Prisoner on Pallaxides

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The darkness of unconsciousness began to subside. It slipped away like the tide retreating from the shore, leaving behind broken memories (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?56591-Panic-on-Pallaxides&p=1046357#post1046357) like flotsam and driftwood strewn on the wet sand.

Bryna opened her eyes to white light, brighter than a thousand suns. She screwed her eyes shut until the fire behind them began to subside. She moved to grind the heels of her palms into her eyes, but her arms were heavy and – bound? Daring to crack one eye open, she saw more white. White walls. White lights in the ceiling above and the walls to the side. White coats. White faces peering at her, features coming into focus as her eyes and mind adjusted.

"...do you understand me?

Look, I don't think she speaks Basic. We should get a protocol droid in here. The longer we wait-"

"I..." she croaked, and she tasted an unexpected, unpleasant copper tang on her lips. "Where.. am I?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"You are on the planet Pallaxides."

A voice from behind Bryna replied to the girl's question. From her present bound state in the chair at the room's center, she could not discern who the voice belonged to. A woman's voice, but with a low gravel note to it.

The white in Bryna's vision began to subside into grey. Grey walls. Grey ceiling. Grey uniforms, the faces hidden by grey caps that cast grey shadow. The gradient then moved into moods of black. The black of her bindings. The black of the polished floor. The black of the floating sphere that hovered uncomfortably close to her chair. The white that remained was a luxury. The antiseptic cool illumination from the light bars above. The reflection of that sterile light against the hovering obsidian globe. The glint of a needle.

All at once, the men in grey around her exited the room through a grey door, their absence doing little to spoil Bryna's monochrome reality.

The voice spoke again. Even and calm.

"You are my guest."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Pallaxides... The name wasn't familiar, was it? Bryna tried to remember but her mind was as dark and shrouded as the Hallesmutt of Weit-Fällt. It was a struggle to even keep her yellow-gold eyes open, let alone remember the contents of the star-charts she'd poured over as a child. She blinked, trying to focus on the image of herself reflected in the back sphere hovering in sinister silence beside her. If she could see straight, perhaps she could see another figure reflected there too.

“Who are you?”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Bare footfalls padded on the floor behind Bryna, until she could see her interrogator in the flesh. The Selonian giantess wore an armored cuirass emblazoned with the gear insignia of the Galactic Empire. It had seen better days, showing fresh wear of battle on it's patina.

"I am Matatek Sel Vissica, Knight to the throne of Empress Miranda Tarkin."

The ermine alien's dark eyes took in the sight of her prisoner with a cool dispassion.

"You have been detained under suspicion of murder, and the attempted murder of Her Majesty's royal court."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

At the sight of the creature towering before her, the Lupine's eyes widened and her back flattened against the chair she was cuffed to as the scent of the big beast tickled her senses. Where had the Maid sent her - into whose paws had she been delivered? Her mind was a morass and Matatek's words may as well have been Wild Speech for all Bryna could grasp their weight and meaning.

“I don't understand. I have murdered no one!”

She wriggled, straining against her bonds.

“I am on a peaceful mission.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica rumbled noncommittally at the prisoner's words, raising a fleshy eyebrow at Bryna's denial.

"So you say."

The Selonian pressed a finger against a small pad built into the interrogation frame, prompting a hologram emitter to flicker to life. Images (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?56591-Panic-on-Pallaxides) of the grisly remains of the dead cascaded into the air in front of her.

"Thirty seven dead. Eleven injured. Two missing."

Vissica allowed the gore to remain in full view of her suspect.

"Pallaxides is a closed world. It is a private sanctuary of the Empress. The only beings permitted entry are her protectors, her inner circle, and her court. Curious then, that you should find yourself here. Your very presence is a serious crime."

A wave of the Knight's hand, and the images fell away into mist. Vissica pressed through the phantoms. She splayed a webbed paw along Bryna's jaw, pivoting her head so that the girl couldn't avert her eyes from her accuser.

"I will have the truth in you, whether you give it willingly or not." The Selonian's nostrils flared as she pressed close.

"Starting with your name."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The hologram was visceral. Images of unbridled destruction in... a place she did not recognise, but that she would not forgot any time soon. There were bodies everywhere. Limbs severed from their points of origin, tossed aside like the remains of a meal. What upset Bryna the most, however, were the memories of her father that the hologram had conjured. Father Van-Derveld as she had last seen him (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?55362-Blood-of-the-Father&p=1044468&viewfull=1#post1044468): clutching at the dark stain growing ever-larger on his chest, blood bubbling on his lips.

There was no time to dwell on it though, as the the creature suddenly seized Bryna by the jaw and forced their eyes to meet. All at once, each of her senses was overwhelmed. The bristle of Vissica's fur against her skin, the oppressive musk, their gazes locked -

"Bryna Van-Derveld."

The words exploded from her lips without a thought. Bryna gasped. It felt like Vissica had punched through the Lupine's ribcage and snatched the breath from her lungs.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Selonian interrogator took in everything offered to her. The name of the woman meant little to her, for now. It was not a name she knew. However, truth had a way of attracting other truths to it. Bryna Van-Derveld's revulsion at the grisly handiwork was no indication of her absolution. Criminals often felt discomforted when they were confronted with their misdeeds. However, there was a feeling within, faint and indistinct. Lady Vissica felt a pain that went deeper than the rawness of Bryna's reaction.

"I feel the pain inside you. Share it with me."

Vissica's eyes half-lidded. Her hold upon Bryna was remarkably gentle, fingers gliding slowly up the jaw to the temple, as if she were trying to feel something faint just below her skin.

"Tell me about your mission."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

There was tenderness in Vissica's touch, almost soothing, as if it had been Bronn (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?55362-Blood-of-the-Father&p=1025417&viewfull=1#post1025417) stroking Bryna's cheek, not a stranger. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. She didn't want to answer but couldn't stop herself.

“I must find my mother and return her to my father's side. She is dead but the Maid believes that her spirit lives on - that I can find her.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

What the girl spoke of was surely rubbish. Not even the Knight General himself was strong enough in the force to commune with those returned to dust, much less return the dead to life. The trouble with truth was that it was professed by people who could be undone by their own ignorance. It depended greatly on the truthsayer's perspective.

Vissica had no doubt that Bryna was telling her everything she asked, but even then, there were limits to discovery.

"You believe that the secret to finding your mother lies here?"

The Selonian raised a brow, momentarily lifting her hand from the young woman's face. Bryna was free to answer that question candidly.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The strange sensation of compulsion slipped away from Bryna's mind. A weight lifted from her chest, but she breathed no more easily for it.

