers and environment taught me to anticipate lethal strikes and dangerous blows at all times. It was refreshing to start combat and not expect to get stabbed first thing; not to mention, it was refreshing to see you step up to defend me when I thought this was a one v. one v. one.” Keenava took a deeper breath and stretched her shins behind herself, feeling her quads engage. She wrung her wrists together, then held her arms behind her back to give her shoulders a nice flex. “I had to harness the force differently, which has been the hardest transition to deal with, if I’m honest. Before, I could rely on my passion to tap into the world around me. But passion is mercurial. It doesn’t flow with the energy around you and encourages you to fight against the grain. Instead, as Master Sandy and Master Leena instructed me, I just listened. I opened my mind to the world and let it flow through me. I let the flowing pools of energy filter through my readied muscles and embraced the force instead of trying to control or tear it apart. It was a part of me as much as my arms and legs.” Keenava replied, her amethyst eyes relaxed and open. “As far as what I felt when I used the force to strengthen my blows and what I found, I can't say I encountered anything. Before I struck, however, I felt several things. My Assassin training taught me to case buildings, assess danger, find weak points, and utilize those weak points to achieve an objective. Those tenets were a part of me. There were a couple of points in the fight when I acknowledged subtle urges to follow my previous training. But that is all they were—urges to be acknowledged and let go. Thanks to you, Master Leena, and Master Sandy, I am better equipped to empty my mind when performing force techniques. Thank you both for the spar!” Keenava bowed low in deference to the two masters before her.

Rising from her tumble, Keenava felt a shrill peck at the base of her neck. Several small but intense sensations rang on the periphery of her senses, though she could not decipher the source. As she collected her thoughts, she realized—too late—that it was the Force telling her of the Wookiee’s imminent kinetic blast. Waves of tarmac gravel blasted into the air, throwing rocks the size of small pebbles everywhere. Keenava braced herself, tensing the muscles in her legs to prepare to catch herself if the blast sent her flying. However, the blast’s severity was cut short by her new master’s artful adaption. Her shield cut through the blast like a fan blade through a typhoon, sending the gravel and excess force outwards on either side of the pair. Keenava could hear the subtle dings of rocks as they hit the hull of the Bloated Tortur nearby and even more as they struck surrounding objects. One stray piece of sediment successfully grazed the Twi’lek’s cheek, but other than that, she remained unharmed. Keenava was confused. At the start of combat, she assumed they would all be fighting each other. But this tactic left her new master open. Alcmene exposed her back. Her only form of defense was currently protecting them both. It was a gesture of goodwill, and not something the Twi’lek was used to. Some darker parts of her whispered to take advantage of the opening. But they were easy to discard. That isn’t something Jedi do. That isn’t something good people do. While the blast played out, Keenava held fast and tapped into the force around her. She kept inside her mind and relaxed, pulling energy from their surroundings into her ready muscles. Any excess energy that blew past her new master’s shield, she let wash over her, conserving the blast and fueling her maneuver. Then, after the last rock fell, Keenava shot out like a bullet. The force of her feet on the ground but the barest whisper as she torpedoed out and toward the Wookiee. The Twi’lek aimed her assault straight on, bluffing a full charge at force-propelled speed. Instead, she came in low and used her momentum to aim several precise knuckle blows at key pressure points in Kirlocca’s dominant arm, her fists formed with the index knuckle protruding a little further than the rest. The precision was crucial. The calculations needed to be immaculate. Too much force could cause semi-permanent damage, and too little would not achieve the effect she was looking for. Then add that he’s a Wookiee, and a tricky situation gets even trickier. The force needed to disable a Wookiee’s arm is considerably larger than a human’s. Therefore, Keenava guessed less force than she thought for the blows. Worst came to worst, Kirlocca would be agitated by the attack and distracted, allowing Alcmene to counter, or she'd miss, and her maneuver would've been a waste. But, if Keenava's assault worked, the Wookiee would drop his weapon and temporarily lose feeling in his arm. Afterward, because the Twi’lek was neither stupid nor cocky (not anymore, anyway), she continued her accelerated gait out past Kirlocca’s defenses and retreated to a safe distance. ((2))

