Miasma: Walking on Phantom Ice [completed]

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Behind the other side
Crossing the border to Neverland, I am lost
Behind, behind the other side
Inescapable, inexcusable
I am lost behind

Went through the deepest rivers
Climbed the highest mountains
Swore to be faithful, the most faithful
Succumbed the ancient spirit
And stranded in eternity

Let the wind carry me above
Let the stars show me the way
Let the moon protect me

Hiding in the shadows
Afraid to see the light
My pale reflections
Finally out of sight

Integration, condemned to be
Without communication
Let my body into nothingness

Now I lie here restless
I can only I'd been thinking
Oh, God, take my soul away

My thoughts are in circles
Only one thing on my mind
I could have made it happen
I scream and say goodbye

"Behind The Other Side" - Withering Surface

***

"Freak."

A simple twig hung from the corner of Taja's black lips as she nonchalantly chewed on it, arms limply crossed over her chest and feet propped up on the table in front, outside the Flying Eagle pub in this godforsaken town known as Tvangeste. Impassive dark eyes remained unchanged as a small group of girls walked past, all about the same age as her, leering and murmuring amongst themselves as they glared at her with faces on which were plastered expressions of disgust. Taja didn't flinch, nor did her gaze once land to focus on them. As such, she couldn't take offense to their little comments.

Obviously finding her deathly manner repulsive, the girls cringed visibly, ashamed of her appearance and quickly turned to make their leave. It wasn't satisfaction that Taja felt at their departure, but rather ... nothing. They had addressed to her their bitter sentiments, and she couldn't give a damn what others opined of her actions. There was no question of feeling in this simple matter, only the welcome emptiness of sheer apathy.

Tucking a loose strand of jet black hair behind her ear, Taja spat out the wooden stick and slowly stood, stifling a yawn. Thinking got boring after a while, and it was only so long that one could occupy themselves by staring blankly into space. She looked around the room and wondered whether or not to smoke. Deciding against it, she sighed and adjusted her black leather trench-coat - an item serving her reputation much justice. Standing at a mere 5' 5", she was barely the menacing image most perceived her to be when stripped of the dark cosmetics and gothic attire. Apparently, her appearance was that of an undertaker. Funny ... right now she felt more like the victim of one.

Taja murmured to herself before hoisting her rucksack onto her back, the shoulder straps groaning at the seams from the effort. Having absolutely nothing better to do than waste time ambling around town aimlessly, she dragged herself away from the near vacant alley at the end of which was the bar and towards the old, ruined part of town, shoving past several annoyed citizens with her big bag on the way.

"Stuff it, retard!"

Gritting her teeth, she rammed through the interlocked arms of some couple ahead blocking the entire walkway. The streets were no place for romance, but still they protested, "What the hell is your problem?!"

Turning back to glance at them, she smirked. Experience had taught her that ordinary folk had a fear of people who looked as though they practiced dark witchery and, this being a highly superstitious town, their assault wouldn't go past verbal abuse. Not that it really mattered to her ... Taja had a fascination with blood and all things sharp. Or, at her short height, she could try tackle their ankles.

She had managed to reach the wall acting as a barrier dividing the older areas of the settlement from the newer developments when one strap of her bag yielded to the strain and its contents fell to the ground. Taja knelt down, growling with a needless surge of frustration. She needed to kill time, but this just got her painfully vexed.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

"Hey."

Taja's eyes widened and she jerked her head up instinctively. Fortunately enough, walls were very pleasantly flat vertical surfaces, else she'd have a lovely bump on her cranium. Cold eyes followed her every move without care as she scrambled to her feet. The voice was familiar enough though, upon looking up, she couldn't quite identify the face. Not wanting to appear rude, she raised her hand in greeting, blinking repeatedly and attempting to smooth the creases in her baggy combat trousers. Some good that did. He, however, didn't seem to notice any of this ... it was as though he stared without actually seeing.

Lifting his gaze to meet hers, the same haunting monotonous voice spoke again, "You never talk to me anymore." Those hopeless, depressive brown pools that were his eyes bore straight into hers, searching. Taja winced and mentally kicked herself - she had no clue who this guy was.

"Uh ... sorry?" Taja offered, attempting a small smile as reconciliation. "You look dead," she hurriedly added, desperately trying to steer the topic of discussion away from names. Again, he didn't seem to notice her blatant efforts.

