A Motion of Fear

[Aibhne Tibbot]

Senate Hearing Livestream: _ Senate Vote Delegation [Message to the Jedi Knights]

Hapes _ Lorelei Communications Tower _ Penthouse _

_ Aibhne's bold eyes flicked down to the two postured champagne flutes, fizzing bubbles trickling down glistening glass, then returned to the man presenting them. A delayed response forthcoming, irksome in its efforts to force uncharacteristic congeniality.

"No thank you," he coldly declined with at least a minor cock of the head as if to bow with respect. "I don't drink." Aibhne then delicately raised a gentlemanly backhand towards one of the glasses and lightly tapped his fingernail to its pane, dinging a symbolic cheers in substitution of a proper toast. "To your kindness. Again, I must thank you for inviting us to this viewing Mister Delcathaís."

Aethan Delcathaís, a proud Hapan of prominent lineage, uncomfortably brought his glass to his lips with a tipping side glance and swallowed a short swig; wincing a suppressed look of offense in a quick half-smile.

"Mm. Thank my wife Heléne. We are all guests in her house. This is her enterprise after all. She's always entertained my affection for true Jedi, though not a popular notion in certain circles of course."
"It's unfortunate that she could not be here."
"Yes, you'll please excuse her absence. Her mind has always been married to business first. She remains ever grateful for your assistance, sir Aibhne. If not for you and your fellow Jedi, her life might have been taken prematurely by those villains."
"A blight on your pristine society."
"Indeed! Where is your comrade, then. I would toast to him as well."

Aibhne looked back over his shoulder, revealing the vast lounge in all its regality. Multiple screens showed the senate in hearing. Several sofas and end tables with a small buffet in the back. Windows entirely surrounding them, the majestic cityscape all around. A private team of service staff offered beverages and maintained the food. A small crowd of wealthy businessmen and women, favorable to the Jedi, were in attendance; included several Jedi as well, each one having some private connection to Aethan. Just as Aibhne had saved his wife on a prior mission.

Spoiler: OOC Note

"A Motion of Fear" occurs before "All Your Docking Bays Belong to Us".

@Painus

 

[Reem Va]

Two dull, aged eyes looked upon the countenance of the servant. A platter was held before him - by what appeared to be a small child, no less - in a gesture of obsequious deference to the elder Jedi. Moments of silence passed as the tower of a man merely glared at the being, whom, despite assumed years of training in service, shifted uncomfortably in place, the weight of the tray taking its toll as he continued to hold it up.

"No."

The brusque response was met with immediate obedience as the boy, relieved to be dismissed, hurried away. The platter contained only a single drink, intended as a courtesy to the Jedi. He did not drink.

Looking up now, Reem took in his surroundings. Late to the party (relatively, of course. These galas often started far earlier than their intended time, the Feeorin came to realize), the Jedi was buffeted with various greetings and praise. He and a brother, whom he had never interacted with prior, happened upon a band of brigands accosting the fine maiden that had invited the two to the Senate viewing. The debate was centered on the Order and, looking around at those gathered, Reem understood he was in company with those who shared his zealotry.

He spotted the master of the estate deeper in the room, sharing an uncomfortable conversation with the fellow whom rescued the missus previously.

Weaving through the throng (Reem considered it weaving, in actuality he simply walked forward as others cleared from his path) towards the pair, the Feeorin was given a second chance to receive a drink. Ignoring the servant, a woman, this time, he trudged forth, leaving the attendant questioning her talent as a waitress.

"Indeed! Where is your comrade, then. I would toast to him as well."

The man, unbeknownst to him, projected his voice quite well, for the titan Jedi spoke far before he arrived to the pair.

"You need not toast, lord Delcathaís. I am unfit for praise; we simply serve the will of the Force."

The man, taken slightly aback at the obeisant title, given his lowly status in Hapan society, looked at the tower of a man approaching. His face betrayed his surprise; he had not expected the Feeorin's response. His recovery was quaint, as the corners of his lips curled ever-so-slightly upward in what would be perceived as a smile.

"Nonsense! You two are heroes. It would be callous to ignore your timely rescue of my wife."

The man launched into what Reem assumed to be a tirade on the plague of banditry that has taken hold of the planet, though the nearly eight-foot tall Jedi ignored the man's rhetoric. Instead, he panned his gaze towards the younger, smaller Jedi near, the xanthous rings of his eyes meeting the mans'. Tilting his head slightly forward in what could be understood as a curt nod, the Feeorin's would-be greeting was cut short as the various screens jolted with activity.

