The Philosophy of Will (Loki)

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Aboard Challenger, Flagship of the Wheel


Her small office aboard the Valiant had been moved. It was wonderful, to be out of the glorified maintenance closet that had been her workplace away from the Dauntless. Now, on the Venator cruiser Challenger, in an actual office that was far more suited to her myriad of duties, Loklorien s'Ilancy found herself feeling far more at home. Boxes littered the interior, lined along the walls and in various stages of being unpacked. Contained within were books and datapads, most documenting protocal and tactics, with others being actual historical accounts of battles fought through the ages.

Much of her 'reading material' was simply used for reference, though there was a portion of it that she actively studied and committed to memory.

Her desk was a monstrous affair, already littered with reports and 'pads detailing crew requests, roster lists, priority notes, ship manifests, and other assorted duties that fell to her post. Not so much stacked high, everything had become rather spread out. It was an unavoidable mess, much as the Lupine hated the clutter of hardcopies, datapads, and manuals strewn about without rhyme or reason. Oh, she had tried in the past to keep some semblence of order, but it never took long until her desk, and consequently her bookshelves were turned into nesting grounds of official documents.



* * *

All was quiet now; not even the occasional rustle of papers, the scratching of a stylus, or the soft hum of a datapad could be heard. No, there were no such sounds.

In fact, if one were to look close enough at the Lupine Jedi, they would see that she was in fact sound asleep, sitting in the leather chair behind her desk, head held at an odd angle - slightly tipped downward and to the side. Her hair had been pulled back, though a few strands had still slipped out to fall in her face.

Behind her, on a nearly bare section of shelving built into the wall, sat her gauntlet, a small white onyx vornskyr carving, and two holos; one of Teagan when she was just over a year old, and another of both Dan and Teagan, both smiling. They were the only bits of 'decoration' that the Lupine allowed herself for now.

All was quiet in the Jedi's office, and after hours of burying herself in the relentless, neverending sea of tasks and duties attached to her post, s'Il had drifted off into a light doze, one hand still loosely holding the edge of a datapad while the other rested along her chair's armrest.

[Abarai Loki]

It was Loki's first visit to the Wheel's new flagship and he was immediately impressed. Although decades old, in design the Challenger boasted the kind of lean clinical efficiency which appealed to the young Jedi's sensibilities, and yet it remained a bold, even intimidating, symbol of military might. In his estimation, the sight of the ship alone would inspire confidence in their allies, and dread amongst their foes. He also noticed a significant difference in the general mood compared to that of the crew aboard the Valiant who, after months adrift in the endless void, had become somewhat jaded by the mission and lax in their duties.

Commander Holst, his taciturn tour guide, led him to his first port of call: the hangar bay. Here, a multitude of starfighters lined the length of an expansive flight deck all the way to the bow. Beyond the magnetic shield he saw a second flight deck on the ship's starboard side which bustled with the work of maintenance crews and astromech droids. A platoon of soldiers approached from the far end of the bay, the uniform drum of their boots drowned out the sounds of chattering mechanics and their cutting torches, and Loki paused to watch as they drove by like a relentless machine. Inwardly, he mourned the absence of such discipline amongst his kin.

Atari Holst, or Thunderbolt Three, as he was known to his squadron brought Loki before a ship he'd never seen before: it was an RZ-2 A-Wing Interceptor, or simply the A-Wing Mark II. Its previous incarnation, a model standing proudly in rank alongside a squadron of X-Wings, was equally as unfamiliar to him so the commander set about explaining in detail the technical specifications of the starfighter, its strengths, and service history. Much of what he said was wasted on Loki, whose piloting experience was limited to lessons in a shuttle with Inyos Aamoran, but from what he could make out, there was a list of new terms he would be soon researching: megalights, hull ratings, SBDs, KTUs, and DPFs. They strolled at length, Commander Holst providing a summary of the standard A-Wing, its X-Wing neighbour, and the cumbersome Y-Wing. It seemed, by his brusque manner and swift pace, he couldn't be rid of his Jedi charge soon enough and Loki had the impression he'd taken on the task of playing chaperon with some reluctance. Hands clasped behind his back, he turned to him, assuming an air of unquestionable authority.

