Ask Aftermath

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin was unfazed by Ilana vomiting on the roof, privately thankful she kept it together till they landed. He looked away as she did so, allowing her some privacy in her weaker moments. He looked down as he flexed his fingers, glancing at the bruises on his arms from her vice grip. He moved towards her when she was done. The sense of death and decay paled compared to the churning swirl of the Force before him. It was almost tangible, and it beckoned almost dangerously. She walked along the very edge of a cliff with a sharp drop below, her toes skidding off to where a foot balanced precariously to the side. Without any way to pull her back, that draw would tug her deep into the chasm that claimed so many Jedi that were once good. Let alone someone that was not trained.

The Sephi crouched down before her, gently turning her away to face him and away from where she had vomited. There were few empaths in the Order, and it was an especially tricky art to master. Sevrin mastered it only to the degree he needed for healing, but not much beyond that. He saw her look at him and he saw a war in her eyes. It was a battle that took place between what she was, who she was and why she was. There had been a lot of things twisted and contorted, bent unnaturally in ways they shouldn’t have been and damaged. The Force was never meant to be used like this, and it betrayed the wielder when it was.

“Ilana..” He said quietly, trying to gently guide her back to the present. As she attempted to stand and staggered, he quickly caught her. He gently set her back down to sit. Attacks of the mind were most heinous, and they could imprison her at any point. Her mind was vulnerable right now and the slightest trigger could put her into a catatonic state.

“You can’t deny what you are. Before you are a doctor or any other title you hold, you are Ilana. You have to accept that before you can embrace any other role you play,” He said softly, the silver eyes still distant but not as icy. He was still wary of her, the memory of what she had done still making him reel. It took fighting his personal battles to stay here with her and remember how important it was to guide lost Force users back to a path, “It is as much a part of you as breathing, walking...giving icy stares,” The corners of his lips tugged very faintly in a probably poorly timed attempt at a light hearted comment.

“You wear a mask,” Sevrin stated after a moment, “People wear masks out of fear. Persistent fear….” Leads to the dark side, he thought though he didn’t voice it aloud, “...can poison one’s thoughts. What do you fear?”

---​

Fear.

The word was a lit match held against a lake of fuel. It would spiral and blossom into Ilana’s mind. It would take her back through all her worst mistakes. It would take her to every scenario where she was held accountable for the life of another. It would take her through their loss, the piercing ringing of a flatlining monitor shrilly resounding till it would bring her physical agony. Till she would feel it in her bones, trickling down her spine.

She would see the faces of the children she couldn’t help. She would hear the thoughts of those very people that had committed suicide moments prior. She would be hit with their fears all over again, their dread and terror. She would feel their hopelessness. A million other thoughts would assault her mind with the worst scenarios imaginable about her deepest, darkest fears.

“It was a necessary evil,” An icy voice would echo within her mind, the disembodied voice given to the very manifestation of the mask she wore. It had a life of its own and it fed on fear, “They were criminals. They stood in the way of progress for the greater galaxy. They stood in the path of a cure. They stood in our way. We did what was right. We always act for the greater good.”


@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

"What do you fear?"​

The voice, the one that hissed in the back of her mind so often. Tempting, alluring, promising power, glory, a galaxy wiped clean of the insufferable many. They stood in her way, barriers to a just cause. Why couldn't she just pull the trigger herself? It would be so easy to cleanse the galaxy; to let the virus run rampant on the unworthy, watch the Hutts and their worlds die along with the spicers, the miners, the slavers and the degenerate powers that stood by and allowed them to survive.

But there was a thin thread, grasping. Her eyes widened, and became blank, as suddenly the onslaught of emotions and memories came back, and her mouth parted as though to let out a silent scream.

What do you fear? The words echoed, as Nar Shaddaa tunneled out of her vision, and hazy images of a distant past suddenly lurched to clarity.

She was being punished again. Locked in a large room with just a bed and dresser. All she asked was why Mother hated her. She had been good, hadn't she? All she had done was slipped on one word, but she disappointed her again. But what was terrifying wasn't her mother's hatred. It was the cold darkness, the things in the shadows. She had shoved her fist in her mouth to stop her from crying out, from being heard and punished more. But there was a tapping on her window, and the face of Calum appeared. He held his little sister in a light hug as she sobbed...

Seeing his return from a 'training exercise', the burned, scarred husk that was her brother. He was so close to freedom, from Mother's influence. And now the soul of him was gone, and only the shell remained. She sank to her knees, fingers framing his dulled face as she was frantically searching within him, trying to find him within that emptiness. Feeling like she was about to scream from the empty void where her brother once was...

--

"You figure out what's wrong with him, now." A blaster pressed to her spine, as she stared down the writhing body of a Pantoran, face a chalky blue. The cold realization she was alone, and she could feel the hatred, the fear as he looked at her, and she saw his expression. Just close enough to seem human, but not human enough. She took a deep breath and poised the hypospray for an analgesic...

The cold bodies of children, eyes wide with blaster marks on their chests and foreheads. Men and women screaming as lost loved ones slipped away. The smell of burnt corpses, the many lovers that never stayed. Malakai, feeling his arm around her waist and whispering plans into her shoulder late at night, saying when he would return and what they would do, but even she wasn't enough for him to stay. How his death could be felt, even still, like a sharp lance through her throat and how she staggered, a cold stone in her chest. She wasn't enough.

