Ylesia

[Keenava Dira]

In a whirlwind of activity, Keenava was swept to a completely different planet; one that kind of reminded her of Ryloth. But this planet was a blur. Brown robes, white robes, uniforms, triage units, screaming, pain, fear, and death. Were Keenava tapped into the vitriol of her emotions as she’d been so many times before, she’d have doubled over in a fit as soon as they touched down. As it was, Keenava’s full purple eyes welled quietly. Silent tears kissed her cheeks as emotion built to a crescendo around her. Without sharing their stories, or looking into that mysterious well of cosmic energy that touched all living things, she could feel the ebb and flow of everything crash together like a hellish white water rapid, careening through the valley.

 

This is what the Sith conveniently ignored. They claimed to understand pain, and how to harness misery, but all they did was spread both. Pain begets pain, misery begets misery, and cruelty begets more cruelty. That’s how they build their numbers. They ruin people until there is nothing left but to fight.

 

Even that first night, the night when it all began, his words were nothing but pandering. His wolfish golden eyes feigned illusions of strength, and led her from one pair of shackles to the next.

 

Only now – ironically – standing parsecs away from anyone who knew her as a slave or as a monster, away from anyone that preached personal independence and liberation, did she feel any type of freedom.

 

Leena did mean well, but would I be welcome here in this place? Would people so easily accept me even changed as I am?

 

Before she could get an answer to that or other questions however, Ruin galumphed in a direction, drawing attention as he went through the throngs of battle fatigued masses. Keenava was half tempted to flee the other direction - the base of her hand firmly planted in the center of her bare forehead - lest her cover be blown so completely. But if she were to show trust in the process - foolish though it may be with this loud display - she needed to go all in. The Twi'lekk sighed audibly and tripped a little, keeping pace with the bot as it wove through the crowd. She had to fight to keep the poncho and her other makeshift garments from showing too much to anyone that passed by. But the accelerated pace and the unceremonious sentiment created several moments where her makeshift outfit did not conceal everything. 

 

And then, as quickly as he took off, the droid stopped in front of two individuals. One was a very young-looking... Nautolan? that stood a little shorter than Keenava did. And the other one, was a sandy blonde young woman who was even shorter. It was clear that the young woman was a little more experienced, due to the way she stood and her body language, not to mention the wide-eyed wonder in the Nautolan's eyes. It would be kind of cute if he wasn't in the middle of a river of chaos. 

 

Before Keenava could introduce herself, Ruin not only blurted out the word Sith, but also implied that she was a former enemy. Yes, because it was really smart to just announce that to a bunch of battle weary people while Keenava was barely clothed and posed absolutely no threat. 

 

This was probably the first time that Keenava had felt embarrassed. And it had nothing to do with the garments that were too lose to be worn properly. Her obsidian face reddened a little and paled a shade or two as her expression shifted into a very awkward smile and was accompanied by a matching awkward wave. "H-hhey... How are you?"

[Keenava Dira]

"T-That... that's a vocabulator glitch, right? You're no Sith,"

 

Keenava made no move to stop the young Nautolan from unclipping his lightsaber and standing nervously. 

"That's a very complicated question." she stammered, too ashamed to make direct eye contact with the young man.

 

On the surface it was hard to tell. She was wearing a beaten sand-covered poncho and some blankets that Leena tried to fashion into something resembling clothing. The whole ensemble made her look like some kind of beggar, which might not have been too far from the truth.

 

But underneath her clothes, was likely one of the only black-skinned Twi'lek that any of these people had ever seen. They were exceedingly rare and in high demand around the Outer Rim for all the wrong reasons. And, to others, they were an omen of death. At a young age people would often comment about her skin as if it were some curse; like her presence was going to bring a plague or famine.

 

Looking deeper still, you would find the cold detached memories of a former Sith Assassin, lingering in the void as if someone had cut them from the root to let them float away. Her corruption was gone; the cracks around her eyes, the fire burning inside her, and the broken identities that vied for power in her mind were all gone.

 

So yeah, it's complicated.

 

But looking into the blonde-haired human's green eyes, she could feel no threat or malice. It wasn't a warm welcome, but at least she didn't need to worry about taking a sudden saber to the back. And, after the constant fear of betrayal and death at the hands of any random Sith who was trying to prove themselves, it was kind of refreshing. Though it was still awkward.

"T-thank you... Sandy was it?" Keenava murmured softly.

 

Keenava followed instructions wordlessly and sat beside the two of them, the twi'lek's knees resting a few inches from the young Jedi Master as she took her first patient. The patient looked as if she'd been through hell. Keenava couldn't begin to assess what had happened to her body. But as Keenava watched Sandy, the twi'lek's pupils dilated and her heartbeat picked up. Curiosity drove her to examine every movement and every bit of the Jedi's technique, but she couldn't really see it. She could feel the pain of the woman and she could feel through the force that something was happening like a distant echo. But ever since she awoke in that slaver compound, her connection to the force felt like a flickering bulb. If she tried to increase the brightness of the bulb, her head would erupt in pain, pounding spikes right behind her eyes. She didn't want to use her emotions anymore - partly because she didn't feel as strongly as she did, and partly because it was through emotion that the Sith wielded the force - but she didn't know an alternative.

 

Still, the mosaic of the woman's life - Slavery, freedom, family, death, despair, agony - felt very familiar. The ache of history throbbed dully inside her, and she could almost feel the sigh of relief in the woman as the young master pulled her hope to the surface. 

 

“In life, even in the pain, there is love and there is joy to find solace in. From the smallest memory or love, or desire, they are enough to carry this woman through what is to come. And when she has recovered enough, she can choose for herself how to go forward.” 

 

Keenava didn't notice the quiet tears streaming down her face. She remembered her mother, and Seela. They were her hope. They were her joy. They carried her, and would likely continue to carry her through whatever life hit her with.

 

"I know this may seem like an odd question, given the circumstances. But do you have any clothes? These... aren't really comfortable." Keenava said, holding the poncho to her body, trying to avoid unintentionally flashing anybody. 

Edited June 27, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

Keenava caught the small Nautolan’s blush and giggled a little under her breath. His quick head movements suggested no small amount of embarrassment. From where he was looking, she presumed that he projected some need for modesty and dignity on to her, as most people in ‘civilized’ space would. When, in reality, the only reason she wanted better clothes was because these clothes were covered in sand and were damned uncomfortable. She’d become desensitized to how people viewed her physical form. If she had her way, she’d walk around naked. But many in the known universe viewed that as gauche. And she was pretty sure, if she were so daring, this little boy would’ve passed out from her brazen display, which was not something she needed or wanted.  

 

He departed briefly and returned with something that looked like a doctor’s outfit. Heh. What irony. Keenava reached out with one of her lekku and pat the Nautolan softly on the head.

       “Thank you… what did you say your name was?” Keenava replied, trying to avoid sounding patronizing. “You’re cute, and I appreciate the gesture, but I’d rather not masquerade as a doctor. I don’t think that sends the right message.”

 

        “Give the boy a break, Keenava. He means well, don’t he?” grumbled a gritty male-sounding voice from nearby. “Plus, it’s not like you’ll find much in the way of clothes out here.”

 

Keenava cocked an eyebrow, scanning around for the voice, and lit up when she noticed the old smuggler sitting on a stool nearby. 

       “Well, if it isn’t Malin Wrynn! To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” Keenava chimed, politely dismissing herself from Sandy and the Nautolan, moving to stand beside an older man with clothes the color of dirt. He looked back at the Twi with eyes of piercing blue. His hair was the color of a jet-black stone mixed with the grey-white of salt crystals, and he sat cross-legged with a wide-brimmed hat resting nearby.

 

         “Well, right now, I’m here tending to my cousin. She was part of the allied forces and she took a serious blow. I know they’ve plenty of doctors here, but she’s the only blood I got left.” Wrynn gazed somberly at a woman nearby who looked almost like he would if he were a woman and just a few years younger. “She’s been resting for a bit, but I think she’ll pull through.”

 

        “I *was* resting…” the female coughed as she shuffled in her cot to face Malin, a mixed look of vague irritation and familial exasperation creasing her features. She rolled her eyes playfully and winced, but tried to play it off with a smile; “Look, its my own little poltergeist.”

 

Malin scoffed, scratching his beard and attempting to adjust the position of a cigar that wasn’t there.

        “Heh, you’re lucky I ain’t no polter-whatsit. I’d be flinging hospital doodads all over the place.”

 

The woman laughed jovially though it looked like it hurt her with each quake of her chest. She adjusted her view to Keenava and her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when she caught a full-on view of the Twi’lek’s body from the open bottom of her poncho.

        "Good lord! You could put an eye out if you keep doin’ that. Go ahead and take my civvies, they’re over there on that chair. You’re welcome.”

