Tabula Rasa

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There were some things that - though infrequent enough - were in their own right considered clockwork. They gave the illusion of coincidence while at the same time containing the core essentials of a routine that would never be broken. Since the initiation of contact, this had gone on for so many years as a rare yet expected event. A return which was not really a return; a series of chance meetings that were in essence never chance. As planets orbited their suns, so too did this hold the same constant. It was outside the purview of all but the two involved while at the same time their cultural history knew all too well the violent meetings of those peoples that each belonged to. Yet, history and the natural order of things had ben cast aside for other, far more pressing matters. Their ancestors would have come together to the sound of steel against steel.

They came together beneath the banner of calm, if not curious, peace.

Each had come to certain realizations over the course of their visitations, though that realization was reached by different means on either side of what had once been conflict personified. And gradually, their own estimations had coalesced into the same drive and goal, the same determination.

She could count on one hand the times that they had come together over the course of so many... many years.





Loklorien s'Ilancy had returned to Cathar, and though her first instincts were to seek out and renew herself within the walls of the citadel she had for so long dwelt within, the elder Lupine chose to stay in the great market city of Joffa. It was not Kyba, the city that they had first met, but it would do well enough. She had rented a modest room tucked away in the Sky District, something out of the way of prying eyes and private enough for her tastes - as well as the tastes of the one she knew would come.

Though Cathar had not always played host to the quiet gathering of two, there was a sort of sentimentality that she adhered to. It was a world of firsts.

Leaning back in the plush leather cushion of a sofa, s'Il watched as Teagan busied herself with inspecting their temporary abode. It would not be needed but for a few days, but the little Lupine was intent on exploring her new surroundings. And in the next moment, she turned her attentions away from her daughter and down to the small bundle nestled in her arms.

Markos.

So small, so innocent, so vulnerable.

The Apex smiled as she cradled her infant son, so newly come into the galaxy. The sight of him only served to take her back to the days after Teagan herself was born...





* * * * *
Years ago...
* * * * *




A new life.

A new life that she had brought to this galaxy.

A new life that defied every finality that she had resigned herself to.

For hours she watched her newborn daughter sleep, fascinated at the frailty of the tiny being she had carried (for what seemed like seven endless months). She marveled at the miracle that had been created. Slumbering before her very eyes was the astounding culmination of love that she had thought unattainable. She had accepted a fate that she thought unavoidable, and her husband had accepted that same fact. Of course, the thought of Dan pulled the edges of her lips into a frown - he could never know that the baby girl sleeping so peacefully was his. Such was the price of his safety, and now that of their daughter's well-being. The demon that had in the past haunted her dreams and hunted her through the trials of reality could never be allowed a chance to use her small, fragmented family against her; and if that meant that father and daughter could never truly know one another, then that was the price to pay and the aching burden of knowledge was for s'Il herself to bear. Alone.

Another few minutes of staring at her child, and the Lupine leaned back in her seat. She rose to her feet quietly, and padding silently from the small nursery, she paused within the threshold. Hesitant to leave, she exhaled softly. She needed fresh air, to be sure. She needed more time - still - to comprehend that which should have never come to pass. Yet it had.

Slowly, as if in a daze, she made her way to the nearest balcony. Once, long ago, it had been a grand and open-aired expanse that connected many of the towering spires of the citadel. Now though it was like a forgotten relic that only she had remembered. The railings had been lined with glowtiles while the sections which had begun crumbling had been reinforced to stave off the inevitability of time.

Breathing deeply of the night air, the Lupine cast her gaze upward to take in the myriad of stars that glittered like jewels upon a sea of black velvet. Each scent was brought in and filtered, familiar smells that comforted her and blanketed her in an olfactory blanket.

Another inhalation, and she froze. There was something intermingled with what she had become so used to. Something different, yet at the same time it was something that tugged at her memories.

Her head snapped down, away from the stars and her single eye locked upon a figure that stood a short distance away, hidden in the shadow of a doorway.

Her nostrils flared as old habits - so ingrained - caused her muscles to tense. It was not the demon that haunted her, but something else. Someone who's scent she recognized after only a moment more. And in that moment, she breathed out a single word.

"You."

[Mr. Feint]

"Me."

The reply was short and to the point. From the shadows a man detached himself, but it was not the simple stepping from the darkness. Rather it was a man who had become the manifestation of the shadow, now being rendered back into flesh. The powers of illusion and deceit was great, but it had it's limitations. If so desired he could have created the idea of a scent in her mind, of a balcony where his own smell did not exist. Maybe he was getting sloppy and out of practice, or maybe a part of him wanted to be found. He could only watch from afar for so long, only gather samples and work through middle men until he was forced to travel here and see the miracle for himself.

Years ago he had approached the lupine woman, in an attempt to free her from the biological shackles that chained her species to the sinking ship of extinction. While, at the time he had not the key to the lock, he did have an idea of what shape the lock was and where to procure said key, but she had not been ready. Not at all. His attempt at pity was rewarded with hate, and he left. However, he kept tabs on the Lupine, using what resources he had out here in the galaxy to keep an eye and ear on her. Lupines were so hard to find, he could not afford to let this one slip away so easily.

Gloved hands rose from the sides of his long coat, revealing no weapons. Not even his cane sword graces his person tonight. It seemed a worthless bit of steel when the only threat to his person would not be so easily cut down by the slender blade. He was not unarmed, though. He never was, so long as his mind was clear and the force strong. The moon caught his bald head, revealing his movements as he circled around the Lupine, moving to the front edge of the Balcony, his eyes looking to her's until he was finally capable of looking past her, through the window door and into the room beyond. He was looking for it, the anomaly.