"You've always been alone." The cold voice mocked, and even within her mind, she could see the chilling smile, the cold, glittering amber eyes. "But I was always there. They stood in your way, tried to break you, beat you, manipulate you. Without me, you'd be nothing."

Perhaps... it was right. She would lose eventually. Corran, Silvi. They would all leave her eventually, to the long emptiness of eternity. Even Hal had vanished, leaving her to stumble in the dark, clinging to what little she had. She had nothing but that long path alone, and he would see it vividly, a bleak, grim fear.

"I..." Her voice cracked. Flowers of grief bloomed in her throat, tangling their thorns, twisting in her chest. Stared up into silver eyes, and suddenly, he would hear it. The thinnest whisper, a red thread that curled out and bloomed on her lips.

"Being alone. The eternal pain... the feelings..."
Her free hand curled around her throat, as it began to close again, and she struggled for the words. The images and words were still flashing, the impact of all those lives she was helpless to save, the ones that died before she could act, and the need to swallow it down before they would overwhelm her.

She had never been free. The walls of her cage merely changed. "They were people." She had never reacted this much, and it had taken its' toll. Perhaps... she was weak, after all, to want what the rest of the galaxy had. The nausea had abated, but the pain remained, and she shuddered like one in the cold. But something.. something tugged her back.

Her name.

"...You called me Ilana," she murmured, surprise evident. It had been so long since she heard someone other than Corran say it. It had been so long, she almost missed it. It was so strange, so alien that someone even remembered she had a name at all.

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin felt as if he had been slammed in the chest as the darkness began to creep over and all around her. It didn’t want him anywhere nearby. It pulled her deep into its jaws, forcing her away from him. His light shined like a painful beacon, his touch burning against her skin. Still he didn’t release her, determined to keep her anchored to the present. He knew if she drifted too far, she would be imprisoned and trapped within her mind. She would be forced to walk a dark forest aimlessly with nothing but her own fears to torment her in an endless loop. Such was the danger of unbridled Force and the twisted nature of an empath. It clawed and took as much as it gave, and it could suck the very life and identity from a person.

He wasn’t in her mind, but he was close enough to where he felt the rippling effects. They tugged at the fringes of his psyche, and he felt some of those same crippling emotions. The Sephi prided himself in his detached and aloof nature, but all of that was challenged from the tidal wave of emotions and feelings that threatened to drown her. It was a rip current that tugged at him, attempting to drag him out to where he couldn’t swim back. He dug his heels in, closing his eyes for a moment to temper himself and meditating. His hands gripped her shoulders, embracing her with that steadfast, unwavering energy to be a ship that stayed the course. The waves could break and crash against the hull, but the ship wouldn’t topple. She wasn’t alone, not this time.

Sevrin opened his eyes when she spoke, her voice frail and weak. His breath shuddered slightly, not used to being hit with such a whirlwind of emotions. It took a moment for him to gather himself, his hands trembling slightly against her shoulders. For a fleeting moment there was just the smallest flash of fear in his eyes. The surface of the silvers were slightly glassy. Sevrin squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled softly to level himself before opening them again, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He began to channel the Force to alleviate Ilana’s pain when she returned on her own, pulled back with a statement that visibly surprised him. Sevrin regarded her for a moment, staring as if searching for something, “You are Ilana. Before you are anything else,” He stated matter of factly before he asked quietly, “...Are you not?”

Sevrin released her then, reaching over a thumb to gently brush away the blood from the corner of her lip. The growls of the angry horde resounded all around them as they began to slam against the sides of the building and pile atop one another. The Sephi was vaguely aware of it as he weighed the emotions and the fears of solitude. That fear was one that had turned many to the dark side and it was the most human and visceral fear of all. It was the fear that ultimately drove those from earlier to suicide. Falling with others was easier than existing alone.

“Your mind is a cage that houses monsters,” He stated grimly, “A cage that has been collecting monsters, chaos, pain and everything else you run from. A cage you have locked and have piled on top with other things that are easier. Being an empath means..” He sighed, “That you have to open that cage. It means you have to walk inside. It means you have to confront it, you have to understand it,” He gaze lingered on hers for a moment, “You have to embrace it. No one else can do it for you. You need to find Ilana for however whole or broken she is. Not doctor, not anyone else. Ilana."

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She was barely aware of him during the deluge. His hands were anchor points, the firm grip that brought her slowly back, in small pieces. The screams and surrender were still very fresh, very vivid, but thoughts were beginning to rise to the surface, muddled and vague. She could sense the fear, the struggle he was going through, and there was a want to shy back, to pull away. But she was too tired, her defenses too low. If she moved too quickly, she could easily topple over. He was like her.

Force, he was like her.

This was insanity. Any other time, she would have dismissed him outright. 'Finding herself' wasn't within the top ten of what she wanted to do. But...

The empty chasm of the other side yawned before her if she didn't. He knew the struggle, the hard line between others and yourself, and how easy it was to be blurred. She was tired, bone-tired, of fighting constantly within the realm of control, wrestling demons. But what he was suggesting sounded impossible. This was nothing that could be fixed in a day, nor even a week. But she looked at the Jedi...