"Wish I were." He leaned back, his frame knocking heavily against the next locker. Taja took this opportunity to study his features. Impressive. She pouted, oblivious to the fact that he had resumed talking ... what was he doing here? She wasn't aware anybody else frequented these parts of town, let alone miss talking to her. Still, he didn't seem to mind who listened, just as long as somebody did. Blinking again, she snapped back in time to hear him utter one word: "Gone."

She sighed inwardly in relief. Daryen Shrowde, one of the most popular guys around and with many a tedious, superficial problem, much as is encountered by most teenagers. How Taja would savor shoving those meaningless rants back in his face, but didn't know him well enough to do so. In fact, she'd never actually spoken to him alone nor for a prolonged duration, and the mere thought of having to do so now terrified her. What WAS he doing here?! The only instances she'd seen him she had had to resort to putting up a perky and supportive front in order to bear discussion of his pathetic, stupid little woes. Disgusting. Nonetheless, what she saw now was an improvement. Depression was always a positive step forward. Well, negative if you get technical.

Donning her best mask of sympathy, Taja looked up, eyes narrowed with pretend concern and aware that she had missed a good part of his speech. Chances were it was about something she couldn't care less about, like most other things. "What happened?" It was all she could do to keep up this pitiable face and not burst out with some heartless retort. Such a feeble creature. She bit down on her lip to suppress a grin that threatened to swallow the entire facade of worry that she had tried so hard to attain, tinged with a new curiosity. Boring and cliched, yes, but the irreversible results of lost joy were undeniably entertaining to a cynic who basks in its mockery.

Almost as soon as the words were uttered did her face cringe into one of pain as she felt a cold seize her shoulder. Taja gasped as the hand violently forced her against the wall, the impact sending waves of pain crashing through her back. Daryen's face neared hers until she could hear his shallow and irregular breathing, his dark hair brushing against her cheek.

"They've gone."

The grip tightened, and she found Daryen's eyes fixated on hers. A glazed surface that reflected nothing but a hateful mourning, piercing through to her own psyche. It wasn't the physical hurt so much as the cold. The blistering cold that stemmed from the core of her heart and reached out with its tendrils till her mind ceased to think of anything else, seeping through every crack in her thoughts to strangle her conscience. Though the hurt was dying within her, at the same time it introduced an overwhelming, nauseating feeling of isolation. Her stomach clenched from those thoughts of abandonment, her throat from the stabbing wounds of utter hopelessness. All else was void but the cold. Suffocating, drowning ...

Taja keeled over, coughing, raising her free arm to cover her mouth as her body convulsed in an unprecedented fear. Reluctant to release her from his grasp, he closed his eyes and slowly let out a deep breath. "They've all gone."

A ship landed in the near distance. Daryen turned his head at the sound of people gradually filling the streets as expectant family members left their houses to greet returned family members after weeks of idling. His hold on Taja's shoulder relaxed and the hand moved back to his side. "I'll talk to you later."

With that, he was gone, his form merging with the rest of the crowd around the edge of the New Town. Breathing unusually deeply, Taja's hands trembled as she grabbed onto the nearest thing her hand could latch onto, a gaping crevice in the aging wall. The enduring chill subsided, but the pain from what felt like her lungs severely constricting remained. Her legs felt as though they were about to collapse from under her, eyes wide open yet blind to her surroundings.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Tvangeste was hardly a site of great prosperity and wealth. It was in actuality a quaint, largely self-sufficient and almost primitive town that time had in principal forgotten. Those of the inhabitants employed in the vicinity worked to produce components for ships, droids ... anything that could be exported and sold, essentially. Others commuted to distant regions of the galaxy in search of salvation, away from the maddening uniformity of this little town.

No matter what their reason for having been absent, they would all arrive on that one vessel, scheduled to arrive every fortnight. This was quite literally the town's lone sustenance, their single means by which to communicate with the outside world. The public did, needless to say, occasionally want to satiate their hunger for luxuries uncommon to daily life here, and for this they depended heavily on the arrival of this ship.

Every now and then there would be a fault in the industrial output in meeting demands or poor harvests due to the highly unreliable and unpredictable climate changes. The town would as a result fail to deliver the goods within the given 24-hr period during which the ship's pilot rested overnight in the town. This usually meant Tvangeste's economic situation was comparatively poor in contrast to that of similar towns, and more often than not this placed the inhabitants in financial hardship and with no way to contact their family elsewhere, often their sole source of income.