"I... don't know. My father trusts the Maid's judgement. I am compelled to do the same."

Bryna swallowed and shook her head, trying to shake stray strands of hair from her face. She had to believe. To do otherwise would have been to question Father Van-Derveld, and to acknowledge that she had been sent... who knew where on a hopeless endeavour.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Your father?"

Vissica paused in a moment of contemplation, scratching the tuft of fur at her chin. She turned from Bryna, taking a few paces away, before returning to summon another hologram for her prisoner's inspection.

"Tell me about this (http://theholo.net/forum/member.php?2844-Vega-Van-Derveld) man."

The hologram flickered in space of a security camera capture from mere hours before.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The image depicted a man with flesh like ivory, frozen statuesque in time. He looked up from under the brim of a hat into the eye of the camera, as if meeting Bryna's gaze.

"I.. don't recognise him."

She pulled her attention back to the creature.

"He is not my father."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Knight raised a hand to Bryna, thinking of establishing the link once more. The clarity of emotion she felt from the suspect, however, gave her pause. She didn't need to push the truth on this matter. Bryna gave her own clarity.

Vissica lowered her hand, her whiskers drooping slightly.

"I believe you."

The Selonian's chest rumbled as she leaned in closer.

"And yet, you find yourself on this planet at the same time as this killer. Do you believe in coincidences, Bryna Van-Derveld?"

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Bryna relaxed her shoulders, twisting her wrists in their bonds to find a more comfortable position to hold them in. As she did so, she though back to what she had glimpsed in the tear-in-time that the Maid had opened: flickers of other places, other people. Slivers of reality, scattered before them like the shattered shards of a mirror. The Maid claimed to have opened a door, but was it only one door she had opened? If so, had Bryna passed through the right one? At that thought, her mouth went dry and panic prickled like pins and needles over her skin.

"I don't know what to believe. All that I am certain of.. is that I am not a killer."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The time had come for Bryna to demonstrate that truth.

"Perhaps you aren't. But one can be complicit in murder without doing the deed themselves. Murderers, after all, often require accomplices. I have no idea how this man arrived on Pallaxides."

Vissica raised a hand, but stopped short of placing it against Bryna's head again.

"Much as I have no idea how you arrived."

Only then did the Selonian once more splay fingers across Bryna's cheekbone and her temple.

"Now, tell me how you came to this place."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Though she knew it was coming, the urgency and pressure to speak that came with the Selonian's touch was no less startling. For the first time, however, Bryna tried to focus on doing something in response. A form of resistance, perhaps. Trying to gain some control over her urge to vomit words.

“Through a door,” she started, a frown twitching at her brow as she concentrated.

“The Maid opened it with blood magic – with the Force.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica felt the resistance to her coercion. It was feeble, but present against her will - a minnow trying in vain to swim upstream. However, that very resistance spoke an unsaid truth in and of itself. The Force. Bryna Van-Derveld seemed to be aware of it beyond an academic sense. Her struggle against the Selonian's truthseeking was a natural response of a Force-attuned being.

The Selonian knight elicited a soft growl, holding fast onto Bryna's features. She spoke in metaphors. Of doors, blood magics, and maids. In time, Vissica would find the truth in these, but the truths from Bryna's point of view were becoming desultory. There were many ways in which the force was understood and commanded. One only had to look to the Jedi and the Sith to understand this. But others too. The Nightsisters of Dathomir commanded the force through physical mediums and invoked words. Vissica held no belief in such things, but a symbol could be imbued with a kind of truth in belief.

The means were immaterial. For now, Vissica wanted broader strokes. A concrete foundation to build upon.

"Where did you come from?"

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

For every millimetre of ground she gained in resistance, the Selonian shunted Bryna back a full five metres. It was a mental tug of war that she had no hope of winning, and yet a part of her couldn't help but try to maintain control. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the arms of her chair tighter.

"My home, Cathar."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The obvious went unstated. You are not Cathar. It was not unheard of for expatriate populations of aliens to reside on otherwise homogeneous worlds, but the reasons for doing so usually ran deep.

Knight Vissica withdrew her touch, lowering her hand to her side as she paced.

"The door you speak of - the one that this maid opened through the Force..."

The Selonian turned away from Bryna, then pivoted her flexible spine to turn back nearly 180 degrees, a look of curiosity on her face.

"...a person steps through in one place, and exits another?"

It was supposition, but Vissica wanted to understand the prisoner's delusion. There was the laughably small chance it was literal truth, but the Selonian interrogator believed it was more likely that this only existed in Bryna's mind. That did not make such a thought exercise useless. Obviously Bryna believed what she was saying. Therefore, following the rules of this mental construct might very well lead to it's terminus, and it's intersection back into reality.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Bryna looked down as she considered the question. Would supplying her interrogator with more information about the Maid's work be a good idea? It might move the Selonian's line of questioning further away from murder, at least.

"Somehow, yes. She called it a door but... it was more like a tear. I don't know how it worked, only that-"

Bryna paused, breathing in deeply and lifting her eyes back to the creature's.

"She was a Jedi, before father captured her."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Your father...captured a Jedi?"

A low rumble issued from the Selonian's chest as her whiskers buoyed.

"Impressive. Only the strongest or the most well-prepared are capable of this. Perhaps I should travel to Cathar and meet this Maid...and your Father...myself."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The young Lupine's expression tightened a fraction, a look bordering on a wince. Father would not be pleased to receive visitors.

"To... what end?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"To the end of My Empress's will, Bryna Van-Derveld!"

Vissica closed the distance again until she was face to face with the humanoid. Her dark, ermine eyes narrowed as the Selonian took hold of the fabric at Bryna's collar, pulling it forward so that Bryna raised as forward as she could to the limits of her restraints. The Knight held her prisoner in that tension state for a moment, to make it abundantly clear that the terms of everything discussed here were being set by only one person.

When her point had been sufficiently illustrated, Vissica let her paw slacken, allowing Bryna to fall back against the interrogation board. The Selonian's sudden thunder roll of anger melted again into unseemly calm.

"Force adepts are dangerous people. Threats to the state. When encountered, they must be accounted for. Cathar lies beyond the Empire, but not so far as the Alliance. Well within the reach of the Imperial Knights."

Again pacing at distance, the Selonian pushed aside the interrogation droid as she walked.

"I am not unreasonable, Bryna Van-Derveld. It is not a crime to be what you are. If this Maid, and if your Father cooperate, perhaps I can offer my own assistance."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Fear froze Bryna's mind for an instant. Only when the Selonian had relinquished her fierce grip on the Lupine, and her back thumped back into the interrogation board, did her brain kick back into gear. The shock had set questions whirling in her mind, like a gust of wind scatters grains of sand. Who was the Empress? What would she do with Father Van-Derveld or the Maid?