He couldn't see it from here, but he knew it was there, could feel it in the force, and it made deep seated fears and instincts flare. Were he any other Guardian he would have slipped past the new mother and murdered the child in it's crib. And not even a gentle, gracious death but something brutal and involving fire. There would not be any chances taken. Guardians did not have great imaginations, and were very direct in their approaches. Not Feint, though. He was something special, the librarian so very far away from his library, who thought in sideways motions. Who watched lupines from afar, who was trying to save their race.

"I came to see the child. An impossibility, really. Every trace of your being has been biologically changed so as to never produce offspring, but you have defied your new nature and the machinations of science and produced one regardless. How?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The shock of his presence was enough to stun her into silence, though only for a long enough period of time to note that his raised hands indicated he brought with him no outward weapon. A Guardian always held more than simple appearances, and it was that fact that gave her hesitation. Even his words - though spoken so benignly - held so much.

She watched him as he circled, turning so that the two faced one another without break. Did she fear a hidden blade to be plunged into her back? A blow to the head that would send her into the depths of her subconscious? Perhaps.

But there was something else at play here, and the Lupine could never forget the words he'd spoken at their first meeting; nor could she forget the ease with which he'd vanished. Their encounter was one that she had pondered for so long, trying to understand its' meaning and the reasons behind why he would so abruptly leave. In the end she determined that it was her own doing which had caused his swift departure. It was a behavior that she was loathe to repeat once more, and following the unveiled revelation that he just now spoke of, s'Il knew that to retain him she would need to exercise a sort of patience and allowance that had never once been witnessed between the two species. For the first time since the beginning of their peoples' shared history, the Lupine was determined to learn from the other; to treat him as an equal.

Stupid girl - what of your father?

The voice in her mind was almost jarring, but she quieted the mental outburst with the rationalization that this was different. The relationship she held with her own adopted father was worlds apart from this moment in time that she now found herself in. It was so vastly separated from this man who had made himself known.

Hands at her sides, s'Il pulled in a long breath as she stared at the one before her. He looked much the same, though her gaze picked out the slightest of lines in his face that'd not been there the last time they'd met.

She blinked.

"I... don't know," was her finally whispered response.

Indeed, it was a question that she'd asked herself so many times over the course of her pregnancy.

And in a surprising moment of sudden candor, she went on.

"I was hoping that you would."

[Mr. Feint]

His hands fell, circling his body until they found each other behind his back, his head tilting ever so subtly as she spoke, his eyes examining her as if seen for the first time. It was indeed a response that he had not expected based on their previous engagement. It was, in itself, a breath of fresh air. It felt like progress, but in reality was just a slip of shadow on the wall; deceiving as to the true shape and purpose of what cast it. There was hope, however, and he had to cling to that because, at the end of the day, back in his library, he had nothing.

"I know why Lupines cannot bear children. I know how it can be fixed. I do not, however, know how it is possible for one of your kind to overcome the obstacle on your own. In fact, I would dare say it is impossible, but here we are. A Guardian and a Lupine, mortal enemies, engaging in civil conversation. I doubt impossibilities matter anymore. Regardless an outside force or catalyst would be required to undo what was so beautiful a weapon. Any such event spring to mind?"

He was, of course, referring to the very project that sterilized the Lupines in the first place. Biological weapons were a blaspheme until it became absolutely necessary to win the war. The cost could not be foreseen. The war became a waiting game until the enemy faded into extinction due to the sterility. It would have been an almost peaceful alternative if they had not continued participating in horrible campaigns that saw many lives lost on both sides of the battlefield. Feint had not been a part of those. War was no place for a Librarian, but as one of the head chroniclers of his people he did see the aftermath, walked through those wastelands created in the name of progress and survival. Funny, all he ever saw was wasteful deaths and an inevitable end.

The inevitable extinction of the Lupine as a species and the fall of the Guardian empire as it fell into purposelessness. Without mortal enemy or drive, they would devolve into peaceful comfort until their existence became so detached that it was, in all aspects, worthless and unnecessary. Then they would kill themselves, or let themselves wasted away until all that was left of their legacy was empty cities and burdened tomes.

It was a fate he would not allow, even if that meant putting the entirety of the galaxy at risk by aiding the enemy.

"Can I see her?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The admission that the Guardians had been the root of her people's fading light in the galaxy was a grim understanding, and one that she was unsure entirely how to process in any amount of time. For so long it had been thought that their race was fated to flicker and die, a forgotten people who took such shame from their inabilities to continue their bloodlines. So much so that they effectively erased their very existence, relegating themselves to children's bedtime stories.

But his last request was enough to cause her to balk, furrowing her brow as she sidled imperceptibly in the direction that would place her between him and the doorway that led into the citadel. It was a natural instinct that dredged up the immediate well of caution, and the both of them knew as much. She'd read so many accounts of what Guardians did to snuff out the young of those Lupines unfortunate enough to find themselves caught unaware; so many new lives sent to The Gate of Souls before they could spend any amount of time in the galaxy. Yet, the part of her that was a Jedi knew why it'd been done - the Lupines themselves were not innocent in such transgressions themselves, and the Guardian's retribution for the slaying of their own young had only been done in kind.

Her shoulders squared back; not to threaten, but rather to show that she would remain stalwart to whatever end this meeting came to. The protective nature of a new mother could be seen shining in her single eye, and s'Il clenched the muscles of her jaw as she considered the request made of her.

"She is asleep," came her eventual and careful answer.

She would not deny him if his intentions were benign, and her next words made that abundantly clear.

"You come to me now without any visible means to end my life... what assurances do I have that my daughter is afforded the same courtesy."