 

Keenava looked over at the indicated chair where a neat stack of clothes lay slightly lopsided on the seat. “Okay.”

 

Without skipping a beat, Keenava’s hands were moving to remove her poncho, standing clear as day in the middle of the triage area like she wasn’t about to give a show to everyone. Malin gasped and moved to her side with the reflexes of a sharpshooter.

        “Heeeeeey, why don’t we do that over here in this here uhhh.... changing room.”

 

Malin grabbed his cousin’s clothes and followed behind Keenava as he corralled her into a private area away from prying eyes.

 

When she emerged, Keenava was wearing a loose-fitting, long sleeve, dark-gray, open-buttoned blouse with a small black shirt underneath. She had a beaten but sturdy black cloth belt around her waist that held up a baggy pair of darkened city-camo fatigue bottoms. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but they would do for now. She handed the coat and boots back to Malin and made her way back to the woman on the ground.

 

        “Thank you for the clothes. The boots were a little too big and the coat seemed… sentimental. It didn’t feel right wearing it.” Keenava said, nodding politely. “By the way, I don’t think I caught your name?”

 

        “Heh, you already got me outta my pants and now you wanna know my name?” The woman said, laughing heartily at her own joke before erupting in a fit of coughs. “It’s Helena, Helena Ortwind, and you’re welcome for the clothes.”

 

Keenava walked barefoot back to the Nautolan and Jedi Master wherever they ended up, and Malin settled back onto his stool at his cousin’s side.

 

Just when the circus seemed to mellow out, a 4-foot tall purple Togruta girl with a pilot hat on came sprinting to Malin’s side, goggles hanging forgotten around her neck, and an off-gold protocol droid trotted after her as quickly as her legs would go.

 

        “Captain! She won’t let me practice!” The purple Togruta announced, coming to a stop beside Malin.

 

    “I believe the ‘Captain’ clearly stated that we weren’t to ‘practice’ with the turrets or live ammunition while we’re landed, and in Alliance territory. Have you no consideration!?” The Protocol droid chirped with distinct irritation as she joined the group.

 

         “First of all, Shhh… people are trying to sleep. Second of all, Is that right Amy? Were you trying to do target practice while we’re parked?” Malin stated, a parental tone lacing the words

 

       “… … … no?” Amy remarked, doing everything she could to hide the smirk that clung to the edges of her face.

 

    “Yes, Captain Wrynn. Had I not caught her, she was ready to blow a hole in a waste disposal bin. Refuse and rubbish would’ve flown everywhere.” The droid’s vocabulator was in overdrive. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time she’d scolded the Togruta.

 

        “Relax. You think I would’ve had the weapon systems operable while she was alone on the ship? I’m not that irresponsible.” Malin chortled, a lopsided smile playing at the edges of his face.

 

Helena, Amy, and the protocol droid chuckled at him in unison.

 

Malin’s expression turned playfully flustered.

        “Hey, I’m not! That’s it, none of y'all get first choice of rations for a week!”

 

Amy proceeds to groan while Helena continues chuckling.

 

Keenava smiled warmly and turned back to the young Nautolan and Jedi Master.

        “Thank you for your kindness. I appreciate the gesture.” Keenava politely intoned as she handed the bundle of white hospital scrubs back to the boy.

 

Edited June 30, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

“Keenava Dira,” the Twi’lek responded.

 

It was in Keenava’s nature to keep an eye on her surroundings; an assassin needed to know every point of entry and exit; an assassin needed to know which details were necessary and which weren’t. Therefore she could feel the deflation of the young Nautolan and see as his head tentacles wilted ever so slightly. She took note of this display, ashamed not of what she did, but of how it made Mekuma feel. It was clear that he had wanted to help, and Keenava felt that that motivation was worth rewarding. Even if she had no idea how she was going to encourage the boy after rejecting his assistance.

 

Instead of dwelling, she opted to put a pin in that feeling, and turned her attention to the young Jedi Master as she continued further into the triage area toward more black tagged patients.

 

“Now we have many more patients to work with before the day is spent, and you will see death close at hand. Are you ready for that task?”

 

Was it respect, indifference, condescension, or just ignorance that led the young Jedi Master to think that Keenava hadn’t seen death? Maybe she was just being polite and not probing into her memories?

 

People that didn’t try to pry into your mind to figure out your darkest secrets at the earliest convenience, what’s that like?

 

Jokes aside, death wasn’t a groundbreaking concept for the former Sith.

 

Memories echoed in the cold clarity of her mind’s eye; pieces of stained glass that lingered in the mosaic of her recollection. They were distant fragile things that lacked the vibrance that formed them years ago. The deep, chilling blue of watching her mother’s weakened frame crumple in her adolescent hands, had diluted to the pale blue hue of glacial ice. The deep crimson that used to burn bright with each strike as Keenava committed patricide, wasn’t there. It was replaced with the faded maroon of dried blood; the red dust of decayed metal; a scar that refused to heal. But despite its persistence, the scar’s significance had faded to near nothing. Numb detachment clouded each recollection. All she felt now was regret. She felt regret for wasting her life following a path defined by others.

 

The only thing she didn’t regret, was something she chose to do herself. Killing him was a calculated act. And even with her newfound clarity, she couldn’t find the energy to be mad at herself for it. She could see the futility of it, the moral complications of it, but she could not bring herself to hate what she’d done. Because of him, she could never scour the tortured screams of her mother and sister from her mind; screams that, years ago, mirrored Keenava’s when her father sold her into slavery. She no longer held anger in her heart for him, but she did not miss or mourn him either. In fact, taking her mother’s surname was her last goodbye. It was a small rebellion, but it felt good to move on from that chapter of her life.

 

Keenava nodded, content to remain quiet for the time being. If Sandy didn’t see fit to bear the Twi’lek’s history publicly, Keenava would wait for a better time to share. She followed the pair of Jedi further into the triage area, feeling a little more than just out of place, and they stopped at a roughed-up marine with some serious wounds. The fetid aroma of charred flesh crashed into Keenava’s nostrils, followed closely by the smell of ozone. It was curious and familiar, but Keenava couldn’t put her finger on it. Instead, she tried to carefully reach out to the force--to do as Sandy had done before. But her head surged with pain as her brain smashed against her skull in revolt.

 

She tried to brush it off, but her right hand went to her head as a mostly covered wince tensed the features of her face.

Edited July 6, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

She caught the blonde Jedi Master’s warm smile and something in the Twi’lek’s mind clicked. She knows more than she’s letting on. It was a comforting thing. It was a gesture of respect that Keenava wasn’t sure she was worthy of, but one that she was thankful for.

 

From the stale air that hung between them after Sandy completed her demonstration, Keenava assumed that it was her and Meku’s turn to follow the Jedi’s example and find someone to treat. This was meant to be a lesson after all. They were meant to follow the instructions and guide someone to peace or treat their wounds… through the force… which was totally something she could do. Right. Easy. 

 

Keenava shuffled a few steps away from the other two, deliberately looking for a simple case to solve, doing her best to still her twitching lekku, because she wasn’t sure she could help. But all the black tag victims looked in a way Keenava knew a simple bandage would not fix. Severe burns, psychosomatic seizures, bouts of hysteria, paralyzation—and those were the lucky ones. Some were hollowed out or simply not there anymore. There was nothing left in their eyes. Without seeing the myriad afflictions through the force, she could still feel the agony swell like a brilliant crescendo to the crown of her head, which pounded with pain every time she tried to dig further. There was a magnitude of care she couldn’t provide, and she knew it.

 

Keenava slumped into a folding chair at the bedside of a patient who looked to be no more than eleven. The patient clutched a stuffed animal tightly to her chest, but her eyes were completely empty. She stared at the ceiling, expressionless, motionless, like someone had robbed her of that spark that all children seemed to have. It was tragic, and Keenava had no idea how to fix it. She sat silently and lowered her face into her hands, wincing as the pain in her head only got stronger. 

 

An older callused hand reached out and patted her on the back. Keenava started abruptly at the intrusion. But when she turned to look, she was greeted by a warm face and two pale blue eyes. A Cerean was standing beside her chair. He was of modest height with a brilliant white beard and a matching tuft of hair atop his coned head. Without asking, or waiting for an answer, the Cerean pulled over another folding chair to sit beside the troubled Twi’lek. 

 

“What seems to be the problem?” He observed, his tone measured and concerned.

 

“What makes you think there’s a problem?” Keenava countered defensively. 

 

“Well, you’ve been muttering to yourself, and your hand has been on your head frequently over the last few minutes. So, either you keep getting the same bug landing on your forehead again and again, or you have a pain in your head, which could potentially stem from some unresolved issue. Now whether that is due to a chemical imbalance or something deeper, I am unsure. Hence the reason why I asked the question.” The Cerean started back without a hint of hesitation; his smile just as big as it had been before.