Taja Loraan, the feisty 15-year old daughter of Talena and Ihsahn Loraan, was fortunate enough to come from a very different background. Her father practiced inter-planetary diplomacy, and as such their circumstances were significantly better than those of Tvangeste's other residents. Mr. Loraan had been away on duty over the course of the previous six weeks, and was returning now on that same ship.

Taja appreciated all too well the meager conditions on board and, deciding to greet her father after his strenuous journey home, strolled over to the miniscule docking bay nearby and leaned over the railings. Her usual motive for frequenting the Old Town was to be alone, away from the common occurrences in the rural life. At this time, she desired anything but. She attempted to push the thought to the furthest recesses of her mind; after all, there was no visible evidence of the 'assault', if it was possible to refer to it as such. Only the fearful anguish that struck her heart every few seconds, reminding her of the bitterness.

Families around her embraced their loved ones in genuine happiness. She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes scanning the area for any signs of her well-dressed blood relation. He always just so happened to stand out of the crowd of workers; his only daughter had followed suit, but in a wholly dissimilar manner.

It was Ihsahn who had resolved that Taja and her elder brother Klas were to reside in a remote region such as Tvangeste, secluded from the rest of the galaxy, with their mother. The family had all their lives traveled and temporarily settled in large, dynamic cities where one had little allowance to sit around and brood - something she now envied. As such, Taja hadn't over the past three years really been able to assimilate the customs and traditions of this land, which was, ultimately, her father's goal. He did not wish for his children to grow up as merchants fueled primarily by greed and the need to self-indulge with naught other than material possessions, and no concern as to who they affected negatively or harmed, be it financially or otherwise. In short, Ihsahn dreaded his children would fall into corruption if they remained by his side always, and would rather they follow a more ethical path in life. A stable, secure one.

Her father didn't now seem to recognize her as he careened his way through the crowd, and Taja jogged to catch up. "Hey, dad!"

The man raised his head, eyes laden with sleep as he forcibly attempted a weary smile. All this confirmed was his exhaustion as he wordlessly placed his arm around his daughter's shoulder.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

The scarlet of irises extended into the horizon, the bed of blossoms touching the silky night that approached as the vivid radiance of dusk melted into black. Taja breathed in deeply their smothering fragrance, perched upon a misshapen, dilapidated wall of ancient origin overlooking the vast crimson fields. The Old Town was reputed for its ruinous, mysterious past, but the fact disregarded by the majority of Tvangeste's citizens was the magnificence of its natural splendor - something which never failed to allure the cynical youth to its enchanted plains.

All three of the planet's moons shone with their pale, luminous brilliance that evening, flickering on Taja's already uncommonly fair complexion with a ghostly effect. The beauty of the scene was almost soporific in its tranquility, a vehement force invading the mind and annulling any stray thoughts, leaving in its wake an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. There was no sound other than the serene whispers of the foliage as the faint breeze raced through the branches, taunting in all its freedom.

The wilderness spoke with its own unique, silent eloquence. It was the sole entity, this untamed spirit, in which Taja could find any solace, an escape from the maddening disorder called life. It was this control displayed by the elements she admired above all, as well as being an attribute she deeply envied. The ability to infatuate the mind of another, or strike inexplicable fear, at one's will. Taja sighed. Getting the rest of her household to shut up for a minute would be a good start.

In this dark atmosphere, she did indeed appear quite the paragon, stripped bare of the usual impenetrable mask painted on her face and designed to portray nothing save a false evil. To held her hide. Her expression, however, reflected one of misery. There was news of war looming nervously over her thoughts and overshadowing all other for the time.

"Why do people kill people to prove that killing people is wrong?"

The question escaped her colorless lips amidst a haunting backdrop of mourning in her voice. It sounded painful, earnest, almost desperate. She raised her eyes to the heavens, as though expectant of some sort of reply.

A pause.

Nothing. And then …

The noiseless echo of Taja's tremulous words was replaced by a soothing calm as another then spoke, from behind her, "Because man understands not the speech of the heart or soul, only the deciding trauma of the mind induced by fist and blade."

At this, Taja's seat on the narrow ledge became dislodged, and she fell forward with a small cry. No sooner had her feet come into contact with the emptiness of air did an unusual gust of wind blow past quicker than her descending form. Taja found herself suspended above ground.