((Introspection)) “...Step forward on this path. Those chains do not hold you anymore.” Chains. It always came back to chains. Keenava’s cursed lightsaber hilt, forged from the very first shackles she wore as a slave, hummed quietly to itself from her pack. The Sith maxim echoed in her mind, her former conditioning making it nearly impossible to ignore: ‘Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken.’ But what did that mean? Jzora, Furion, Exodus, and many other Sith before and after them believed that the world—nay, the galaxy—was against them. They felt they needed strength to push beyond the feeble limitations of mortals. Ignoring the glaring fact that not only were they mortal, but they were ripping the fabric of nature apart for their pointless and selfish self-aggrandizing. Keenava used to be one of them, struggling against the universe as it seemed determined to keep her isolated and enslaved. But now that her mind was free, she could see the futility of it all from a new perspective. She grew desperate for the power of the Dark Side but created a new shackle for herself, draping the chains across her pulse point until Ailbasi could tighten the cord and end her life. It was a grim realization, one she'd already seen. However, reminding herself of her past helped give her an understanding of her progress. Her former masters and colleagues would no doubt balk at her for standing at odds with a darkness that claimed her for decades, but she was at peace with it. ________ ((Spar relevant text)) Keenava flexed her bare toes against the tarmac. The pocked, rocky surface pushed against her callused feet as she released and contracted her muscles upon the rough surface. Calluses were hard-won. Each layer was proof of her exertion and a mark of history. Some experiences were difficult to navigate, and others were simple. But every experience was formative. Keenava took a deep breath of the oddly tangy marshy air before the first steps of the spar began. The space between them was thick with potential. And, as soon as Kirlocca's swing began its arc, Keenava felt the hum of battle begin. The rush of adrenaline sprang to her pointed fingertips, but instead of embracing it like she used to, the Twi'lek opened her heart and mind to the force. She allowed her movements to follow its flow and acknowledged Kirlocca's presence amid the ebbing tides. The Twi'lek swept low and tumbled under the Wookie's strike, weaving between Alcmène and Kirlocca as the former closed to counter. Feeling the urge to strike at either or both of their sciatic nerves and bring them down, she decided against it and instead used her momentum to drag a low kick across the back of Kirlocca's inside leg in an effort to trip him. She let the force of her blow push her through the gap between them to the other side, standing a few feet from Alcmène's shoulder and—optimistically—outside of Kirlocca's range. She kept a watchful eye on both and let a smile tug at her lips. ((1))

The silence hung awkwardly for a moment. Keenava’s eyelids started to droop, her heart rate rose, and her lekku began stringing themselves across her shoulders in a conflicted heap. She gripped the upper part of her left arm with her right hand, and her forehead started to bead with sweat. Her stilled expression belied the subtle dismay writ on the hard edges of the Twi’lek’s face. No alter to rush to her defense, Keenava was forced to sort through the murky emotions alone. Her whole mind came to call. But the echoes of scarring on its broadside made it a little more complicated to focus on. She was whole, but every experience she had at regulating her emotions was from a place of instability. It was still a new concept. She’d made progress, that was certain, but every step was as if through thickened Corellian molasses, and her recent journey through her mindscape brought everything to the fore once again. She had control. That was an importance that bore consistent repeating, but it didn’t make her issues any less difficult. Keenava had a reset. Someone put her in an alternate reality where she grew to be the woman her mother dreamed she’d be, and she would make the most of every moment. The Twi’lek stood as two suns. One was rising powerfully into the sky, while the other was setting. But both suns tore at each other, attempting to wrest the other from the sky. And yet, they both had a place. They were both essential to stabilize the planet beneath them. Taking a note from their recent lesson, Keenava let her focus drift to Alcmene. She paused and took a deep lungful of humid air. It coated the inside of her body with something she couldn’t place, but she didn’t let that distract her. She took another deep breath, letting each thought drift through the air and into the trees surrounding the landing pad. The Twi’lek stilled her mind, briefly exacerbating the sweating upon her brow. But after a beat, her turmoil quieted, and the only thing that remained was a sweet lullaby that her mother sang to her when she was little. Take me through the mist and stones, in waters that are still unknown, under a guiding starlit sky. We will learn how to say goodbye… A cool sensation brushed the length of her frame, freeing her lekku and allowing her whole body to relax. “My apologies. My apprehension stems from particularly traumatic training exercises. My previous masters—as Kirlocca knows and you can no doubt surmise—were not kind. Every training exercise was with live weaponry. To them, each exercise was a waste if you didn’t attempt to recreate an actual combat situation. They coined the phrase ‘dodge or die.’” Keenava nodded gently to her new master and let her arms shift to her sides, stepping slowly from side to side. “I am beginning to understand that others aren’t so malicious and that practice can just be practice.” The Twi’lek gave a small smile. “Thank you for the kind offer, Alcemene. I would feel… ‘odd’ doesn’t feel like the right word, but I don’t like the thought of touching a Jedi’s saber when Sith killed them. My hands aren’t clean in that regard. It would feel wrong. I will remain unarmed for this spar. Whenever you’re ready.” Keenava shifted to a ready stance. She put her weight on her back leg to root her body and shifted her hands into pointed tips resembling a bird’s beak.

