A Second Chance

[Oncaro]

Deashe Devoter wasn't a fan of the cold, not at all. She especially wasn't fond of ice worlds. And she had never been on a planet as Force-forsakenly cold as Rhen Var before. To think the place had once been a lush paradise!

But she had endured the cold, wearing an environmental suit to do so, and she had stayed in place for several hours, meditating in an unorthodox prone position as she covered herself in snow. The Force had called her to Rhen Var, and though she had realized what she was supposed to do, namely freeze her perfect ass off, she had not known why until the Sith had arrived on the planet. Having hidden herself, Dea had remained at a very respectable distance from the two battling Sith Lords, watching them through a pair of electrobinoculars. Though she couldn't see faces, she was able to recognize one of them clearly.

Kira...

That was who the smaller of the two duelists was to Dea: Kira Elan, not Darth Solum. It was who she had always been, because she refused to believe that her former friend had been lost to the Dark Side forever. And it was with that in mind that, as the duel reached a fever pitch, Dea had been privately, silently cheering the Dark Lord of the Sith on; she could tell easily enough that this duel was not training, insofar as the Sith would train without trying to weaken each other-- it was a duel to the death.

And as the fight carried on, Dea felt the waves of Force power clashing almost as if she were right next to them. And yet...

A single misstep. A single thrust. And Dea practically felt Kira's pain as she was stabbed through by the lightsaber of Darth Malon. Still, she did not dare move, watching as Kira crumpled in a heap and her presence in the Force seemed to vanish. A cold unrelated to Rhen Var's climate struck her, seeming to freeze her veins, and she swiftly fought down the urge to cry out.

No. No, she can't be dead. She isn't dead. She--

A pause.

... No...

The Sith did not stay long, but Dea continued to wait until she was absolutely certain that the Sith-- all of them-- were gone, before daring to move. And when she did, it was in a sprint. Instinctively calling upon the Force to aid her, she ran as fast as she possibly could along the frozen tundra, reaching her fallen former comrade in record time. She knelt down, eying the hole in Kira's torso, and suddenly it clicked.

Kira Elan wasn't dead. She was alive, hanging by the barest thread. And unless she got help soon, she would be dead. And Deashe Devoter had been called to be that help.

"Oh, Kira..." she said softly. She couldn't see the other woman's face, couldn't tell if Kira was conscious or not, but she could certainly imagine its beauty. A beauty that Dea had always admired as the two had grown up together and both indulged in embracing their natural gorgeousness. She had always wondered if Kira had felt similar admiration for her. If, perhaps, the other woman had occasionally thought of her even after falling to the Dark Side and committing atrocities that caused so many Jedi to call for her head.

But it was of no consequence now, and Dea pushed the thoughts from her mind with a steely determination as she made her decision: Kira Elan was going to survive. And with that in mind she gently, carefully picked the other woman up in her arms and began trudging toward her ship, safely hidden under a large cavity in the ice nearby, which had been downhill and away from the sight of the Sith. With every step she reaffirmed the promise in her head:

Kira Elan, you are not going to die. Not while I'm here.

@Prudence

 

[Prudence]

White hot pain. That was the sensation that coursed through Darth Vanus's body as Malon's saber impaled her. She had misstepped, a mistake that would cost her her life. She staggered backwards, off his blade, and then collapsed to the frozen ground. She felt her rear met the hard ice, and then the back of her head. Her hands moved to her abdomen, clutching at it - desperately trying to somehow reverse what had been done to her. She writhed on the ground, a pain ridden cry escaping her lips. At first it was shrill and raw, but in short time it simmered into a wheezing whisper. Her life flashed before her eyes, her life as a young Jedi girl, so pure before she was spoiled by the Dark Side. It was in this moment, this desperate slippery slope as she fell towards death itself, that she felt her old life return. Her psyche had grown weak, and was no longer able to suppress Kira Elan.

Irony, death itself can bring Kira back to life.

