A wicked kind of Melancholic Beauty [open]

[Gitane Van Derveld]

"Who am I?"

Gitane breathed out the question as she stared through the clouds of the threatening sky, thunder cackling in the distance with a deadly manner. Her pale eyes reflected the thoughtless clouds that seemed troubled with tears, and her hair was strewn across her face, windswept and tattered. She was sick of the unknown. Of never being sure what brought her back, or why. Or what she truly was.

Her fingers ran along the dragon head that was relieved into the hilt of her dagger before she slipped it from its sheath. The blade was thin, an almost liquid-looking metallic, and the most treasured of her weapons. It was given to her by Vega Van-Derveld, her master. Gitane looked down at the dagger, her eyes staring back up at her, and grit her teeth. Her shoulders shook for a moment as she slammed the blade down into the wall she'd been sitting on, cutting two thin streaks into her thighs. Tears were streaking her jade cheeks as she looked up towards the sky, screaming out.

"What am I...? What the frell am I?!"

[Jeran Conrad]

Jeran heard something in the distance...a voice perhaps. Maybe breathing, he wasn't sure. He had felt a strange presence, but out here on these windtorn plains, there were several auras and smells. He crouched to the ground and grabbed a handful of the soil. Bringing it to his nose, he breathed in.

Hmmmmmm...who has tread across you today?

He tasted the soil--it had a thick and musty flavor. It was fresh. Of course, this could mean any number of things. An animal could have been across this path. Possibly it was overturned by the launching of a ship. Nonetheless, he felt it necessary to explore.

He found his path leading to some old ruins--maybe once a base? He wasn't sure. But he did know that there was someone here. He felt something dark...but confused perhaps. This was so hard for him. This gift, his wonderfully pure sense of the Force, was often times as cloudy and troublesome as clear or helpful.

As he stalked the ruins silently, he saw the person he felt sitting on an old wall. She was...green? But definitely humanoid. Not Rodian.

Very puzzling, he thought. Should I approach her?

She then said something. Rather, she cried out. She cried out to the wind, to the clouds, to something greater. Jeran's stomach and his heart twisted in pain. He felt for this girl...oddly enough. He hadn't felt anything for sometime.

But what if she was Sith? He knew what his purpose was. He was hunter of the Dark Side. It was his own given task. He felt the dark presence--but he told himself that maybe he was mistaken. This made him feel human again.

He didn't catch what she had said--what was she, perhaps? That seemed like something odd to say, so Jeran figured he had mistaken. He knew he should say something. He reached out into the Force. He reached out telepathically.

Your troubled cry is heard...who are you?

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"She is Gitane," a voice explained to Jeran from above him.

There was a short pause, followed by the noise of someone falling. From the branches nearby dropped a short figure, whose fall came to a stop with a loud thunk. After a moment of brushing himself off (though there was no practical reason for this since the being had not hit the ground), the figure turned to the both of them.

"It is a shame that being Gitane means so little."

[Jeran Conrad]

Gitane? Jeran surely didn't recognize the name. He was new to these parts--knew to this world of being free.

The funny little being floated--hovered--above the ground. How odd. Very interesting. Jeran was defensive and he definitely did not like to be scared. He stepped back from the being loudly, startling anyone who he was trying to hide from.

The being was not agressive in action at this time, and Jeran felt no danger from him. But that did not mean he should let down his guard. He felt a dark presence. Something...powerful. He dared not anger this one, for the aura of it was strong.

He reached out with the Force, transmitting his voice to the other's mind.


I mean you no harm. I am Jeran, and I am lost. Gitane...a name I do not know. This one is called Gitane? And you? What is your name?

[Gitane Van Derveld]

A low growl creapt from the Falleen's throat as she twisted her head to look over her shoulder. Her bare feet slipped up and pressed to the wall as she stood and spun around. Her eyes skimmed around before resting on the two figures. Droplets of rain darkened her skin as they began to fall, snaking beneath the leather outfit she was dressed in.

"Gitane is dead."

She muttered the words just loud enough for either to hear, her eyes squinting a bit as the sting from the cuts in her legs starts to sink in. At her side, her fingers twist the hilt of the dagger, eager to put the blade into use. Gitane leapt from the wall, dropping down a few feet away from either male.

"Gitane died months ago. She should be rotting in the earth... Or floating around as bits of ashes. So why is it that she is standing before you. Able to talk, walk, stand, breathe...feel?"

[Jeran Conrad]

At this point, Jeran gave up on trying to understand the situation he found himself in. This was all too confusing for him. He felt so much anger and fear eminating from this...woman? Maybe not a woman, but something very very close to one. She was so hurt, so angered by something. Maybe he could find out. But was it the right time? Could he just approach this girl and ask her? How would she recieve him?