There was one question more important than the others, however.

"You would help me find my mother?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica's tall posture straightened as she looked down at her prisoner.

"With your cooperation..."

The Selonian spent a moment to ponder the moment of negotiation she'd arrived at, then dipped her head slightly.

"...yes."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Had the Maid delivered her to this place and time, knowing that the Selonian would help? Whether it was the hand of the Maid guiding her or not, Bryna felt suffused with relief. She would not have to act alone, in this endeavor that felt as wide and wild as the savannas of Cathar.

"Thank you... Knight Vissica."

She dipped her head two, eyes straying back to her bonded state.

"May I be.. released?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

A pivot of the Selonian's broad paw was all that it took. Bryna heard a sound like blood rushing to her ears, and the restraints that bound her to the interrogation board clicked open in unison. Vissica remained statuesque, allowing the near-human to massage the ache in her wrists.

"My agreement does not pardon you, Bryna Van-Derveld. You may yet find yourself in restraints once more."

A near certainty, Vissica thought. Even if Bryna managed to absolve herself of the violence, she was still guilty of criminal trespass. However, Bryna seemed to value something more than simply her freedom. The Knight slapped a hand on the door control of the interrogation chamber. The heavy durasteel slid open with an abrasive hiss, revealing two stormtroopers and an Army captain.

"Captain Thanar, prepare my shuttle. I will be escorting the prisoner off Palaxides."

Thanar's eyes quickly moved from Vissica to Bryna in a moment of confusion.

"I was told that the prisoner would remain in our custody until she is processed at a penal colony."

With no taste for dawdling, Vissica disavowed Thanar of that assumption.

"I have altered the arrangement. Carry out my command."

"As you wish, my Lady."

Vissica pivoted behind to catch sight of her charge, prompting her ownward with a simple command of "Come."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The sight awaiting them on the other side of the door was startling.

A matter of steps from the interrogation board, Bryna hesitated, her eyes widening at the appearance of the Stormtroopers. They were gleaming white and with empty, black insectoid eyes that reminded her unexpected of MMU (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?55362-Blood-of-the-Father&p=1025133&viewfull=1#post1025133). Perhaps these creatures served a similar purpose: as mechanical guard dogs, though following an inferior design pattern.

“Come,” the Knight beckoned and, filing away her consideration of the Stormtroopers for later, Bryna fell into step with the Selonian.

“Do they serve you?” she asked, with a glance back at the trio.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

It wasn't unusual for subjects to feel fear in the presence of Imperial might. That was, after all, the intention. So much of the Empire's effectiveness was owed to the fear it could instill into it's enemies. If you cowed your opponent into bloodless surrender, then you saved your strength for another fight. The Imperial doctrine - what Lady Vissica later came to learn as Tarkin Doctrine, was a philosophy that seemed prudent, efficient, and nearly Selonian in it's purity. It was violence stored as potential energy, a truth on full display. Tarkin doctrine was an answer awaiting a question. The capacity of Imperial violence was a promise, to be delivered in full only if called for. Despite what some said, openly or not, Matatek Sel Vissica was not a barbarian. The violence she carried was applied purposefully.

And yet, for all the ways in which Vissica had seen others react in the presence of Imperial might, the way Bryna's eyes froze on the troopers was peculiar. The fear existed, certainly. Quickened beating of the heart, like a rabbit in the brush considering when best to run. But beyond that, there was a sense of wonder to the strange woman's expression. It was as if she'd never seen the omnipresent face of Imperial rule at all. Even on Cathar, the likelihood that Bryna Van-Derveld could have lived beyond the Empire's shadow seemed remote. How, then, was she so moved?

"They are my subordinates," Vissica answered, her pace unfaltering as she headed to the ramp of her ship. That, however, was a poor answer to Bryna's question on it's own.

"However, they serve who I serve. Empress Miranda Tarkin."

Would the invocation of the Empress's name also yield such a lack of understanding? Vissica's head pivoted back to glance at Bryna.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Freed from her bondage, Bryna walked with shoulders squared and chin lifted. She carried herself with confidence, and why shouldn't she? The blood of House Van-Derveld ran strong in her veins, a fact that her father took great pride in reminding her of.

In the short time Bryna had spent with the Selonian, another likewise common theme had become apparent: Empress. The word was spoken often and with clear reverence. There was a familiar note to it, something buried deep in the history lessons of her childhood. She could picture Bron's furrowed brow, as he realised that his pupil had lost all recollection of it's significance.

“Your Empress has many servants.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

It was a statement born out of ignorance, revealing something artfully understated. Vissica's whiskers rose a measure.

"A great many, Bryna Van-Derveld. The Galactic Empire rules the majority of the known universe. Even your homeworld was once a part of it."

Would she continue to insist in uncomprehending? The more Bryna spoke, the more she revealed her story as a farce. Vissica turned, dropping to a four-footed gait to negotiate the low ceiling of the shuttle entrance. The Selonian paced in the cabin interior, eventually turning to face her guest as she squatted down to sit on her haunches.

"Curious. As unlikely as it is that you are unaware of us, I find it more unlikely you never encountered a native Cathar who spoke of the Empire. They spent some time resisting us."

Vissica's tongue flicked briefly across her muzzle.

"A decision they paid for dearly."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

There was no need for Bryna to duck on her way into the shuttle, though she slowed as she boarded the vessel, taking a regrettably brief moment to look over the point of entry. Likewise, her quick glances over the cabin's interior were cut short as the Selonian fixed her with a look of sharp scrutiny. It didn't matter that she was no longer strapped to the interrogation board: the Knight had resumed her inquisition.

"My family has always lived in isolation from the Cathar community, and the wider Galaxy. I have.. heard of the Empire, but only a little."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The hatch sealed behind Bryna, seals in the door whining as the interior of the craft was rendered airtight. The engines of the shuttle quietly began to spool up as the pilot and crew prepared to leave for their ordered destination.

"Then you will find your time as my guest to be educational."

There was a slight shift in movement as the Lambda shuttle raised off the ground and began to ascend through the atmosphere of Pallaxides.

"What brought your family to Cathar?"

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

As the door sealed shut behind her, panic needled at Bryna's heart. There was no going back now. She had committed to a course and would be bound to it – but then, hadn't she done just that by walking through the Maid's door? This was no more daunting, she told herself, feeling fear's hold on her heart growing weaker.