But it was as she was about to die that she felt something else. She felt a presence she hadn't felt in years, Dea. Her eyes flickered open, staring through the eye holes cut in her helmet to the gorgeous radiant face. She struggled, her hands trembling as she weakly pulled her helmet off, allowing it to roll away into the snow. She looked up, her pale face meeting Dea's own lively features. Kira's yellow eyes met Dea's blue eyes and she wheezed again, this time the breath joined by words,

"Stop.. let.." she coughed, blood splattering Dea's cheek, "Let me die. Please let me die."

Her eyes fluttered shut as darkness overtook her once again, and she felt herself slip into sleep.

 

[Oncaro]

Dea frowned at Kira's weak pleas, but pushed them from her mind as she continued onward, faster now that Kira had lost consciousness.

Her ship, a Nubian star yacht, wasn't far away, and Dea reached it despite the biting cold. The loading ramp opened, and Dea was greeted by a protocol droid, one of 10 that served as the ship's crew.

"Oh dear, Mistress Dea-- what has happened? Who is this?" the droid, TE-D13, or "Teddie", asked the woman, but Dea shook her head tersely as they moved into the ship.

"Get the ship ready to go, Teddie. We need to get out of here as quickly as possible."

"Oh indeed, Mistress Dea," Teddie replied, and he bustled off as Dea took Kira to a very small medical bay within the ship, laying the woman out onto the exam table gently. As the machines got to work on examining the unconscious woman, Dea bustled to the ship's cockpit.

"Where do you wish us to go?" asked R-4Y, nicknamed "Ray", and Dea frowned heavily. She needed to think carefully about where she wished to go. She couldn't stay in Sith space, clearly. She couldn't linger in Republic space, nor could she go to the Jedi-- both wanted Kira dead or imprisoned, and if word got out that she was alive, it would put people in great danger.

She couldn't go into Hutt space, as she could be sold out to the Sith. Nor could she go to the Mandalorians, as they hated both Sith and Jedi. No... There was only one option: She needed to get Kira as far away from organized space as possible. And it just so happened that she knew a place to go.

Pointing to a planet on the far side of Galaxy map, she spoke: "There. Terminus."

"Oh! Are you quite sure, my lady? Terminus is quite far away, it will take time to get there."

"That's what I'm counting on, Ray," Dea replied, before turning on her heel and moving back to Kira. Removing her exosuit and tossing it aside, she looked to the readouts of Kira's condition.

Very narrowly missed her stomach... Intestines are buggered... Muscles shot... By the Force... she thought. Lightsaber wounds were no joke. She could heal these wounds, completely, if she put all her effort into it; enough that there wouldn't even be scarring. But she had no idea how long it would take, which was part of why she had chosen a planet as far away as Terminus.

Not to mention, while she was certainly skilled in the healing arts, she had never treated a wound this severe, nor had she ever done more than simply stabilize a patient. It was going to take all her focus for this, and it would wind up incredibly taxing, because mere stabilization wouldn't be enough. So she calmed herself and emptied her mind, opening herself to the Living Force to be used as a conduit for its incomparable power, and placed her hands over Kira's wound.

And then, as the ship lifted off and exited Sith space as quickly as possible, she got to work.

 

[Prudence]

Pain. That was the first thing that greeted Kira Elan when she awoke from her slumber. It was strangely ironic, the feeling that had plagued her nearly her entire life was back, when by all accounts Kira should have been dead. Her eyes fluttered open and she found the harsh lights above a medical platform. She had been stripped of her armor, and even of her clothes, save for her undergarments. Typically Kira may have made a remark to Dea about buying her dinner first, but this was beyond quips for Kira. For a moment Kira found herself unaware of why she was here. She couldn't remember what had injured her, nor where she had been.

"Where... why am I he-" She began to say, her voice hoarse and scratchy. Then it came back to her, the duel, the being that had suppressed her in the back of her mind... no. That wasn't the truth. Vanus hadn't needed to suppress her, because this was who she had become. She had willingly allowed herself to become Solum, and for Solum to become Vanus. Her breathing began to rise, as too did her pulse. She could hear the stressful beeping of the machine tasked with monitoring her vitals as it all came back. The crowd, the cold, and the stab. The stab that had left her on the ground, ready to die.