In the arms of Daryen.

Crying out again in alarm, she scrambled to regain her posture. He didn't hesitate to comply, and Taja grunted as she hit the carpet of uncomplaining irises. She breathed heavily, a cold flood of sensation penetrating through and clenching her gut as their eyes met. Squeezing them shut, she lay still and prayed that on reopening them, she'd welcomed by nothing.

No such luck. "Here, give me your hand."

Taja glared at his outstretched palm with sheer contempt and disgust; it was happening all over again. He surprised her and, when he came too close, she would receive that nasty little shock that rendered her inert. Like hell she'd let him touch her again, or get anywhere near, for that matter. Just looking at him gave her a headache.

She growled, and Daryen shrugged nonchalantly before retracting his offered arm. Jumping up, Taja again fell back with a loud thud as her foot caught against a low branch. She could hear his quiet chuckling at her comic antics while cursing under her breath; her attempts at showing him up were going along wonderfully. Daring to look up, she couldn't help but blink again to make sure what she saw was real. He was smiling at her amicably, almost admiringly - quite the conflicting image from what she could remember of their last encounter. "Shut up," she grumbled, returning to her feet with somewhat more exercised caution this time. He watched her, arms crossed over chest.

Daryen waited for her to finish sorting out her hair, and was then greeted with Taja's enraged tantrums, perfected through years of nihilism. "What the hell is your freakin' problem?!" she demanded. He seemed genuinely taken aback by her sudden outburst.

"What do you mean?" he finally stammered, his eyes wide with concern and sincere worry. Taja ignored this, her arms flailing wildly in the air. She was good at adapting to situations, and had gathered in all her fury the courage to confront her 'assailant' through barred teeth.

"Are you, like, some deranged homicidal stalker or something, you freakin' creep! What the hell did you do to me the other day, you bloody moron? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

By now, Daryen had stepped back a few paces. Taja's balled fists unclenched as she noticed for the first time the look of bewilderment and innocence on his face, and for an instant felt almost guilty. "Eh … sorry," Taja mumbled after a momentary silence on both sides. Not quite a convincing act.

Her eyes were directed away from him, otherwise she would have seen the wide signature grin appear on his face. "I only wanted to talk to you, Miss Loraan," Taja winced at the formal reference, "and, if you'd rather I leave now … "

The tone of his voice surprised Taja. In no way did it coincide with his reputation, and yet sounded so natural and … true. For the moment, she decided to forget the events of earlier, if only to hear his speech. She had grown genuinely interested by the abrupt change of manner. Schizos were funny. "Nah, it's cool, say whatever it is you're here to say, then bugger off, than-you. And call me Miss Loraan again and I'll bloody well rip out your entrails."

Daryen nodded, sombre, disregarding what he thought to be a playful threat. "I'll get straight to the point then, Taja. My Master, Lord Oorthuis, sent me to find you. He is aware of your father, Mr. Ihsahn Loraan, and his involvement with certain antagonistic parties."

The war , Taja thought, her face immediately reverting to one of sadness and bitterness.

Reading her forlorn, downcast visage, he continued, "Lord Oorthuis believes, as you do, that such unnecessary carnage serves no purpose whatsoever, and only prolongs the suffering of the survivors. He merely offers you an opportunity to learn as part of our society, one which has existed for countless generations and follows the principles of disciplinary control and peace."

"In other words, you're asking me to join some rebel militant force. Like I said, I heard you out, now bugger off," Taja scoffed. So that was his ulterior motive. Predictable, not to mention meaningless; these days prior to the war were for recruiting, no matter who exactly it was they were seeking. At least this one was brutally direct and hadn't wasted her time flaunting the greatness of his particular army.

Daryen remained adamant. "No, Taja. Do not be so quick to judge our ways. We believe in pacifism as much as you, and only wish to help attune you to your inner instincts in order to best fulfill those same desires. My Master will personally mentor you, if you accept his generous offer. It is merely the bonding of like kindred spirits, not the art of war. He is a seasoned warrior."

At this, Taja opened her mouth to retort, but Daryen pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. A coolness emanated from its tip, calming her instantly. It seemed to incite an existing cold in her, triggering it to now fluidly spread over her conscious. Floating, dreaming …

"Let me finish. Because of his past, he above all knows of the fruitless remnants left by war, as he has witnessed so himself. An even greater sense of hatred breeding amongst the populace." His face neared hers; it was unavoidable in her present condition, she could do nothing to resist. Not that she wanted to anyway; it was as though his cold touch had, once again, mesmerized her, and this time, she didn't want it to go away. "He wants this to end, Taja, just as much as you or I," he repeated. "But he cannot do it alone; no matter what the method, no war can be fought alone."