[Mr. Feint]

Her rebuke reminded him of the last time they had met, and for a moment he was reconsidering this meeting. His curiosity, though, was getting the better of him. So he pressed on. "Are you aware what the standard regulation response to a Lupine threat is? A deep space message is sent back to the homeworld to summon an extermination unit that not so much kills the threat, but erasing all evidence of it's existence. Disintegration weapons, high yield explosives; whatever it takes. Sometimes they take prisoners, suspend them in glass tanks so another generation can observe their mortal enemy, see how disgusting it is, and foster a racial hate they will never cease. The only reason your movements through the galaxy have gone unreported is because I have commanded it."

Careful use of non-Guardian assets had guaranteed she remained a mystery. While other Guardians boasted incredible force powers of their own, not all were capable of seeing through Feint's illusions. His race was becoming increasingly complacent in their duties and were easily twisted, manipulated, and straight up lied to in order to protect the identity and location of the Lupine woman. He was not so easily going to let her slip away or be taken from him. She was not his last resort, there were others, but she had something the rest of them did not. A child.

"What further assurance can I possibly give beyond that you are still breathing?" He asked, his hands coming back out again to hammer the point home that he held no weapons. Fingers turned and slipped into the edge of his coat and pulled it open, revealing the finely tailored suit underneath his coat; charcoal grays and blacks, but no weapons. She was not unwise not to trust him, and he could commend her for that but her distrust was proving exasperating. If he wanted he could cut into her mind like a knife, instill the sensation of falling or drowning, or simply toss her into an illusionary labyrinth from which she might never emerge. He doubted it would be that easy, but a challenge was a reward in itself.

"Please, I just wish to see her. I mean no harm."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It seemed as though every time he spoke, his words lodged themselves deep into her thoughts, and she had to - more than once - hold her tongue against the questions that threatened to spill from her lips. And yet, the seed of a notion had begun to grow in the very back of her head, and she regarded the Guardian curiosly, head ticking to one side as she studied his. For the moment his request was ignored as she took him in; the poise with which he held himself, the self-assuredness that surrounded him in a living, breathing aura. But there were holes throughout - not large by any means, but they were there none-the-less. Pockets of missing knowledge that intrigued her.

She had to wonder if he was aware of her past, of the part of her that was so rooted in the Jedi and their teachings. It was certainly something to ponder if nothing else, and reaching out with her thoughts, she let them brush ever so gently over his own mind. It was a soft touch that she administered, looking for ulterior motives that in the end were not present. It was enough to satisfy her, and she withdrew. With an inward hehm, the Lupine slowly nodded while turning on her heal and starting towards the arched doorway.

"Follow me then."

[Mr. Feint]

With every passing moment, as she pondered her options, he started to fade back into the shadows; ready to leave should this endeavor go nowhere. His feet stayed firmly planted in place, but his body appeared to move backwards, blending into the shadow and night sky as the force manipulated the perception of space. It was a physical impossibility, but not for the imagination. However, she consented and his form returned. As she lead him inside he moved with slow, very precise movements. Feint was not welcome, despite her allowing him inside, and he knew it. There would be no step taken out of place, and no gesture made that could be misunderstood as violent or threatening.

His intentions for coming inside were two-fold. While he had hidden her existence from his brethren that did not mean that they would not eventually become suspicious, or surprise him with a visit or inspection. Moving indoors would remove them from the open world outside, and the potential vision of unwanted watchers. The other side of the coin was that he wanted, no needed, to see the child; to make sure she was real and not some manipulation of the force that can deceived even himself. He would ask to hold it, to authenticate it with his own hands, but he knew that would be a point he could not push her past.

As the child came into view he said nothing, keeping his distance and inspecting from afar. The force was his magnifying glass, allowing him a closer view on a different spectrum entirely. Yes. The child was real, and he breathed a sigh of relief. This had not been all for nothing. A small eternity passed before he finally pulled his eyes from the sleeping child and, with a nod of his head removed himself from the nursery and into the room beyond. When she followed after him he turned and spoke.

"That." He started, words escaping him as he attempted to pin down his thoughts. The voice that followed flowed from shaky to it's original slow, steady gait. "Is an impossibility. Lupines are incapable of having children. That is a fact. However, I feel I have been not been a kind guest. You have opened up your home and put yourself, and your child in danger and I perhaps I can offer a token of my gratitude. I know what has caused the sterilization in your species, and I have been investigating a means of rectifying that great sin. However, I need one more thing from you first; I need to know just how you managed it. You said you did not know, but there has to be something; an event, a catalyst. Something happened to you that tipped the scales in an entirely new direction. Have your genetics been tampered with? Have you come in contact with any artifacts of great power, or perhaps a person with great power? Would the father's biology matter? Think S'Ilancy. There has to be an answer. I don't believe in immaculate conceptions or chance."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Immaculate conception," she snorted out quietly. The notion of such a thing was amusing in its' own way, and the Lupine brushed it away with a dismissive gesture.

This revelation of his opened up many possibilities however, and with his words came an unspoken truce that wove itself into the air all around them. It was one that she was cautious of, yet hopeful all the same. The two stood as immovable objects, facing one another as if they were the culmination of so many centuries of war; and in a way they were. Far from Schwartzweld and Lei'ben, far from the Gate of Souls, far from all of Figaro Favoura. Even though they stood within the halls of her family's citadel, it was still on a world that had never known the origins of either Lei'beni or Lupine. Had never known the bloody conflicts that plagued the two bloodlines, let alone the relentless crusade of the Lei'beni against both Loveloxx and Losstarot. In all things, Cather was in its' own right neutral ground, and s'Il was bound to honor that right. Even when this Guardian had first arrived, she'd maintained as much control over her own instincts as she could. In the end he had left just as suddenly as he'd arrived, but their encounter had not come to blows, and for that she was relieved.

And before him, there had been Mr. Dust; an unfortunate altercation that...

The Lupine blinked then, and her shoulders pulled back.

"I think that you should come with me."