"Very good, commander. Now if you will point me in the direction of Master Loklorien s'Ilancy, I will not consume another second of your invaluable time."

They parted ways, Loki offering him a generous nod in thanks, and ten minutes later he found himself on the other side of the Challenger, sounding the bell to the Master Jedi's office.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Jolted awake, s'Il came forward in her seat, eyes flying open as she sucked in a startled breath. The datapad she'd been lightly hold slipped from her hand to drop on her desk atop a thin pile of flimsiplasts. She blinked as the rhythm of her chest deepened, and looking to the door, her mind took a moment to realize that it was the sound of the door chime that had woken her.

She didn't bother with straightening anything that might be out of place; her robe had been draped over the back of her chair, and her always immaculate clothing was in no danger of seeming out of place or dirty.

In answer to the chime, she leaned forward with an inaudible groan, hand extended to sweep away a small clutter of datapads that had found themselves set atop the small inset panel of her desk. A push of a button, and the door to her office opened to reveal a familiar body standing just beyond the threshold.

Shallow lines formed at the outside edges of her eyes as one corner of her lips twitched up in a lopsided smile.

"Come in, Abarai."

[Abarai Loki]

It took a great deal of self-control to keep his eyes forward as he approached, all around he could practically feel the encroaching clutter, and when he arrived at the desk, he bowed.

"Master Loklorien s'Ilancy," he greeted, "I am sure you are busy but if I could ask a moment of you - I have been sent on what Cirrsseeto describes as a scrounging mission."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There was a brief moment as her features fell. Of course, it was expected that most who came to see her needed something. But, the moment passed and the Lupine gave a nod, motioning for Loki to take a seat in one of the two chairs that sat in front of her desk.

"Of course, of course."

It wasn't long before she'd found the appropriate datapad, and pulling it from its' hiding place, she set it before her.

"Cirr normally comes to me himself," she spoke as quick fingers navigated the 'pad's menus, searching for the all-too-familiar requisition forms that she could probably fill out in her sleep by now.

"Is there a reason he sent you... "

She looked up from the 'pad, sending a look across her desk to him.

"... or did you volunteer for this yourself?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I am not here on Lieutenant Raurrssatta's behalf," he said, taking a seat.

"This is strictly Jedi business, and despite the lieutenant's crude interpretation of it, my visit will not involve making orders. Not today, at least."

There was a pause as he watched Loklorien glance up from her datapad, her deduction that there was perhaps an alterior motive behind his visit was astute to say the least, nevertheless he pressed on with the matter at hand.

"Starfighters. There is an interest in piloting amongst the Jedi, but given the Rebellion's resources, is it possible?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Now this was unexpected, and slowly setting the datapad down, s'Il leaned back in her seat to regard Loki with a tilt of her head. Her hands folded into her lap.

That he was here to not place orders and supply requests was a small relief.

"It is possible," she finally answered, her words slow and concise as she mulled it over.

"But not entirely an easy task to accomplish."

The thought of Jedi once more placing themselves in starfighter cockpits was enough to take her back to the Clone Wars. She remembered seeing Anakin Skywalker pilot his own fighter once; it had been fascinating and not a little bit nauseating for the Lupine Padawan who was - even back then - prone to space sickness. Still though, it was a mesmerizing sight even if it had made her sick just to watch.

"The issue of training would be easy to sort. However - " at this point she dug through a stack of flimsies, pulling out a duty roster. A few more seconds of searching yielded an old-style stylus.

" - the issue of bringing the matter into consideration before Alliance High Command is an entirely different sarrlacc nest."

[Abarai Loki]

"If it is a question of priorities over resources, I would question the wisdom of those in the Rebellion who hesitate to have trained Jedi piloting their starfighters."