And she could feel it. He had the choice to cut her down, and they both knew in her state she wouldn't even be able to protest. He still could, but he stayed.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"...It's Amariel."

The quietest confession. All tension left her shoulders and throat, and for the first time in a long time, her head felt clear, amber eyes opening to meet his again. A vulnerability with a quiet truth. "I chose the name Ilana, because... I wanted to be free." The Arkanian blinked once, and let out a slow breath, shaky and weak. "...I was afraid to be weak. To be broken, at the mercy of others... the slow torture of never learning control, and watching everything spiral away from me." Her cybernetic hand rested, lightly, on his own shoulder. A gentle touch, light and cool.

"If you can... help me. But I want to... learn." Quiet, a desperate plea for help. But equally, he seemed to struggle, to hold himself together. She would not force him to choose, she would ask him quietly and allow him to determine on his own terms. She didn't want to drag him down with her own torment, not with what little she knew of the Force. She had already hurt him enough with the unintentional onslaught; she would make amends in what little ways she knew how. However, soon, they would possibly have to fight their way out of this place.

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

His own thoughts were in flux as his teachings clashed against his moral code. He couldn’t help but think about what happened earlier. They may have been criminals, but there had been souls there that had never killed another, that had never harmed another. They had only been there to try and survive. They died just the same. Such was the weight that Force users carried with their supreme strength. Such was the impact of whimsically wielding the power without any control.

Sevrin was pulled from his thoughts when she confessed her name, almost with trepidation at first followed by a sense of relief. It was as if she had been holding her breath for a very long time and finally exhaled and released, letting out the bottled up air in her chest. The Sephi calmly regarded her, “Amariel…” He said quietly, letting her hear it. He doubted she heard that name spoken aloud often, “Amariel…” He said again a little louder, letting it fly into the air as he would a caged bird. It soared high above the grunting and groaning of the undead, a bold declaration carried through the wind that gave life to the woman before him.

Her explanation about fashioning a name was unfortunately not too different than the ways of the Sith. It often came from finding their given identities to be too weak, so it was easier to adopt a new one that had none of the flaws of the old. However, the cracks always remained because it was never truly them. It only split them, trapping their true selves in a cage while their new identities overcompensated for any flaws.

Sevrin felt her touch against his shoulder. He didn’t recoil even though the Shadow part of him protested. It was the touch of a murderer. It was the touch of a killer. The Sephi instead brought his free hand up to gingerly rest atop the cybernetic, fighting his own battles. His eyes betrayed his conflict between aiding her and distancing himself from a monster. He felt the hand, a small remnant of who Ilana may have been, but perhaps not Amariel - cold and unfeeling.

“Pain is involuntary,” He uttered the words he had shared with Alex Voran, “Suffering is not. The only variable you can control is you,” He spoke in terms she would hopefully understand. When creating any new medicine and looking for their effects, she could only control the groups that did or did not receive the doses, nothing beyond that. She was the only constant, everything else was external, “I can guide you….but it will break you many times over..” He looked down grimly, “It will shatter you. It will hurt you. It will force you to face everything you fear. It is much simpler to walk away from it. And there is no guarantee you will like who you are in the end any better than who you are today,” He looked at her again, “But it will be you. All of you. For better or worse. And I will help you get there.”

Walking this journey would be atonement for what she had done. It was a difficult path, much more difficult than if she had simply been a Force user that had never dabbled in it. No, she knew exactly what she was, and she had twisted it as if an experiment gone wrong. There would be consequences to that and it would strip her of her understanding of many things to accept how to truly wield her gift.

Sevrin’s keen ears picked up the growling, suggesting that they were surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of infected. The Sephi looked off to the side for a moment before he glanced back at her. He squashed his initial idea of splitting up so he could raise an alarm - he knew Ilana- No, Amariel, was in no condition to run or fight. And he certainly wouldn’t leave her on her own, not when her darker thoughts could so easily seduce her to chaos. She was dangerously vulnerable right now, to the point where Sevrin would be mindful of how quickly he could reach for a saber. He was always wary of that mask personified. He was wary of a defensive Ilana that had gotten accustomed and comfortable with standing in front of Amariel.

He offered her a hand as he began to stand, “I have to get us to higher ground,” He looked towards a taller building, spotting a balcony that could lead to some high rise apartments, “And perhaps find some shelter so you can recover,” Sevrin looked back at her, recalling how queasy she was from him carrying her last time, “Will you let me?”

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Amariel.

The name of a terrified child, and a woman anxious to be free of her abusers. The name of a woman that she had buried long ago. Someone who died after her brother did, or so she had told herself for years. But here was someone who said it, like it was something sacred. The last time that name had been on someone else's lips, it was spoken coldly. She could see the conflict, the want to help to war with the want to leave, and she knew, somehow, that one of those sides would win sooner rather than later. She had committed an atrocity that even went against her own code, in such a deep, twisted way that left her on rocky ground, uncertain where to put her feet in case it would cave. Every small shred she had learned, every scrap, seemed paltry in comparison to what she felt.

She couldn't distance herself from that feeling, even now.