Without waiting for an answer, she stepped forward, her path taking her past his towering form and through an open doorway that would lead them deeper into the citadel. As they walked, she spoke once more.

"You say you know why my people are nearly extinct. That is commendable, but if I am to tell you of my own history so that we may determine why that baby is here, you must tell me what you know. This problem is not yours alone to solve."

They stepped through another doorway, flanked by two stone-carved vornskr statues, into a wide, arched hallway, lined with expertly carved busts of her ancestors sitting upon elegant pedestals inlaid with gold. Tapestries hung along the walls, woven with what had once been brilliant colors to tell the story of the Lupine's migration from Schwartzweld. Now though, they had dulled with age, faded into near-ruin. Only the careful preservation efforts of both s'Il and Dan had kept them from ebbing away completely.

"It is my people who are gone, after all."

Passing through the hallway and into an antechamber beyond, she stopped at a pair of massive doors; heavy rok-wood with intricately carved gold crossbeams. A symbol had been burned into the doors - the double half-moons. It was obvious, even to the Guardian, that she had brought him to her family's great library.

She reached up, brushing a palm across the aged wood before turning to regard him.

"I don't even know your name."

[Mr. Feint]

There was only the most bare hesitation before he fell in step behind her. True he meant her no harm and she had not threatened him just yet, but that did not mean, even for a moment, that he was safe. This was, after all, the home of a Lupine and the mortal enemy of his entire species. While she had been nothing but cooperative so far, that didn't mean that she was not secretly fostering age old racial hate bred through generations of war. For all he knew she was leading him into a trap; a room full of Lupines or a location where she would have the tactical advantage. It was with hands held clasped behind his back that he followed. Unarmed and seemingly docile, but his eyes were taking every detail as they passed through the citadel. Every potential weapon, any oddities like uneven floors or obstructions that could hinder an escape or be used as leverage in a grapple.

The journey took them past several statues, busts, and tapestries that paid respect to a culture lost to time and war. Feint could not think of a time he had ever had the image of a Lupine look down upon him from it's alcove or printed on worn threads. It reminded him of the statue in Vrashn Square, of Balog Vrashn standing atop a branded Losstarot underneath his boot, his sword piercing it's chest. The image was replicated across the entire planet, revealing an identity that believes zealously that Lupines are beneath them; animals to be put down. The heroes of the war were canonized into legend, their statues spread across the planet with size and regalia that put these gold trimmed busts to shame. Once or twice he would stop and inspect one, enjoying the craftsmanship and history each one represented.

"Some thing should never be known for what the truth can set free." He replied, coming to a halt in front of a door. He absolutely did not want to reveal to her just what the origin of their sterility was, in fear of how she would react, and if the knowledge spread through the galaxy how the remaining Lupines would react. There was speculation still back home that if a proper cause the Lupines could band together and start another war. There were instructions to never give them a reason to, because it was much easier to pick them off one by one or letting dwindle away into nothing. Feint knew there was no chance of them winning a war now; they were too few, but a war would reduce their limited numbers to nothing.

"We were a... desperate people. After all those years of abusive slavery we were quite willing to win by any means necessary. If not for the Madness we would have never had a chance at freedom. Once we seized the opportunity and pushed our Lupine tyrants back we were adamant to hold that advantage no matter the cost. So we cast our morality aside and turned to biological weapons. A synthetic pathogen was created and deployed in the Lupine population. It attacked the reproduction systems; inhibiting the potency of the male's sperm and the female's ovaries ability to process it. It was specially designed to be hereditary and to grow in potency as it was passed from one generation to the next. Eventually it progressed to the point of complete sterility. And that's why you should not, in theory, be capable of having a child.

You can call me Mr. Feint."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The Lupine seemed to pause, her eye taking in the man who'd come to her home under the auspices of peace. Such a strange thing, to consider - peace between two peoples who'd waged war for so many ageless years. And yet here he was.

His explanation for the affliction that'd plagued the Lupines was registered with a degree of patience that those who'd come before her would have more than likely never exercised. And to a point, she could understand the desperation involved in such an act of slow-burning genocide. There was a part of her that supposed if the tables had been turned, her own people would have done the very same. As such, s'Il only gave a brief nod. There would be time enough to discuss this problem once they books were laid out, their pages open and inviting to any who wished to read the words written upon them.

Only the tick of a single fingernail on the aged wood of the monolithic doors before them gave away any indication at her reaction to this revelation.

"And you may call me Loklorien," she finally answered while turning, both hands placed firmly on each door as she pushed them open.




* * * * *



At four years old, Teagan s'Ilancy was every bit her mother's child. Stubborn and energetic to a dangerous degree, the little girl was a handful; but Lok s'Ilancy loved every moment of it in a perverse way. Now however, the elder Lupine was finding her patience wearing thin. Wrangling her daughter into an acceptable outfit - grey trousers and a shirt with some sort of unreasonably proportioned 'superhero' woman (a gift from Sanis that the girl treasured, much to hr mother's dismay) - s'Il brushed out the tangled mess of blonde locks as Teagan fidgeted in her lap.

"{So who's coming today?}"

"{Someone special.}"

"{Sanis?!}"

"{No, not Sanis.}"

The girl's shoulders fell only a little bit, though it wasn't but a few seconds more before she spoke up again.

"{Well if it's not Sanis and Cirr, who is it? They're the only special ones.}"

"{Sweety, there are other people who are special, you know.}"

"{Like who?}"

s'Il set the hairbrush aside and reached for the small pair of boots that were beside her. A tap to Teagan's leg, and the little Lupine lifted her left leg so that Dama could put it on.

"{Well,}" Her mind raced, and finally she blurted out the first thing that came to mind while tying the laces.

"{-your uncle.}"

"{What's an uncle?}"

The other boot was fitted, and s'Il laced it up.