 

Keenava looked over at Meku and Sandy, as if to confirm they weren’t listening, then let her gaze shift back to the Cerean. Her eyes drifted downward and her lekku seemed to droop a little. “It’s a long story.”

 

“I have time.” The Cerean’s pale blue eyes were open and inquisitive. His body language suggested something of a counselor; it was open and inviting. He made room without physically moving aside, as if to encourage confession without verbally indicating it.

 

Keenava quietly filled the Cerean in on what had happened over the last couple of days down to every detail she could remember. By the end, she was somewhat surprised by how forthcoming she’d been. She looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow. “Do people regularly share their baggage with you?” 

 

The Cerean chuckled, “no. Normally I have to try a little harder. But I like helping people so I don’t mind. Would you be okay if I tried to help you?”

 

Keenava sat in silence for a few moments. She wasn’t really sure what was going on. She was sure she could trust Sandy and the people here, but she wasn’t sure if she could communicate her problems effectively enough, let alone whether or not people would be able to figure out exactly what was wrong. But, at the end of the day, if this person could help her, what did she have to lose? “Alright. Why not?”

 

“Good. First things first. Please join me on the ground.” 

 

The Cerean carefully slipped from his folding chair and sat cross-legged on the ground. Keenava followed suit shortly after and only slightly began to wonder what she’d gotten herself into.

 

“Now,” the Cerean began with an even, practiced tone, “First I want you to close your eyes and breathe. I want you to focus on breathing in and out over and over; in through your nose and out through your mouth. Then, as you feel the blood in your body begin to slow, I want you to begin clearing the cobwebs from your mind. I want you to discard every random thought both intrusive and mundane. I want you to empty your mind.”

 

Keenava sat and followed his instructions quietly. She tried to sift through every doubt, regret, and source of shame she’d felt over the last few days. When they were all collected, she dumped them into a metaphorical waste bucket and felt somehow… lighter? 

 

“No-” 

 

“Shhhh… don’t speak for now.” The Cerean’s words were gentle and felt like they were getting farther away.

 

“Second, with your newly emptied mind, I want you to gather everything that you remember about yourself - past and present. I want you to gather everything that you felt, everything that you saw. I want you to gather every sensory experience you can, and I want you to make it all into a comprehensible being. By the end of this I want you to see a reflection of yourself sitting before you in your mind; not a ‘bad’ or a ‘good’ one, but simply a reflection of yourself.”

 

Keenava’s brows knit in pain, but she began to see the outline of her former self. Burning ruby eyes looked back at her. Her prosthetic leg glowed in the dim light and her old tattoos rose powerfully to the surface of her skin which was as black as tar. This ‘reflection’ Keenava also carried heavy scarring on her face and body; tendrils of shadow clung to her that the real Keenava had never seen before. Her expression was that of barely contained rage, waiting to spring to the surface. Her fists were at her hips; she was ready to pounce.

 

“I don’t thi-” 

 

“Don’t think, just see. And don’t speak, just listen,” the Cerean said, his voice echoing a warning in her mind.

 

“I trust your comment means that you’ve finished your reflection. Good. It’s time for the hard part. Now  that you’ve created this shadow of yourself, I want you to embrace it.” The Cerean’s words continued to echo ethereally from everywhere around her all at the same time.

 

Keenava’s brows continued to knit together, but this time with incredulity. He wants me to do what? 

 

The real Keenava, keeping her eyes closed, tried to get to all fours and shuffle a little closer. The reflection hissed at her though it didn't move. The reflection was being held back by something Keenava couldn’t see. She tried to shuffle a little more, but the hissing continued. She looked back and forth, trying to find a good angle, but she found nothing. She needed to go all in. Keenava rushed forward, preparing to meet any and all hazard, wincing hard in preparation for something she wasn’t sure of. But nothing came; nothing except a small tingle that traced the outline of Keenava’s right shoulder.

 

“... I want you to tell her that everything will be okay…” 

 

Keenava repeated the instruction and a warm sensation began to bloom in her chest. 

 

“... I want you to tell her that her pain is valid and that she has worked for far too long…”

 

Keenava continued what she was instructed to repeat, and could feel the warm sensation begin to grow, and a weight begin to lift.

 

“... and finally, I want you to let her go. I want you to accept everything she is. Because everything she is, made you who you are today. It doesn’t define you. But denying who you are, and running from yourself isn’t getting you anywhere. I don’t want you to celebrate your shortcomings, but I want you to accept that they happened. I want you to accept who you were and thus who you are. You can only be the sum of your parts, and any less than that is a disservice to you as a person... Now, open your eyes.”

 

Keenava felt herself following the last instructions as if on auto-pilot. And when she opened her eyes, she swore she could see her reflection for the briefest second; it's eyes were streaked with tears, and it wore a smile on it's face that somehow took away from the corrupted  picture she saw before. It looked scared. It looked alone.

 

The Cerean was standing now, looking down at the Twi’lek with a wan smile. “How do you feel?”

 

Keenava’s mouth worked without sound for a few seconds before the tears that had been rimming her eyes began to fall. “H-h-how did you do that?” Keenava mumbled quietly. 

 

“I didn’t do anything.” The Cerean responded, resting a careful hand on her shoulder.

 

“What you discussed with me is something I recognized as a trauma response. Something terrible happened in your past – maybe several things. And even though you had been separated from the feelings that made everything so traumatic, you were still reacting as if you’d been traumatized. You shoved everything away to defend yourself from being vulnerable because it’s that very vulnerability that you were and are afraid of. The many parts of yourself that existed in the past, existed to save you from being vulnerable. And now that you have clarity enough to realize that vulnerability, your subconscious is reflexively protecting you from the world around you. It’s afraid you’re going to regress back to the shadow that you were. That fear was such an intrinsic part of you that it was effectively in every extrinsic part of your life. But what you just did is the first--and hardest--step toward healing, and I’m glad you did it.”

 

Keenava’s chest trembled. She felt a wave of chaos whoosh back into her that felt very familiar. But instead of exploding like she’d done many times before, she held her hand close to her chest and braced. She wasn’t that person anymore. She would not follow that path. This was her choice. 

 

A piece of a puzzle that she didn’t know was missing, snapped into place as Keenava rose to her feet. 

 

“Now, before we conclude this moment my friend, I want to discuss with you something else you mentioned. You mentioned something about having difficulties feeling the force and I wanted to elucidate what I have learned in my not so small time in this galaxy.” The Cerean began in what was obviously a practiced lecture voice. “The force is not some simple collection of energy that one can draw through their body by only one means. The force is in all living things; it is all around us. Sure, the Sith would have you believe that using and harnessing your emotions with the force is the only way to do it. And it certainly is a very powerful way to do it. However, tying yourself so closely to the force with something so inherently yours - like your emotions - can carry a heavy mental and emotional toll. And, depending on how you use the force, you can inflict physical damage upon yourself. When you use the energy of every living thing to destroy and taint, you exact an equal price on yourself that accumulates over time. It is this price that eventually erodes the body and makes it harder to stop. Another way you can channel the force is simply that, by channeling it.”

 

Keenava’s brows creased as she concentrated on the message, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of what he meant by 'channel' it; at least not in a way that differed from Sith practices.

 

“How about this,” the Cerean continued, acknowledging the consternation written across Keenava’s face. “Imagine if you will that you are a river bed that stretches far and wide. Now, imagine that the force is the ocean. What you want to do is let the water from the ocean flow through your river bed and out to the other side. Or, slightly differently put, you’re a dam that controls and shifts the level and direction of the current as it flows down the river bed. Your job isn’t to put your own intensity into it, you simply guide it and shift it to where you need it to go. If you take a deep breath and practice what I’ve described, you’ll find that the force never left you.”

 

Keenava nodded and took a moment to close her eyes and breathe. She tried to imagine a river bed. She tried to imagine fish, and soil, and rocks. Yet instead, she ended up with a large tube. It was not the end she intended, but it was a vessel and would serve the same purpose. Next came the water. The Twi'lek tried to shift her stance and feel the water as it flowed steadily through her imaginary tube. It was hard to imagine what the water felt like as it rushed past her and into the wide-faced opening. But her whole body felt cold. Eventually small effervescent tingling sensations began to tickle her fingertips, and she could feel the air in the room shift. She could hear, smell, see, and feel the world again. Her head wasn’t pounding anymore. She let the feeling spread through her hand and up into her arms. It was a gentle floaty feeling. It was different than she was used to. It felt alien and yet somehow familiar.  

 

A moment of silence passed as she processed everything that had happened.

 

“Thank you doesn’t feel like enough.” Keenava sighed when she could finally manage the words.