Break her? Shatter her, even hurt her. All things that for many other sentients would have dissuaded, or even fear. But it would be nothing in comparison to what could happen. She slipped once, erred once, and abused her powers to slaughter so many innocents... if she put that many at risk with a mere suggestion, how long would it be before she put those that were precious to her at risk? Silvi especially, would she endanger her daughter with this power slipping from her fingers?

"I accept that." Her voice was a grave rasp, staring back with heavy eyes.

At the mention of getting to higher ground, she swallowed hard, her other hand tightening around her throat. She had been near-hysterical earlier; though there was nothing left in her stomach, it churned at the thought all the same. But he had a point. They couldn't stay here; the creatures here were relentless cancer, devouring anything and everything. Staying longer would be a swift death sentence.

"Yes..." she rasped, closing her eyes a moment. "Just... don't make me look. Please." She was pretty sure if she could see their progress she really would pass out or retch again, and she wasn't up to making amends cleaning his clothes on top of all of her other many sins.

She would try to stand again, wobbling precariously. But she forced herself to stand upright, to face the Jedi on firmer footing. Bt even at the thought of heights gave her heart a sick lurch, and she swallowed it down, looking at him.

"Ready when you are."

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin’s face softened slightly from the usual frost when the topic of heights came up. It was a very human and natural concern, and it was one that existed very much at her core regardless of what mask she put on. The Sephi looked towards her for a moment, briefly considering his options. Last time he had more or less carried her like a sack of potatoes and without much regard. A quick glance up suggested this was a much higher jump.

“Close your eyes,” He requested quietly as he stepped towards her, “And trust yourself,” Sevrin said instead of ‘trust me’. She would know in her gut whether she was ever in danger. She wouldn’t have to rely on anyone external to tell her that. It was the self assurance only a Force user could have, and it was one of the fundamental aspects of being one.

He leaned down closer to her height, put one of her arms around his shoulders and picked her up bridal style this time. Sevrin’s gaze remained fixed on the balcony that was his target as he called the Force to himself.

He sprang off the roof in one great leap, the air rushing against his skin and hair as he soared with focus. Sevrin landed with a foot on the railing of a lower balcony before jumping off that to laterally catch another. From there he jumped high again, carried through the Force to land on a high rise balcony.

Sevrin gently set her down, giving her ample room to vomit if it was necessary. He walked over to slide open a glass door that led to a living room. The apartment looked as if it had been left in a rush - all the belongings of the tenants had been left behind.

“Wait here,” He said, pointing at the couch and other seating areas in the living room, “I’ll see if I can find a food source and scope out the building,” Sevrin began to walk towards the door and paused, turning to look at her. He almost hesitated to leave her alone with her thoughts. He half feared what she may do if left alone with her mind.

One of his hands rested against the doorway, fingers tapping a bit as multiple thoughts went through his head, “Just...be here when I’m back,” He said simply before he opened the door and closed it behind him.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

He was right not to say to trust him. There were very few she trusted in the galaxy; even fewer that she trusted implicitly. Still, short of becoming a zombie's new chew toy, she had to go with him. Swallowing hard one last time, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned her face into his shoulder, shuddering once at the first few moments of hard gravity, followed by a sickening lightness and return to gravity, twice.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, and the moment he released her she staggered off blindly, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Her heart was still pounding in her throat, and it was only when she opened her eyes again that she saw the apartment.

A far cry from her home on Coruscant, the small office on Thyferra, or the suite in Paqualis III, this place seemed like something for a family. She staggered in after him, collapsing onto the closest soft surface she could find and breathing heavily. She could see him move from the corner of her eye, and she glanced up, staring after him dully.

Be here when he got back? Where else could she be? They were stories up, blocks away from her ship, and with countless undead in between, where else would she go? Unless he only intended to say that just to leave... for a moment longer she stared, and then there was a nod.

"I'll be here."

She waited until he left, and she couldn't feel his emotions anymore. Until she felt like she was alone... and then she slowly set her head in her hands.

Her hands trembled, and her throat burned dryly. She could see the bodies, the eyes. Feeling every impact of the blaster bolts searing into her skin, smelling the ozone and the faces blurred together, became the children and citizens on Denon, on Coruscant, so many bodies and people she couldn't save--

She was fumbling for it before she knew what she was doing. Nerveless, numb fingers tapped onto her personal comm, unlocking it, and immediately an image sprang to life, blurred by tears.

Silvi's face.

Swallowing hard, she bowed her head, clutching the comm tightly and forcing herself to stare at her. To marvel... and to be so happy she hadn't inherited her curse. She had to remember why she was here in the first place, to get samples. To find a vaccine, a cure, something to protect her daughter from the plague monsters of the galaxy. But after what happened... she wanted to protect her from other monsters as well.

Other monsters like her own mother.

She wanted to hold her so badly. Kiss the small downy head, feel her fingers curl into her hair again. But first, she had to survive. She had to learn, adapt, and grow, and she couldn't do it alone.

Letting out a shuddery breath, she clicked it off, slipping it back into her pocket, and gripped the vibroknife hidden in her pant leg, just in case anything should come through that door that wasn't the Jedi Sevrin. As a precaution, the glass door was shut as well... and then she waited. Perhaps this place seemed empty, but she lived too long to take things at face value.

She would wait.