While she was in the company of the Selonian Knight, she had to be mindful of her words. Though she welcomed the offer of help, she was not naive enough to think that it came without motivations that were obscure to her so far.

She chose her words carefully.

“We have a long history with the planet. My family has lived there for generations.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"That does not answer my question." The Selonian rebuked Bryna in a dangerously calm voice. Rising from her haunches, Vissica raised to two legs, hunching slightly to clear the low ceiling.

"Your family captured a Jedi, and somehow opened a door from Cathar to Pallaxides? If you ask me to believe that to be true, then don't be coy about the story of your origin. You know I can take from you what I wish."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The shuttle rumbled beneath them as it climbed through the planetary atmosphere, but Vissica stood firm and tall all the while. It took none of the Selonian's powers of compulsion for Bryna to tip her head back, looking up at the Knight's fierce, dark eyes.

“My ancestors sought refuge there,” she said, heat rising into her cheeks as she thought on the heresy of her confession. Yet, there was nothing to be gained from lying, not unless she wanted to anger the Selonian further. “They were... exiled from their home, and found that the primitive Cathar worshipped them as gods.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"And yet rather than being fêted by the adoration of primitives, your ancestors chose to live apart from the Cathar."

Vissica's array of whiskers quivered slightly.

"I assume they did nothing to disavow such a convenient misunderstanding. Belief has the ability to steer the pursuit of truth far from reality."

A low spooling sound grew from the belly of the ship, releasing softly with a subtle change of inertia that immediately subsided to calm. Vissica's ears twitched as she knew they had made the jump to hyperspace.

"I wish to know the Cathars' masters. Who does a God hide from?"

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

"Men whose faith lay elsewhere."

It brought a bitterness to her mouth to speak of the Guardians, yet Bryna could not deny their part in her ancestor's story. Father Van-Derveld did not speak of their flight from the home-world with the same contrition, nor would he credit the Guardians with their part in it. The weight of history, and of House Van-Derveld's future, was a collar that grew heavier each year. It was effort to keep her shoulders from sagging under it.

"I'm sorry. Our people's history is... long and complicated."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"My patience is conditional, but you appear to have no shortage of time."

The Knight's tail thumped and slid along the deck, otherwise she remained stock still amid the conversation.

"Speak of your faith. What is it that you believe, Bryna Van-Derveld? You speak of captured Jedi and maids and doorways. If understanding your enemies requires that I understand you, I will have you."

The Selonian rose from her haunches, moving slowly to her captive. Again she extended a hand to Bryna's face, pausing only a scant inch from her.

"Let us start here, with the resistance I feel in you."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

"I am reluctant to return to Cathar, having only... recently departed."

Looking between the Selonian's eyes and the claws outstretched toward her, Bryna tried to piece together a mental account of the time since she had entered the Maid's door. Had she left Cathar one minute and arrived on Pallaxides at the next? Even the oppressive force of the Knight's power did little to dispel the fog clouding that part of her memory.

There was one thing she could be sure of, however. "My father sent me away at.. great personal expense. He may be displeased that I have returned without my mother."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"If your father is as wise as he is powerful, he should understand that not all journeys are linear."

The Selonian's paw again traced fingertips at Bryna's cheek. For the moment, Vissica declined to assail her guest's defenses.

"You return home with a powerful ally in your quest, after all. Do not underestimate my generosity. I lend to your search far greater resources than your family could ever hope to achieve, to say nothing of giving you a chance at making the case of your own absolution. All that I ask is for total cooperation and disclosure.

There can be no secrets kept from me. Tell me about your family."

Vissica pressed home, her voice thick as treacle in Bryna's ears, bones, and blood.

"Tell me everything."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Though she knew it was coming, Bryna could not help the gasp that Vissica's touch tore from her lips. Her body stiffened, pressing back against the bulkhead of the shuttle in the split second before the Knight's will subsumed her own. It felt like being dunked under cold water, her entire consciousness thrust into the icy depths, and only Vissica had the power to grant her breath.

"We are the last of a Great House," she said, the words tumbling out. "Perhaps the last of our species. Mother died not long after I was born and Father's grief has driven him into darkness. He says he captured the Maid because she is a Jedi and has the power to warp the weave of the Galaxy, but he keeps her chained. He blinded her - when I was a child, he had her lips sewn shut but she spoke into his mind, into all of our minds, until we could not sleep because of it."

She paused, only because her lungs demanded it. "He devotes all of his time to trying to bring mother back. It has consumed him. He spends hours trying to commune with mother's spirit, but he will not speak to me."

A knot twisted inside of Bryna. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. She could not stop herself from speaking, no matter how much she wanted to.

"He hates me, because he believes I killed mother. He would rather mother was alive, rather I was dead."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Selonian's demeanor was nearly maternal. She supported Bryna when she buckled against her own compulsion. Her hold on the captive was gentle - not demanding or bruising. Vissica drew up her large paw thumbs along Bryna's cheeks, catching hot tears against the calloused pads.

"Perhaps...the last of your species."

Vissica repeated Bryna's confession to herself, considering the statement on it's face. As she did, the Selonian gently tilted her prisoner's face back up to lend itself to examination. It was perhaps a mistake to assume Bryna was human. She certainly had the physical appearance, but there were many species that shared these in common. Indeed, the human race had thrived and multiplied so much over countless thousands of years and equally countless worlds that there were entire sub-species derivations of humans all throughout the galaxy. Curiously adaptive, humans.

The Selonian dipped her muzzle close, pressing it to Bryna's hairline as she inhaled deeply, taking her captive's scent in totality. She'd spoken the truth, of course, but Vissica still wished to slake her curiosity. There was something faint there. Bryna was an amalgam of her pheromones, sweat, and an herbal sweetness that clung to the roots of her scalp. But behind that, there was something unfamiliar. Vissica rolled her head slightly, giving her hostage an askew glance.

"Your father's hatred seems ill placed. He forsakes his heir and the preservation of his race, in exchange for a foolishly improbable wish."

The Knight's paws fell from Bryna's face.

"I do not wish to commit genocide today, Bryna Van-Derveld. If you are as you say, the last of your kind, you may harness unique gifts that would serve your Empress. It would be reckless for me to permit your destruction prematurely."

The Selonian turned her back, letting her tail slide heavily along the deck in her wake.

"Tell me of your people. In the end, I may not be able to save you, but I may be able to save them."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Bryna swayed forward just a fraction as the Selonian's paw left her cheek. Whether it was an echo of the preternatural power that Vissica possesed or confessing to Father's hatred, something had given way inside of Bryna. Without the Selonian Knight's support to hold her up, she felt - for just a moment - that she might fall forward, might sag into a sobbing heap. Hold your head high, hissed Father's voice in her mind. With a wet sniff, she firmed her trembling lips into a line and sat up a little straighter.