"S-stop. Stop your healing.. just let me die. Please.." She was breathing hard now, and her words came out more a panting than calculated speech. "Why.. why are you even here Dea..?"

 

[Oncaro]

She wasn't sure just how long she had been in her trance, so steeped she was in the Force now. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours; perhaps even days; she didn't know, as time was irrelevant. The mortal trappings of hunger, thirst, and fatigue did not affect her now, as she was naught but a vessel for the Force, shining brightly in the aether; at least to Kira, were she to focus enough to notice.

Kira's words, and the beeping of the monitors, echoed faintly in her consciousness, but she did not immediately respond, her eyes remaining closed. Gradually (from her perspective at least; to Kira it would have only seemed to be a few scant seconds), the sounds grew louder, and Dea pulled herself away from her meditation, stopping the flow of the Force before opening her bright blue eyes and meeting Kira's brown ones. Immediately her expression became one of warmth as she gave a soft, comforting smile; a kind of warmth that Kira had known in the past, and which she might not have seen since at least a particular Sith whom she had fallen in love with, though Dea herself did not realize this. The fact that her face was framed with light as to seem almost angelic wasn't something she noticed, but if she had, she might or might not have approved of the symbolism.

"Please, Kira, don't talk," she said gently, softly, in a voice that seemed almost motherly in its patience. And perhaps that might have struck Kira the most: She was not being referred to by any honorific or Sith title-- just "Kira", an appeal to the woman Dea had known growing up on Tython. No doubt any other Jedi these days wouldn't do such a thing. "My healing isn't finished. You still have internal damage that I'm repairing. I need you to relax. Can you do that for me?"

She took the back of her hand and laid it gently across Kira's forehead, checking her temperature. She tried to avoid letting it show, but now that she was out of her trance, it was clear she had been greatly fatigued by all she had been doing. Her eyes showed it, as did the way her beautiful face seemed to sag.

"To make a long story short, I'm here because the Force called me to you. At least I'm pretty sure that's the case. That's why I'm here, right now. And it's why you're here. All is as the Force wills it. Now please... rest, so I can continue."

 

[Prudence]

To be perfectly honest, she wasn't sure that she wasn't actually dead. The woman that loomed over her prone form had her face framed in golden light, like that of an angel. Her eyes were warm and loving, and the expression caught Kira off guard. Kira was a monster, she was Darth Vanus. She had burned worlds and wrought terror upon billions upon billions. She was also aware that Dea was still calling her Kira, which was a name she hadn't gone by, or even heard, in a long time. Kira pinched her lips together as she looked away,

"Haven't you kept up with the galactic news, Dea? I am no longer Kira. I'm no longer a Sith.. I am Darth Vanus.."

The words felt all too hollow in her mouth for more than one reason. She didn't feel like Darth Vanus. She had been defeated by her apprentice, and her title usurped. She didn't feel like Vanus, she didn't feel in control, nor did she feel evil. She felt cold, scared, and alone.

She wanted to keep talking to Dea, to ignore her protests and requests for silence, but she decided to oblige. Kira relaxed, her eyes peering up at Dea in a sad pleading nature.

 

[Oncaro]

Dea did not respond to Kira's words, but she did take one of her soft, uncalloused hands and put it to Kira's cheek reassuringly, running a thumb across her cheek, meeting Kira's pleading gaze with a warm one of her own. She kept her hand there for several moments, before she placed it back on Kira's wound-- or rather, where the wound would have been; now there wasn't even a scar. But underneath this there was still damage, and Dea went back to work.

She remained in this position for roughly an hour and a half, perhaps closer to two hours, before she ceased, and sat back with a great sigh.

"Oh, Kira..." she said softly, before looking down at the other woman. There was still not a trace of hurt or malice in her eyes.