 

“And it is not needed. By the way, has anyone ever told you that your purple eyes are lovely?” the Cerean said gently. 

 

She smiled. “No they haven’t. And I don't think I ever properly introduced myself! My name is Keenava.”

 

The Cerean nodded, “Greetings Keenava, my name is Kro’Roene’Givrah, pleased to meet you. I wish you luck in your future endeavors”

 

With a deep bow, Roene turned on his heel and walked to the nearest not black-tagged patient.

 

Keenava shifted her focus to the girl clutching the doll to her chest that lay on a grav-gurney nearby. And, with the force tingling at her fingertips once more, she gently held the young girl’s free hand. She spread warmth from the core of her chest, through the length of her arm, and out the tips of her fingers.

 

She whispered softly, close to the little girl’s silent form. “I’ve lost too little one. But you and I, we need to keep living. They would want that. We need to keep moving forward one step at a time. There are still people who care for you. You’re going to be okay.” 

 

Keenava saw after images of a bigger woman laying sprawled on the ground, and the girl crying at her side. It slid like a spike into her back, but she held fast. She embraced the young girl and turned the hazy specter of the girl to face her, realizing that it was not the little girl but the face of her mother staring back at her. Another bucket of ice hit the core of her brain, but she would not be deterred. “You say to them that I’m going to keep living. If not for them, then for myself.”

 

Her mother’s beatific purple eyes were creased by a deep smile that spread from cheek to cheek. Tears glistened, freshly fallen, across her serene expression.

 

With a start, the little girl woke up and choked for a few seconds before grabbing the Twi’lek back and sobbing uncontrollably. Keenava rested a hand on the girl’s back and lightly cooed, “shhh, it’ll be okay. I’ll stay here as long as you need. Alright?” 

 

The little girl looked up at her, brown eyes glossy and tired, “You promise?” 

 

“I’ll do what I can. I do have other things to do, but right now my mission is to make sure you’re okay. So I get to stay here until you feel better. Doctor’s orders.” Keenava said, a sweet smile spreading across her face. 

 

The little girl smiled a little before leaning against her and tearing up again. 

 

Edited July 14, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

Keenava saw Sandy’s gesture from where she sat. But getting up elicited a sharp draw of breath from the youth that still clung to her. Keenava’s right hand rested atop the young girl’s quaking head, doing what she could to quell the tide of tears peeling down her cheeks. The girl had a lot of emotions to go through and Keenava didn’t want to abandon her. She made a promise.

 

The Twi’lek bent her head, smiling at the girl and a silent moment of tension passed between them as Keenava considered what to do. But she reassured the girl by giving her small hand a squeeze. Then Keenava turned to share a wink with someone nearby, and something seemed to shift in the air a few feet away. A few moments later, Roene, the Cerean that assisted Keenava earlier, appeared from between a row of grav-gurneys and took in the sight with a knowing expression.

 

      “Hello little one,” Roene said with a calm gentle chord to his deep baritone voice. The Cerean’s eyes quickly scanned the young patient’s documents and his face brightened up. “I know someone who is waiting for you in the next tent over. Would you like to come with me?”

 

The little girls’ beautiful blue eyes, filled with glassy tears, addressed the Cerean with all the confidence she could muster. “No one. I have no one. My m-m-mother…”

 

The little girl’s tears redoubled and Roene’s face softened visibly. 

 

      “It’s not your mother. No. But your father has been worried sick. He’s been trying to see you for the past hour. Do you want to go see him?” Roene’s words were careful. He gently placed a hand on the young girl’s shoulder and watched patiently as she leaned into his consolation. 

 

      “My d-dad? He’s still alive?” She said, choking the words through staccato sobs. “I thought I lost him a long time ago.”

 

Roene smiled broadly and bowed his cone head toward her, slightly squeezing her shoulder. 

      “I assure you, your father is alive and well and he’s been looking for you ever since he learned we had you under medical examination.” 

 

The girl’s eyes lit and she looked at Keenava with an apology written across her little face. 

      “I need to go see him. I need to. Will you come with me?” She pleaded, gripping at her sides. 

 

Keenava shook her head softly. 

      “Unfortunately, Master Sarna has requested my presence. But Roene here is a friend of mine. He’ll take care of you. You go see your Dad and I’ll check on you later, okay?” 

 

The little girl’s sad expression deepened with the furrow of her brow, but you could see the acceptance gilding the edges of her face. 

      “I know. Grown up stuff. But you better come see me.” 

 

Keenava smiled. “I will.”

 

With a hop, the girl transferred her hand to Roene and followed him toward the other side of the medical area. Keenava mouthed the words ‘Thank you’ at the Cerean who returned them with ‘you’re welcome’ before disappearing in the din of the heavily populated medical space.

 

Keenava dusted off her cargo pants a moment before accompanying Sandy and Meku. She topped a plate with a smattering of meat-based food and settled at the table just as Sandy hit the two of them with a very loaded question: “So tell me about yourselves. What brings you here and what are you trying to become?” 

 

      “Umm… how much do you really want to know?” Keenava responded. “I don’t know if you really want to hear everything about me. As to who I want to become? That’s… I’m not sure.” 

 

In truth, Keenava just wanted to not be what she’d been before. She wasn’t a stranger to the dark. Many made it clear that they didn’t want her broken mind, and that she needed to hide, and mask herself to everyone. She learned to be ashamed of her mind, and what she’d done. She ran away from her past, and what she once was. She wanted love, but watched as some facsimile of obsession consumed her, and then tried to hide behind the fallout. But she wasn’t going to let anyone break her. There had to be a place for her to just be her, whatever that was.

 

When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, gonna send a flood gonna drown 'em out,

I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I’m meant to be, this is me.

 

      “I think it might be safer to say that I used to be a Sith. And that, despite the darkness of my past, I want to be better than I was. I want a chance to live the life that my mother dreamed for my sister and me. Whether that means I become a Jedi and provide a sense of safety and justice to the galaxy, or I learn to control the force from the Jedi so that I’m not a hazard to myself or others, I’m not entirely sure. I just know that I am done with that life.” Keenava intoned after finishing off a small cut of meat.

 

      “As to who I am and what I’ve done. If you want all of that information you’re going to need more time, and a lot more patience.” Keenava smiled a little, but the recollection wasn’t something she was giddy to exchange. "And I got here because Leena gave me a ride."

 

[Keenava Dira]

Keenava finished tearing the flesh from her meaty entrée with her teeth and took a moment to wipe at her mouth with the closest napkin-like utensil she could find. She patiently listened to Sandy's words and bowed her head gently at appropriate moments. She even preened a little when the young woman told her how proud she was. It was odd; she felt feather-light tingles brush at the tips of her fingers, and her lekku twitched ever so slightly at Sandy's words even when they both knew very little of each other. But compliments were not things the Twi'lek got very often, so anything positive was either regarded with suspicion or admiration. It all depended on intention. And Sandy was not expressing any level of condescension. Her praise was genuine.

 

Her request, however, was far from simple. It wasn’t like Keenava had anything to hide, but maybe she didn’t need to go into every knitty gritty detail.

 

"Well, to know about my past, you may need to understand a few things that you may find difficult, or you may not fully relate to due to your time with the Jedi. For instance, No one is born a Sith. No one comes into the world wanting to cause harm. Well… The vast majority don’t. I can’t account for every baby in the galaxy and all potential conditions.” Keenava took a small meditative breath and clasped her fingers together upon the cold steel of the table. “Regardless… the vast majority of Sith only become Sith due to pain, trauma, loss, or some disconnection from the rest of the galaxy. In their desperate cry, they search for strength and that strength isn’t usually offered by the Jedi. At least, it hasn’t been.”

 

“My story started years ago when I was sold into slavery to settle a debt. I was the first to be sold, followed by my sister, and my mother. But I fought to be first in the hopes that I might protect them from the same fate.” Keenava felt a burning line build on the rim of her eyes as her story continued, telling her of tears that were fighting to the surface. She stifled the impulse. “It was years before I saw them again. And when I did, I was forced to witness my mother’s death while others looked on and laughed. Thankfully, my sister never had to see that. But that moment broke me. I lost all touch with who I was, what I was, and where I was… And it wasn’t until the darkness found me that I had any purpose. The darkness offered hope. Hundreds of thousands of slaves went years without ever having hope. The Jedi didn’t see or know where they were, whether that was due to other issues or just not being able to save all the souls in the galaxy, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the Jedi’s fault, but their inaction led to possibility. And for people like me, I was easy to take advantage of.”