He gently kissed her cheek. "You should be honored. Lord Oorthuis is very particular about his students. He must see something truly remarkable within you to be released, to be tamed in the omnipresent Light. And he is seldom wrong in his convictions."

Taja was too deep into her mental trance to realize how his words defied logic: how did this Oorthuis guy know her anyway? With her regular sceptical attitude, this would doubtlessly have been her first query, but this was anything but regular. Now, it was but a distant thought. All she felt was that wonderful cold. A cold that truly numbed her woes and put her at peace. After all, wasn't that the important thing: to be at peace? And how could one possibly be at peace within if they didn't have peace around them? It wasn't fair; everybody should be allowed to feel this way, to be taken away from their fear and anguish. She wouldn't be so selfish to keep it to herself.

"Where do I sign up?" she uttered in a slow, drawling monotone, as if she had been drugged. Daryen smiled with satisfaction, though Taja was oblivious to this. Success.

"Not so fast. You need more time to think this over properly. When you finally decide - and I know you'll make the right choice, Taja - seek me out at this place." He thrust a small scrap of parchment into her hand, and she mindlessly pocketed it. The cold, all she wanted was this cold, to permanently seize hold of her and put an end to her mental torment and misery. She could feel nothing else, but then again, nothing else mattered; his words entered her head and embedded themselves there, lacking any meaning.

Daryen kissed her softly one last time. "You belong with us, Taja." For the second time, he disappeared, leaving behind the girl behaving uncharacteristically in every manner. His final words lingered in the air, ricocheting back and forth in her blissfully carefree mind:

"You belong with the Jedi."

[imported_Taja Loraan]

The weeks that followed were just as they had been before, and Taja's regular excursions to the Old Town were without incident. All in all, everything was, for the most part, back to normal, and both Daryen and the pacific cold were but distant memories. The same did not, however, apply to the war that drew ever closer.

"But what're they fighting for?" Taja had asked her father on numerous occasions, but the only reply she ever received was a low grunt or a dismissive wave of the hand. The one concrete fact was that the war was to be fought between the two formidable forces of Sith and Jedi. The latter sounded oddly familiar, but it was the least of Taja's concerns.

Apparently, this was an ongoing war and news had only arrived on Tvangeste through its ambassador, Ihsahn. After all, they were merely wild theories and speculation; there was no evidence to suggest the war would even reach this remote sector, and Taja doubted whether any great empire would bother to colonize Tvangeste, easy enough as that may be to accomplish. Besides, why should she care? It wouldn't affect her, regardless of who won; her father was much too important to allow anything to happen in the negative.

Matters at home weren't running all too smoothly: Taja's brother Klas, her senior by three years, had suddenly been consumed by a strong sense of patriotism and had made arrangements to be taken to the nearest Jedi settlement, much to the dismay of his parents. Taja, for her part, did nothing. So what if the Sith invaded? It wasn't as though they'd gain anything of great importance, and why couldn't people get it through their heads that there wasn't anything to point to a war anyway? Guesswork, that's all it was.

One night, when the Loraan family had settled down at the dinner table, there was again mention of the war, something which Ihsahn incessantly tried to avoid. The times all members of the household gathered together were becoming increasingly rare as he spent lengthier periods abroad. Taja didn't mind in the least; space was good.

"The Sith are just a group of insolent b******s," Klas exclaimed suddenly, breaking the still silence. Taja stifled a giggle and Talena looked to him reprovingly.

"Watch your mouth, Klas," his mother reprimanded. There came a muffled apology.

Taja chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. "I don't get what the big deal is. There are no good or bad guys in a war; if you win, you're a hero. If you don't, you're evil," she said slowly, peering at her father curiously through the corner of her eye. There was no change in his expression. This was strangely uncharacteristic; he should've blown a fuse or two by now.

She had, instead, involuntarily triggered Klas' rant button. "See, that's where you're wrong, Taja, the Sith are evil. They don't need a reason to kill, to them it's - " here he added a very dramatic shudder " - fun." He uttered the word as though it was a particularly large and horrid sea slug. "The Jedi believe in peace, not death."