Kirlocca’s offer of a three-way spar was promising. It had been a while since Keenava had put her fighting skills into practice, so she looked forward to shaking off some rust. The Twi’lekk smiled in response and made enough space between them for their bout. The midday light bathed Keenava’s features with a bright amber glow. She flexed the fingers of both hands and let the callused balls of her feet grip the tarmac. She lifted the bottom half of each leg behind her and leaned to one side, then the other. After returning to a standing position, she twisted her body back and forth, hissing when one of her shoulders popped. She bounced a little into a ready position and was about to take a fighting stance when she heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber. Immediately, her expression changed, and her stance faltered. “Hey, I wasn’t aware we were saber fighting. I might need to sit out because I don’t have one.” She left out the ‘anymore’ because she wasn’t proud of the corrupted canister of metal that rested in her pack. Keenava raised both her hands in a silent surrender and backed off a few steps. The memory of saber burns from previous ‘practice’ sessions still lingered, and she wasn’t looking forward to more.

“I accompanied Grandmaster Leena here in what would have a rough time passing for a flying ‘tin can.’ She had to attend an important meeting and left me alone, so I decided to get acquainted with my new ship,” Keenava said, waving her arms at the light freighter that stood a few feet away from them. “When I finished my tour, I started a good training workout. Alcmène found me after some time and offered to join, but I was much too tired, so we decided to take a moment to eat and recoup. Basi joined us soon after, and we made an impromptu picnic out of it. She offered to be my master either to replace Leena or until Leena is available to teach me again. We were still kinda working that out when you got here.” Keenava wasn’t sure why she was so comfortable spilling everything that happened the last few hours to Kirlocca, but something about the Wookiee always felt like home. His warm smile, his friendly aura, and his confident stature reassured her. Everything about him was earnest and it made Keenava feel safe. Lallu would’ve gagged. She would gape at her infodump and shame her for being so open with someone she knew so little of. But that part of her life was gone. And, in hindsight, Keenava hadn’t truly known anyone. No one stayed long enough for her to know them. Furion’s love was mercurial and inexplicable—so much so that one could barely call it love. It was a love of convenience, which wasn’t love at all.

At the egress of her darkness, Keenava could feel the touches of other memories on her mental periphery. Devastation and war were not familiar to her, but it wasn’t a stretch from Sith and their destructive lifestyle. Alcmène’s memories weren’t lucid, but the sensory dynamism pricked Keenava’s mind as the pair navigated the miasma together. It was strange but familiar, and Keenava felt a surge of hope at their mutual exchange. A presence upon the field shook Keenava and her master from their mental exploration, but before the Twi’lek could turn to face the arrival, she lingered in Alcmène’s eyes. Keenava almost expected fear or apprehension. However—considering Alcmène was a Knight—resolution or righteousness might have been more appropriate. But something different lingered there—an impossible acceptance. Her smile was warm, and her cold gray eyes glittered with possibility, shining with the afternoon light that bathed the starport in a warm orange glow. Two of Ylesia’s three moons were peaking above the canopies of the trees and reflecting within her crystalline steel eyes. Keenava couldn’t help but return the Jedi’s smile, feeling her heart lift. She lived so long under the shroud of attempted betrayal that paranoia hedged her optimism until it was cynical survivalism masking as jaded realism. It was invaluable for her time as an Assassin. But she was starting to feel more and more open to change with each passing day under the custody of the Jedi Order. When she turned to face the new arrival, her smile stretched further across her face, alighting two dimples on her ebony cheeks. Taking a moment to nod her head to her prospective master, the Twi’lek nimbly shifted off the back of her chair into a graceful flip that carried her past the top rail of her aluminum seat and sailing through the air until she stood a few feet from the Wookiee that approached them. When her callused feet hit the tarmac, she dipped into a respectful bow. “It is nice to see you again, Master Kirlocca. I trust your travels have not weighed too heavily on you."