It was hard to not take offense at the idea of some faceless general denying the Jedi the power to defend themselves while he sat comfortably on the bridge of another titan warship. Loki folded his arms, and inwardly pondered on Loklorien's position as Jedi liaison to the alliance, and wondered just how much weight her words carried within its hierarchy.

"Reinforcements have been sent and now there are five squadrons protecting the fleet while we fester on the Whaladon like dead weight. And if it is a matter of resources, then I would ask your superiors to look to the Jedi, for they will find no greater resource in the galaxy."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Her patience was nearly infinite, and the Lupine gave him a raised eyebrow.

"If it were that simple, I'd have no reason to be here."

She cleared her throat, leaning forward to rest her elbow on the surface of her desk.

"It is not just the Alliance that would be in a quandary over this, but the Jedi as well."

Her hands both rested on the desk, palms down and fingers splayed out.

"We are not what we used to be, and it is a great decision to make if we take even one of our teachers away from the task of imparting their knowledge to the next generation so that they can pilot a fighter.

"We are a shadow of what we once were."

[Abarai Loki]

"You are right. The Jedi are not what they used to be: where once they were protectors, they are now the protected. If we teach padawans our Jedi virtues and fail to act on them, allowing fear and uncertainty to imprison us on that ship, it is a poisonous precedent to set."

It suddenly occured to him that he was patronising a master with wisdom and experience far beyond his young years. This kind of discussion always left him feeling frustrated, and perhaps it was the words of his apprentice, Corell, and her hunger for action that had infected him. Rather than fuel the current conversation any further, he clasped his hands and allowed patience to come to him. He glanced around the room and a rebellious thought surfaced, an unseemly question poised on his lips as he regarded the woman before him, Loklorien s'Ilancy, the Jedi enigma cloistered in the lair of a bureaucrat.

"Please tell me, Master s'Ilancy, do you feel a shadow of your former self?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It was an odd question that he posed, and s'Il had to think a moment before responding. She noted his hesitation, how he clasped his hands, the look that he cast about her office. He seemed perplexed, and by the Bloodline it was infectious as her brow knit in thought.

"I... do not think so."

A fingernail tiked the glossy desk surface.

"The majority of the Order was decimated, put to the heel in a way that none of us thought possible. Those who were left could only run in the beginning; we had no other options. Many of us lost our way and fell away from our teaching. Some of us were fortunate to have companions, others were not.

"What I am now is shaped by those many years."

A disapproving look passed over her face, and she dropped a somewhat disgusted look to the mess that inhabited her desk.

"Fate is a terrible notion, and the belief in it is what destroyed the old Order."

[Abarai Loki]

"The Chosen One. The Will of the Force. Such terms are a crux for those unable to shoulder the burdens of reality. Watch words conjured to protect fragile minds from dark truths. Sadly, the notion of fate remains the Jedi's poison."

Her words stirred within him a deep well of indignant feeling and it was a relief to encounter an intellect unimpaired by illogical failsafes. Even as he questioned her place aboard the Challenger, she was confident in herself, a stalwart product of life choices. And yet, he remained unconvinced that an office, complete with datapads, roster lists, and ship manifests, was the right place for a Jedi.

"Forgive me, but I believe you are wasted here, Loklorien s'Ilancy. Your wisdom is a boon to the Jedi."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Please - "

The comm in her desk beeped, and with a slightly annoyed look she reached over to silence it, sending the caller to her message recorder.

"- call me Lok."

She suspected that it was simply out of respect that he addressed her as he did, but the Lupine wished to go beyond simple outward displays such as that.

"And on the contrary, I would venture to say that I am where I need to be for now.

"After all, who better to know what the Jedi need, than a Jedi who can get what they need?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Very well."

Loki nodded in agreement. There was no disputing the Lupine's logic. Folding his arms, he considered her choice of words, an eyebrow arched.

"Then what do the Jedi need?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s'Il gave a light chuckle.

"Such a question."