"I've.. only heard stories of what we used to be," she said, watching the Selonian's retreating form with still damp eyes. "Father always says that the Lupine species were once the galaxy's greatest... apex predators and rulers, and that, one day they - we - would be again."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Selonian twisted her torso back severely to squarely regard Bryna without shifting her feet. Vissica's heavy brows knit slightly as her eyes briefly turned left and right in contemplation of her prisoner's words.

"Lupine. I do not know this name."

Her questioning eyes returned to fix on Bryna. As they did, a proximity klaxon flashed softly, followed seconds later by a rumbling and a gentle fade of inertia.

"Lady Vissica, we have arrived at Cathar."

Annoyed by the interruption, the Selonian took two strides to the comm connecting the crew compartment with the cockpit.

"Enter the planet's orbit. You will receive landing instructions shortly."

"Yes, my Lady."

The vox went dead. Vissica returned to Bryna. A paw went up to seize her jaw between index finger and thumb. The Selonian pivoted Bryna's head left to right, searching for some sign or tell that might betray the qualities Bryna spoke of. Vissica released her hold, then grasped Bryna's right hand. The Selonian's broad forepaw swallowed the Lupine's slender digits as she turned the palm over for inspection. A calloused thumb dragged inquisitively over a far-softer hand.

"Do you believe these stories?"

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

At the news they had reached Cathar, a knot began to form in Bryna's gut. She thought of Father again, pushing her away (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?55362-Blood-of-the-Father&p=1044558&viewfull=1#post1044558), his hands sticky with his own blood. Unspoken words in the air between them. Don't come back until you've found her. Cathar ought fo have been a place of safety, of sanctuary. Coming home shouldn't have filled her with a rising sense of dread.

Vissica's touch was a bulwark against the tide of emotion, anchoring Bryna once more in the present. Her eyes widened as she stared down at the Selonian's paw, cradling her hand.

"I... have no reason to doubt them."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Then perhaps we should look closer."



* * *


The shuttle touched down on the outskirts of a small village that lay at the intersection of the arid savannah and a range of ancient, well-weathered mountains. Vissica padded down along the gangplank, pausing only to call back into the ship.

"Captain Thanar, stay with the ship. I will be leaving with the prisoner."

Without waiting for his reply, the Selonian gave the Lupine an even expression.

"You are my guide, Bryna Van-Derveld. Take me to your home."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The air was as hot and dry as she remembered it, the sky was as fierce a blue as ever, and yet, Cathar did not feel like home in that moment for Bryna. She paused at the bottom of the gangplank, scanning the horizon.

She sniffed at the air and frowned at the long spine of mountains stretching away into the distance. Head-cocked to one side, she considered their slopes and peaks. So much of her education in the geography of Cathar had been from below the surface, tracing outlines of maps that Bron had acquired decades before Bryna was even born.

“I.. don’t recognise this place,” she said at last.

“Someone in that village must know the way.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

There was a sense of unease in Bryna's feelings that Vissica could discern. It could mean many things, but it seemed to heighten the more she took in her surroundings. The Selonian angled her head up from her four-footed stance to meet the Lupine's eyes, then followed them along to their intended destination.

"Then we shall ask them. Come."

Vissica's broad paws thumped through the grass, which began to grow in height to the point the Selonian saw it fit to right herself onto two legs only. The landscape around them was vivid and stark. It was an emptiness that contained a great deal.

"For someone revered by the Cathar, you seem unfamiliar with your kingdom. What was your fief?"

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

It was a struggle to keep up with the Selonian, when Bryna's attention kept wandering. At any moment she might spot something that she recognised, something that would pull her towards home.

“A city at the edge of the Great Dune Sea, named Imram'Lien. It was a holy city. The Cathar were superstitious about it, they thought it was... sacrilege to set foot there.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"A convenient belief." Vissica mused with a nod of her head. "Fear has the power to set boundaries stronger than physical walls may provide."

The village ahead was small, but a finger of smoke from one of the structures in the distance hinted at a hearthfire - and signs of habitation.

"How will the Cathar respond to a visit by one of their gods? What power do you hold over them?"

[Bron Korso]

* *

In the far distance, he could see a pair of visitors. From his perch on the large rock outcropping that marked the border of Jai'Affa and its' meager herding community from the rest of the desert sands, old Bron Korso couldn't help the instinctive pull of his lips as they peeled over his teeth.

Strangers and newcomers were no real surprise, but the fact that these came from the sky...

It was common to see such star traders in the great markets of Joffa, but here? The Cathar let out a thoughtful whuff, and with staff in hand, he began the trek down the meandering footpath that would take him to the village's rough-hewn gate entrance.

Jai'Affa was not a popular locale, other than the fact that they held a particular proximity to one of the barrier obelisks. Beyond those, none ventured. The last of the Beast Gods had departed cycles past, and while many still brought their own tributes, others had begun to move on from the old ways.

That there were those who came from above here now... did it mean that the Beast God had returned?

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

“I think they believe they... owe us... servitude. That they should do whatever we ask of them.”

At these words, Bryna could not help but think of Bron. He was a constant presence in her members, always there to help but also to temper the worse of her father’s impulses, at least until the Maid had come.

On the path ahead of them, the Lupine could pick out the shape of a gate and a lone figure standing sentinel beside it.

“Should I.. lead?”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"It would do us no service to dispel their delusions now."

The Selonian deferred with a simple gesture of an upturned paw.

"Proceed."

As she said so, Vissica diverted her attention to the distance, focusing on nothing in particular. There was a feeling that they were being watched, but the Knight could do little to discern by whom, much less from where.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

As she marched on, leading the way, her father’s voice was a harsh whisper at the back of her mind. You are a daughter of House Van-Derveld. Act like it. Bryna squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. With each step, she eased further into the role she had been born to play, wearing the certainty that came with superior like armour.

When they neared the village, coming close enough to see the shape of the lone Cathar as a distinct, tangible thing, she called out.

“You there.”

Her voice carried across the open space, sharp as a whip crack. Bryna felt heat in her cheeks, and not all from the sun overheard. She heard her father in that voice, impatient and demanding.

“What is this place?”

[Bron Korso]

The weathered and dust-covered cloak he wore was pulled slightly tighter around his shoulders as he let his grip tighten on his staff. The old hewn cayo driftwood was adorned with a myriad of beads (stone and bone alike) flitting about its upper portion on sinew threads.