 

“Masters came and went: Jzora Scorpio, Julio Furion, and Exodus. Each discarded me when they grew tired of me. But through all that, I learned who I was. I mastered the common, Twi'leki, and Huttese languages. I learned many subjects and taught myself a great many things. But it was all hollow. I engaged in the petty Sith squabbles and did many stupid things. I even got into a fight with a woman named Ailbasi Zirtani. That was the last stupid fight I got into before I died; truly died. We all know how prolific cloning is in the Galaxy even if the expense isn’t always worth it. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know a single soul that had my DNA. I went a long time floating in nothing. But something felt odd, right before I came back… like a bright burning blue flame casting away the shadow that had embraced me for so long. And when I woke up a few days ago, I felt like a big arm had just wiped the slate clean. I felt like I was given a chance to start over. And this time, I was going to do what I could to make a better choice.”

 

Keenava sighed. “Apparently some slaver had won my DNA over a game of Sabaak from one of my dad’s old contacts. I was touted as a rare specimen with a valuable skin defect. Black skinned Twi’leks due tend to have a bigger price. They kept me on drugs for several days and it wasn’t until I woke up in a dancer’s dress that I had any idea where I was.”

 

“Reflecting on my experience now, I wouldn’t say that the Dark is an addiction. I’d say it’s a curse. The great irony of it is that, as a people, we fought to free ourselves from the shackles of duty, obligation, honor, integrity, slavery, morality, etc. But in the end, we traded our shackles for another set. The dark side cripples you. While it grants you power, it clips your wings and creates the illusion of safety. It creates that appeal that you call an addiction, but its so much worse. Empty promises, betrayals, power struggles, egos the size of oceans; that and more were the day to day with my contemporary Sith. Even if I never become a Jedi master, I never want to go back.”

 

Keenava’s face was liberally speckled with tears that left slightly darker lines upon her obsidian skin. Her expression was solemn, and her body language was numb. It wasn’t everything, but this would at least give them both some context.

Edited September 5, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

As Keenava spoke, she kept an eye on the young Jedi. Not much changed. But something dark crept across the young woman’s emerald eyes. Instinctively the Twi’lek reached out to one of Sandy’s hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. They shared a silent moment before Sandy spoke again, the young master’s smile reflected upon Keenava’s face.

 

… “If you saw these old masters before you now, say if Exodus walked through those doors behind you, what would you do? Would you seek revenge for your treatment?” 

 

The sound of his name tickled the ends of every vertebra as it worked its way down her back. What would he think? And would she seek revenge? Warring forces in her mind attempted to persuade her, but she had more control now. It wouldn’t go their way anymore. Keenava took a moment to visualize the Sith Master. She took a moment to visualize all her former masters to the best of her limited ability; Jzora in her haughty disguise, Furion with his wolfish smile and glowing golden eyes, and Exodus the brooding spider that tried to shape her to his own end. They all stood there in that space, glaring at Keenava from over Sandy’s shoulders. Exodus was furious, his muscles taut and ready to strike; Furion was disappointed, his golden eyes cast downcast, and his frame conflicted on what to do next; Jzora was uninterested, her body language indicated strongly that she had everywhere better to be than here. Yet, oddly, Keenava felt nothing.

 

The only hint of emotion was a single tear when her gaze fell upon Furion. But save that one gesture, she couldn’t spare the same vibrance of emotion she once had for him. It appeared as if her affection was based solely on his power over her. And now, though he was still very powerful, his influence was gone. Exodus’ presence was unquestionable, but the force behind it was the light of a candle that had nearly burned out; furiously pushing outward with the intent to change, and – in the end – having very little effect on its surroundings. Jzora’s time had been so long ago that Keenava had forgotten her connection to her. She remembered her appearance and mannerisms, but it was like she was looking at a stranger.

 

Keenava hummed softly to herself, her lips quirking back into a half-smile. “I can’t possibly know what they’d do to me. But I can confidently say that I would not seek revenge if I ever saw them again. In fact, the only monster I ever swore revenge against is gone. My father.”

 

Keenava’s expression sank. “The man robbed me of my choice to have a normal life. He took my mother from me and traumatized my sister and me. I confronted him a while ago and killed him. Maybe he’ll come back. Maybe someone cares enough to clone him. I’m not sure, nor do I care. The physical act severed any bond I have with him. He doesn’t get to be part of my life or my sister’s life. He was the reason I didn’t get a choice. There are monsters that take and take and take, but if I had had a choice, I wouldn’t have been there in first place. I stared into his cold, hate-filled eyes and cursed him in the name of my mother. Hours later, in a safe house I was using at the time, I burst into tears. Finally, it was over.”

 

Keenava sighed, letting go of Sandy’s hand and looking briefly into the distance. “He’s not a particularly pleasant part of my past, but what’s done is done. Anything you wanted to share?” Keenava said softly, quirking an eyebrow.

Edited September 28, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

     There’s truth to what they say: misery loves company; and broken people find others who are broken.

 

     Keenava felt the squeeze; a hand gesture; a pulse of hope and assured security that passed quietly between them. She felt the trust, new though it was, and smiled a little before Sandy began her tale.

 

     The young Jedi Master raised one of her pale hands, and Keenava was surprised by the damage. An illustrated tapestry of woe streamed across her white skin. A myriad of emotions bloomed at the sight. Her words wove with the branches of scar tissue that were still visible. And with every new revelation, Keenava moved a micrometer closer to the edge of her seat. 

 

      Every colorful swirl of pain drew their experiences closer together, which was something she never thought of. Until now, she never understood that a future with the Jedi was possible. With how broken she was, she concluded a future with the Sith was inevitable. But this young woman persisted. Sandy pushed forward regardless of her pain and managed to avoid losing herself to it. Even as close to it as she was, the evidence winding up and down her wrists, she avoided destruction. Sandy was one of the strongest people Keenava had ever met. 

 

     It was one thing to feel pain and hatred; all people do. It’s a natural part of life.    

 

      It was quite another thing to embrace everything else and persist to spite it. The embrace of the dark is tempting, it’s easy. You want to seek revenge, you want to push past your peers, you want to rise above your abusers, you want to seek strength to free you from expectation. You want to feel loved, you want to feel like you matter, you want to find validation. But what do you need? 

 

      You never seek to resolve those lingering feelings, or to process them in a healthy way. They become ancient barnacles that cling to a sinking ship as your everything sinks into an unhealthy miasma until you’re left gasping in the dark with no way out.

 

      Keenava reached out, touching Sandy’s scarred hand gingerly. She ran her callused fingers soft over the branched scars. Every branch an echo of pain; the trails of tears that were shed in futility. A single tear slid across the Twi'lek's obsidian skin as she looked deep into the forest of Sandy’s eyes. She clasped the Jedi's hand between both of hers and felt a wan smile tug at the edge of her cheeks. 

 

      “Thank you for sharing. I know it's hard and I’m glad you opened up.”

 

Edited October 20, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

Friend. It was a strange word, and an even stranger feeling.

 

     It hung leaden on the shelf of her mind for so long, unused or taken for granted. But now there were not one but two people who granted her clemency—people who, until recently, would have likely dispatched her without hesitation.

 

     They were looking at her expectantly. But there was no weight to it. The feeling was warm. It was like the tingly sensation you get holding your hand against a budding flame—not the feeling you get when you let your hand sit right above the flame—but the building sensation that rose as you held your open palms beside a blaze. It was careful and considerate. It was warm without burning into a chaotic inferno.

 

A silent tear rubbed the obsidian cheek of the Twi’lek as she nodded quietly to their proposal.

 

     "Of course, Sandy, and of course I’d be happy to accompany you both. Heck, I’m super eager to get moving. I’ve been sitting down for way too long." Keenava replied. She rose to her feet and immediately felt the blood rush straight into her lekku. She noticed the world spinning for a brief moment but remained steady. "Oh!" Keenava exclaimed, "there is something I have to take care of first, but I’ll be right back!"

 

     After allowing the blood to settle in her protesting brain tails, the Twi’lek vaulted gently over the mess hall table into a neat flip and threaded her body gracefully between two soldiers that were walking by. She kicked her body into standing and maneuvered her way out of the mess hall toward the medical tents.

 

     Minutes passed before Keenava returned with a slight smile tugging at her face and a faint bounce in her step. “That little girl from before says ‘Hi,’ Sandy.”

 

     Keenava paused, abruptly noticing the Togruta in their group for the first time, and wondered whether they’d been there the whole time or if they’d arrived after she left. Regardless, Keenava was now bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready and willing to go as soon as everyone else was. Sitting down for a long time had really made her antsy. Now that she was up, her limbs were eager to move.

[Keenava Dira]

"...Falleen…you in?" 

 

Keenava wordlessly nodded in affirmation to Sandy before quietly excusing herself.

 

          The Twi’lek shuddered a little as the warm tropical clime tickled her exposed face. Hundreds of small needles pushed silent electricity beneath her skin, pulsing in and out with different magnitudes and frequencies. She flexed her toes, feeling her callused feet move against the warm topsoil. She bounced gently on her feet and rowed her neck first to the left, then to the right. She extended each hand to its fullest and then let each finger rest as she shook her hands back and forth at the wrist.