She bowed her head in thought, knowing that there were so many layers to what he'd just asked. What the Jedi needed was a question that she had often enough asked herself, and each time she'd come to the same conclusion.

"We need to step away from many of the old Order's ideals," she finally answered.

Her finger was still tikking on the desk's surface, and she stilled the motion before leaning back to settle herself more comfortably.

"We cannot be stationary as our predecessors were. They blamed fate for their inaction; their failings; their tragedies. Everything they did was due to this notion of predetermined order."

She lifted a finger in the air.

"Order is what we make it to be. What we will it to be."

Her raised finger turned into a dismissive wave.

"Fate is nothing but a concept created by weak-willed individuals who needed something to explain away their own inabilities."

The Lupine gave an absent look about, to the many still-unpacked boxes and other flotsam that had yet to be set up properly. Eventually her broken gaze returned to Loki.

"However those with strong wills, who wish to right the wrongs and restore justice, still need tools. Tools such as ships, weapons, support... possibly starfighters... "

She gestured to her cluttered surroundings.

"... which is why I am here."

[Abarai Loki]

"Loklorien s'Ilancy, philosopher, and quartermaster to the Jedi Order," he mused, catching her gaze with a knowing glint in his eyes, he gave an appreciative nod.

"Order..." he repeated, with a note of disdain.

"There were soldiers marching on the flight deck; their posture, symmetry, and timing were flawless. If half the Jedi had that kind of discipline, we would be unstoppable. You speak of will, Master s'Ila-"

He noticed the sudden change in her expression; it was soft, and patient, but insistent. A small sigh deflated him.

"Lok," he managed with effort, "You speak of will, and it is something I do not see amongst our kin. You speak of the old ideals that brought the Jedi to the brink of extinction, and I agree they must be abandoned, but what must survive is the message: what it means to be a Jedi Knight. It is not, as some would have you belive, a nine-til-five affair."

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, repeating to Loklorien what he so often lectured to padawans, including his apprentice. Life on the Whaladon was frustrating for the young Jedi who, despite being surrounded by his peers, often felt completely alone. That, he was discovering, was not the case when in the company of Loklorien s'Ilancy.

"If only order could be willed upon other people," he concluded, then, a sideways glance to one of the mountains of clutter, "And other places."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

At his last observation the Lupine gave an audible chuckle.

"Yes well, not all of us are so gifted as to practice in every aspect of our lives what we preach."

She inhaled, seeming to settle herself more comfortably in her chair. To hear Loki speak his thoughts - the same thoughts that were her own - it was a wonderful thing. For someone so young, Abarai Loki had something of an ageless wisdom that some in their lifetimes could never possess. It struck a chord in her, as much as his behavior reminded her of herself when she was his age.

"Indeed, the message can not be left behind in the strengthening of one's will. To be a Jedi is something that one devotes their life to, but even that concept must evolve over time. We cannot afford to sit aloft in council chambers, preaching of fate and predetermined destiny; that is what decimated those who came before.

"It is entirely possible to grow as an Order while keeping the base foundation solid and unshakable."

She stopped at that, locking her gaze with his for a moment.

Then, pulling her eyes away, she reached down to one of the drawers of her desk, pulling it open slowly. From its' depths, s'Il pulled a large leatherbound tome. The hide was white, creased with lines yet soft to the touch. The edges were trimmed in gold, as was the clasp that held it locked.

This she set on her desk, facing him.

Her hands stayed at the edges as her eyes returned to him; only now, they seemed to stare through him. Through him to his soul.

Her voice was level, though despite the fact that there were no last uplifting notes to denote a question, it was plainly understood that she was indeed making of him a request.

"Would you like me to tell you a story of will... "

[Abarai Loki]

In an instant, Loki was back on Maridun. He was six years old, and was sitting beside his brother on an old tree stump. The tall grass whispered, and the camp fire cracked, spitting dancing embers. In the warm glow of the flames stood Master Barabas, towering into the sky, propped up by his thick gnarled cane. His eyebrows curled like albino fuzzbugs as he regarded the two boys, and he leaned closer, half his long face lost to the crooked shadow of his nose. A thin smile.