"{Dama's... brother.}"

"{Oh. And he's coming today?}"

"{He is, yes.}"

Sliding her daughter from her lap, the elder Lupine gave the girl a brief once over. Satisfied, she stood up as well.

"{Take my hand.}"

s'Il knew. Perhaps it was innate, or perhaps it was simply the Force telling her. It was the more likely chance that both were true; whatever the reason, she simply knew that Mr. Feint had returned. Was already here even, arriving at the southern landing pad of the citadel at this very moment.

As the two walked, s'Il reached down, answering her daughter's unspoken request to be held, and bringing the girl up into her arms, she continued on her way.

[Mr. Feint]

The ship was neither Guardian built or extravagant, but the Naboo design did have a sleek elegance to it that very much matched the one piloting it. As much as he would like to fly one of the ships his people produced, which were like flying five star hotels in comparison to this small thing, he could not without gaining the kind of attention that went unwanted. Also, it was easier to hide from his own kind this way. The years had not reduced the caution he employed in his travels. If it was not so inconvenient he would only come to the citadel in the dead of night, in the fog.

The little ship set down on the landing pad and he exited the craft. Like before his tall, lanky form was wrapped in a black coat with a suit underneath. Unlike last time he had a briefcase in his hand. Normally he left his luggage behind on the ship, but he could not risk leaving such sensitive information just lying around for anyone to find. His normally calm and collected mannerisms were stained by nervousness and strained nerves. The last few years he had pushed his agenda as hard as he dared and more than a few had become aware of his seemingly sudden interest in the Lupine race. They had no evidence, of course, but that did not make him fear being dragged before the Tribunal any less. Justice was absolute, and if incriminated he could face imprisonment for a percentage of his estimated remaining lifetime.

The door to the citadel opened and Loklorien S'Ilancy stepped out with a little bundle of wiggling limbs and hair nestled in her arms. Four years. That was how long it had been, but even than he should have been expecting something more developed than an infant. He met her at the edge of the pad, and a rare smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he witnessed the child; the crows feet wrinkling the sides of his eyes. "Hello Teagan. I have something for you." He said, and with a flourish he normally did not employ when using his powers, he pulled a candy sucker from seemingly thin air. Such candy has been a favorite of his as a child, even if just for it's tongue discoloring features.

"She has grown so much." Feint exclaimed, completely lost in the moment; forgetting his real purpose here.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"It has been four years," came the level response. There was no coldness in her tone, but rather a new inflection that only motherhood could bring. And even those simple words held so much.

"Little ones grow faster than I had initially thought."

Teagan, looking from Dama to Dama's... brother? The two certainly didn't look like one another. But, if Dama said he was her brother then that was what he was. The little Lupine grinned, her eyes invariably going to the sucker that had been offered, and reaching out a hand, she was summarily disappointed when Dama's quick hands snatched the candy away.

"{A'gha'na, Tak.}"

For her part, s'Il straightened up, the sweet-treat in hand.

"Little ones and candy are not a good combination," she explained patiently to the Guardian.

"And little Lupines and candy are the worst combination."

Was that a smile that tugged the corners of her lips upward? Perhaps.

The candy was tucked away as s'Il once more took her daughter's hand.

"I have had to learn that fact the hard way," she finished, and with her free hand gestured to the archway that would lead inside.

"Shall we?"

[Mr. Feint]

Gray eyes watched blankly as the candied stick disappeared, an act that would be considered tantamount to child abuse on his home, where children are spoiled so that they might better grasp the beautiful freedom and peace that their ancestors created by butchering another race. He said nothing. It was not his place, and the fury of a mother was not a force you willingly bring upon yourself. Instead he nodded his head, an action he hoped afterwards would not be misunderstood by her culture as meaning something else entirely, and then followed her into the citadel.

The interior had changed since his last stay. Furniture moved or replaced for things more friendly for having a young child running among the house. "May I make use of your refresher? It was a long trip. I won't be a moment." Following a pointed finger he headed down the appropriate hall and found the refresher, an act since he knew where it was already from the intensive reconnaissance of the structure the last time he visited. He never entered the den of a potential enemy without knowing the layout to some extent. Just in case he had to flee. Once inside the refresher he closed the door, pressing the lock with the tip of a finger, and as that audible click filled the air sharply for a moment, his shoulders slumped and his perfect posture limped against the door as if it was the only thing holding him up. He stood there for a moment before moving in front of the mirror, watching the complex illusion he coated himself in evaporate like water in the sun, leaving behind a much paler man, with weary eyes and bruised hands.

After making use of the facilities, he looked himself in the mirror again, and with only the most subtle of hand motions he wrapped the illusion around himself again. The tired, injured man disappeared and a strong and foreboding warrior took his place again. He had no reason to hide just what trials he had overcome in order to accomplish his mission and return here. Feint wanted, no, needed to look strong for S'Ilancy and her daughter, lest he lose their respect. Straightening his back and returning to a posture demanded of a man of his origin, he stepped back out into the hallway and found S'Ilancy where he left her.

He gave Teagan a smile before turning to her mother, looking her in the eye; his briefcase held in both hands in front of him. "Four years have gone by very quickly, but not without success. I believe I might have a solution to the problem." He said, his voice level despite the slight excitement he felt to finally reveal years of work. As his fingers found the clasp of the briefcase his eyes moved around the room, deeply seated paranoia looking for any potential threats, any spies, any Guardians. Convinced he was safe he opened the case and revealed that the interior was lined with numerous small glass tubes. "A cure."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

A cure?

s'Il narrowed her gaze as she looked upon the case's contents. To be sure this sudden and decidedly quiet turn of events was nothing of what she'd expected, and the Lupine blinked. She slowly sat down in one of the leather chairs that dotted the sitting room they were in, her movements slow and ponderous. The notion of a cure at all for the affliction of her people had been something so far away; attainable yes, but her she had always guess that the time frame was on the order of decades rather than simple years. And yet now, before her, Mr. Feint held what he called the cure. The cure that would bring her people back and allow them to spread among the stars once more.