Taja stared thoughtfully at the table, a small smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. "But they'll kill Sith soldiers in the war, won't they?" Her brother was becoming dangerously peeved, but it was obvious he was having trouble coming up with a reasonable answer. She couldn't hold back the sneer any longer; this was doubtlessly one of her favorite hobbies.

Before Klas could come up with another argument, Ihsahn stood. He had not spoken a single word so far, but now his feelings were all too lucid from his creased forehead and clenched jaws. "Enough."

His wife, who had been making futile attempts to control her children throughout, now ushered them away from the table. "Go to bed now, Taja. Klas, wait," she whispered softly. Both obliged, though the latter bore an unsightly scowl and was appearing very aggressive. Taja took one last look at her family before retreating to her chambers. Such a cheery picture; no different from always, then.

That night, Taja could only hear the debating between father and son, and woven into their shouts the pitiful sobbing of her mother. Klas had not, at the grand age of 18, yet mastered the art of choosing his battles and rather opted to fight them all. Wisdom was a trait misplaced and forgotten upon his creation. Nonetheless, Taja loved him dearly, despite their contrasting views and although she would never actually admit to it.

Taja groaned, pressing both corners of her pillow against her ears; this could go on for hours still. She had grown accustomed to it, certainly, but that didn't mean to say she didn't detest the fights. All she craved was some much deserved peace and stability in her life; was that so much to ask for?

A scream, then the shattering of glass.

Apparently so. There was a slight pause before the chaos outside resumed. Taja's hand nonchalantly searched her pocket and, pulling out its contents, was once again overcome with that strange sense of serenity as she stared at the address scribbled on an exceptionally fragmented scrap of parchment. The same coolness, that kind of drowning where you only breathe in soothing waves of ice, melting around yours thoughts before calmly settling as an unconscious rime ... the memories came back as a flood, a torrent of glacial emotion. Clutching the scrap and somewhat nonplussed at her own incoherent actions, she climbed out of bed and walked to the door.

Her eyes scanned the empty hallway. The door to the main lounge was ajar, and the light that shone from within emphasized the stray shards of glass littering the carpeted floor. Careful not to mar the situation any further by advertising her presence, she hesitantly pushed her face against the wall. From this angle, Taja could distinguish the figures of the two quarrelsome males, one's seething rage not exceeding the other's. and the miserable form of her poor mother, caught in the crossfire. The floorboards creaked audibly beneath Taja's feet, but it went completely unnoticed in the fury of the tumult.

So this was how she would remember them. A lone tear fell from Taja's eye, stinging her skin painfully as it rolled down her pale cheek. More threatened to follow in a streaming shower of sorrow, but she quickly turned away. Every pore felt swallowed by an invisible blaze, beckoning her to just drop to her knees and cry; gravity had never wrenched down so hard on every aspect of her body and mind. She strained to clear her distorted vision; her emotions yearned to be forgiven, begging mercy to be revealed.

Taja blinked. But that would show no control over oneself - what was she doing? The circumstances didn't permit such inane and childish actions; she was stronger than that; it was a minor obstacle barricading her path to peace. There was no emotion.

It wasn't fair, but it was right; if only more people could share that thought process. It was as a beacon summoning her with promises of hope amidst the darkness overriding everything around her. It was to be her savior, her means to rid of her morbid, shattered identity. A new beginning.

As silently as she had escaped her bedroom, Taja stepped out of the house. She was a slave to this material comfort; she couldn't live even with such simple luxuries when there were others out there less fortunate, still suffering under an unjust and oppressive authority. Still without hope ... still without peace. It was time to confront reality.

Taja didn't look back.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

"Focus, Taja, focus."

"How can I focus when there's nothing TO focus on?!" Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Taja glowered up at her Master, arms folded over chest.

Though he sighed inwardly in exasperation, Qais didn't flinch. "To use the Force, you must learn to control its different aspects. To master that control, you have to first channel it into you, and to do that, you need to focus."

"But it's a rock."

"You have to begin somewhere."

"I can already lift a rock."

"Do it again."

"I don't want to."

Rubbing his temples, Qais straightened himself and turned away in the direction of the cabins. "Daryen never mentioned were so stubborn."

"Daryen doesn't know a lot of things," she mumbled.

He abruptly swiveled around to face Taja. "Pardon?"

"Nothing."