Reem looked on as the cameras focused on the Chancellor, a woman of Zeltron origin, as she began to address the Senate.

"Esteemed Senators of the Galactic Republic..."

Reem clasped his hands behind his back, gazing at the nearest screen with indifference.

The hearing had begun, it seemed.

@Lamper

 

[Aibhne Tibbot]

Aibhne brought his wide eyes up to meet Reem's, furrowing his brow in response to Reem's curtly nod; a complex facial contortion that spoke volumes. It essentially served as a possibly offensive yet condensed echo of Reem's nod, secretly sharing his disgust of men like Aethan, while also lending to a reoccurring characteristic of constant scheming towards his singular endeavor. It would take time for anyone to understand Aibhne's often antisocial behavior. But battle, two men fighting side by side, often connected strangers on a deeper level. Aibhne looked on the hulking Jedi as a proud owner might look upon his pet rancor. The way Reem had squashed that criminal's skull against the pavement like a ripe tomato replayed in Aibhne's memory banks and he thinly smirked with satisfaction, though lending this emotion to his simultaneous approval of Reem's current sentiment. Indeed, they simply served the will of the Force.

Realizing Reem's then diverting attention, Aibhne too looked back to find the Chancellor opening the Senate floor. Aethan still prattling on in his ear, Aibhne returned his annoyed gaze to the man, placed a palm upon his shoulder, squeezed, and nodded a skewed squint as though Aethan's words were so suddenly exponentially important. It confused and quite frankly alarmed Aethan. To which Aethan stopped, and shriveled a smile.

A server politely cleared his throat behind Aethan, vying for attention. Aethan excused himself for the moment and attended the server's question. It seemed they'd not prepared a certain dish that Aethan had switched to be on the menu last minute for a certain specific diet choice, which made Aethan quite perturbed and preoccupied.

Aibhne returned his studious stare back to the screen, folding his arms over his porcelain-armored chest, as the Chancellor concluded her introduction and called Temen Antilles to the Dias. Just seeing that man's boyish face brought mixed emotions to the forefront, Aibhne only recognizing the Alderaanian Senator from a prior hearing where he suddenly spouted negative propaganda about the Jedi Knights on some reckless tangent. Aibhne disliked him for that one reason alone.

"Since the dawn of the Republic, Alderaan has counted the Jedi Order amongst its friends. We are proud to stand with them as brothers and sisters in this galaxy."
"Pah," Aibhne bitterly tittered.
"It is for that reason that I do not propose this motion lightly nor out of fear, a fear that many of my distinguished colleagues will surely lean on in their vote on this matter. Instead, Alderaan seeks only to pursue diplomacy in an attempt to end another devastating war before it can begin. Queen Organa and her government worry that if the Jedi Lord and his army provoke these Sith criminals, it will only escalate the tensions on the border. I don't think I need to tell anyone here the dangers of a war between the dark side and the light. How many trillions have suffered over the millennia for their wars? How many more would have to suffer if their wars began again?"
"The dangers of a war betw-" Aibhne not even capable of repeating the fool's words in disbelief, "Fear indeed."

 

[Reem Va]

Reem stared, his expression stoic as the young Alderaanian senator spoke - no, spouted - drivel on the necessity for the Order's involvement in galactic crises to cease. The man's childlike rhetoric on the dangers of another crusade against the darkness caused Reem to furrow his brows, nostrils flaring in response. Who is he, this boy, to question the necessity of war against their ancient foe, whose implacable advance on the galaxy is halted only by the fear of Jedi retaliation? Men must die so that Man endures, the elder Jedi thought to himself, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Blinded." he spat out, his voice a thunderous whisper. "Blinded by their cowardice and their slothful nature. Our foe will not heed their requests for peace. Our Lord will not bend knee to the will of those whose hearts hide sin."

He continued watching, hands clasped behind his back. He expressed joy when the fool had finally been seated with an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Now would come the statements of the senators present, deciding the fate of this motion through their refutations. A man stood, speaking rather hurriedly into the microphone - no doubt so that he would be heard before his foolish statements were ignored.

"Senator Antilles, I applaud you for a well worded, well thought out statement as always, but I'm afraid I have to disagree with you. "

Reem canted his head slightly, intrigued by the man's response. He continued watching with renewed interest. This would be an amusing debate after all.