Presently her eye lifted to look at the Guardian before her, and she leaned back in her seat, the weight of the man and his message settling upon her shoulders. A cure!

As if remembering herself once more, s'Il roused herself from her inner surprise.

"Forgive me," she shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and gestured for him to sit as well.

"I was not... expecting this news."

Teagan, ever curious, peered at the small glass vials with a fascination all her own, wide blue eyes moving up to stare at Dama's 'brother' in complete silence and a fair bit of fascination. She felt Dama's hand on her arm, and turned a questioning look to her mother.

But the elder Lupine's attention was held fast and unwavering as she finally managed a single-word question.

"How?"

[Mr. Feint]

"Perhaps cure is the wrong word. This is a solution." Feint corrected himself, scolding himself for his love for the dramatic and vague. Pulling one of the vials free he held it up, allowing the light to pass through it and illuminate the practically transparent liquid. "I doubt it even possible to create a perfect cure, but this is what I could manage. I returned to my homeworld after our last meeting and began additional research as well as picking the minds of some of my people's most gifted scientists and scholars to discover just how the biological weapon altered the Lupine body. I discovered it changed it over generations through a sort of forced evolution of the system. With each generation the impact grew, and with it the chances of reproduction lessened until ninety-nine percent sterile. That point one perfect being you, naturally.

Therefore the problem to overcome is that, on their own, Lupines have a practically zero chance of reproduction and no way to overcome naturally. Biology does not work that way, and without the creation of new generations they cannot evolve to combat it. I have to admire it for it's near perfection. It was more than I could overcome on my own. I needed help, but I couldn't admit my intentions. I would have been executed. I was forced to trick my fellow Guardians to my angle. I approached the Merzule Academy's own science division and I asked them that if the Lupine menace was ever to overcome the sterility, as impossible as it might be, how they could accomplish it. I challenged them, and they were eager to impress me. As the Master Chronicler of the Illuminated Library of History I hold consider sway among my kin. For years they puzzled over this conundrum, devoting what free time they had to tackle the obstacles. I worked alongside them, even dissecting and examining lupine remains that had been preserved for such purposes.

And this is what they came up with." He nodded toward the vial, and then carefully, reverently, put it back into the refrigerated case, placing it back in the foam indent slot that nestled it; protecting it from any harm. "Several theories were proposed, but the one that stood out the most, and was the most applicable given our situation, was to strong arm the problem. By directly repairing the reproduction system it is possible to overcome it. It's not perfect, and it likely won't work for every lupine. We theorized that with enough treatments, years even, it could repair the damage caused by the biological agent. Naturally, a younger individual would have a better chance of healing and surviving treatment, which will be at times painful. Obviously I could not test it, but it proved successful forty percent of simulated tests."

Looking down at the box he wiped it's surface tenderly and held it tight, like a child; afraid to drop or damage it. "We have to hope it works as speculated, because I can never return to Figaro. My intentions were called into suspect and I was forced to flee the system." His hands shook gently as he spoke, reliving the flight from the system in his mind. It had taken everything he had to evade capture. Without his mastery of illusions it would have never happened. He was not the only Guardian with such a specific focus of the force, and he remembered vividly the battles through the starport dodging illusions, smokescreens, and influences while hurling his own. Shadows clashed, a thousand copies of himself fought the vapors of others, falling apart into nothing as concentrations collapsed. Guardians caught in the crossfire; their minds shredded like paper as illusions burned their psyches to cinders. The sensation of skin on his hands as he pressed his fingertips like daggers against the skull of Mr. Gray, forcing as much information, sounds, and pictures into the man's head until his brain died, overwhelmed and exhausted even though is body lived on.

"Sacrifices had to be made..." Feint said at last, his voice trailing off as his focus faded, his eyes starring at nothing as his mind wheeled through space and time. "... I fear they may come for me. Guardians respond, not instigate, but I have thrown the first strike and they will not hesitate to reply."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It was all so much to process. Every word he spoke seemed to thunder through her with a force renewed. The Lupine listened in nearly rapt fascination as he went on, his retelling of the last four years opening so many avenues and passageways in her mind that served to only give her more to ponder. To be sure, the Lei'bheni had created a truly elegant endgame for their foes, and it had come so close to fulfilling itself completely.

What this man had had to give up; what he'd had to leave behind...

And in that moment she felt a peculiar sense of kinship with him. Strange as it was, she felt it all the same.

Eyes closing, s'Il bowed her head as her mind raced. There was no way that she could return to him what he had lost, even in the face of his offering to return to her what his people had taken from hers. But, at the very least she could make an attempt to reconcile in some small way. She could at least extend the hand of friendship and give to him what she could.

"Then you must stay here," both hands went up to rest on the arms of her chair as she went on, giving him no chance to respond, "... at least, for a time.

"I cannot begin to return what you willfully let go of, but at least allow me to give you shelter and in some ways - a home - for now."

[Mr. Feint]

Weary eyes rose from the container and looked up to meet Loklorien's gaze. He wanted to object, to leave the cure and disappear into the darkness of space; bait for the Guardians to chase so that they may never find this family. All his hopes, everything he sacrificed, was for them, and he could not allow that to be undone. A single Guardian tracking him to this place could spell disaster for the young child that bore the hope for her entire species. Feint knew that it would not be just one Guardian. After what happened they would travel in groups, with armies waiting to follow should the scouts discover him or any Lupines. At best he could bait them to some desolate rock where he could do battle on his own terms, forcing them into traps and battlegrounds that favored his skill set, but he could not hope to hold out forever, and when he was finally cut down, his corpse branded a traitor and heretic, they would come for S'Il and Teagan. It was too much to risk. Perhaps, just perhaps, staying close would prove more beneficial.