The Jedi's jaw clenched. "Do what you will, then. If you need me, I shall be in my quarters."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Taja waited until her Master was no longer in view, then returned her attention to the rock. Inanimate objects could be so boring. Reaching into the pocket of her trenchcoat, she pulled out a young snake, barely half a foot in length. She had found it during one of her training expeditions to the barren, desert regions of Tvangeste; now, watching it glide from one hand to the other, Taja peered into its lidless eyes. It glared back at her, as though in some sort of wordless communion.

"And what might your name be?" The snake darted out its tongue in reply.

Silent though the creature was, Taja heard it. She heard its breathing, its fear ... the unremitting burden of having to continue survival. With one finger, she gently stroked its head, and there it lay still in her palm.

So she hadn't lost it completely: there was some truth in what she heard. The hushed whispers in the back of her mind, the voices which ever so quietly conversed incoherently to each other and to her - they were real.

Taja lowered the snake atop the rock, and it slithered noiselessly into the darkness.

"Vasukii."

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Tiny beads of perspiration formed on Taja's frowning face, grimacing with sheer contempt against an invisible foe existing only in the visions incurred through slumber. Even in this state of being, her very essence radiated an aura of indifference. And all the while, they whispered, as they had been whispering ever since Daryen planted that seed of cold in her mind.

Taja's visage was obscured by dark locks of hair, damp with sweat. Upon exhaling, her breath condensed in the cold wind that howled through the open window, twisting and melding into dark shadows that taunted her. She shivered, though for callousness rather than bodily feel as her thoughts scattered and her mind drifted to another plane of existence. She felt ...

Remember this during your training, Taja: you cannot separate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless they have freedom.

... peace.

"Daryen?"

Here.

His eerily calming voice echoed throughout the recesses of her mind. Eyes rolling to the back of her head, she groaned and fell forward, partly due to exhaustion but mostly for relief. An arm came to rest around her shoulders and gently lowered her down. I'm fine, thanks for asking. A soft chuckle sounded, and Taja's eyes flickered open to a friendly smile. Long strands of jet-black hair framed a ghastly pale face.

Daryen.

Looking up, she silently crawled into his open embrace and closed her eyes, pressing her face against his chest. His arms wrapped around her reassuringly and, kissing the top of her head, he asked: Why all the sudden affection?

Taja mumbled inaudibly in response, and Daryen pulled back to stare into her dreary face. Eyes laden with sleep, she whispered quietly before again drawing closer to him, "I want to die." The same laugh; only this time with a grave, somber undertone.

Lord Oorthuis has asked us to spar, in this plane. Rising to his feet, Daryen had gone only a short distance before he turned to glance inquiringly at Taja. She just sat there, making no attempt to get up and follow him.

"I'm scared."

His expression again softening, he walked back toward her and knelt down, raising her chin gently to face him. The guise she wore now one of apprehension, her shoulders tensed. Daryen's eyes narrowed. What's wrong?

Taja shook her head and paused to think. How could she explain to him that she heard things, things that were supposed to be heard only by those who thought them, heard in their minds? Maybe she really was going mad. There was a nauseating feeling lingering in the pit of her stomach, clenching her gut every so often and leaving her overcome with a sense of absolute despair. Or maybe it was merely a violent reaction to being subjected to her Master's training; Taja had never before dealt with the Force. She could no longer differentiate the two states of being.

She began hesitantly, "It's just that ... "

She could trust him with anything. After all, he was Daryen. The same Daryen who had brought her to the path of Light, no matter how taxing that road was. The one in whose presence she really did feel free from the constraining pressures, the binding shackles imposed by her Master. Qais grew agitated, impatient, and this distress was reflected in his teachings.

" ... I'm scared I'll fall back on my studies with Lord Oorthuis if I don't get more sleep than I am right now."

Daryen's expression of worry changed to that of a frown, bemused. Taja attempted at a small smile and he smirked, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. I'm not too sure retardation is rectifiable, Taja. You have the attention span of a decapitated fowl. Your strength amounts to one, anyway.

True, she could trust him with anything. But not when she didn't know what that thing actually was.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Two years had passed since she first encountered Daryen, and Taja carried within her his unborn child: something their Master wasn't very approving of, but there was little Qais could do now in protest. His mannerism also changed with elapsed time: he became colder, more unfeeling. Duly, those he mentored strived to gradually achieve the same. To better understand the Light and the practices of the Jedi, their philosophies.