And the other presence--the small creature hovering near him. What was to come of this? Jeran was so confused. His first time away from his Master, he could not look to a higher wisdom to instruct him. He reached out into the Force to feel for a hint.

......Nothing. Not a whisper.

Master...please...help me

"Jeran!" the wind spoke back. He listened intently. "You have given up on life. You have let go of your intentions to save. Do not give up on the spirit." The voice faded back into the whips and cracks of the stinging wind. Jeran turned back to the figures before him.

He felt fear. Not fear of him, but fear of an attack. He reached, under his cloak, to his saber, fingering the hilt to remind himself that he was truly not alone.

He reached out through the Force to talk to the girl:

Please...do not be afraid. I will not harm you. Why is your pain so great? What has happened to Gitane?

[Vega Van-Derveld]

As Jeran spoke in a silent plea through the Force, a growl pierced into his subconscious.

“Be careful whom you speak that name to,”

The Hunter, if inclined to look for the source of the voice, would find that behind him stood a darkly robed man, with a scars riddling his face, staring straight down at him.

[Jeran Conrad]

Jeran nearly jumped out of his robes! The voice had penetrated his thoughts and he twisted around sharply, almost falling on his butt. He could not believe he had not sensed the other's presence! He lived so in tune to the Force, yet this signature had eluded him. He stumbled backwards--now finding himself in somewhat of the center of the group. The man was tall and dark, with scars cutting his face. He could feel power and anger eminating from the being.

This is a situation I definitely didn't want to be in, he thought to himself.

Nearly entirely grasping the hilt of his lightsaber under his cloak, he scanned the other's face. It was dark and somber. He wondered what lay behind it. He wondered what horrors those eyes had seen--or what horrors they had directed.

He reached into the Force, searching for the words, but could find little comfort in any. He communicated to the man telepathically:

I...uhhhhh, I didn't mean to...I don't wish to offend.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He scolded himself. He felt so awkward, so uneasy that the he could not find anything really coherent to convey his genuine apology for any disrespect.

[Gitane Van Derveld]

"Vega..."

Her voice was hushed at she said the name, her eyes staring past the man who had just spoken into her mind. A slow smirk creapt over her lips as she turned her attention away from her master. She moved closer to the other man and placed tilt her head just inches from his, her eyes piercing straight into his.

"Afraid...? I've been closer to death than I am to you.." She grinned softly in amusement. "Even slept with him. I've forgotten fear. I welcome pain. Torment, insanity, corruption... Are just as common in this mind of mine as happiness, innocence and compassion are in any other being. The only thing I want.. Are answers."

[Vega Van-Derveld]

“What a pity. You have offended me.”

Whilst speaking, a smile slowly crept over his lips, contorting them into an eerie expression.

“Gitane,” he spoke mentally, without any visible display of his telepathic communication, “What is troubling you now?”

[Gitane Van Derveld]

"The same thing that's been troubling me, Lord Vega." Gitane spoke into his thoughts as she pulled slowly away from the man, giving his shoulder a slight shove. She turned to look at Vega, wet locks of hair toppling over her vision.

"Why am I alive?"

[Jeran Conrad]

Jeran felt the tension between the two grow. Maybe positive, maybe negative--he wasn't sure. But he felt disturbances in the Force. They were communicating to each other. He had grown so used to speaking with his mind that he could feel the others thoughts. He had no idea what they were saying, but he thought that maybe this was an excellent oppurtunity to move away from the group and allow himself a more comfortable position. He took a couple of steps back and watched intently.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Though his eyes remain on Gitane, an unseen hand whipped out to grip Jeran. It locked around his torso and crushed his upper chest so much so that he could not move.

“You live,” he began to reply, “Because you are irreplaceable and without your presence somethings cannot be complete.”

Vega’s brow furrowed somewhat.

“Do you not value your life, the existence I gave to you?”

[Gitane Van Derveld]

"If I'm so irreplaceble, then why did you let your son kill me in the first place..?!" Her voice was shattering as Gitane screamed the words through clenched teeth. Tears glistened and mixed with the raindrops that were crashing upon her face. She lifted the dagger, pointing the tip towards her husband, her hands visibly trembling.

"Why... did you allow him to go about as if nothing happened?"

[Jeran Conrad]

Jeran stepped back slowly, keeping his eyes on...Gitane. She seemed angered byt he presence of this new being. She--

Arrrrrrghhhhhhhhh

An invisible hand gripped Jeran! He was lifted off of the ground and held tightly. The crushing strength of the hand pushed his chest so tight that he found immense trouble breathing. He tried desparately to push himslef free--it seemed to no avail. The pain was great, and he found concentration hard to muster.

He pushed harder and harder, this time with his mind. He felt the hand loosen up--maybe not because of his own efforts he thought. Did this being feel any compassion? He reached out his thoughts the the dark one:

Please...arghhhhh...I...do not mean to....please let go!