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin felt an odd sense of calm once he was further away from her. It was enough to give him pause as he stood at the top of the stairs that led down. The Jedi stood in darkness, allowing his eyes to adjust to the new setting as he attempted to temper his thoughts. It was so much simpler to be here instead of near her, instead of being near that constant reminder of an utter monster shielded behind timid ambers and alabaster waves. Some of the most twisted creatures were the most beautiful - his own father was a prime example.

Amariel was no different. No, it was Ilana. There was no going back from Ilana. No, he had meant what he had said. Why would she have failed into him in her darkest moment? He glanced down at the bruises on his arms. The light would have repelled her. She would have been burned by it. She would have been sickened by it. She would have attempted to kill him. His saber was pressed against her neck and she did nothing. She knew how close she was to losing everything and she was ready for it. Because he felt it. And it was exactly what stayed his hand.

None of it mattered, he decided, because he would ensure she atoned.

The Sephi made his way around barricades here and there, drawing out his saber whenever he ran into an infected now and then. His path took him to a vending machine that had some sustainable food in it. Sevrin stared at it, catching the outline of his reflection in it. He watched it for a moment, his mind filling with thoughts of what happened earlier. He had been hit with a wave of what had afflicted her, and he had tempered it earlier. It came full force now, and it washed over him like that tidal wave again. It was pain, agony, doubt, fear, everything from many people at once. It was more than he could ever process.

Before he could stop himself, he had slammed a fist into the machine, shattering it. He drew his hand back in surprise, not one to have impulses like this. He had felt rage. He felt warmth along his fingers, realizing that shards of plastic stuck up at odd angles from his knuckles. Sevrin’s other hand drew up to feel his face where he felt tears. Tears that weren’t his own, but they were. Sephi were known to be detached as a race, and the aftermath of the collective suicides had exploded within his unprepared mind. He exhaled and attempted to find calm, quietly picking out the shards and staring in surprise at the wounds. He wiped his face off, taking a moment to center himself and call on his Jedi teachings.

He was the only lifeline for her while she was being pulled away by the waves. Would he be Jedi if he simply watched her get swept away? No. He had to be that anchor. He had to reel his thoughts in. Pain was involuntary. Suffering was not.

A long time passed before he returned.

Sevrin announced himself at the door before walking in, expecting her to shoot anything on sight. He stepped through the door carrying several ready to eat meals and some bottled waters. His mind and thoughts were far more tempered now, much closer to how they were when she had first met him. Sevrin had forgotten about the injuries on his hand, several gashes lining the knuckles.

“It’s no five star cuisine, but it should give you some energy,” He said before walking over to the kitchen area to prepare it. Sevrin had to actively ignore the heavy presence she carried as a fully open empath. Mercifully it was quieter now, though the remnants of the earlier deaths still lingered.

“Are you all right?” He asked quietly, silver eyes flicking up from behind a counter.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Theme​

It was the first time in a long time the Doctor was entirely alone with her own thoughts to keep her. This was once her home, her turf. She could walk through there, sick with the fury of so many others inflicting their emotions on her, their rage, despair, hope, and fear. She slipped the blade back into its' holder, and just put her head in her hands, exhaling slowly.

Suffering is a choice.

She knew she was paraphrasing, but something about that stuck in the Doctor's mind. In many ways, it sounded right. But... all those years. Bearing the brunt of so many peoples' continual abuse, all the toxicity preying on her thoughts and mental walls, and yet for the first time she lowered those walls and...

Radio silence.

She could still feel it. Even after the rest of her life had passed she was sure she would still feel the deaths of those gangsters on her hands. She had banked on their want for self-preservation above their fear and had lost. She would grieve for a group of strangers not only because they had died, but because she had willed it. For the longest time, she had denied death. But now, giving them the slightest taste of her influence, they all abandoned it. She had thought she wanted that power, those answers. But not at this cost. Not that.

She had been divided for so long. The mask kept her distant, a temporary safe haven, but alternately, no one would approach. The many lovers that warmed her arms and bed only temporarily sated her appetite, but she hungered for more. They never stayed, and the cycle would begin again. She was alone.

It would be easy to slip behind the mask again, to hide behind Ilana. But... She firmed her jaw, leaning against the couch, frowning. It would be weak. It would do her no good... and she was becoming aware of just how much she relied on it to hide. Like a crutch, long outlasting its' need. She would have to change, to atone. He promised pain, that this would break her, but how many times did a bone break, before healing more strongly than ever? How often was the healing lascalpel a source of pain as well?

She was tired of hurting, hiding, running.

Amariel stayed, and when Sevrin approached, amber eyes watched him, rimmed in red from tears. Her palms still stung with clawing the rooftop, and her ribs and neck ached when he had slammed her against the dumpster. She could only nod, but there was distance again; curiosity turned to surprise at the flash of red on his knuckles, and she attempted to stand, only to wince and flop straight back down.

"Your hand..." she pointed, her voice a rough rasp. "I'm sure the last thing you want is to be touched.. but I have my kit." She set it on the coffee table, but at his question, she paused. She met his gaze, blinking once. Physically, she felt no more nausea. But the effects of the panic attack and the resounding emotional residue in the Force left her exhausted, still reeling. She felt sick, down to the core of her.