Alcméne seemed at ease for the moment but did not give Keenava much time to clear her mind before reaching out and clasping her wrist. Their minds linked when the Tapani’s alabaster hand closed fully about Keenava’s ebony skin. The Twi’ek hadn’t been ready to join minds or thoughts with anyone. She hadn’t trained in Jedi methods regarding the prevention of mental intrusion. They formed a channel against her wishes. Images and thoughts rushed past before Keenava could focus on silence as her new master requested. Hands, marred by blood, would never be clean. Faces of several hundred people flashed in and out. Golden eyes, red sabers, blood, and viscera filled the span. The smell of death and a bouquet of misery were present within the mire. But, where hatred, anger, and sadistic glee were previously at home, sadness, regret, and guilt took root. These were not memories of pride. They were not trophies of valor or joyous conquest. These were ghosts. Keenava had resolved her DiD and accepted herself past and present, but it wasn’t easy to just snap everything away. She would always atone. She would always work to better herself. Otherwise, what was all this for? She’d just be the same monster she was before. After a moment, Keenava managed to breathe and sweep away the dark thoughts as instructed. There was little to do regarding what her prospective master saw. She knew other masters who let her go for less and other people who tried to kill her for less as well. It wasn’t exactly an endearing trait. Keenava swallowed away her shame for the moment and continued to sing a lullaby that her mother taught her when she was very young. The soft notes of the lullaby helped to soothe the hurt, and the words to occupy what little brain power her shame took away. She gave herself to the flow of the force around her and joined Alcméne in the quiet peace of the moment.

Keenava lifted her cup to join the toast. A soft smile stretched across her face at their newly formed group. "Tell me then, my friends, what do you think about the Jedi Order? What is your vision for your life ahead?" Another question, another challenge, and yet another thing she couldn’t reveal. Not yet. She wanted to say it. She ached to tell her everything, but there was no telling how this Jedi Knight would react. Was she a monster despite her purification? Potentially. Everything about her condition was new to her. Nothing could scrub the dirt from beneath her nails. No act of mercy or kindness could erase the faces of guilt that plagued her even now. Was she guilty in the past of consorting with darkness and committing horrific deeds? Most certainly. But did that mean there was no room for growth? Sandy, Leena, and even Ruin–a droid programmed to eradicate the Sith–had given her a chance. Would Alcmène do the same? After the toast, Keenava set her glass upon their makeshift picnic surface and settled her hands on her knees. She grasped idly, and the tips of her lekku twitched ever-so-slightly with agitation. Her face was rife with concern. “I believe the Jedi Order offers a chance to start over. It offers straying souls a chance to come back. My vision for my life is to protect and guide those who may not have the strength to do so themselves.” Keenava said. Her eyes locked on Alcmène’s. Her deep amethyst eyes stared straight at her prospective master in the hopes that she understood the metaphor. The concern dropped from her face and lit her eyes. She tried to convey her intent to redeem herself within that moment of eye contact. It was a moment of vulnerability that she wanted to share. If Alcmène wished, Keenava would share as much as the Knight wished. But she didn’t want to reveal her story if it was unwanted. The history between the Sith and the Jedi was usually a bloody one. It ruinously destroyed any attempts at peace between the two Orders. But if she was to be a padawan, she needed her Master to understand.