"This entire conflict isn't our conflict. Speaking for myself, and for a vast majority of you, I have no connection to the Force. I understand and respect its existence, but I have never, and likely will never, feel the connection of the Force. This conflict is a conflict of beings that wield and exist in the Force. So I ask you, Senator, why when we have the opportunity to allow the Jedi to fight the war that they started, would you implore them to remain neutral?

We have militiamen with donated tech dancing around the border stirring up conflict as it is. If we can get the Jedi to fight their own war, and spill their blood-"

Reem interrupted the man's speech with a simple, "Pah!"

"'Fight their own war, spill their blood' he says. Fearful banter from a militant coward. This is their war as much as it is ours. He speaks of the weakness of the border systems, yet even men who have nothing still offer their lives, as they should. He sits behind a podium, afraid of what may happen should his people suffer while our enemy burns worlds."

This man, this Senator Aren Krass, was no worse than the other scum afraid to rise against these would-be Sith. His world was safe, his people well-fed, his pockets well-filled with the money given for his so-called 'charities.' A man wishing no harm to his public image, speaking what he believes the people want to hear, rather than what they must hear.

"The war we started." he said, shaking his head as the man spoke.

 

[Lamper]

Aibhne was startled by Reem's first words, despite moderately voicing his own; looking up to Reem with that blank expression, grim and wide-eyed. Aibhne's eyes flicked down and back up, mute, pursing a pout in adamant agreement with his large comrade.

Our Lord? Indeed. Bau Zo. The principled man who left the Council to go to war. There could be no greater virtue than by a man who cast aside position to address a problem, the problem. Lord Zo was in high esteem by Aibhne's measure. Though perhaps not strong enough. Time would tell.

Aibhne's head sank into a focused glare over his folded arms as the next senator spoke. There were so many of them.

"They don't even respect their own warriors," Aibhne tagged onto the end of Reem's justified objections. "Unite. Unite behind their struggle and assemble."

"The Duopoly of Thyferra concurs with the honorable delegate from Corellia.."
"Fools," Aibhne mumbled under his breath, cupping his palm over his mouth and stroking his jawline's smoothly shaved skin.
"Senators, it is important that we keep an eye on the bigger picture ... A war on the Fringe Worlds would spread, further in."
"Ah," Aibhne rejoiced.
"The Republic must take action itself... Vote in favor of the delegation, but prepare to protect the Coloni...Alliance Worlds should the need call for it."
"Here-here!" Aethan cheered out from the other side of the lounge, catching Aibhne's sharp attention and diverting from the senator's gaffe. Aethan, realizing he just spilled his drink on the floor with his raised glass and starting to panic; pointing for his staff to quickly remove the blunder.

It appeared Aethan wasn't the only Hapan to support the Jedi. Jedi whom fought for peace, peace for all at their own peril. And Aibhne felt well grounded in good company, however low in number, bobbing his head with an encouraging "Hm".

 

[Reem Va]

Reem gazed at the screen still, scrutinizing each senator who stood before their peers and spoke from fear, warning one-another of Order's involvement - or lack thereof - and the toll it could have on galactic affairs. He inhaled sharply at their comments, picking out individual words to contemplate.

Honorable. Rumored Sith. Greater security.

These words were nothing to the affluent; the wealthy, landed elite whom resided within those Senate chambers. They were disconnected, safe and sound from the interminable advance of the Sith, whose tireless assault on the galaxy left more than 'colonial' worlds in ruin. These senators spoke from fear and a desire for public approval. The public would matter little when the Sith, shrouded in Hate, held them by their throats, siphoning the life from their corpses. These dark usurpers were more than a Jedi problem. They were a blight upon the galaxy, a plague the likes of which could not be defeated unless those defending were willing to sacrifice everything in service to the Light. The Jedi would fight. The Jedi would die, but not with their will broken. These Senators would sit, huddled in their rooms, yearning for their forsaken heroes to rescue them. They would rue the decision to turn their backs on the Order. The Order that shielded them, even when it ought not to.

"Cowardice shielding sin," he spoke, listening to their preposterous remarks.

"The Jedi have always been beacons of hope, legendary warriors, and noted scholars..."

Reem snorted at the sycophantic statement.

"But we must also consider this, as the Senator of Hapes has stated, [...] Yet, they are not prepared and equipped for a war against those who can wield the Force, if , they even exist. Why should we waste resources chasing possible ghosts? [...] The Senate must open negotiations with the Jedi Order first, for what reason can be decided later."