"...I feel like I haven't been all right in a long time," she answered plainly, rubbing a hand over her forehead. "I feel... No. I'm not all right. I still feel it, echoing." Amariel stared back at him, removing her hand from her face. She then rubbed her hand over her chest, where it ached the sharpest. It had been so strange, to consider herself by that name again. But... there was no pain to it now. No immediate recall, nor fear.

The way he said it earlier, like something free. It had the edge of possibility, of freedom. After so long in chains... was that even possible?

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin picked up that she had been crying, his mind wandering back to his own strange experience in front of the vending machine. Was it the same for her? Or were they her own tears from emotions that were her own? Did she know the difference anymore? The Sephi realized that he was blankly looking her way, tugged from his thoughts only when she noticed his hand. He followed her line of sight, catching the injuries. Sevrin slightly flexed his fingers, pain shooting through the knuckles. This was his saber hand, and having it so damaged was alarming.

He walked towards her with a bowl of some ready made noodles that looked at least somewhat appetizing, along with a bottle of water. He set both down on the table in front of her, looking towards the medkit. Sevrin looked back at her, a single eyebrow raised, “Well...you are a doctor,” He muttered, “...Correct?” He asked slightly quizzically, wondering if this would yield a confession like him asking about her name.

Reading her body language first to see if she were comfortable with it, Sevrin would sit on the couch next to her. He would allow her to work on his hand - it was immediately clear he needed stitches and bacta patches, and she would notice the various bruises from where she had gripped him with the cybernetic. He looked down at his hand, his thoughts wandering to her words.

“I feel it too,” He admitted quietly, “Everything they felt right before…” Sevrin exhaled softly, reminding himself not to be angry with her, “I am feeling parts of what you are feeling,” Sevrin glanced up at her, calm silvers gazing into the bloodshot ambers, “It’s easier to run from it, Amariel,” He said quietly, “But you must not. This is part of accepting the weight of our actions, of our powers, of our gifts,” He emphasized the word ‘gift’ to remind her that it wasn’t a curse, “I am experiencing it as well because I did not stop you. I did not prevent it. So I atone with you.”

Sevrin looked away towards the balcony that overlooked the cities below, "But it's quieter here."

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

At his quizzical question, she felt an odd flush over her face, more of an annoyance than anything else... but then a grim twitch of her lips. Almost a smile, almost a grimace. It was fair of him to ask; she had a false identity, why not a false occupation as well? A small huff escaped her lips, and she opened the medkit, rustling around. "Yes. I am a doctor. Top of my class, and with the former student debt records to prove it."

She prepped the hypospray first, for something to numb the area at least enough to allow him to still use his hand, yet not feel the poking of the stitches. Looking at the bruises, however, there was a deep well of shame there, white brows denting as she forced herself to look at them, at the ragged gashes. She took care to cleanse and sterilize, the touch even through the thin gloves a chilly brush.

She listened wordlessly, mindful with the skinseal, and then bacta patches over that, making sure the wounds were clean. Every detail looked over meticulously, buying her time before she would respond. Though the noodles didn't smell appetizing at all.. she couldn't remember the last time she ate. Any sort of meal whatsoever, really.

"I'm not running." Her voice was soft, but her gaze was steady, releasing his hand. A long, slow slipped past her lips as she grasped the water bottle, holding it for a moment and rolling it between her sore palms. "I've been fighting for so long, I don't know how to not. But that..." she faltered, looking away to gaze at the water, swallowing hard.

She set the bottle down, glancing over at him. Again, those silver eyes seemed familiar, but different. He was right... it was quieter now. For the first time in perhaps an eternity, the ecumenopolis seemed more like a ghost town, and that unsettled her more. She stared at him again for another few beats, then realized belatedly he hadn't gotten food for himself.

"I'm not sure I can eat much at this time... can you?" her voice was quiet, pressing her hands together with a wince.

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin caught the half smile and half grimace, and he realized he may have offended her. She shot back with her qualifications and it made him wonder about his own. He certainly wasn’t ‘top of class’ as a Jedi, but he definitely launched himself into very dangerous situations. Sevrin looked down at where she was stitching him up, working methodically and with strict precision. He gently flexed his fingers when she was done, "Thank you, Amariel."

Her touch was always icy, and he silently wondered if she had poor circulation. Sevrin decided that, much like his question earlier, was probably not a good one to ask. He looked at her again when she affirmed that she wasn’t running. His face betrayed he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he would give her the benefit of doubt for now. It was clear neither trusted one another, but the situation had forced them to face atrocities together.

The Sephi had to put his poker face back on when she asked if he could eat. Truthfully, the food looked awful, and he simply hoped she would eat it for energy and he would be spared. Sevrin glanced over at the noodles, weighing his options.

“I will...eat some with you,” He muttered with some difficulty. He rose from where he sat, briefly disappearing to make himself a bowl. Sevrin returned to sit across from her, prodding at the noddles tentatively for a bit before he took a first bite. Sevrin kept his face completely deadpan though it tasted like plastic and just plain awful, “Hmm, it is...interesting,” He hoped that was halfway convincing to get her to eat. She would collapse if she didn’t eat after the drain the empathy attack had on her.