"Have either of you had much formal training at all?" Keenava felt her throat dry up and practically seize as the last vegetable she ate tried to pass. The tips of her lekku squirmed, betraying her attempts at hiding her discomfort. After lightly rapping the side of her fist against her sternum and letting her food complete its southward journey, her expression grew speculative, and she stared at the table quietly. When she was purified and allowed to roam the world again, despite the ending that Ailbasi so eagerly provided, she was eager to share her experience and story. She desperately wanted to share her story and her burden. But perhaps that was foolish. As a Sith, Keenava sought validation through acts of exponential chaos, and trauma wasn’t something to be explored or fixed. You used your trauma to feed your power. But now, after her purification, regaining control of her mind, and reconciling her DID—which was still a relatively new concept—she no longer had an outlet. Too many emotions slammed through her with every breath, but they had nowhere to go. She knew where not to use them or put them, but that left a hole. So she went to the first person she found and dumped everything, which was overwhelming and unfair to Leena and Ruin. It had been a hot minute since she could understand healthy emotional responses or coping mechanisms. Therefore, it wasn’t easy to blame herself for such an indiscretion. But it did mean that now that Keenava had control, she needed a better way to relieve her restless thoughts and to express herself over time, with the explicit consent of anyone in attendance. Keenava shook herself out of her reverie, slowly closing and opening her hands on the tabletop, restless. "That's also complicated,” Keenava said after a beat. The Twi’lek’s expression softened as she looked up at her new Tapani friend. “I, too, would be honored to take you up on your request, Lady Alcmène." Keenava added the only honorific she knew of and bowed her head a little out of respect and deference to the Knight. “I even have a means of passage if we need to leave the planet.” Keenava half-mumbled. A small smile spread across her lips, and her head leaned toward the light freighter adjacent to their position.

“Yes, she became Grandmaster of the Order while we were fighting on Falleen. I’m not sure what happened to you there, but I am glad to see you well, Bas.” Keenava responded as she piled an ample serving of steamed veggies on her plate. “As for the feast, you’re very welcome…” Keenava stalled for a moment before realizing no one had given names, so it was impossible to direct comments at the right person. “Welp, it seems I neglected a formal bit of introduction. My name is Keenava Dira. As for what brings me here, I was following Leena. I am waiting for her to finish her business, or here to find another master as well.” Keenava finished before stuffing a fresh bit of leafy green into her mouth. She mulled her thoughts on what to add regarding ‘seeing combat.’ Technically, she saw a lot of combat, though not as much as her former Sith peers. There were also the battles she recently fought on Falleen. But in the end, Keenava figured her new friend meant to ask whether she participated in the Sith battles of recent history. That proved to be an even more complicated answer. “I didn’t see much battle, but the why of it is a bit complicated.”

"Alright, I’ll be right back," Keenava said with a happy sigh. Keenava rolled from a seated position into a handstand and pushed herself to her feet. She stretched her core a moment and took a few deep breaths before heading into the Bloated Tortur. Thankfully, Malin cleared the freighter out because Keenava remembered the state of things when Malin was at the con. And, to be frank, he wasn’t the cleanest individual. Keenava bounced against the metal of the ship’s hull on the balls of her callused feet to the kitchen at the center of the starship. She remembered when this place was buzzing with the pitter-patter of various feet and sighed a little to herself at the recollection. She would miss that. But maybe she would have her own crew someday. She wasn’t sure. Her future was a vast unknown. Much like space, it was terrifying and exciting all at the same time. While shuffling through the cabinets to find the rations, she found a secret hollow-backed compartment in the pantry that hid some vegetables. She looked over the vegetables with a careful eye and a cursory sniff or two. Then, with a soft smile, the Twi’lek quickly prepped and steamed her bounty and got to work arranging the rations for their impromptu picnic. When she was done, she had a big dish piled with rations and steamed vegetables with a handful of plates and silverware. She accidentally made a little too much, so she figured she would provide additional plates or flatware in case anyone else was hungry. She didn’t mind sharing, she was going to stock up before going anywhere anyway. _____ Keenava came out into the open air of the improvised landing area, gracefully balancing the plates and flatware with her shoulders and arms. She was busy setting her food and dishes up when Basi came up to their spot. “You’re not interrupting anything private. Feel free to grab a chair or seat and grab some food if you’d like. As for Grandmaster Leena, she is handling some private matters and she may be a while.” Keenava piled a plate with veggies and rations, grabbed a glass of the fancy beverages provided by her new friend, and went to sit over at the table that was set up while she was rummaging in her ship. She settled down and swung her feet back and forth over the warm asphalt beneath them. Sure, it looked a little odd to be having a picnic on a landing pad, but she’d seen much weirder.

