A to Z

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

One of our older RPer's who is sadly on a very long (hopefully not permanent) hiatus did this thread idea. It was amazing to read back in the day, and it has now inspired me to do some exploratory writing for s'Il that has certain themes attached to the letters of the alphabet. It's a fun way to really get into the meat and potatoes of a character, and offers glimpses into their lives that might not otherwise be seen. So, here it is. My best attempt at Liz's 'Life in Themes from A to Z'.









ALONE



She sat in her quarters.

For now, safely ensconced aboard her ship. Her ship. Her people's ship. Khera'Va'ss'io. A name that most would never understand. The word itself was meaningless to so many in the galaxy, but to her it was... familiar. Khera'Va'ss'io, the name from her books. The name of a soul bathed in light, yet doomed to solitary existence. It was no one individual's given name, but rather a descriptor. Like some sort of title.

Or burden.

Loklorien s'Ilancy sat at the edge of her bed, back straight. Eyes blinked as she stared at the far wall. Her gaze shifted then, sweeping through a doorway to the small main living area and the desk that was barely visible. She knew that unseen was a small sofa, a low table, and a sad assortment of personal affects. It was nothing like what she had kept aboard Dauntless. In the quarters that she had shared with Dan, there had been a plethora of history. Tokens and mementos. Trophies and remembrances.

Now? There was almost nothing. Now there was a bare whisper of the woman she had once been. Cast out from all she had once clung to, and then raged against. But still there was the need for identity. For connection. For hope.

There was a nightstand beside her bed, and sitting atop the glossed surface were two pictures. One of her daughter, and one of her son. Both children were on Ossus, and if the Force willed, that was where they would be raised. Life spent on a warship was no existence for a child.

Slowly, she leaned over, her hand pulling open the drawer. Inside, a flimsi rested. A picture of a man met her eyes, and she looked at the image for only a moment before closing the drawer once more.

It was not the will of the Force; or at least, the Force had given her no insight into her future.

A soft click as the drawer drew flush with the rest of the nightstand, and the Lupine lifted her gaze up to rest once more on the pictures of her children. Her wonderful children. Perhaps in the future she would be able to hold them close, but for now such a luxury was outside of her grasp.

She bowed her head then, eyes closing as fingers flexed, then gripped her knees in some useless show of strength.

She was still in her uniform, caught up in the maelstrom of feeling so bitterly alone.

According to the chrono on her wall, it was 0200.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

BRANDED



Both sat in one of the many meditation chambers scattered throughout the Temple. Each room was not so cozy as to encourage slumber, but there was a certain comfortableness held within that seemed to draw out the need for quiet contemplation in any who entered. Dim light given off from a single glowpanel, two mats on the bare floor, a slatted window to allow the orange and red hues of sunset to filter in. Walls, unfettered by the clutter of decoration begged to be adorned with only the peace that a tranquil mind could provide. Everything was simple yet powerful in these rooms. Everything was as it should be.

The two bodies that inhabited this particular chamber were facing each other. The girl, her eyes closed while the man watched her from his own kneeling position. This was a familiar thing by now, to be observed as she cleared her mind and sought peace following the rigors of her lessons in that one form of combat that most in the Order seemed to give a wide berth. Her Master had been insistent in the path of her training, and had pushed her each day. He was not cruel; no, in her five years at the Jedi Temple thus far, Loklorien s'Ilancy had come to regard her tutelage as something beyond what everyday life offered. It was kind in some ways, resolute in others. Everything that she had learned up to this point had been to better her. And while there was no denying the limits placed on the Jedi, they were limits that her eleven year old mind found prudent and sensible.

She was a quiet student, feeling no real need to speak with the other Padawans. Oh, there were a few that she'd had interactions with, but they were bare acquaintances. She spent her time by herself in her small living quarters, or with her Master.

Now was one of those latter times. Both had just finished a two hour long sparring session. Though, it was more akin to her being lectured and warned, and given limits. He had imparted the very serious nature of his preferred method of combat for almost more than half of those two hours.

But now they were both here, sitting in a meditation room.

She had cleared her mind, letting everything fall away as she sought the peace that was so comforting.

And he watched her. He spoke every so often, his voice low, encouraging, and safe. His tone was as an Ithorian oak; solid, secure. His words helped her to release the tensions of the day, and encouraged her to explore the gentleness that her thoughts inherently sought after.

But then his words changed, and while her eyes remained closed, there was a definite ripple of surprise that cast from her center. He had transitioned from Basic to her own language. She'd been trying to teach him, but there had always been worry that he was only letting her do so to ease her own internal frictions.

But now, hearing his words in the language that was her first...

... she couldn't help the smile that slowly grew, pulling at the corners of her lips with slow ease.

And he softly chided her, still in those words that only she - and now he - knew.

He continued to speak, and she continued to listen.

He spoke of tranquility and stillness. Of silence.

And then she felt a finger placed between her shoulder blades.

The surprise was enough to cause her eyes to open, and the young Lupine found herself staring at her Master. He had leaned forward, his arm over her shoulder so that he could put a fingertip to the Brand that she had never told him of, yet somehow he knew about.