 

Faleen. Jzora.

 

          Keenava had no idea where Jzora was from. But that word was still echoing through her head. It was a word on the holonet: a woman who looked just like Jzora. And though she recalled so little of her former... master? That word brought a flood of vivid memories to the forefront of her mind. Roene told her to accept all that she was. It was key to touching the force again. So, dangerous though it might be, she let the memories play one after the other, refusing to omit any detail.

 

          Kheldar. Bekka. Ronin. Chaos, water, flame-retardant foam, and a seedy but reliable bar in the middle of Coruscant’s most popular district. Fresh from her escape and with her stolen identity in place, Lallu was vulnerable, susceptible, and alone. She was surrounded by people—some of the most notable people in the galaxy that she didn’t know or recognize until much later—but so alone in a world that was seconds away from picking her up and throwing her back into hell. She shrouded herself in a need for validation because that was all she had. Broken was her balm, because her brain knew no better. Then she entered, while scraps of clothing threatened to reveal everything Lallu had on display.

 

          It was time for Jzora to put on her best game face and flirt the pretty little thing out of what remained of her damaged clothes. Jzora was a skilled seductress, heir to a legacy of cold-blooded passion fueled by will-enslaving pheromones. This would be epic; there would be poems and songs...

 

          "You look pretty... pretty."

 

What followed was a drug-induced haze. But, with a clear perspective, Keenava could make out more details than before.

 

          Titans of shadow surrounded her. Shadowlord. Alora. Raynuck. Starri. Exodus. Kakuto. Lucifer. Emily… Furion. Legends of Sith that would defy generations to come gathered to listen and learn from each other.

 

          "From history, we must learn this lesson. The Jedi, for all their vaunted wisdom, fear what lies at the core of every man and woman. They fear not being able to control the darkness that lies within them, and in turn, they completely shut themselves off to it. And this is where you and I differ. As Sith, we are not afraid of our inner darkness. No, indeed, we embrace it; we embrace what makes us unique because that’s what makes us strong. Let me take a moment to reflect on the code many of you have heard countless times."

 

          The irony is that he was right. The fear of oneself has the power to destroy. The fear of what you’re capable of can turn you against yourself. And the fear of how others will see your darkness will make you shut it off from the world, holding it in and letting it consume you. It is through accepting and understanding who you are—all of you—that you can find strength.

 

A calloused hand glided across the soft skin of her cheek.

 

I'll find you later.

 

          A blur of time whirled across her vision, and she was there in a cell. The construction wasn’t important. It was like all the others. But this cell was where she met him. Deep in the bowels of Coruscant, those golden eyes pierced the night. The deepest depth could not smother the gold that she could still see as clear as day.

 

                 "…My path is dangerous and uncertain. You may question my methods and my choices. You will certainly question my intent, but I will tell you this only once: You will know both what I tell you and what you can figure out for yourself. Never expect me to tell you everything. Follow me, and I will lead you to the freedom your heart craves."

 

But to what end? And was it really freedom? Or was it delusion and obsession?

 

          Keenava gasped. Her heart rate spiked slightly, but nothing else changed. The pain she felt was like that of a lost limb. It was a shadow of her passion, but it still bit at her every time she saw his eyes.

 

She

fell…

 

Coruscant ran

past her face in a flash of light.

 

She shot into the depths like a missile with one goal in mind.

 

          A simple, subtle catalyst that served as a breaking point between security and bliss pushed her into a downward spiral, down into the womb of Coruscant’s chaotic energy and turmoil. She was consumed by the spine of the world, by the energy of her own will held back, by his energy, and by the euphoria that came with letting go, but her body couldn’t contain it all. She had to let it…

"HOW DARE YOU?" Lallu exclaimed. "HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME THAT WAY AFTER ALL THIS TIME. I trusted you! I thought I knew you! Then you betrayed me, my mother, and my sister!"

 

          She slammed him into the left wall with a violent shake.

 

"I HAD TO WATCH MY MOTHER DIE! YOU KRIFFING SCHUTTA!"

 

She slammed her father into the right wall and listened as his arms broke against the durasteel.

 

Her tone calmed a little, but the intensity of her eyes never halted, and the blade of her lightsaber glowed with brilliant golden fire. "This isn’t mercy. I want you to die slowly. I want you to feel every agonizing moment like I did. I want you to see, hear, smell, and taste every pain and indecency I was forced to feel. And I want you to hear my cries. Because it's all your fault!"

 

          Lallu slammed her father to the ground in front of her and fed upon the sound of his spine breaking. She projected the last twenty years of pain and suffering into his form. She didn’t let up. He screamed in agony with every torment he went through, and when he finished reliving her past, she could hear pounding coming from the door to the penthouse. She idly ignored it. Her attention was on him.

 

"COME SEE THE MONSTER YOU CREATED, YOU DESPICABLE WASTE OF EXISTENCE!!!" Lallu said, driving the golden blade of her lightsaber into every part of his body. Each stab was slow but deliberate. Each stab signified another act of indecency, and each stab ended with another satisfying cry of pain.

 

“... I need you to be strong.”

 

 

          But why did strength come from misery? Why did strength come from pain?

 

In the end, just like his life, his death meant nothing. And her display of strength was that of a toddler lashing out at her father, twenty years or more past due.

 

          Keenava stirred, emerging from her reverie with a brow coated in sweat. Her teeth were tight, and she released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She could see different pieces of her stained glass window standing before her, like liquid mirrors, beyond the veil; beyond reality. 

 

          Kana. Kara. Kava. Lallu. Ulanna. Ootunavi. Zythma. Every color was an error, every jagged edge was a sham, and every scrap of texture was a reflection of the depravity inherent in every alter.

 

          She stood tall among the fragments, a quiet challenge echoing in her expression. But the fragility of her thoughts belied a deeper doubt. 

 

Just a few years ago... This was me. Technically, this is still me. 

 

          A frisson ran the length of her spine. She opened her amethyst eyes and looked out toward the Exalted Mountains.

 

"What will it take for me to go back? Will knowing I am capable of it help me avoid it?" Keenava muttered anxiously to herself.

 

          Keenava’s brow knit in consternation. Will going to Falleen put us in danger?

 

      Sandy, who’d been respectfully monitoring the Twi’lek during her solitude, noticed the conflict and approached carefully. She gently lifted her scarred hand and held on to Keenava’s as it shook at her side.

 

She gave no preamble. She had no expectations. And the reaction was almost immediate.

 

Like an anchor in troubled waters, Keenava’s ship steadied. The shared scars tethered her nerves, reminding her of the world around her.

 

Whatever she did or whoever she was, she needed to do it and be it to get here. Lessons were learned, and every step was a step forward.

 

Keenava affected a half-smile as she turned her amethyst eyes to look at the forest in Sandy's gaze. "I’m ready now. Let’s get going... and... thank you."

Edited December 1, 2022 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

Keenava was ready to go, but something felt... off

 

She gave Master Sarna’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before wandering through the camp. The sensation she felt in the force was a mystery, yet oddly familiar. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, it led her on an elaborate series of paths that meant stopping at irregular intervals. She couldn’t tell whether it was a good call or a foreboding one. Regardless, it led her all the way to a mysterious, scrawny individual who had a massive crate of what looked like junk sitting beside him. He was discussing things with a small robed figure that Keenava couldn’t see because its back was turned.

 

But the man wasn’t it. It was the crate beside him.

 

Something was here. Something had called her here.

 

There… 

 

Slightly obscured but still visible near the top of the junk pile was the glint of a familiar jewel. Keenava’s insides wrenched at the prospect. But, in the end, despite its torrid past, it was made for her.

 

Keenava waited until the robed figure—who turned out to be a merry little jawa—walked away before approaching the scrawny figure and his junk.

 

     "Hello, sir, I believe you have something of mine," Keenava started with cautious confidence. She pointed to the jewel near the top of the pile.

 

     "That’s entirely possible; I’m a scavenger; I collect all sorts of things." The man replied with nonchalance. But his emerald green eyes screamed of a deeper understanding than he was letting on. His mop of salt and pepper hair was long and braided. His beard was big, but well groomed. He looked to be almost 60 years old, but his attitude and countenance suggested a youthful exuberance.

 

He reached into the pile and revealed a corroded-looking metallic canister. The handle was covered in rags and bandages, and her mother’s jewel stood out at the base. 

"You’re in luck. I wasn’t able to sell it. People were wary of it, saying it gave them the heebie-jeebies or something.”

 

The man handed it over without batting an eye.