He pleaded pathetically. This one's power was far more than his. He continued to push--he would not give up.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

“What does that matter now? He is as a lapdog to you and I now, and would willingly die for either of us,”

Vega turned towards the Hunter and released the grip he held, tossing the man back some five or so feet.

[Jeran Conrad]

Jeran crumpled to the ground. He was in great pain--it was as if his lungs had been compacted in a scrap compactor and he struggled to squeeze life back in to them.

He strained his neck up to look at the two that stood before him. They were engaged in a very serious conversation. Something of which he would not understand.

He tried to regain his composure and watched to two intently. Slowly, he was feeling his energy come back.

[Gitane Van Derveld]

"He has always been your lapdog, Vega. Always.."

As she spoke, her own words seemed to sting her. Gitane let her hand drop to her side, her eyes locked onto the ground. She sighed quietly before another thought struck her head. The fourth being there. Gitane turned slowly to face the small man and took a few cautious steps toward him.

"Who are you..?"

[Jeran Conrad]

Jeran turned his attention to the small man as well. It was peculiar that he had emerged. Now, Jeran waited for some kind of reply.

He stared out from underneath his hood. He searched the man--this 'Vega'--for some kind of answers. He looked deep into his mind, searching for anything that might allow him to sympathize with the dark warrior.

As for Gitane, she seemed so very agry that nothing would penetrate her mental shield. She would not let anything in--even he, with all of his feeling and goodness.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"Hob is Hob," the dwarf said, promptly doing a handstand where he stood.

The effect was an odd mix of disturbing and comical. The hands that kept him upside-down- hands that should have been planted firmly on the ground- instead found their purchase in the air a foot or so above the swaying grass.

Hob had watched the proceedings with interest, keeping the telepathic equivalent of an ear out for all the messages floating through the air in order to stay apprised of what was being said. Although some of what Vega had sent was tightly and accurately guarded, Hob caught enough to understand the context of the conversation. Its' actual relevance to him was minimal- but there was no harm in knowing what one could not, was there?

The dwarf suddenly seemed to remember something. One of his hands lifted in the direction of Jeran, the other still managing to keep him firmly in place. With a wave and a subtle shift in the Force, the pain on Jeran's insides eased and he found himself able to breath a tad easier.

"Usage of the Dark Side does nae come without cost, lad," Hob said quietly to Vega. "Tis best not to throw such weight around idly."

The dwarf then crooked a finger at Gitane and beckoned her over to where he was, slightly apart from the rest of the group. "Come, lass" he said in the same quiet tone he'd used with Vega. "We shall talk."

[Gitane Van Derveld]

Gitane peered at the little man, a thin eyebrow lifting. He was intriging, to say the least. But, what did she have to lose? Vega was nearby, and she could well defend herself if need be. She sighed, her hand dropping to make sure that her violet-bladed lightsaber was still at her side, before moving away from the group and toward Hob.

"Talk of what..?"

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"Talk of many things," Hob answered sagely. "Of carrot cakes and sailboats- of constables and kings."

It was an odd rhyme, but Hob seemed to take a peculiar delight in saying it as he beckoned her still a few steps more from Jeran and Vega. When the two of them had gone apart a little ways, Hob turned to Gitane and stared at her curiously. "Why," he began. "Do you want to know who you are?"

[Gitane Van Derveld]

Her eyes shut as Gitane bowed her head briefly, chewing at her bottom lip. Her eyes slit open to glance to the side before she looked towards Hob.

"Because I should be dead. I was dead; for over half a year."

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob peered at her curiously. From within the folds of his robe, he produce a cane made of some kind of wood. He then proceeded to poke Gitane several times in the stomach. "Ye appear t'be alive t' old Hob, lass."

The cane stopped poking and went to the ground (another useless gesture, for Hob was still hovering). He then lay both hands on its' head and stared at her expectantly. "And why is it so important to know the ways and means of your survival?"

[Gitane Van Derveld]

A small growl slipped from her throat in unappriciation for being jabbed with the cane. Her ivory eyes narrowed into slits before she blinked and tilt her head up to face the clouded sky.

"That's just it.. I wasn't alive. For over half a year.."

She forced a small laugh before kicking at the ground, her bare toes sinking briefly into the mud.

"And then, without warning.. Here I am again."

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob's eyelids slowly began to close, but stopped before they could completely do so. His look was, altogether, a combination of sleepy and shrewd.

"Old Hob understands about the hows and whys of identities," he said. "And death. Old Hob has studied death. To the well-organized mind, it is but the next great adventure."

"So now that you are here," Hob continued. "I ask you: why worry about where you were? It is life's wont to go forward. Put yer past behind you- this mystery will undoubtedly sort itself out in due time."

"Such is the way of the Force."