Sevrin paused for a moment to reach into a pocket to pull out a small bottle. He held it up for her, “Uh...would this work for you?” Inside it were a few fingers having belonged to an infected downstairs. It was quite possibly the least appealing thing he could have brought out during dinner, but it had been an attempt to aid her in gathering samples. The fingers looked extremely decayed and old, though they were certainly lively when he was fighting off the owner.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Well, if he ate it, it couldn't really be poisonous. She poked at it slightly with a chopstick. It was... slightly gelatinous? She had to keep a poker face as well, but the smells alone made her sensitive nose twitch once. Taking a quiet breath, she managed a bite, quickly chasing it with a drink of water. Swallowing hard, she nodded as well, attempting a neutral expression. However...

Her lips twitched ever so slightly.

"It certainly is."

She managed a few more bites, but it was true; the last time she ate anything of substance had been...

Her mind flashed to a dirty sink full of dishes, quiet music in the background, a voice calling her name. No, not her name. Hers. She managed a few more bites, but it wasn't easy to chase down. It was then that she registered he spoke, and amber eyes flicked towards the bottle. Brows slowly raised, and she carefully took the bottle, looking at it in the light with a slight frown.

The fingers looked desiccated, and even with the bottle closed she could smell the beginnings of true decay. Her nose twitched slightly and she nodded once, regarding him with serious eyes. "...Yes. Thank you."

A living specimen would have been preferred, but honestly, by this point, she would take what she could get. Perhaps this sample's tissue wouldn't degrade as quickly as the others... and not for the first time, she began thinking. Many called it a virus, but then begged the question... was it a true virus? Or something else, that caused something to change the composition of a victim's body and mind? And though the virus couldn't be exchanged by scratches, she still had to wonder why not. Why not any contact with an open wound?

Setting the bottle down, she set down her chopsticks as well, rubbing her forehead. "...I'm not sure there's such thing as a cure," she muttered quietly, then sighed. "But if I can prevent it somehow, stop its' effects, I can protect them." Not the way she had previously... but if she pursued this path he talked about, she could protect those she loved as well. But she needed to figure this out before it got even more out of control. She took another bite of noodles, mindless of the taste now, and then another swig of water.

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin watched her attempt to keep a straight face, and it was the closest he had come to outright grinning. Amusement danced in the silvers as he slowly put his bowl down, “It really is quite horrible,” He finally stated, chasing the taste down with some water.

He was relieved when she took the sample. He wasn’t going to explain how he had to rush to scoop up some fingers while a horde attempted to eat his face. Sevrin was in the process of eating some more noodles when she mentioned there being no cure. He almost choked on his food, coughing for a moment as he slammed a fist against his chest to push the food down. Sevrin looked up and couldn’t keep the alarm off his face.

“No cure?” He said harsher than he intended. Sevrin’s face softened slightly, considering the rest of what she said, “So everyone….everyone that is infected is lost? For good?” In his heart he knew that, but he had wanted to hope beyond hope that they could be brought back. Sevrin decided he wasn’t hungry anymore, and he sat in silence for a few moments.

“Amariel,” He looked back at her before he continued softly, “Are you doing this because you truly want to aid the galaxy? Or because you are making amends for...who you are?” Sevrin knew it was a question that could potentially cut, and he was prepared for her to be upset with him. He wanted to understand her intentions for going down this path. For doing what she did. How did it all tie into being an empath?

“They are quiet when they are infected,” Sevrin said grimly, his eyes never leaving hers. The thoughts, the agony, the pain, the emotions. None of that existed in crowds and hordes of infected. There was no torment there. There was nothing but blissful silence.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

It was almost ridiculous, the pair of them. Not that long ago, he had his lightsaber hilt pressed against her throat. Not that long ago, he would have killed her without a thought. The option was still there... if she wasn't honest with him. At his initial harsh words, she flinched slightly, scowling. She wasn't going to soften her words, there was no will to spin lies or tell deceit.

"Yes. Those that have been infected... there's no cure." She sighed again, closing her eyes as though that could soften the truth somehow. "A viral infection... it's parasitic. Kills its' hosts, but uses the shell for locomotion. At least, that's what I've had in theory for a long time... But yes. They would be infected... for good."

At her name, she turned her head to look at him, the curtain of her hair sliding over her shoulder. Regarding him at his words, his questions, features starkly bleak. Silence ticked on for a few moments, with her simply staring before she slowly leaned back with a sigh.

"I'll be honest... I began research because of a former..." Friend? Mentor? "...lover. It was for credits, for recognition." Her smile was on her lips, but it was bitter, full of sorrow. "And then he died, and I did it... because I had nothing pushing me ahead. I was stuck in a void. Situations changed... and yet... partly yes, I wanted to aid the galaxy." She frowned again, rubbing the heel of her hand to her forehead. "It was my duty as a doctor, and it would help trillions, if not more." She lowered her hand, staring at the scrapes and cuts on them.

"But... I think yes. I felt like I had to protect others. Their lives. Living things are sacred and should be protected in a galaxy that doesn't care." The smile dropped, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Some things are worth protecting, Sevrin. Even with the promise of silence... silence is death." She regarded him again. "I serve the living. Even with..." She hesitated, then her shoulders dropped slightly.

"Even with the pain."