 

The familiar metal felt at home in her hands, but the shadow within burned against her palm. She quickly extracted her old force crystals and threw them on the ground like they were violent suns threatening to melt the skin from her bones. Afterward, the metal was quiet and the weapon was inoperable. But the chassis sang a quiet tune of joy at their reunion.

 

The old scavenger picked the crystals off the ground and chucked them into his box. 

 

Keenava raised an eyebrow in response to the cavalier gesture. 

      "You don’t want anything for it?"

 

The man smiled. 

      "Oh, I never give anything out for free. But, in a way, you’ve been an unwitting pawn in a lot of my money moves over the years. I can’t really divulge anything more specific than that, but let’s say I like to keep an eye on people."

 

Keenava wasn’t sure she knew how to process that, but she chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was mildly suspicious of the man’s gaze, though, as one of his eyes started to move independently of the other. 

      "Well, since you’re in a giving mood, do you have anything else you’re willing to give?" The Twi’lek replied, a mischievous glint in her eye.

 

The man chuckled. It was a pleasant tenor sound with a well earned gravel at the bottom of it. 

 

     "I suppose I do. You’re welcome to pick and choose, considering I wasn’t able to sell any of these. I don't really blame people. Everyone here is in varying states of post-traumatic stress and disrepair. In hindsight, trying to sell anything here was a mistake, even if I was giving discounts."
 

The old man proceeded to pull things out of the crate one by one: 

 

TL:DR 
(These are the items she kept) - (for a full list check out the spoiler. Just a warning, its a bit long).

- The Idarah A.I. unit. Without it's higher functions it will likely just be used as an auto pilot/targeting system on her new ship. (Idara/Idejjen/Ida)

- Two weighted (adjustable) training bracers. (Starfire)

- A pair of lavender lightsaber color crystals (Aleria Thorne)

- Kevlar Jumpsuit with Indigo accents, and a black leather duster (Anilara Starbane)

- A pair of sturdy yet stylish brown leather steel-toe boots that go up to the knee with articulated joints. (Scorpion)

- (Decorative) A dancing outfit and Amethyst necklace (Esmernia Langarmie)

- Drawing of Keenava as a Sith Lord (Adwin Antares)

- An MP89 player, with MC2310 Master Headphones (it needs a mod for Female Twi'lek), and a necklace in the shape of a moon. (Liv)

- A hydrospanner named 'Locksley,' and a metal memento with Ca'aran's face on it that she will return to Delta if she ever runs into him. (Kailen Aeli)
 

More detailed explanation/description:

Spoiler

 

 

• "This here is a form-fitting black kevlar jumpsuit with indigo contour lines, and a well-worn black leather duster once worn by a proud agent of the Black Sun who turned away from a life of crime to take care of her Twins: Serena and Sol." He pulled a dusty leather coat and an oddly not dusty jumpsuit out as he narrated.

 

 

     Keenava’s eyes lit up at the design. "Pretty! I will gladly take those."

 

• "These are the hilts of a pair of well-crafted vibroblades and dogtags that belonged to someone named ‘Arclight.’ They were found on the outskirts of a battle between the Allied and Axis powers. I forget which side he fought for, and which planet he came from, but he was a fierce warrior and friend. He jumped into the fire so that a few younglings could escape. The swords were gripped tightly in his scorched hands, indicating the importance they held."

 

     "I feel like these could be in a museum or something."

 

     "That’s actually not a bad idea."

 

•   "Here is an old but functional A.I. unit and an old Golden Link security badge. Supposedly, the A.I. was taken by some notorious think tank organization, but they released the unit after they scrubbed all of their nefarious secrets from it. Now all that’s left is the personality and psyche of a very lonely program. The badge was held by her… brother? hard to say. He seemed like a lovable lug, but he joined the force like all of us do when it's our time.”

 

     "I might have some use for the A.I., but I think the badge deserves to be given back to the owner of the Golden Link."

 

•    An old DLT-20 blaster rifle sat askew at the back of the box. It looked like it was over 30 years old. It had the letters B.W. engraved on the handle.
       "That was my old blaster back when I was a member of the Black Sun. Nowadays, I just stay on the fringes of history. You never know where life will take you."

 

     "I’ll pass on that. I’m more of a fighting with my fists type of gal. Either that or small arms. A blaster rifle isn’t really my style."

 

     “Suit yourself”

 

•   "Heh, I forgot this was in here. It’s a ticket stub to a bare-knuckle boxing match featuring the ‘Maeve-n of destruction’ and ‘The Dess-troyer.’ Or Maeve and Dessi for short. I was a big fan of Maeve. She ended up getting severely hurt in one of her bouts and is now living as best she can on some core world. Heh.  They say she and Dessi are having a fun life."

 

     "I think I’ll pass on that too. I don’t fancy becoming a hoarder. But cool for them!"

 

•   "Ooooh! What are those?" Keenava snagged her arm into the box and pulled out two light purple-colored crystals.

     
     "They’re a pair of lavender lightsaber crystals. I found these on the body of a beautiful young jedi somewhere on Corellia. She died in the battle but looked to be in a much happier place. Her lightsabers were obliterated somehow, but the crystals made it out relatively unscathed. I was going to give them back to the Jedi before I headed  out, so you can absolutely take them."

 

"Thank you; I’ll make sure to take good care of them."

 

"I know you will."

 

• "This might hit you the wrong way, and I apologize. But this is a ring of key cards. They belonged to a slave compound. It was hit by the Jedi a while back; an Aira Cadan and Dashel Illioni if I remember correctly. The card that got the most use was the one for prisoner #00142’s cell. Supposedly, it was the cell of a little girl. But if that was the case, she either died a long time ago or the Jedi actually managed to get her out. I actually found these by accident when I was rummaging through debris. Maybe the warden’s body was thrown into the pile. Not sure."

    “Hard pass on that.”

    “Thought so.”

     

• "This," the old man gestured to a brown loosely bound book with pages and leaflets sticking out everywhere, "is an old discarded sketchbook belonging to a young man that was almost a jedi. Instead, he chose to pursue more artistic endeavors. Who knows where his career is now? This may eventually be worth a pretty penny, but I’ve long forgotten the importance of money."

    "You forgot the importance of money, huh? That seems like a cop-out. You’re a scavver. Isn't money supposed to be your big motivator?"

    "I think you’re a little hypocritical to be throwing judgments around. But yes, it does sound confusing."

    "I think I’ll leave the book, though I do like his style... Wait! Is that... me?" Curious, Keenava opened to a page of a Twi’lek dressed in a dark robe with a look of pain and fury warring across her face. She removed the picture that was barely hanging on as it was and handed the book back to the man.

     

• "This… You alright miss?"

Keenava’s eyes misted a little, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw it.
    "That belonged to the former Dark Lord, Darth Furion. He wore it around his wrist. It was dyed from his blood." The rosary was weathered and beaten, but the claws still hung to it. It still thrummed with a dark aura that was painfully familiar. "I think I’ll pass on that one. Also, you may want to put that back where you found it, or you’ll be a very unhappy person if he chooses to come back."

    "Yeah, that seems like a good idea."
 

• "These are probably the most expensive items in my collection. Here is a beautiful silver/platinum necklace set with deep Ilum Amethysts once worn by the famous dancer, Esmernia Langarmie. The gems don't have any properties like other gems from Ilum, but they are incredibly well cut. It comes with a pair of soft black dancing shoes, and a really nice shimmering black dress. I managed to pick up this stuff after Club Azura was destroyed by the infamous Smash Daisaku and his band of chaotic miscreants. She tried to rebuild, but Naboo seems to be a magnet for trouble and the building was destroyed again. So, using her fortune—most of which was provided by many adoring fans—she constructed a club housed within a massive luxury yacht. A portion of the yacht is devoted to refugees, and most of her profits go to help them rebuild and find new homes after the recent tragedy. And, if you've ever seen her dance, you'd know she is truly stunning. Unfortunately she had to repurchase all of her outfits, so this one was left behind.”

    Keenava’s eyes went really big as she touched the silky fabric. Whoever this Esmernia lady was, she had amazing taste. "And you’re giving these to me for free?"

    "Like I said before, you matter and have mattered to me more than you know. The fact that these mementos are being passed on to you means more than their worth."

    "That sounds oddly cryptic. How am I supposed to trust you?"

    "Who says you’re supposed to trust me?"
 

    "Touché"
 

• "Two weighted training bracers with small emeralds in them. They were worn by an exuberant and bright young woman. Though she wasn’t all there most of the time, she settled down with another, whose name I believe is that of a common Aerth bird. They are very happy, living blissfully unaware of the stress of the galaxy.”

    "I’ve never trained with weighted bracers before. could be fun." Keenava picked up the bracers and immediately dropped to the ground. “HOW HEAVY ARE THESE?”