"Thank you." It was all he could think to say, and as the words left his mouth he felt his body begin to relax, falling into the chair he had been sitting so rigidly in. The illusions that masked his true being faded away like dripping water, leaving the battered and bruised man behind, looking feeble in his sharp suit. The strong commander of words from the balcony four years ago was gone, and replaced in it's place a vulnerable and weak shadow of it's past self.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

If there was any amount of shock in her expression, the Lupine hid it expertly. Rather, the look of a concerned individual flared to life at the sight before her. There was restraint in her yes, but it was only controlled with a small amount of decorum. s'Il sat up straight in her seat, the motherly concern that she always exclusively showered upon Teagan had now found a new target, and for the briefest of moments she acknowledged the absurdity of it all.

But, that was a feeling so quickly banished, and the Lupine pulled herself to her feet while sending a quick - and very stern - order to her daughter. The girl was at least obedient, the patter of small feet being the only sound to her departure.

"You've a gift for illusion," she began ruefally, moving to stand over him. His case was shifted so that it rested at the side of his chair; still within arm's reach.

And as she knelt to her haunches before him, she lifted a hand to his face, palm over his forehead before sliding down to his cheek. She almost smiled.

"I may be far removed from the Jedi Order, but I've not become that lax."

Now she did smile, though it was a smile of concern and intent.

"I was never a healer, and my Master did not encourage me in those disciplines, but I do know enough, if you would permit?"

[Mr. Feint]

There was something reassuring in her touch, but also alien. Interpersonal contact was not something he fostered or had time for during most of his career. As a child he had parents to provide and push him. He was not from an important family, but through their investments he became what he was today. Merzule Academy was open to only the greatest, and what he might have lacked in wealth and societal ranking he made up for with determination and a natural intelligence and potency in the force. He'd pushed himself so hard to achieve, to overcome the obstacles and challenges until he finally achieved his goal; Master Chronicler. It was the premier position, the highest societal ranking a civilian could achieve. He was neither politician or general, but turned to by both for advice. The Guardians are keen to learn from the past and avoid any mistakes, any sins. As the only individual trusted with all history, all the dark secrets, he was very respected.

All that was gone now. The necessary isolationism was meaningless now with the reward tossed away. It left him empty and alone. He had nothing except a silver case, and a mother and her child. Raising his eyes from the floor he looked up at her, and raised his hand, palm out, hands together; the universally accepted symbol for stop. "I appreciate your offer, but while my body might mend my heart is rent. I need time. Time to meditate, and perhaps as I recover I will heal as a whole. Do you have a space where I might rest?"

Feint was sure that sleep would not come easily. It had not during the trip back from Figaro. It had been a long trip too, dodging through the cosmos to shake up his trail, and already had too much time to dwell on what he had done, and the consequences, but he still had much to think about. New variables, new plans. He needed something more. Idle hands would not do. For now he would stay here, offering his services however they might want them, just so he would be close should the Guardians arrive for vengeance.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There was a sadness in her eye as he spoke, though it was an emotion bourne of understanding. She bowed her head, pulling her hand from his cheek to lower his own raised hands back down. So many feelings rushed through her, and there was a wash of sorrow for the man sitting in front of her now. She knew the pain he felt; knew it so acutely that the look on his face brought so many memories rushing back. Memories of the Temple, of watching so many peers cut down. She remembered the terrible shared pain of her Master's death. Even though she'd not been with him, that mutual sting of a severed arm and the shattering barrage of lightning she had felt so sharply through their connection in the Force had been something that haunted her still.

She had lost everything for a second time in her life. Her father had been the first, and while she'd been so young, it was a trauma that had hidden in the deepest recesses of her mind, only to come out when she was at her loneliest.

And now she was watching from the outside, as another was finding himself in that same mire of loss and heartache. He was a Guardian, but he was also a living and breathing being. Whatever their pasts had made their people, the here and now demanded so much more.

"There is precious little I can say to you right now," she started carefully, "... but please know that I sympathize with your pain and heartbreak."

Slowly she rose, offering a hand to him should he wish it.

"Come with me."

[Mr. Feint]

And he knew there was a truth to her words. She had lost her planet, her species, and her way of life generations ago, because of his people. It was only fitting that in order to restore their way of life that he must sacrifice all that he held in excess over her and her kind. His cup had run over his entire life, for generations since his people first fought the Lupines from the surface of their shared planets and star system. He could not complain because it was everything he deserved. Maybe he still had more to give, more to lose. He did not feel that he had lost enough to even begin to make up for the damage his people had caused. But they hurt us too, his conscience told him. It was not the same. The Lupines had not biologically altered the Guardians until they could not reproduce anymore. In fact, they boasted such numbers that more and more Guardians had few or no children; as if to rub it deeper in the faces of their eternal enemy. The eternal cycle of revenge would define both their species forever. He was only facilitating another cycle.

Maybe, just maybe, this would be different this time. It was the only hope he had left for his own people.

He tried to pull himself from the chair, but his body resisted. Taking her hand he allowed her to pull him free. There was a brief stretch before he grabbed the handle of the case and followed after S'Ilancy. "I appreciate your hospitality."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

* * *

Her memories were so vibrant, so clear in recollection of those days, and now, sitting in her rented rooms with her son cradled in her arms she smiled. Her son, her Markos. Her second miracle of life.

Teagan, in her explorations, had moved on to a second side-room, giving each facet a thorough and scrutinizing eye. The girl had not found anything particularly interesting yet, and had made sure to voice that fact to her mother more than once. She'd asked when her 'Uncle' was coming more times than s'Il could count, and the elder Lupine had only offered a shrug, saying that he would arrive when he felt it right to do so.