Taja had always dutifully served the Jedi Knight, but she was itching to explore grounds other than the ones on which she trained. So, instead of meditating as had been her Master's command, she stowed away in the cargo bay of the small territorial ship he and Daryen used to bring back supplies. The journey was slow and painstaking, and the constant drone of the ship's engines soon lulled her to sleep.

Not long after, she was awakened by the murmur of voices and footsteps entering the holding area. The ship had come to a stop. Taking care not the disturb the stacked cartons, she crawled to the mechanical entryway and slid it some way. From this angle, she could discern only Qais' figure, but it was apparent from his rigid posture that he was speaking to someone other than Daryen.

"Glad you could keep your appointment, Minister. Though I imagine your agenda should be significantly freer at this point, what with the Alliance having finalized its decision to disband and all."

"You know very well Tvangeste isn't equipped to handle an invasion. Members of the Senate are at this moment en route for the nearest Sith colony to sign the treaties." Taja frowned; this second voice sounded very familiar, but it couldn't possibly be ... she hesitantly widened the gap looking through into the space outside and edged sideways. Squinting into the dim light, her eyes widened.

Qais was, as ever, impassive. "So in essence, you're handing yourselves over to the Dark Side."

"Spare me the dramatics, Oorthuis; you had your chance and it met with failure. Pity: relegated by your own Jedi cohorts."

"I shall excuse the sarcasm for now." Turning away from his guest, Qais arose and looked briefly out one of the windows. They were in the Old Town. "My 'failure', as you call it, was more an inadequacy on your part to provide necessary funding."

"Which is why such dire steps are being taken, damnit! As we can't afford to defend ourselves, the next best option available is to cede, if we are to spare civilian casualties and suffer minimal damages."

"Sacrifices have to be made, Ihsahn."

"Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-!! My priority is to keep what's left of our population alive!" As was habit, Taja bit down on her lip to repress any sudden flood of nostalgia; how like her father, his asperity to lose temper at the slightest attempt on his patience. Her Master, conversely, seemed to be taking pleasure in breaking the visitor.

"Now, now, is that any way for a diplomat to conduct himself? You disappoint me. But no matter; the reason I asked you here was to discuss issues of a more personal nature. As you are aware, my counterparts stationed me here a few years ago, in solitude, to safeguard and maintain Tvangeste's peace. However, it's only so long before one grows weary of the isolation. I wish to leave."

"I've told you, it's not up to me, the Senate - "

"Ah, but I'm sure the Senate has more important problems to attend to than monitor each and every passenger boarding Tvangeste's freight ship. You could work your authority in that minor field, certainly?"

Ihsahn sat back on his chair, his face livid and contorted into an expression of disgust. "I would have thought one so convinced of his moral stature would rather stay and stand up for his beliefs. You make a fine hypocrite, Qais."

The Jedi smiled. "I'm only one man, Ihsahn. Anyhow, my reasons are my own. And don't tell me you don't miss your daughter in the least." At this, Ihsahn paled. Satisfied, Qais walked back to his seat, hands clasped behind back and a smile curving his thin lips. "I have to admit, she is quite exceptional in her skills. Somewhat of a rebel, though."

Until now, Taja hadn't realized how ill her father appeared: the lines on his face were carved deeper than was normal, and his eyes had a dull, somnolent luster. "Please... she's young. I don't want her involved." His every word sounded as a plea.

"You should have paid greater heed to my word, when you had the chance. I gave you ample time to consider the alternatives; you made the choice, Ihsahn." As an afterthought, he added, "Rather, the choice was hers. She was very supporting of our cause."

Leaning forward, Qais pressed the hilt of his lightsaber against the Minister's chest. "Isn't daddy proud?"

"Leave Taja out of your dealings." His mouth twisted into a sneer, Ihsahn hissed through barred teeth, "You and your kind have proved yourselves no more than a race of murderers. You're no different from the Sith!"

Qais stepped back, and the weapon was both ignited and thrust into Ihsahn's stomach in a single flourish.

"Wrong answer, Senate."

Her father's body slumped forward and falling to the floor, Taja screamed. She screamed louder than she ever had, so loud her throat burned, and yet no sound was produced. She then became conscious of a hand clamped tightly over her mouth, but she didn't care; the door slid shut, blocking her view, but still she screamed. All the while her limp form was dragged back, she screamed.