His mouth moved, and he asked about the half-moons that she wore beneath her Jedi vestments.

Her own mouth opened, but no sound came out as the shock was enough to strike her not only speechless, but motionless. Finally, she managed to ask how he knew.

He only smiled in answer.

And so, rather than spending the rest of the time in meditation, Loklorien s'Ilancy did her level best to explain the practice of her long-forgotten people's branding rituals to Master Windu.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

COLORS




"It is like seeing a painter's palette."

The confused look sent her way was enough to tell her that the analogy was falling on somewhat deaf ears, and Loklorien gave a slight purse of her lips before trying to explain further.

"A palette... it is like a large plate, see... " she held one hand out, with the other making a sweeping gesture to try to simulate the outline of that iconic painter's tool, held aloft, ".. and it has many small holes that an artist puts their paints. He - or she - mixes the colors to make new shades, new hues. And then they put them on the canvas."

The girl sitting across from her seemed somewhat unimpressed and skeptical.

"So we see things in the colors that a painter makes?"

Biting her lip, s'Il gave a slow shake of her head.

"Not... exactly."

The hand that had been holding the imaginary palette shifted upward then, to scratch at the back of her neck. She looked across the room to her husband, who sat at his desk. He was ensconced in his own reading, as if completely unaware of the discussion going on between mother and daughter. His reading glasses were perched over his aquiline nose, eyes slowly shifting from left to right.

He was fully invested in something other than explaining the finer points of his daughter's First Form, and after a moment of thought, s'Il realized that it was most likely for the best.

Dan Thrule had never been the sort to invest the time in endeavors such as this. Which was probably for the better. Still, there was a small amount of disgruntled exasperation that she could not help but express in a low exhalation.

She turned back to Teagan.

"Everything is black and white, or at least the normal things are."

She leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, and Teagan burrowed into her side. An arm held the girl close.

"But the Force," her voice lowered; not quite a whisper, but just above, "... the Force, it is in colors, and it can be many different shades of those colors."

A slight pause, as she let herself relax.

"Everyone, especially those who can use the Force, has a color that we can see."

What is your color?"

The question caught her slightly off-guard, and the elder Lupine couldn't help the look of pure unknowing that creased her features.

Eventually her expression melted into a serene look of peace, her gentle smile turning down to her daughter.

"That, I do not know."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Dusk




She felt old. Old and tired. But, it was of the sort that was earned from a long life. And certainly, after so many hundreds of years, Loklorien s'Ilancy was satisfied enough that she had lived as good of a life as she possibly could. There had been pitfalls and heartbreak, but there had also been so much joy and love. She could not imagine changing anything about her past. After all, it had made her the matriarch that she now was.

Sitting on an old stone bench, the elder Lupine watched as the suns - Figaro and Favoura - dipped low to gently kiss at the horizon. The sounds of nature surrounded her, taken in by senses still sharp. Her body had grown frail, though, and she held fast to the cane that had become a comfort in her advanced years. Propping both hands atop the intricately carved handle, she let her mismatched gaze settle upon the scudding clouds in the sky above, cast in hues of red, gold, and purple, heralding a day reaching its end.

Footsteps, coming from the archway to her right. Two pairs, she could tell.

Letting out a long breath, she kept her gaze upward as those approaching drew closer.

"You would come from my blind side?" Her voice seemed to crack more than it used to; as though the act of speaking had become a burdensome chore.

"You have no blind side, Mother."

Markos was every bit as stately as his father had once been, and even looked like the long-dead Dan Thrule. It was at times a curious thing, and s'Il found herself perplexed by it on more than one occasion. But, the similarities ended there. Instead, Markos had grown up to emulate the very mannerisms and attitudes that his true father, Zem-El Vymes, held so close. A quiet confidence, understanding, kindness, a caring nature that extended to everything that he did in his life... he had become more Zem's son than Dan's, and it had been wonderful to watch him grow up into the man he was now.

"Cassius is here, you know."

"I do."

Finally she let her eyes come down, turning her head to look at the two men as they slowed to a stop beside her bench. A younger man, with dark hair and craggy features stood beside Markos. The familiar robes of a Jedi Master hung from his frame, his hands folded together into the wide sleeves.

"Your travel was uneventful?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Good."

She looked away then, to the blooming trees of the asa'keh orchard.

"And your sister?"

"Teagan is here as well."

A nod, and s'Il slowly began to rise, putting much of her weight on her cane. Both Markos and Cassius stepped forward, going to either side should she need help.

"Careful, please."

"Bah," she waved away Markos' caution, "... I'm not yet at the Gate, Son."

"I know, but still."

On her feet, the old Lupine hunched forward only slightly, her shock of white hair falling well past her shoulders and down her back. Cassius offered an arm, and she grudgingly accepted the offering while looking to Markos.

"KHER?"

"He is readying himself for departure."

With a sigh, she gave him a tired nod.

"Thank you."

The trio was halfway to the archway that would lead back inside, when she bade them stop.

"The suns," again her eyes went to the two stars, halfway below the far horizon by now.

"I will miss the dusk on Schwartzweld."