A Mere Whisper

[Insanity]

Gaze into the Void that surrounds
And know that it is Everything.
The End
The Beginning
And the Now.
When I myself gaze into the Void,
I see so many echoes.
Loves lost, lives extinguished,
Hatred abounds, and new Life is born.
To some, there is only Light and Dark.
And to them, I must say,
They have blinded themselves.
Delusions of power,
Delusions of justice.
But none are truly Powerful.
And even less are truly Just.

Therefore, I ask you, O Adept.

Are you Just,
Are you Powerful,
Or are you simply Mortal?​

​

It was raining. The vast cityscape of Elrooden stretched out into the distance, its citizens swept indoors by the water that alighted atop their heads. A full moon peeked out occasionally, swathing parts of the city with tinted light, the rain shining for mere moments and creating a beautiful sight. Amidst this rainy nightscape, standing atop one of the city's living blocks was a cloaked figure, like in so many stories. Unlike those story characters, his presence seemed as natural as the statues which adorned the rooftop. He held no regard for the rain that weighed his cloak down, nor for the beings that wandered the streets below, nor did he interfere in the business of those beings. He simply observed it all, a silent statue amongst his own kind. But he knew that his business here would soon shatter this sense of detachment, like it always did when he stepped out into the light that permeated the universe. And in an almost cruel irony, the clouds over him broke up, shining moonlight upon his covered form, as if to put him on display for all to see. Yet he was alone, so no one was there to see him. And the moonlight, as if realizing that fact, let itself be muted once more by the clouds and rain.

Bowing his head forward in silent consideration, he knew that it was time to go about his business. If he didn't, the opportunity he seeked to exploit might well escape him. The dull-green glow of a datapad slid into his left gauntlet, the claws on the right gauntlet sliding back as he pressed his fingers against the screen. In moments, his message had been sent to his chosen recipient. The games were going to begin soon, he was sure. His head tilted back, the hood of his cloak falling away as he gazed up into the rain, the helmet he wore hiding his true features in a sleek design. Soon enough, a war would be started, by his hands and those he had chosen to be his conspirators. Emotion flushed through him, a mixture of what most would consider anxiety and joy. To him, it was just another experience to remember and hope for.

When moonlight shone again on the rooftop, the dark figure was no longer there. Rather, he was deep within the cityscape's vast expanse, making his way to the place he had mentioned in his message: a popular club known as The Starry Depths. A place where his business could be conducted without fear of eavesdroppers, electronic or otherwise. And where his appearance wouldn't go amiss, given the club's particular clientele.

 

[Lindgart]

To tell the mother her son was dead had not been easy and I felt shit. A guilt complex maybe, or just another failure that had added up to the others. All indicated that if I ran into Sith, I was doomed to loose. First the woman I loved, then my father and finally Corellia, the planet I was born and had been happy. Fact was I haven't seen the boys body, but a large group of Sith had gone to the temple he supposedly had gone, and, once more, I found myself unable to deal with it.

I chose to mull over it under the atmosphere of The Starry Depths , a popular Elroodean club where I could vanish in plain sight. In there I was just part of the scenario. All right, I'll be honest. I wasn't mulling, I was brooding and the place wasn't a conscious choice. I left the woman's house, jumped in my airspeeder and flew around the city, the lights from sign caught me, when I realized I was already there.

I still don't like to think about the war. Some psychological defense mechanism never let me to dug in too deep in the memories of the war. I just haven't understood until these days how the odds could take a so inelegant and cold revenge on us Corellian. A pride born in our blood was hurt beyond repair. And it was difficult to deal with. Maybe the Tëras-Kasi Master, the former CorSec and the the resistance hero, despite having risked his life many times during these thirty-one years was nothing but a coward. I had to take another large swig of a non-Corellian whiskey, to have the courage to admit what I have neglected until this day, better, this night.

If I look myself seriously, I can see how ridiculous I am.I chose the job of Private Investigator, maybe a way to delude myself I could have what once I had on CorSec. The result was, again, almost being killed. I can't answer what I live for, if somewhere inside there is still some belief in an ideal. If I'll be able to accept what I am and understand that my life is not fully mine, that there are blessings that come with a price. I think I still have a minimum of self-stem to nurture thoughts like “It is never to late” or the like, but, in my life I always needed something to put myself in motion. If I'm pushed in the right direction...

Although, lately, diverging from what I did when I was younger, I haven't been looking for a pushing force, for something to start the “engine”. Or maybe I am, and I'm just not conscious about it. While I watch these sentient, each worried with their own illusions I try to see in one of them something that can help me fill this emptiness inside. Something that can lead me to hint on how to find something to keep going on. Something that can lead me to know myself better. I'm distant of myself for some time now...