Markos, half-dozing in his mother's arms, stirred only slightly. His eyes remained closed, and his body mostly still as he was hugged close to the warmth of s'Il's body.

For her part, she knew that the Guardian would find her easily enough. She had left the front door unlocked, for him.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

This place was boring. There were no decorations of any sort; or at least nothing that she could find that might be suitable to occupy her time with. But, Dama had said that it wasn't really a home, and that it was more of a place to stay for a short amount of time. Which she guess made sense... but not by much.

As for Dama herself, she was busy with Markos. For Teagan, the new addition had at first been a curiosity; now he was an annoyance that did not stop demanding the attentions of Dama and Dad. In fact, she would've stayed with her Dad if it wasn't for the fact that Dama's Uncle was the reason they'd come back to Cathar. She remembered him vaguely, but it was enough to make her just a little bit excited to see him again. She recalled that he looked nothing like Dama, but then again she figured that Markos looked nothing like her, so perhaps there was truth to that.

The girl, tiring of her explorations, finally came back into the main room before hopping up onto the leather sofa and flopping onto her back with a world-weary sigh.

"When is he gonna get here?"

[Mr. Feint]

Separation had been difficult, but necessary. They were coming, sending probes and scouts into the known galaxy in search of not just Lupines but also the rogue Guardian; accused of murder, sabotage, and treachery. The reports were kept vague, the truth hidden for the fear of the panic if might cause. A hypothetical cure may have been created unknowingly for the application of reversing the sterility of their racial enemy and former slavemasters. There was no worse enemy than Mr. Feint. Public Enemy number one, his face was circulated across all of Figaro and spread to all active agents in the galaxy. Never had the hunting of Lupines been secondary to anything.

And come for him they did, but they always made the mistake of allowing him to choose the battlefield. With cloak and dagger he baited them away from Cathar and the S'Ilancy family. They lead them to desolate worlds of tundras and deserts, forced them out into the open, in harsh environments, and then left them there, disappeared like a phantom on the wind to another planet. The cat and mouse would continue until they finally made a mistake, forgot to check behind that one rock, and he would pounce. Across a dozen planets their numbers thinned until they finally had to call off the hunt, for now, until they could replenish their hunter seeker team with reinforcements. It was during one of these such breaks in the chase that he disappeared again, only to reappear on Cathar. No one would remember his face, for he wore someone else's the whole journey. The Guardians would never know he was here, and they only found him at all because he let them, so he could keep them from hunting the family that carried the destiny of an entire species in their hands.

He had stopped in a hotel first, without paying of course, to use the facilities. The bristly beard and gangly hair that had grown out during the chase was cleaned and shaved off. It made him more recognizable as a Guardian, but it was finally a face he recognized, and it felt distinctively him. The flayed cloth and worn leather that had proven very effective in the wilderness was replaced with something much more suitable for the urban locale; a suit. It was hardly the finely tailored thing he had worn in years past, but no one quite made suits like Guardian tailors. The OKwear suit he appropriated from a boutique in town was almost as nice, and it would make due.

His feet moved on their own as they lead him back to the familiar home. No one noticed the vagrant as he moved through the city, hidden under an illusion the hide his true identity. As he approached the front door the illusion was cast off and carried away on the warm breeze. His hand raised to knock or ring the buzzer, but he thought better and grabbed the latch and was pleasantly surprised when it opened in front of him. It was like they were expecting him. The familiar entryway was welcoming. It was the closest thing to a home he had now. His coat was pulled free and hung on the rack by the door and he stepped through the home, homing in on the familiar identity in the force, until he came upon the family. Mother with child in hand and daughter laying exasperated on the floor. A smile creeped over his face.

"Hello Teagan." Feint spoke as he hunched down beside the girl. "You get so much bigger every time I see you. Soon you'll be bigger than me."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Sliding from the sofa, Teagan stood semi-proudly before her 'Uncle'. She beamed wide. That she was getting bigger was a good thing; after all, Dama always kept saying that Teagan would be as tall as her Dad, and in her mind she was going to need a steady and continued regimen of growing to achieve that.

"Hi Uncle Feint," her voice wasn't whispered, but it wasn't exactly loud either; after all, the less chance of making any sort of disturbance that'd make Markos cry, the better.

He looked almost the same as she remembered, though the little Lupine detected a few more age-lines than before. It wasn't anything to put her off (wrinkles were contagious, after all), and she met his eyes with a happy light to her own. Her hands fidgeted a small bit as if she was unsure of what to do with them, but it wasn't long at all before her arms went out to wrap around his neck in a happy hug.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

From her seat, s'Il smiled at the interaction. Though she treasured Markos so deeply, Teagan was her firstborn. It did not allow special compensation to be sure, but it did not lessen her daughter in her eyes. Both of her children had been such gifts, and both would continue to bring her such peace even in the times of turmoil. Teagan and Markos were miracles, and each were so much more than they realized.

Even as her daughter smiled at the Guardian, even as she sent her arms around his neck in an embrace that held no prejudice and ill-will...

It made her smile, and the elder Lupine took a small bit of pleasure in seeing the sight before her.

But reality was not often as innocent as what was before her now, and Lok s'Ilancy allowed the weight of things to once more settle upon her shoulders. It was very plain to see - despite Feint's outward appearance, the toll that had been exacted from him for his past actions. Actions that'd been taken to ensure her own peoples' survival. Did it sadden her? The shine in her eye as she watched her daughter embrace the Guardian dulled as she realized that yes, it troubled her. And while it'd been a decision of his own making, there was still a burden that she felt.

But, that was something that need not be spoken of at this moment, and s'Il settled herself, letting a sly smile to crease her features as she watched.