With one last flourish and a small dip, Keenava sucked in a breath and collapsed to the ground. It had been a while since she indulged in martial practice, but she felt a giddy, lightheaded sensation at the familiar exhaustion that gripped her. Still, even as she plopped down on the cold, asphalt-like surface of the landing field, she heard the scratching of boots and the slight shift of clothes as a woman approached. She was young, about a head and a half shorter than Keenava when standing at full height. Her appearance seemed tailored as if she spent hours alone on her hair. Nobility? Upper class? Her body language suggested curiosity, and her bearing indicated that she led more with her non-dominant foot, as if she were used to bolstering or protecting. A shield user, perhaps? It was too soon to tell, and there was precious little evidence to go off of regarding her chosen weaponry. Keenava shook her hands out, trying to scramble her innate impulse to build a profile on everyone who approached her and fought to reach a standing position. "Katas are good and well, but perhaps a spar would be better?" Keenava smiled at the offer, but she was having a hard enough time remaining on her feet. "Normally, I'd accept, but I’ve been at this for a few hours, and I just really need to sit down. Do you want to join me? I don’t have much in my ship right now, but I have some basic rations if you want to share." The Twi’lek said, patting the hull of the ship that sat beside them on the pad.

Kata by kata Keenava moved. She sidestepped the rough surface of the tarmac, feeling the rough calluses of her feet tread across the pavement, and tumbled back to it. Her boots lay discarded beside her ship. She wished to balance her limbs and broaden her awareness. A layer of moisture blanketed her face. A smile tugged gently at her lips. Her movements accelerated, becoming a little more frenetic. Each elegant stroke of her brush reached new acrobatic heights until Keenava was doing flips through the air. She sprung from the landing pad and landed upon the Torutur’s hull, using her momentum to launch backward into a somersault that carried her back down. Her heart and mind opened itself to the Force as the music of exertion sang in her mind. She let the flow of life that sang in the rebel camp carry her. She could feel them all; the stevedores with their cargo, the troops with their routines, the nurses with their patients, and the other Jedi with their studies. Not in the sense that they were part of her, no. She felt as if they all washed down the river together. Each voice carried another current. Together they wove into a mighty invigorating energy that spun across the camp. It was a beautiful weave of life that strung them and the world together. After about an hour of practice, Keenava still felt energy buzzing within. However, her heart pounded against her chest, sending signals to her mind and indicating that it was time to stop. The Twi’lek used the momentum of her breaths and slowed the flow of her moves until she stilled. Her breaths worked out in metered repetitions. And, with a simple flourish, she returned to the foot of her ship. She exhaled deeply, a big grin stretched across her face. Her bright amethyst eyes shone with electric hues of effervescent glee. And she marveled at the fact that she could feel such beatific joy. When the high dwindled, her mind lingered briefly on her sister and mother. They could not enjoy such vibrance together, which wasn’t something Keenava would forget. But she could enjoy life for them. They fought to live every day they could, and Keenava felt like she wasted a lot of time. Every path in the dark led to conclusions that no one could understand. Each platitude she clung to while meandering upon the threads of torrid blackness did her no service. And every promise of strength was a fragile lie proposed by unstable minds. It was, therefore, an odd sort of justice that pushed Keenava to live for every moment. Her mother would never see her shining face as she lived the life she’d always meant to live. But Keenava would still fight for every minute in tribute to the moments they lost.