"Let me tell you a story..."

It was the exact same shiver of excitement he felt everytime he'd heard those words as a child. His hands dropped to his knees in an open gesture of patience and he regarded Lok, eyes ablaze with quiet fascination.

"Please continue."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She smiled at his movements, knowing that he was willing to listen, and that she had his attentions.

"I am not like you," she started.

"Oh, we are both Jedi, yes. But what we are is entirely different."

At that, she slowly slid her hand across the hide-bound book, pressing the clasp release and gently pulling it open before him. It fell to the first page, a page without anything but the parchment within and a single inked symbol. Two half-moons, the smaller placed below the larger at a perpendicular angle.

Her palm passed over the aged ink.

"This is my House. This is me. All of what I am - " two fingers tapped at the design. " -is in these two moons."

If decency permitted, she would have gone so far as to display the very same symbol branded between her shoulder blades.

She turned the page, but this too was largely un-marred, save for the two lines of alien text written in a flowing hand.




Oa'na A'da'meh'on'ek
Eh'nu'eh'ss'eda khu da'at'a



She translated.

"For all that we are, we are because of Father."

The Lupine leaned back.

"It is a loose translation, but the meaning is the same.

"My people are the product of one man's will over another."

[Abarai Loki]

In the beginning, his interest was not on the story, but the story-teller. Before she even started to speak, he recognised the way in which she handled the old book, treating it with the same loving reverence he had for his lightsaber. It was pride, ingrained in her voice, a whisper in her gaze; he recognised it as much as he recognised himself. Loklorien was about to share with him something of great personal importance. His attention was undivided, and he allowed his eyes to wander only for a moment to inspect the strange words etched onto the page. Curiosity pawed inside, like a dog begging to be fed.

"Who is the father?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Father is the one who made us."

She left the book alone for the moment, choosing instead to look at Loki.

"In the beginning he was subject to the overwhelming will of another man. He was made to suffer, to be controlled by a beast within him that was insatiable. It was a prison of wild emotion and passion."

No she turned the page. What followed was a lineage - the beginning of the Losstarot Bloodline that began with the name at the top of the page.



M'el'kha'i'eh Loss'te'ro


"Melkiah Losstarot," she read.

"He is our Father. He was the one able to break the chains that bound him to the beast. He tamed it, made it a part of him; bent it to his will. And the strength of his will was passed to those who came after."

A sad look passed over her though, as her eye rested on the book.

"But, that strength, like all things, waned over time. It grew soft and unfocused. It lost its' meaning and power, and because of that my people began to die. We had lost our will to carry on, and were punished for it. Even our attempts to leave home, abandon our world, met with no success. All we did was push away from a dying home to live out the rest of our years in isolation, in strongholds built to house all that we had once held dear.

"But we left behind - had long ago left behind - that which could have kept us alive and away from extinction.

"We left behind our wills."

[Abarai Loki]

"Losstarot..."

He repeated the name to himself and committed it to memory. Clearly, judging by her manner and the weight in her words, this man was a significant historical figure. Questions bubbled to the surface of his mind while Loklorien divulged the history of her people. What is this beast and this prison of wild emotions and passion? Perhaps they were metaphors for something else, his thoughts ran wild, racing to their first conclusion: was the beast the Dark Side? Immediately, he became wary of her words, particularly of those pertaining to her people and them losing the will to live. Tragedy seemed intrinsic to the tale. Despite the numerous questions aching to leap from his tongue, he excercised patience and would wait for the answers to come, instead opting to ask the one he believed most pertinent:

"Loklorien s'Ilancy, tell me, who are your people?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She smiled at the direct question, more than willing to feed the hunger in his eyes.

"Bedtime stories and fairytales mostly, now days."

She folded her hands together, resting them on the desk.

"Lupine would be the correct term however."