The words nearly wounded the Feeorin, who stared at the projection in disbelief. "If they exist," he hissed beneath his breath. 'Not prepared and equipped' the woman said, her wounds disregarding the entirety of the Alliance's devotion to their cause. They were not a trained military, no, but they possessed the will to fight. The will to die defending their homes. This Republic questioned its own ability to rally behind their own worlds. To what end?

They would not refute the Sith's existence when crimson lightsaber is held to their families, mouths twisted into a grin displaying blatant nefarious goal. They fear wasting resources on a cause that is just. A cause that would prevent an era of darkness. Their blindness will be their undoing, he thought to himself, canting his head to look at his fellow beside him, evaluating the man's reaction to the proceedings.

 

[Aibhne Tibbot]

Aibhne's eyes secretly shifted, recognizing that this was the second time Reem had used the word sin in shared sentiment. It gave Aibhne pause. Reminiscent of Aibhne's own religion, seraphic zeal in piety. Sin. Sin to ignore the Sith pandemic. Sin to fall victim to comforts and sloth. Sin to squabble in frenzied autosarcophagy. Sin to forsake the chosen whose fists bloody bone, whose eyes burn to bear the burden of bureaucrats' acedia.

Breath beginning to build, Aibhne was becoming intoxicated in his mythos. Chest inflating. Deflating. His brow cocked, conditioning commanding calm. He inhaled and exhaled a deep, liberating sigh; eyes sleepily shutting and reopening with renewed repose. He stared straight forward.

The moment was right. His thoughts had swarmed since battle, patiently awaiting this opportunity. Perhaps he would prod with a subtle probe. This man beside him could be the one to share his grand dream.

"Marionettes. Wood riddled with rot. If these nationals refuse to save themselves..."

Aibhne remained as rigid as his resolve, etched in stone; only now beginning to reveal itself as the sun rises from a storm. Too afraid to look at Reem beside him as he bare his soul, even only in the hinting of the concept. He hardly ever exposed his true intensions to another. But now he struggled to hope for a brother, someone who might truly understand him.

 

[Reem Va]

Brows furrowed with stoic indifference, Reem looked at the screen, but did not watch. His eyes observed the shapes moving about, shadows dancing like spiders, but did not care for the inane banter that drooled from their mouths. Children playing in a sandbox, these senators. Puppets to their own avarice, marionette strings in the hands of their cohorts.

Reem pondered their existence. They represent the citizenry, yet serve only themselves. They speak of peace in the Republic, but crave only greater influence. They spout fiery speeches, mordant tirades on the dangers of war, the threat of the Jedi, of the Sith, while they sleep soundly, ignorant to the suffering of the universe. Ignorant to the truth.

His muscles tensed involuntarily at the man's sudden dialogue. Eyes squinting in a near-imperceptible manner, head turning in similar fashion, Reem observed the man in a sideways-stare, golden irises analyzing his features. The sentiment was shared, it had seemed. He realized the poignant tragedy of their greed, of their envious and slothful essence. His lips curled downward, a scowl forming as he responded.

"They will not save themselves," he spoke quietly, now shifting his gaze to the view of the city skyline before them.

"They tread the line between Light and Dark. Heresy claws at their hearts, perversion tainting their minds. They will reach out to us, demand our aid or demand we cease. They are not our masters. We will not stop our crusade. Those willing to rise against the tide of evil will find us alongside them in battle. Those who stand in opposition will find us an avalanche of vindication."

He was bold to speak of this outright, at a party, no less, but he felt the Jedi to his side sought the response. If the man felt as he did, possessed his zealotry, perhaps the universe could be brought from the brink of darkness. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head back as he watched the sun pace across the sky slowly, immune to Time.

 

[Aibhne Tibbot]

As though they were plotting the most sinister of schemes, the pair stoically stared off into the sky beyond. But they were in fact haloed by light, the sun beginning to glare off the glass reflected from off of the skyscraper adjacent them. They were bathed in righteousness all as they pondered the fate of a universe at the brink. The horizon, what hope it brings, foretold of their union and the peace it would bring. And Aibhne's eyes squinted.

"An avalanche of vindication..." he obscurely mused in echo.