His ears ticked back, pivoting to almost lay flat against the sides of his head as the voice of one of the strangers carried across the expanse between them all.

"You're at Jai'Affa, friends," he called back.

She shorter one seemed to be the leader, rather than the far more massive... was that a Selonian? Well then.

Once more his ears switched forward, though there was a slight skew to them that seemed to match the concerned look on his craggy features. Slowly, he started forward, moving away from the main gates and forward to meet these newcomers.

"If you are seeking Imram-Lien, I am afraid that you have traveled far more northward than necessary."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

That voice. There was no mistaking it...

Bryna was glad that Vissica stood at her back. The Selonian would not see the flicker of doubt and remorse that passed over her expression for an instant, then was gone, like a breeze shifting sands.

The Cathar standing ahead of them was Bron Korso, the man who had practically raised Bryna. It took all of her willpower not to run to him, to throw her arms around his shoulders and bury her face against his neck.

"Will I ever see you again?" (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?55362-Blood-of-the-Father&p=1043534&viewfull=1#post1043534) She remembered the words she had spoken, while Bron stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, strong and steady.

Her jaw flexed, nostrils flared a moment as she caught the scent of him on the warm, dry wind. She swallowed, thinking of Father. Thnking of what it meant to be a scion of House Van-Derveld. Power, control, certainty. An unalieable right to rule over others. If she could fill her mind with those thoughts, her deception might slip beneath the notice of the Selonian’s penetrating gaze.

“I require a guide to the Holy City. You will take me there.”

[Bron Korso]

She was certainly forceful, and Bron stared long at her set features. They appeared as though carved in rock, and her tone lent little room for argument as well. Still however, she was a curious visitor, to say nothing of the hulking Selonian behind her.

A slight breeze sifted errant sand around his feet. His hand moved from holding his robe to join the other in a loose hold on his staff. A motion that seemed to give his body a casual appearance.

"And when you arrive?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

For her part, the Knight said nothing as the lady and peasant conversed. There had been a moment of emotional uncertainty felt in her prisoner, but it was subsumed by an assertive and authoritative posture. Bryna found herself rather easily.

Curling her paw pads under the bottom seam of her cuirass, Vissica remained a silent observer.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Bryna didn’t move, nothing of the Cathar's apparent informality in her posture. She held herself poised, austere.

“That is none of your concern,” she said, in the rolling tongue of her people, the De’v’eni Bas’t’ek dialect of Bast’yr.

As the old words passed her lips, Bryna watched the lines of Bron’s face for any sign that he understood the significance of her invocation of the so-called Devine Tongue.

[Bron Korso]

The girl rattled off some strange dialect that he wasn't familiar with, and Bron angled his head to the side, sharp eyes trying to decipher by her expression what her words failed to tell him.

"I'm afraid," he finally began, "... that what you speak of... "

His own features drew into a pained look, lips drawing back to expose yellowed teeth. One of his lower lateral incisors was missing.

"Your words fall upon deaf ears, Stranger. But... "

His head shook then, eyes closing as he straightened up to his full height. Even his stature rivaled that of the Selonian, though there was no doubting the fact that his body did not hold the sheer power that the other did. He was a simple, desert-bound Cathar, after all.

"... the Holy City is everyone's concern."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica's ermine eyes moved from Bryna to the Cathar and back again. They spoke to each other in an alien tongue she did not understand. Therefore, it was important to feel whatever emotional context she could divine from the encounter There was little to go by, only a pervading sense of careful nervousness. It did not escape possibility that Bryna had lapsed into her local tongue in order to conspire some kind of attack to free herself. Still, the Selonian did little to mark the time, other than flick her tongue briefly over her nose.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

There was no recognition in Bron. Not for the words Bryna had spoken or for her face. It felt like something was falling inside of her, like a pit had just opened beneath her and her insides were rapidly plummeting into it, leaving an icy-cold pressure in their place.

Bron did not know her. Bryna swallowed, tried to centre herself.

“I am Lupine," she said, switching to speak in Basic. "By my blood and birth, I have every right to enter the City.”

[Bron Korso]

"Everyone has the right to visit the Holy City," he answered, though his tone was considerably lower. Her claim to be a Lupine was met with narrowed eyes, and Bron breathed in deeply of the desert air, his nose trying to identify the smells that he could detect of both the girl and the Selonian. Unfortunately, the Selonian greedily took up the olfactory landscape, and it wasn't long before the Cathar let his eyes close, head dipping for a scant moment.

"The last of the Beast-Gods left us many years ago."

His eyes opened then, sharp orbs of pale red as they studied the girl.

"You are not her."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica pushed her senses onward. The nictating membranes partially shrouded her eyes as she drew in a long, measured breath, and drew it out just as deliberately. Everything this Cathar spoke seemed to come from a feeling of earnestness. The Selonian could not be certain on this, but the more this creature spoke, the less a deception it seemed.

Of course, this made Bryna's situation more perilous. Unlike the Cathar, Vissica could sense an imbalance here. There was something beyond the feeling of threat that hung over her. There was surprise and bewilderment in hearing what this peasant had to say. Surprise, bewilderment, but not anger. No, a...sadness? A feeling of loss? This sudden sensation was peculiar.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Bryna felt her shoulders threatening to sag, the weight of Bron’s indifference to her far heavier than she had been prepared for.

Her. The last of the Beast Gods. “Loklorien,” Bryna said, not aware that she had been about to speak the name until it passed her lips. All of a sudden, her heart was thudding like war drum in her ears.

“My mother.”

All pretense of affecting her fathers arrogance fell away like a veil. Her face changed; she was a young woman again, vulnerable, earnest. She moved forward, almost forgetting the presence of the Selonian at her back.

“Please. Do you know where I can find her?”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The name Loklorien hit Vissica's ears, touching a nerve like a live wire. The effect was smothering, and only by the Knight's force of will did she maintain her composure. Though if one looked, they might see cracks in the facade. Her paws began to sweat. Her mouth grew parched, with her tongue thick against the roof of her mouth. Vissica strained to hear the continuing conversation over the heavy thud of rushing blood in her ears. Had Bryna always looked the way she did? Vissica stared openly, not certain whether her memory was betraying her or not. The shape of the woman's ears, of her nose, of her lips. That shade of straw that was the fur of her mane. Coincidences on the surface, but with the force as your ally, coincidences seldom were what they seemed to be.