Now came the part that she was uncertain of - whether he knew of her people at all; was told stories in his youth by those older than he. If he did not know, it was no hardship to further elaborate, but if he did, she knew that he was wise enough to understand the cryptic meanings she'd so recently been speaking of.

"Townsend Loveloxx created the beast, but it was Melkiah Losstarot that gave us purpose and order."

[Abarai Loki]

Lupine. The stuff of bedtime stories and fairytales. Loki knew no such things and it was obvious by his expression that the significance of Loklorien's revelation was lost on him. His eyes narrowed dubiously at another mention of the beast and he was beginning to feel frustrated. He shook his head.

"Master s'Ilancy, please elaborate. I know nothing of the Lupine. And what is this beast of which you speak?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Ever patient, she nodded to herself - so then he had not heard of her people. Perhaps that was a good thing, as they had worked so hard to be forgotten.

"Lupines... " she searched for the most appropriate words.

"... shapeshifters. Changelings. Any manner of wording that you may wish to use."

Two fingers tapped against each other.

"The 'beast' is our second form. Nothing so dramatic as to be analogous to a darker frame of mind, it is simply the most apt way of describing it in literal fashion. For us, the word is ss'a'anau'ek, but to properly translate the meaning would be time-consuming and worthless. 'Beast' is the closest approximation in Basic to be had."

She licked her lower lip as she cast a quick look to her fingers before returning them to Loki.

"That you do not know of them speaks volumes of the depth of their shame. With their wills to live gone, their shame was so great that they sought to erase themselves from all of history, with only abandoned strongholds on a handful of planets to show for their once-great dynasties.

"We were once a proud people, I intend for my species to take up their pride once more; to strengthen their will and not fall prey to the notion of fate.

"Fate nearly wiped us out. I'll not allow that to happen again."

[Abarai Loki]

Beneath the surface, a whole range of emotions gripped Loki, the first and foremost being wonder. Terms such as changeling, or shapeshifter, while not entirely alien to him, they had - through inexperience - become, in his mind, as intangible a concept as the Force itself. It was an area of study which he'd never indulged, largely out of ignorance, but he recalled a time when he harbored something of a child-like obsession with the idea of a man who could turn into... something else. Even as an infant, elaborate constructs of colourful make-belief were of no interest to him, but when he learnt of something like the changelings, something real, it sparked the imagination. And inside, he felt those old feelings beginning to stir again.

"You're a changeling?" he said, the tone in his voice demanded no answer, "Remarkable."

And as the fragments of her story fell into place, he understood. Above all things, the pride and remose of a heritage lost were central to his being; a faceless family; a forgotten legacy; concepts as vital to him as his own flesh and blood. Consequently, the implications Loklorien drew from his ignorance of her people did not sit well with him, and he sought to explain himself:

"Do you discredit your own people? My ignorance of their existance stems from the fact I was raised in seclusion, educated in the ways of the Jedi, and not of the species of the galaxy. Before leaving Maridun, I'd never heard of a Gamorrean, or a Bith, or a Hutt. Why are your people burdened by such shame, and why do you believe it was the concept of fate that led them to it?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Oh, I discredit no one. It was simply their way to shoulder what they thought to be their burden. That you were raised in seclusion matters little - many who consider themselves educated have never heard of us either, and those that have only know of Lupines as nothing more than scary stories to tell disobedient children."

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Rather an ingenious way to disappear from the known galaxy, if you think about it."

She held up a finger then.

"Fate was their killer. They believed that it was their fate to die out, to travel the road to extinction that is made longer and more desolate through the growing onset of infertility. We hold no god or maker sacred - everything that we do is for our Bloodline, and for the preservation of history. In the beginning our will to prosper and survive, to extend beyond our world, was a strong one. But, once the idea that we were doomed to die out began to take hold, that it was our fate to ebb away from the galaxy, our wills began to waiver and crumble. In its' place was resignation to what we believed was our lot in life."

