The More They Stay The Same

[Inyos Aamoran]

This thread takes place a couple of days after Getting Things In Order (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=20087), and the day after The More Things Change (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=20898).

While finding Tionne had taken directions, and a little recon, finding one Ilias Nytrau wasn't nearly so difficult. The presence of his former fellow Jedi had been a nagging sensation at the back of his mind ever since he'd arrived at the Wheel; like the memory of where you'd misplaced something, or the sense that something in the room had moved since you were last there, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what. When he turned his mind to it, it shone like a beacon, leading him straight to the Whaledon's disconcertingly low-tech medibay.

He had for some time been struggling in his mind to determine just what he was going to say, or how he was going to introduce himself to one of the few 'friends' he really had amongst the Jedi before the fall. He supposed that thinking of Ilias as a friend might have been an overstatement - more of a side-effect acquaintance from spending so much time with Mandan Hidatsa. He didn't even know what Ilias looked like: had no idea how the years might have changed and addled someone who, unlike himself, hadn't had the advantage of outside influences keeping his looks in good order.

The thought of Mandan Hidatsa stuck in his mind for a moment, then descended downwards, twisting like an icy blade in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea how he was going to broker that particular subject.

His eyes scanned the medibay, checking the faces for any hint of recognition that his memory might spark. But he saw nothing. The room was almost deserted, only a few figures wandering back and forth between beds and stations. And once you eliminated the non-humans, and the non-males, all that remained was a man who couldn't possibly be who Inyos thought he was. And yet, that familiar Force aura was unmistakable.

A frown furrowed Inyos' brow as he stepped forward. "Ilias Nytrau?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

[Ilias Nytrau]

Though there wasn't always injuries to tend, patients to mend, there was always plenty to do in the modest medical bay of the Whaladon, in the eyes of Ilias Nytrau that did not involve the use of his vast and deep well of medical knowledge, as much as the other knowledge of those tools that aided the work done in the medibay, from efficiency of its personnel to the mechanical and electrical elements and closer to the work, the techniques and advanced knowledge he had been implementing and improving on for the better part of two decades as the de-facto leader of the Empire's medical community.

A Jedi once again, he was, but this did not make his work any less. There was less of such assistance needed in the larger, more sophisticated vessels of the Rebellion, but he still did what he could to improve the chances of their staff at succeeding in every turn.

Deep in such tasks, was he, when an almost unexpected voice came to his ears, riding on the current of a familiar, if long-since felt presence. It brought a smile to his face changed not by years, but by more unbelievable forces and he did not turn at first to aknowledge the other man's presence.

"Inyos Aamoran." He lowered the datapad in hand and turned in his seat, placing one arm on the back of the chair and looking over the seatback at the shorter man, the smile streched further. "I would say this is unexpected, yet..."

The elder man shook his head and rose from the seat, beginning to take steps towards his visitor and holding out a hand in greeting when he was close enough.

"It is good, surprising, to see you. What brings you to me?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

A frown briefly flashed across his forehead, a note of sarcasm lacing his voice. "What brings me to one of the few people left alive in the galaxy who I actually know?"

Though Inyos was relieved to be in the presence of another friend, and would have liked nothing more than to settle into something as infinately familiar as a casual discussion with Ilias, there was an elephant in the room that was inescapable: a question that just begged to be asked.

"Ilias -" his voice trailed off, not entirely sure how to phrase it. "What happened to your face?"

[Ilias Nytrau]

Ilias quirked one brow and the smile fell from his face, the entire expression reverting to neutrality and he folded his hands into each other, behind his back.

"Genetics." One word, so matter of fact in tone that, if it were in the healer's personality to do so, could be taken as an insult to the slightly younger man's intelligence. Seeing as it was not the case, the word could be taken at face value. His brow furrowed at the admittance of the unknown in his next words. "To the best of my knowledge."

The halfbreed rocked back slightly on his heels and turned his head to look on the other present occupants of the medibay.

"I could, in a manner, ask a very similar question of you." Ilias lowered back on to firmly planted feet and turned his face again to his visitor. "But it would appear that precisley nothing has occured."

Which, if not for the drastic change in appearance, would have been the case for Ilias himself. His pale-shade eyes narrowed a fraction, more in focused curiosity than anything remotely threatening.

"Might you tell me why that would be, Inyos?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

The mention of genetics brought back a slew of memories, in particular relating to the apprehension the Jedi Council had held towards Ilias' questionable heritage. Had he not known better - had it not been strictly forbidden by the Jedi Code - Inyos might have described their reluctance as fear; but such an emotion, from the most veteran and noble members of the Jedi Order, was of course absurd.

At the prospect of having to recount his particular saga to a second person in as many days however, Inyos felt his shoulders slump. Shame was a particularly un-Jedi emotion, and yet he felt it intensely, despite his efforts to suppress it.

"Lets just say," he offered, deciding that his friend would be satiated with a vague answer, and wouldn't feel the need to probe any deeper, "That an -" He searched for a metaphor. "- 'external force' kept me out of sync with the rest of the universe for a little while."

He shuddered as memories of it resurfaced, and flashed Ilias an appologetic half smile. "It isn't a memory I like to revisit if I can help it."

[Ilias Nytrau]

For a few moments, the healer-warrior considered the vague explanation, knowing that he would indeed be sated by such an answer, for the feel of the emotion coming from him, the physical details of his reaction to the question were answer enough. Ilias nodded slowly in understanding, yet nothing about his facial expression changed, save for the un-narrowing of his eyes, revealing once again the pale, icy shade of colour in the irises. The eyes had never changed, unlike everything else.

"Nor are the events around my own physical circumstance are not something I readily care to discuss." A thin smile stretched his lips, tight and conceding. "But to say, I am in understanding, in this way."

Ilias turned away and walked back to the small station at which he had been working to retrieve the pad, which was only of only so many items he had not left behind in his disappearance from under the watchful imperial eye. He was a most hunted man, amongst the hunted, here.

"And so you are here. To be a true Jedi again, is my guess? There would be scant other reason. This is the safest, yet most dangerous place for any of our kind to be."

[Inyos Aamoran]

A true Jedi?

Inyos hardly considered himself one of those: not with the things he'd committed since the Purge. Once he'd found his way to Ord Ithil, Inyos Aamoran had thoroughly fallen, and while he'd managed to crawl his way out of the viscous swamp of dark side which he'd tumbled into, he still percieved its filth coating him. While others might come to think differently, he would never think of himself as a true, pure Jedi, until every last speck of its taint was removed from his soul.

He let out a thin, hollow laugh. "There aren't many other places for people like us to go," he observed, watching Ilias go about his business, and once again feeling a little out of place. So many of the Jedi here - Jedi he had known before the Purge, or at least could recognise by name - had found ways to blend in, and had collected all manner of skills that made them useful in this sort of context. Inyos meanwhile found himself as unchanged as the bedrock upon which the Jedi Temple had been built, in no way adapted to the new status quo in which he found himself. He felt like a relic, an antique; something that belonged in a museum, or the Jedi Order, rather than out at large in the galaxy.

"To be honest, old friend -" He found himself uttering the word, and it sounded out of place to his ears, as if it was a concept that seemed alien to him, like a distant memory that was almost forgotten. "- I'm not entirely sure who or what I am anymore, let alone what it is I'm doing here."