Vissica drew a deep breath in through her nose, taking in the scents as they held in the warm, dry air. There was something in the way she smelled that was so familiar, but yet elusive still. She squeezed her eyes shut, giving her fullest attention to the sound of her voice. Was there anything there? Hope and yearning and hunger and fury beat red hot under her skin. If she opened and relaxed her eyes, would she see her? So close and within her grasp that she only had to reach out around that delicate pale-skinned throat and squeeze. The allure of vengeance and righteous anger pumped through her quickening heart. It was the purest hatred she had felt since Manaan, and in that realization, Vissica knew that it must remain sheathed. With all of her might.

For now.

[Bron Korso]

She stepped forward, shifting into his space with earnest desperation, it seemed. The expression on her face was like that of a lost kit, trying to find home and the warmth of a familiar hearth. Still leaning on his staff, Bron angled his head downward so that his full attention was on the girl. The name she'd uttered was not unfamiliar with him, but this face now, it was not. He'd known that the woman - Loklorien - she had had a child. But there was no way in the blessed God of Sands that she'd grown so quickly.

He kept his thoughts to himself, for now.

"I've heard that name," he finally offered.

"But, she did not reside in the Holy City. Imram'Lien was only a place that she visited on occasion."

There was a sense of curiosity that flashed in his eyes, but he kept the feeling in check.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Bron did not know her. He only knew of her mother.

“I…”

Bryna’s throat tightened, the undertow of emotion roiling beneath the surface of her threatening to pull her into it. I can’t do this. I can’t. She wanted to scream those words, but when she thought them, she pictured her father bleeding in the middle of the Maid’s pit. This was not the Cathar she knew, not the Cathar where her father was almost certainly dying.

She pursed her lips tightly and swallowed, trying to force the emotion to go away, but her mouth still trembled.

“If.. there’s even a chance that she’s there, I need to go there.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica stared at Bryna's lacrimal display, catching the glinting beginnings of a tear she kept trapped with a tightening of her expression. She could sense emotion, deep and raw, dredged up as unguarded as she'd seen her captive to this point. There was little reason to doubt this feeling was genuine, and if that were true...

The Knight's cuirass raised and lowered with deep, metered breaths. She wet her lips.

"Tell me of this Loklorien."

[Bron Korso]

Still he watched the girl. She was like some frail wisp of moon-strider, held in place by the most fragile of silkweb strings. A far cry from the confident creature that had approached him at first.

And when the Selonian spoke, Bron felt his eyes finally shift upwards to stare at the much larger companion.

A single eyebrow lifted.

Moments later his full attention was returned to Bryna.

"There is certainly no chance that she is, Child." His voice was soft this time, as he worried that anything too harsh would send her fluttering away in the gentle breeze that now swirled the sand around their legs.

"Perhaps she returned to the place that she came from? I once heard long ago that it was in the Core."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The sound of Vissica’s voice startled Bryna. How had she forgotten that the Selonian still stood behind her? She turned, just enough to regard the towering Imperial, her expression betraying her surprise.

“My.. mother? As I told you, my father sent me to find her.”

She twisted back towards Bron, or at least the figure who looked like Bron. There was something in his expression that she recognised now, almost like tenderness, that pulled at her.

“Where did she come from? Do you have any way of contacting her?”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"You only told me of your mother, not her name. Loklorien..."

Vissica drew in a breath, again closing her eyes. She pushed her insights to their brink. There could be no mistaking the feeling. She was certain now.

"Loklorien s'Ilancy."

The Selonian's eyes opened, meeting Bryna's eyes.

[Bron Korso]

This pair was curious indeed; while the Selonian seemed single-minded, the girl was much more flighty and delicate. Like the desert jenatra that bloomed only once a year, sustained by the meager morning dews and clinging to life by drinking in the rays brought by the unyielding sun above them all.

He chose the girl.

She claimed to be of the same stock as the departed Loklorien. A Beast God. But were they truly 'gods'? Or did they inflate their stature and standing? They had come to Cathar long ago, living in solitude. Many told stories of great, beastly vornskrs that began to roam the sands after their arrival.. creatures certainly not native to the husk of a world that Cathar had been since the Sith Wars. Obelisks had been constructed in reverence to keep the beasts sated; obelisks that served as barriers as much as they did shrines and altars. Offerings of food and coin... even blood.

None ventured past the obelisks that guarded the foothills of the Vercor Mountains.

"I cannot contact her. When she left, it was sudden. But I can tell you.. when she left, you were but a cubling of barely 6 cycles."

He reached out to rest a finger upon her forehead. The calloused pad traced a line across to her temple, then down the side of her face to rest just below her jawline.

"That is, if you are the daughter that you say you are."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

There was no mistaking the effect that her mother’s name had on the Selonian. The fact that Bryna could recognise it, could see how it cut through Vissica’s composure in a way that Bryna had not seen in their brief time together, didn’t make it any less confusing.

“Do you… know mother?”

There was no time to process that revelation. Not when Bron’s voice commanded her attention. When he reached out to touch her, she didn’t flinch. She barely even heard what he was saying, at first.

If you are her daughter. If.

Rather than carefully brushing her cheek, he might as well have slapped her. Bryna swallowed, her jaw flexing.

“If she is not here, then… then there is nothing on Cathar for me - for us,” she added, taking a step back and looking toward Vissica.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica's attention was fixed upon the expanse that lay beyond the obelisks. It was clear from her unflappable gaze what she intended.

"Take us to the Holy City."

The wind picked up, and the Selonian bore into it unblinking.

[Bron Korso]

The steel in the Selonian's voice was unmistakable. All the same, he continued to half-way lean on his staff, the knurled wood slightly creaking with the small bit of weight that he placed on it. His hand pulled back, away from the girl, coming to rest over the top of his forearm.

"And what is it you hope to find there, Selonian?"

His voice was like weathered waterstones.

"I have already told you that the one you seek did not live there."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The scents she winded on the hot breeze were not known to her. If Loklorien s'Ilancy once called this place home, she could divine nothing of her essence from the wind. But deep within, Vissica could feel there was something profound connecting her nemesis to this place.

"I search for the truth, Cathar."

The Knight turned away from the vista that lay beyond the obelisks, meeting the alien's glittering eyes with her own.

"In whatever form it takes."

[Bron Korso]

The Selonian was singularly bent, it seemed, to discover whatever 'truth' that she so fervently hunted. Whatever it was, Bron found himself allowing a frown to curl down the corners of his lips, exposing the tips of his teeth. None had actively sought out the old citadel that had once been home to a single, solitary occupant.

His attention focused upon the girl once more.

"And what truth are you hoping to find, Daughter of Gods?"

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

“Truth?”