Aibhne refolded his arms tight around his chest. He left Reem in suspense as Aibhne envisioned an army of Jedi, an army unified with one purpose and one mind. Infinite swells of lightsiders, infallible and immovable in their just cause. Strength to defeat evil. Unrelenting focus to maintain order. Unbreakable shields against the hammers of darkness. Behind them, rank and file lines in systematic balance and equality; each man, woman, and child linked together in uniform overlapping the other. A phalanx of brotherhood. A phalanx.

"Then we will save them from themselves," he smoothly pledged in soft, slow assent. "We. We who swear fealty to The Light. We will create order in the dissension of darkness. We will unite, form together a will they cannot bend nor break. We will destroy the Sith, purge the shadows with light, and bond together the bones that we break."

Aibhne's eyes finally closed in appeasement, as though cleansed by the rays of destiny in a moment of bliss. Then he turned his head towards his fellow Jedi slowly. He looked up to Reem. He glared into that man's godly edifice. And he said,

"Will you join with me? No matter the cost? Will you join with me... brother?"

 

[Reem Va]

Reem continued to watch the city in all its splendor go about its business, ignorant to the plight of the galaxy. Its denizens scurrying about as though they were ants, concerned with trivial matters of the present. Their vision was narrow, restricted by their base needs. Within their conscience was desire for protection, a longing to genuinely claim the universe was at peace. They had eyes, but could not see. They claimed to hear, but would not listen.

This man, this Aibhne Tibbot, spoke with the same conviction as Reem. His voice was calm, yet the passion it possessed mimicked his own. He realized the necessity for war if they sought peace. He knew that men would have to die so that Man would endure. He knew the Light was their master; not the Republic, not the Jedi Council in all their wisdom, not the Jedi Lord in all his might. He let the man speak, nodding calmly at his words.

"No matter the cost," he echoed, his voice rising from a whisper to a more robust, yet casual tone. "We will cleanse this galaxy of the wretched. Our will shall be our weapon, our faith shall be our armour. When all flee in hideous disarray, strong and sound shall we stand."

Reem continued to stare at the skyline, its golden splendor suffusing the room in a scant holy aura. "No corruption shall blemish our Galaxy, no hellish fiend shall be spared. No malevolent spirit will oppose us, no creation of sin shall survive. No unholy deed shall go unpunished, all blasphemous acts shall be atoned. No spawn of misrule avoid us, all are banished to the void. Nothing shall evade our cleansing fire, not Sith, nor Hellspawn, nor Renegade."

His voice shuddered with righteous fury, barely contained in a casual tone.

"The impure will know no mercy..." he paused, turning to look at the man below him, his face in a scowl.

"Brother."

 

[Aibhne Tibbot]

Their eyes locked in consonance, divine covenant, silence befell them. Silence and a stillness. A fire burning between them, any further act of empty formality would besmirch the sanctity of this moment. Thoughts towards baptism to symbolically consecrate their bodies in their bond restrained Aibhne's arm from initiating a clasp of hands. No, their pact was deeper than the physical. Needing no culmination of accord but the spirit of their zealotry. And such a pledge would characteristically be defined by its secrecy. So in likeness to such a nature, so would their pledge be unofficially promised without now formally legitimizing such an oath.

Instead Aibhne just looked away, back at the screen of fools and jesters as they prattled on, and subdued a gruesome grin. This was the birth of victory. This marked the days of the Sith undone. In the death of honorable democracy borne this weapon of justice no one could control. No lobby nor lord could contain this reckoning. Instruments of retribution, the Phalanx is genesis.

Kryze of Mandalore, abstained. Palliser of Kuat, nay. Krass of Corellia, nay. Cain of Raithal, nay. Roderick of Bandomeer, yea. Valrin of Andara, yea. Skirata of Concord Dawn, yea. Prestor of Hapes, yea. Tycho of Taris, yea. Vanbar of Humbarine, nay. Malmourral of Dathomir, nay. Farrs of Thyferra, nay. Codi of Empress Teta, yea. Antilles of Alderaan, yea.

Seven to six. The motion passes. The Senate will petition the Jedi to "not participate in the so-called conflict with the Sith."

Rest in peace, you fools.

For whatever their reasons, the Core thinks itself ruler. The Jedi decide as they may, the Phalanx is intangible and unstoppable. His movement had finally come. Aibhne's and Reem's purpose greater than any other, the Force would overcome. Light the Darkness. Purge the chaos. Villains beware. Order shall prevail.

"Meet me at the Temple of Lothal in two weeks time. We have much to discuss. In private."