    "They’re adjustable, actually. Here, lemme fix it." The man grabbed one of the bracers and placed his thumb on the emerald. He looked like he was deep in concentration. After a moment or two, he handed it back to Keenava. "It should be good now."
 

     Somehow, despite nothing really changing, the bracer felt lighter. "Weird."
 

• "Here’s a piece of sandstone from Dordjooba’s palace. Granted, that palace has held many names and titles over the years, but Dordjooba had an immense love for it. He rebuilt it from the ground up and was devastated when the Black Sun destroyed it. But such is the life of a criminal kingpin. Territorial squabbles are commonplace. Some say the slug is still alive on his Yacht, whiling away his golden years. Others say he is lurking in the shadows to make his comeback, and still others say he bit the big one a while back. Either way, it's safe to say he won’t be entering the galaxy at large for a long time."

    "I’ll leave the rock, thanks. I knew Dordjooba–loosely. But I’d rather not hang onto a big chunk of sandstone."
 

• "The banged-up green helmet of a set of Mandalorian armor. The inner electrics are all messed up, so it’s basically just a fancy bucket. They say this once belonged to a former Mandalore. He was ousted by a Mandalorian purist and then sat in the shadows of the Mandalorian people for quite some time. He tried to come back to the fight, but slowly returned to smithing. Heh. Sorry, I have a flair for the dramatic; it helps lighten things up. Vihk is actually a good friend. He’s over there repairing armor right now. He gave up fighting to be a Mandalorian when the Mandalorians began raiding Coruscant and joined with the Sith. He said he’d grown too tired to fight, but I think it's because he has a big heart.” The old man pointed to a massive, grizzled man with an intense look on his face. His arms were taut with exertion as he pounded dents out of a lovely piece of Ubese.

    "Shouldn’t he have his helmet?"

      "Bad memories."

      "That’s fair. I think I’ll leave that one with you if it's all the same."
 

• "A hydrospanner engraved with the name ‘Locksley,’ and a small metal trinket that features the face of a clone trooper. If I knew who the poor chap was, I might’ve returned this, but all the guys look the same to me. The woman who lost these was actually found dead after the speeder she was working on exploded. It was a tragic accident, and she was clutching these close to her chest when it happened.”

    "Hey! I know him! He looks a lot different now, though. That’s Delta. He’s still around, I think, though I don’t know if I’d be able to get too close to him. He’s Sith, or was. I wonder what she meant to him. I think I’ll keep them, pocket Locksley, and return the trinket to Delta if I ever run into him."

 

• "A bag of junk that that lovely Jawa left me just before you got here. He said his name is Cyrii, and he thought I was collecting trash before he dumped it in my lap and went on his way. I think he and his friends have a food cart somewhere and are trying to help with the recovery the best way they can."

     
"Yeah, I’ll pass on that. I might try some of that food though."

 

• "A beskar medallion in the shape of an Apaloosa horse. This was held by the late Cythera Anora. She died in the Coruscant raid."

    "I think that also belongs in a museum. A lot of these sigils and crests would probably do well in their own exhibit."

 

• "A pair of brown leather steel-toe boots. The boots go up to the knee and have an articulated knee joint. They are really good boots, but supposedly someone died in them, so they kind of have that taboo feeling over them. The owner of these boots apparently died at the hands of a mysterious dark force on Mon Calamari; it's hard to say whether her sacrifice was noble or foolish, but I suppose that’s for historians to decide."

    "I normally don’t go for boots because I like feeling the ground beneath my feet, but these boots look amazing! I’ll take those too!"
 

• "Oh!" The old man reached into the box and palmed a lightsaber hilt. "I meant to return this to an old Cerean. He surrendered the blade a few planets ago, and I’ve been meaning to give it back to him."

    "Are you talking about Roene?"

    "Yeah, you know him?"

    "Kinda. He was in the medical tent last I saw him."

    "Yeah. He lost his connection to the force when he purified a massive anomaly on the planet Dathomir. He gets whispers of it from time to time, but he took it pretty hard."

 

• "A pair of old mechanical prosthetic eyes. They were sold off by bandits after they were ripped out of a young Miraluka’s head. Luckily, that young woman is safe in the hands of the Jedi now, and they are keeping her away from anyone who’d do her harm."

    "These should probably go to the Jedi then. She may not want them back, but I would think it belongs with them."

     

     "Ah, Jedi don’t really do the worldly possessions thing. Well, most of them don’t." The man said, gazing at her pointedly.
 

     "I thought we weren’t judging people."
 

     "No, I meant it was ironic you were judging me given your background."
 

     "Fair."

 

 

• "This here is a sigil of unknown affiliation. It was owned by a big Cathar woman who ran free on the fields of some border planet and has never looked back."

    "Pass"
 

     “Yeah, I kind of figured at this point.”
 

• "Wait. What’s this? It looks like it goes around your head."

 

"That is an MP89 player, MC2310 Audio Master Headphones, and a silver necklace in the shape of a moon. They came together. And these simple possessions belonged to a young woman who sought help from the Jedi a while back. They eventually gave up on her, and she was forced to try and make ends meet on her own. She actually sold these to me to try and make some rent. I think she’s still on Nubia, trying to make things work.”

 

     "I don’t think that would work with me. I have ear nubs, not ears. It’s why I can’t wear earrings. Well, that, and my head tails are where my brain is."

      "Ah, funny you should mention, Audio Master actually made their headphones with a detachable audio mod that different aliens can use to find audio tools that fit them better."
 

     "Alright, I wouldn’t mind that then."

     

      "And, lastly, a deck of Sab–"

      "Hey! That’s my deck, Bill! Give that back!" Malin snapped as he appeared with his entourage in tow. He was irritated, but still managed a sidelong smile at Keenava before snatching the deck from the old man’s fingers. "I’ve been looking everywhere for those!"
 

Malin took a moment to shove his cards in his coat pocket then looked between the older man and Keenava. 

      “What’s going on here?”

 

The older man looked at Malin with an amused smile. 

      “I was giving this young lady a run of my scav stash, because I couldn’t sell anything.”

 

      "Well, while we’re in the business of giving things away, I've been meaning to give this to you, Keenava." Malin handed her a set of keys and activation codes. "It’s the keys to my ship. I heard you didn’t have one of your own. And, while I enjoyed the smuggler's life a bit, I’ve got to look after my cousin and this little anarchist." He said, running his hand over the small Togruta's head. "And, since I’m not on the run anymore, I can actually take a look at giving up mercenary work altogether. I owe it to my family to give this life thing a shot. And before you ask, I’m giving this to you because you’re the only other person I know here. Aside from Bill, of course, but he’s the one that gave me the ship. It would be silly to return it now when it has so much life left to give. Just watch out for the droid in the cargo bay!"

With a fond smile and a wave, the smuggler rounded up his young ward, his protocol droid, and his cousin—who Keenava just noticed was wheel-chair bound—and left the Twi’lek with her mouth agape.

After the grizzled gentleman packed up the rest of his crate, he sat there with one leg outstretched and a death stick hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

Keenava hefted a large bag of junk onto her back. She couldn’t really explain why she felt a connection to these items, but something about them was warm. They felt like old relics despite their mundane appearance.
 

She took a long look at the man, and her brow knit with curiosity. 

      "Who are you? And how do you know so much about these people? How do you know so much about me?"
 

The man smiled. It was a warm smile that made Keenava feel like reciprocating.

      “Let’s just say I’ve been around a very long time. I’m a caretaker of sorts. You take care of those. I hope they serve you well on your journey ahead.” 
 

She couldn't explain why she felt at peace with that explanation, because for all intents and purposes it didn't really make sense. A caretaker? But he just gave all of these things away. The man was an enigma. Keenava turned away to head back to Sandy, but paused to wave at the man because it felt like the right thing to do. But when she turned back, he was gone—

 

"—I'm not gone, I'm just a few feet away!" The man exclaimed with his crate over his shoulder. "Also, you asked what my name was before and I forgot to tell you. The name is William Natronus. Though, my friends usually called me Big Will. Now go catch up to Sandy."

 

Keenava had no idea what kind of head trip she was in, but she had nothing else to do, so she scampered off to rejoin Sandy with her new haul of stuff.

[Keenava Dira]

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.

Edited July 31, 2023 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

     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.

[Keenava Dira]

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.

[Keenava Dira]

"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. 

[Keenava Dira]

“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.”

[Keenava Dira]

"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.

[Keenava Dira]

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.

   

Edited November 1, 2023 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

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.

Edited November 17, 2023 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

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."

 

[Keenava Dira]

“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.

Edited December 9, 2023 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

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. 

[Keenava Dira]

     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.

 

[Keenava Dira]

((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))

Edited February 14 by Keenava Dira

[Keenava Dira]

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))

Edited March 20 by Keenava Dira

[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.