[Abarai Loki]

"Surely, Master s'Ilancy," he began, using her title to offset the offense he was about to cause, "It was not fate that killed your people. Fate is a fallacy, and even the belief in a doomed fate does not necessarily sentence someone to their end. By your own admission, it was infertility that plagued the Lupine people, a genetic defect. Forgive me, but your implication that a mere force of will can overcome a biological flaw sounds as misguided and fanciful as the notion of fate itself."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There was an amused glint in her eye, and it was more than obvious that his words gave her no insult.

"Except," her right hand moved slightly, and she pointed at him for only a moment, "... that it was not a biological flaw. It was a deliberately devised and very much scientific ploy against us, to alter our own biological make-up."

At the thought of the treachery wrought by the Guardians, she fell silent. To go so far into the history of her people would be needless at this point in time.

She went on.

"Those who came before had grown so far from their roots, and from the science that had created them, that they simply accepted death as their fate. They did not search deeper, nor have the will to look inward. They just... accepted what they believed was a predetermined destiny."

[Abarai Loki]

"What a sad way to live; like an animal, trapped inside an imaginary cage."

No doubt, they were only scratching the surface of the tragic Lupine story, and there was much that Loki would inevitably seek to uncover; information, the historical truth, stowed away inside a datapad somewhere, waiting to be unlocked. In the present, however, there was Master s'Ilancy, and her time was short. She offered something more profound and, as he was beginning to realise, something infinately more valuable to him - the personal truth. The feelings she had for her people ran deep, and she displayed such pride in their legacy, which begged the question:

"What do you intend to do to save your people from extinction? What can you do to preserve the Bloodline, other than simply... mate?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

His question delighted her, and s'Il spread her arms wide, a broad smile on her face.

"I can teach."

Her hands came back together, going down once more to rest on the desk.

"Here is a parallel - we, as Jedi, can no longer survive under so many of the old tenets. What once was considered sacred and unchanging has now been desecrated and shifted. All of that we must examine and dissect, glean new knowledge from. What we learn we must apply in new and different ways, and sometimes abandon altogether. There are concepts of the old order that - if put into practice now - would cause us to stumble once more and repeat the disaster of Order 66 all over again. If we did that, it would be very possible that the next time around we'd not be able to even get to our knees as we have now. The Jedi would more than likely truly die out.

"We must grow beyond, and learn from the failings of our masters. They were not inept, but they didn't realize until it was too late that their rigid ways and methods only served to seal their fate."

The Lupine licked her lips as she went on.

"And here we have my own problem. My own people who have, in a strange sense, followed the very same path that the Jedi stumbled down. And like the Jedi, they must grow away from the old ways. Long ago it may have been a sad existence for my people, but now we are given a new chance to live."

[Abarai Loki]

"And so, the story comes full circle," Loki concluded, "Very well. I daresay you are the one best qualified to know what the Jedi need. You have certainly convinced me."

It was no small admission. Loki was not one to compliment easily, but in Loklorien s'Ilancy, he'd found a kindred spirit. A quiet concern haunted him aboard the Whaladon; the Jedi were alien to him, and at times there was almost a language barrier between them. He saw in Anbira Hicchoru shades of his old master, but in the others there was nothing; no flash of recognition, no common ground or mutual beliefs, not a single glint of familiarity. He was a Jedi, and yet, an island. No more.

"You are so different from the others. I can see why you choose to remain here."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She took his compliment with a slightly bashful nod of the head. It was uplifting, to hear him say such words, and the Lupine smiled for it. She'd become unused to hearing things of that nature, and consequently found herself at a loss for how to respond. Luckily, he'd gone on, and his last words made her inwardly smile.

"I do not think it is for any differences that I remain apart to an extent."

There was a short pause before she went on, as though she'd stopped to consider her next words.

"It is more a desire to stay close to the ones that I love."

Seeing the look on his face, the Lupine went on to clarify as she turned slightly in her seat, lifting a hand up to indicate the holos of both Dan and Teagan.

"I have a family to look after."