Dxun - Sound/Touch
Handmaiden awoke with the definite feeling that something was wrong. Not a sensation from the Force, or even a sensation at all. But something was different.
She opened her eyes and looked straight at the pointed tip of a memory crystal, dangling apparently in midair. That would not have surprised her, but the gritty grey world of five in the morning resolved itself in her vision a quickly enough. A pole attached to her futon and a string suspended it above her.
Reaching behind her, she plucked the pole out from where it was wedged between her futon and the wall and sat up. Apprehension began to simmer inside her. The last crystal had left her with only questions, no answers at all. But there was no question of leaving it, not even for another minute. Drawing in a deep breath, she touched it with one finger.
Heat--damp, stifling heat pressing in all around her body. Warm rain soaked through her collar and mingled with the sweat trickling in single drops down her body. A lightsaber switched off nearby. She heard a third person let out a long breath and straighten. Then she twisted the handle of the quarterstaff she held--her father's weapon--and straightened up, bringing her breathing back to a normal rate. She could feel a sense of fading impact in multiple places on her body, not severe injuries, but still spots she had been hit hard. Clearly, there had just been a battle of some kind.
She turned and tilted her head upwards, but there was only a void where she was looking. She could hear someone climbing down off of a ledge, boots and armor sliding on damp rock and landing in vegetation.
"I am grateful for your help, stranger," said a voice from that direction--young, male. Embarrassment and gratitude mixed in his tone. "I won't forget this. I have only one request... please, don't mention this to anyone." And then he was gone, footsteps running off and wet grass swishing back into place.
She seemed to watch him go and then turned toward someone else. "The Mandalorians were your sworn enemy, yet you would still save one in need?" She raised her eyebrows. "You are a perplexing woman, Exile."
"The Mandalorian Wars ended a long time ago," came the answer--quiet and heavy, but the sadness was simply an element to the voice, little different than the pitch. "They are not my enemies any longer."
"I will have to think on what you've said."
Something was on her ears--Handmaiden reached up and felt it. Headphones. She dismissed that as unimportant. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes as she tried to picture where she had been. Was the location important? Not as important as that voice. Exile...
So that was her. The woman that the mistress had set her to follow, the one cast out from the Jedi. But the mistress... no. She had been wrong. Someone who followed the path of the dark side would not help anyone, much less one who had been an enemy. The Mandalorian Wars. That faint pang returned. But... the Exile had held no emnity towards them.
Handmaiden drew in a deep breath. Did I command you to betray me? She could always recall those words, feel the lightning. The dream had been over a year ago, but that moment was no less vivid in her mind. The lightning was, if not of the dark side, then not of the light either. And she recalled her conversation with Juhani. The Jedi had taken someone's memory. Anger and uncertainty bubbled up again. There was no way to know their reasons for doing such a thing. Yet that, and the way someone outcast from the Jedi behaved towards a former foe, what the mistress had done...
Should she even try to follow the path of a Jedi? Was it right? She did not know anymore. But the Exile was just. Faith welled up from somewhere so deep it was almost instinctual. She remembered the other memory, questioning that the Exile was a threat to the Jedi. She may have been, but not because she had fallen. Perhaps the opposite. And if that is true, perhaps my "betrayal" of the mistress was also just.
Handmaiden took the memory crystal to the other bedroom and placed it in the desk drawer, then pulled out her notebook to record it in detail. Jedi, Sith... no. Right now, there was no way to resolve her questions about them. But she felt sure of one thing: the path the Exile had taken was the right one. And Handmaiden would try to follow it, however she could.
...Then the obnoxious music started to play.
[ooc: For the next four days, Handmaiden will be hearing the Cantina Song at random times, courtesy of her Princess Leia headphones.]
She opened her eyes and looked straight at the pointed tip of a memory crystal, dangling apparently in midair. That would not have surprised her, but the gritty grey world of five in the morning resolved itself in her vision a quickly enough. A pole attached to her futon and a string suspended it above her.
Reaching behind her, she plucked the pole out from where it was wedged between her futon and the wall and sat up. Apprehension began to simmer inside her. The last crystal had left her with only questions, no answers at all. But there was no question of leaving it, not even for another minute. Drawing in a deep breath, she touched it with one finger.
Heat--damp, stifling heat pressing in all around her body. Warm rain soaked through her collar and mingled with the sweat trickling in single drops down her body. A lightsaber switched off nearby. She heard a third person let out a long breath and straighten. Then she twisted the handle of the quarterstaff she held--her father's weapon--and straightened up, bringing her breathing back to a normal rate. She could feel a sense of fading impact in multiple places on her body, not severe injuries, but still spots she had been hit hard. Clearly, there had just been a battle of some kind.
She turned and tilted her head upwards, but there was only a void where she was looking. She could hear someone climbing down off of a ledge, boots and armor sliding on damp rock and landing in vegetation.
"I am grateful for your help, stranger," said a voice from that direction--young, male. Embarrassment and gratitude mixed in his tone. "I won't forget this. I have only one request... please, don't mention this to anyone." And then he was gone, footsteps running off and wet grass swishing back into place.
She seemed to watch him go and then turned toward someone else. "The Mandalorians were your sworn enemy, yet you would still save one in need?" She raised her eyebrows. "You are a perplexing woman, Exile."
"The Mandalorian Wars ended a long time ago," came the answer--quiet and heavy, but the sadness was simply an element to the voice, little different than the pitch. "They are not my enemies any longer."
"I will have to think on what you've said."
Something was on her ears--Handmaiden reached up and felt it. Headphones. She dismissed that as unimportant. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes as she tried to picture where she had been. Was the location important? Not as important as that voice. Exile...
So that was her. The woman that the mistress had set her to follow, the one cast out from the Jedi. But the mistress... no. She had been wrong. Someone who followed the path of the dark side would not help anyone, much less one who had been an enemy. The Mandalorian Wars. That faint pang returned. But... the Exile had held no emnity towards them.
Handmaiden drew in a deep breath. Did I command you to betray me? She could always recall those words, feel the lightning. The dream had been over a year ago, but that moment was no less vivid in her mind. The lightning was, if not of the dark side, then not of the light either. And she recalled her conversation with Juhani. The Jedi had taken someone's memory. Anger and uncertainty bubbled up again. There was no way to know their reasons for doing such a thing. Yet that, and the way someone outcast from the Jedi behaved towards a former foe, what the mistress had done...
Should she even try to follow the path of a Jedi? Was it right? She did not know anymore. But the Exile was just. Faith welled up from somewhere so deep it was almost instinctual. She remembered the other memory, questioning that the Exile was a threat to the Jedi. She may have been, but not because she had fallen. Perhaps the opposite. And if that is true, perhaps my "betrayal" of the mistress was also just.
Handmaiden took the memory crystal to the other bedroom and placed it in the desk drawer, then pulled out her notebook to record it in detail. Jedi, Sith... no. Right now, there was no way to resolve her questions about them. But she felt sure of one thing: the path the Exile had taken was the right one. And Handmaiden would try to follow it, however she could.
...Then the obnoxious music started to play.
[ooc: For the next four days, Handmaiden will be hearing the Cantina Song at random times, courtesy of her Princess Leia headphones.]