Bryna swallowed, looking down, unable to look at Bron any longer. The cautionary words of the Maid (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?55362-Blood-of-the-Father&p=1025205&viewfull=1#post1025205) rang hollow in her mind: “What is seen cannot be unseen.. and you may sooner wish to burn out your own eyes than look upon that which your lord father commends you to see.” If her mother was not here, what did she expect to find on Cathar? If Bron did not know her, there was every chance that she would walk into a place that should have been familiar to her, should have been home, and see… nothing, or something unthinkable. The very thing that the Maid had warned she would not be able to unseen.

“I… don’t know.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The feeling of conflict growing in Bryna's emotional state drew Vissica from her single-minded intentions. She met the young woman's eyes.

"Your father gave you a task. A task I will see to completion. Do not let yourself be led astray by fear."

[Bron Korso]

He watched the girl, and then the Selonian. These two were an odd pair, and with a long sigh the Cathar straightened his stance a small bit, shifting on his feet.

"Daughter of Gods, you have many choices to make."

There was a sympathetic tone weaving throughout his voice as he spoke, and Bron couldn't help but pity the girl. She looked so very lost.

"Where does your heart wish to go? Because wherever your heart takes you, that is all the truth that you need."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

“To my mother!”

The words came through a choked sob, and Bryna felt instantly guilty at having snapped at Bron. It was ridiculous; he wasn’t Bron. Not her Bron, and yet there was a kindness in his eyes, eyes that she couldn’t bring herself to look at for more than a moment, that made her feel ashamed of her loss of control.

“To my mother,” she repeated, wiping in irritation at the tears stinging the edges of her eyes. “And to my home.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Bryna's affirmation brought a brightness to the Selonian's eyes. She immediately looked to Bron.

"To the Holy City, then."

[Bron Korso]

Still the Selonian bulled on to the conclusion that Imram'Lien was where they needed to be. If the girl was truly who she said she was, then the Holy City was the last place that she needed to be.

"You continue on about Imram'Lien, without truly hearing the words that I speak," he rumbled out to the larger alien in a voice that held tinges of disappointment.

Turning his eyes to the girl, he continued.

"You wish to find the home of your mother, Daughter of Gods. And if she truly is your mother, then you will send your eyes to the North. You will find the great barrier of the obelisks, and beyond that the Vercor Mountains."

A pause, as he watched her. This desperate creature so frail yet determined.

"There, carved into the cliffs, is a Citadel that is home to the Beast Gods, and was where she called home for no small amount of time."

His lips grew thin, as his expression became almost strained.

"Your Selonian friend is consumed by impatience," his hand reached out to tenderly wipe away the budding tears that glistened along the lower edges of her eyes, stopping them before they could escape fully and travel down her cheek.

"But you must remain true and calm. The old Citadel is sacred in its own way, and must be approached with great reverence."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

The tenderness of Bron’s touch, as he brushed away her tears, felt so familiar. How many times had he comforted her like that before? As a child, she had fallen asleep on countless nights with her head buried in his fur, the sound of his voice, telling her stories of far-off worlds and adventures, the last thing she heard. When she had been scared or struggled with the isolation of their existence, Father had offered her nothing but cold disappointment, while Bron would lift her chin and give an encouraging smile.

No, not this Bron. Bryna took a step back, the nearness to the Cathar becoming too much. She turned to Vissica, her eyes red-ringed and her brow wrinkling in a frown that was half-frustration, half-determination.

“The Citadel. If that’s where she might be, that’s where we should go.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Then we must go."

It was said in equal measure to Bryna as it was to the Cathar. The Selonian eased down to four paws, setting a conservative pace as she headed in the direction suggested.

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

Without another word, Vissica was off, rippling away along the dirt path towards the north. Bryna hesitated, looking at the Cathar for a moment longer. She would see the real Bron again, wouldn't she? There was no time to think about the alternative, as she turned and jogged off after the Selonian.

On foot, it would be quite a journey to reach the foothills of the Vercor Mountains and the great barrier of the obelisks that marked the way into the wilderness of Cathar. The distance didn’t seem to daunt Vissica, however, and Bryna had no trouble keeping pace with the Selonian, even on two feet. She considered shifting, taking a four-footed form. Would it be easier to forget how she felt, if she took the form of a vornskr? No, she had needed the clarity, the focus.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica could hear Bryna drawing up to her position and matching pace. The Selonian swung her head back, noting that the Cathar had opted not to follow. When she was sure they were beyond earshot, the Imperial Knight could speak to her prisoner in confidence.

"The name of your mother, Loklorien. I know this name."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

It had been almost two decades since Loklorien Van-Derveld had died. It was a strange thing, to hear her name spoken aloud by another, when it had been so rarely spoken in Bryna’s own home. As long as she could remember, your mother had been akin to a curse from Father’s lips, uttered only in rueful or spiteful tones. If your mother was here… he said, though he meant: if you hadn't taken your mother from me.

The tears now dried from her eyes, Bryna looked in wonder at the Selonian. Was it fate, or some artifice of the Maid, that had delivered her into the hands of a being who already knew the Loklorien?

“Have you met her before?”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Yes."

Vissica kept a steady pace ahead, resisting the temptation to stop and stare at that strangely-familiar face when she invoked her name, as if she expected the child to become the mother before her very eyes.

"She is a great warrior, and strong in the force."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

She is. She is. Not was, not had been, not never would be again because of Bryna. Her mother was alive in this place, just as the Maid had promised. Bryna's pace quickened just a little, her mood buoyed.

“I’ve only ever heard stories about her.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica could feel the emotion roiling through Bryna at her words. She was pleased to hear of her mother. The Selonian kept walking.

"Tell me these stories."

[Bryna Van-Derveld]

When Bryna recalled tales of her mother, it was Bron’s voice who told them. Father had been present in each tale, always at her mother’s side, but though he had never shared them with Bryna himself. From her Father’s mouth, talk of the Lady Van-Derveld was always tangled in grief, in anger. He made her a distant thing, to be held in reverence but always at arms length. It was Bron who breathed life and warmth into her memory, embracing her for the living, breathing, complex woman she was, instead of the untouchable artefact to be placed upon a pedestal.

“There are so many. She lead expeditions from our home to… so many places in the Galaxy. She loved art and history and culture, and everywhere she went she would find fascinating things and people. She kept sketchbooks full of it all, though… I wasn’t allowed to see them.”

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Bryna's words quickened Vissica's breath.

"I have seen these books. She spoke of her life among her people, then her time with the Jedi. She is a woman between two worlds."

Everything Bryna said brought Vissica closer by degrees towards the most unlikely - that all of this was somehow the truth. The Selonian wasn't sure how this could be, but she began to regard Bryna in a new light.