Force… I am never sleeping on a surface that rough again Keenava knew the Jedi despised attachments and luxury because they inspired indulgence, and that was a distraction—she’d heard the lectures and their Sith counterparts. She could understand the purpose behind the rhetoric—on the surface—and the meaning behind their words. Regardless, that rustbucket’s hull was riddled with uneven struts, scrap edges poking at her skin, and a malaise of noise and wet rodent smell that made getting any sleep a nightmarish effort. How the hell she got to sleep on those slate metal sheets on Korriban was a mystery. Maybe she was able to endure the pain a lot more. Keenava shrugged inwardly. Still, she liked feeling things. It was a lot better than ignoring them or feeding on them. The familiar sodden grass of the rebel camp was a welcome respite from Fallen and that accursed tin can that would barely pass for a ship. She flexed her feet and breathed in the welcome tropical air as she bent to and fro, listening as her back gave a satisfying crack that led to a welcome feeling of relief. After rolling her arms out and testing her quads by lifting her heels to her glutes in steady reps, she looked back as the Grandmaster departed the squib’s vessel. Leena looked troubled. The way her brow ridge and eyes furrowed suggested that whatever she had waiting for her was not going to be brief. "Take all the time you need, Leena," Keenava said softly, looking at the young woman with kind eyes. She offered a stabilizing hand as the Mon Cal walked past, and Keenava felt as if everything she’d planned had evaporated. The former assassin watched as another of her masters walked away and wondered perhaps if she possessed some kind of inherent repellent that deterred any would-be mentorship. My next master better watch out. I might start building a reputation. Keenava chuckled a little at her own dark attempt at humor before padding into a cartwheel that sent her in the direction of her ship. The Bloated Tortur sat on the tarmac as it had all that time ago when she ran into the former owner with, oh, so much grace. It was a fond memory, if clunky. It would likely have been less clunky if she hadn’t threatened him. He gave as good as he got, though, and soon they had a standoff on the deck, staring each other down with murderous intent. It was hard to believe that they’d had that kind of relationship, given where they are now. She wondered where he was now, considering she had his ship. Though, since he’d reconnected with his family and was no longer on the run, she was sure that wherever he was, he was happy. She sighed contentedly. Finally. Here I am. My own ship, my own home, my own community, my own name, and my own feet to carry me forward She’d come a long way to get here, and she hadn’t achieved it alone. If it weren’t for her... Keenava’s memory briefly flashed to the young woman on Falleen. Kyrie? Her name is Kyrie. If it weren’t for Kyrie, she would’ve been stuck in a deep, murky blackness of void-like mortality. She would have been drifting far from the great Dejarik Board, the only life she ever knew, and any hope of ever getting back. And not only did Kyrie free her, but she gave her a gift. She allowed her to take back the choice she made all those years ago. And Leena, Roene, and Sandy all helped her see a new path—a path forward. I’m sure her former masters would disagree and attempt to lay some sort of perverted claim on her if they had the chance. But, for the first time in a long time, she could truly and confidently say that her future and her choices were none of their effing business. _____ A few moments later and the Twi’lek was beaming at her new ship. She'd taken a quick tour of the inside. And aside from needing a serious dusting, it was exactly as she remembered it. She took a beat, looking at the landing gear. She flexed her hands and allowed her mind to wander, settling beside her newly acquired ship to practice a few martial arts techniques that she’d let get a bit rusty over the past few weeks. We can’t have that Her head swiveled around the improvised landing pad, noticing a few aliens ambling about, but she decided it wasn’t going to deter her. As long as she had ample space, she’d be okay. Keenava’s heart thudded rhythmically in her chest, rapping out the metronome. Her left leg came up and crossed her midsection. She flexed her right foot, channeling her energy into the ground and shifting her balance to accommodate. She bowed her head slightly and allowed her arms to spread gently out to either side of her body, opened to the air around her, and arrayed like a massive yet lithe avian. Her hands stretched like talons poised to strike, and her lekku were lent to their devices, though she did not forget they were there. Power came from this stance, but it was primarily a defensive starting position. What followed were a series of quick jabs that utilized the back of her wrists and the pointed ends of both of her hands. She kicked and spun, taking very graceful stances that harkened once more to that mysterious avian that Keenava had studied during her time on Corellia during one of her more annoying moments of solitude. She had no choice but to pick up where she left off for fear of letting the silence aggravate her. Keenava had no such qualms now, but she still wanted to grow and didn’t like skills sitting unused. Her style was a hodgepodge of different styles that she'd watched her masters use, and she tried to incorporate things she studied and practiced—she looked to the animals, to the planet, and to the force itself to help make such things possible. Her studies even extended as far as to include multiple alien anatomies and their pressure points and nerve clusters. It created a fairly effective combo that could be used to be lethal or disable opponents. It also never failed to center her and work out her jitters whenever she felt cooped up. It was weak to use as a wholly aggressive tactic. To use it as such would underutilize its defensive capabilities and render the user vulnerable. That is why it was primarily used to defend, or ‘stun-and-run,' as she liked to say. The sun beat across her brow, but her heart was hammering away with an effervescent elation as her lekku moved in tandem with her arms, creating an ebony silhouette that flew like a dark silken gossamer, hugging the wind.