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin sat in silence as he heard her out. He was surprised at how forthcoming she was, but none of it displayed on his face. The Sephi noticed the additional little nuances as she spoke, catching the subtle ways her expressions changed. He caught the scowl, the bitter smile, the frown, all of it in quick succession to bring her to life more than he had ever seen before. This was a completely different woman from Ilana, and he had to marvel at just how perfectly crafted that persona was. Where was Ilana now? Was she boxed away? Was she simmering under the surface just waiting to strike?

While it was painful to hear the truth about a cure, he had known it to a degree. He knew it in the way there was nothing but silence from them. There was no bottled up or locked away agony or humanity. There was no rage emotionally despite how they acted. There was simply nothing. They were already long gone.

When she mentioned that some things were worth protecting, it was the first time the corners of his lips shifted enough to allow a small smile. They were rare from Sephi, and even moreso from him. It was a very serious situation, but the words had touched upon everything he had learned as a Jedi. A Jedi’s life was sacrifice. Sevrin decided to spare her any Jedi philosophies for now.

“That’s why I didn’t ignite the blade,” He said quietly after silence hung between them for a while. Sevrin hadn’t forgotten about the hilt pressed against her skin, and he knew she wouldn’t have, “And I never will,” He gave her a hard look then, “For Amariel.”

He couldn’t make that promise for Ilana, and they both knew that. Sevrin studied her face for a moment, noting the weariness in her eyes and exhaustion that still gripped her from earlier. It was quieter here, and he knew that.

Sevrin’s eyes flicked past her to where a bedroom was before they looked back at her, “Will you get some rest? I will keep watch,” It involved trusting him to a degree.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Huh.

It was a rare thing, it seemed, yet somehow her defeated statement made him... smile? Perhaps wanting to do this was right, but there was always the appeal for silence, warring with the need to keep others alive. He kept stressing that old name as well, Amariel. Did he know how long it took to try and forget? To bury the frustration of the past, its' failures and rejections... still... it was oddly pleasant to hear. She finished up the water when he mentioned sleep, and she flicked her eyes at him, then the bedroom.

Perhaps she was that tired, but she had hoped it would have been a swift trip. But sleep... it sounded almost impossible.

She nodded once, rising.. then paused, glancing over at him.

"Just for a few hours."

If she gave herself a full rest, it would have been days. It had been days that she had slept more than three hours at any given setting, and without her daughter or Corran nearby as well. She stepped into the room, checking it first in case there was anything waiting, or possibly even a survivor somehow, as irrational as that seemed. Seeing and sensing nothing, she didn't even bother taking off her armored coat.

Instead, she flopped onto the bed, and put the blaster beneath the pillow, her hand resting over it. Prepared just in case anything would happen while she slept.

But even as she settled into the twilight of sleep, there was no mercy. Only the ozone of blaster fire and the bodies of the dead, staring. She curled into a tight, defensive ball, as the line between a nightmare and memories blurred.

She was back in Coruscant. In the ambulance, eyes gritty and blood on her hands. The sirens, the boom as the HQ burned. Hearing the screams of the dying, and feeling their agony, their grief, and feeling it build up in her throat, mingling with those she had killed, those that had died in her arms, and in her sleep she let out a quiet, choked cry, arms flung out on the bed as though to fend something off.

Not far beneath the apartment where they rested, something turned its' head to sniff the air. The alluring scent of blood, of living flesh, had been here recently... but it could be patient.

Its' quarry wasn't far away.

@Sreeya

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin focused on meditating in the living room as she went to the bedroom. It was a Jedi practice that involved being half asleep and only vague awareness of his surroundings. His eyes were closed and his mind attempted to find a measure of peace. It was quieter now, and there was nothing but calm to ease the storms that roiled before.

The peace lasted for a while, but cracks began to form. As Amariel’s mind was assaulted with emotions and remnants of what happened in her past, some of it impacted Sevrin. The Sephi’s fingers curled into fists as he attempted to maintain a disciplined resolve. He knew what was happening, and it took him out of his meditation. Sevrin’s eyes were open as he felt hints of the torment she was going through.

The Sephi rose to stand, walking towards the bedroom door. But he stopped himself, pausing before he went in. Sevrin’s sensitive ears could make out the choked cries, the thrashing and the shifting on the other side. It was all accompanied with agony. But it all conflicted with how respectful he was as a man. Sevrin’s hand rested against the door, not wanting to open it to violate her privacy. It wasn’t closed all the way, but he still maintained distance.

He instead attempted to soothe her through the Force, using that thread that was connected to his mind to send the soothing and peaceful remnants from his meditation. Unfortunately, this drew his attention away from a problem rapidly approaching.

Sevrin heard something behind him and he left the door to walk towards the apartment entrance. Before he could ignite his saber, a massive infected crashed directly through the door. It charged towards Sevrin, its limb colliding with him and sending him sailing clear back. This infected had been one of the very earliest infected and this was what the infection looked like in its final form.

The Sephi slammed past the partially open bedroom door and directly into the bed next to Amariel. Partially dazed, he vacantly stared at the ceiling for a moment as he reeled, “Sorry to disturb you,” Sevrin said politely with a cough, “We appear to have a guest,” He still made a point to avoid looking at her in case she had changed her state of clothing.

Sevrin sprang to his feet, using the Force to bodily toss the beast back and close the bedroom door. He knew the bedroom opened up to an external hallway and he ignited his saber and began to cut through the wall. Sevrin kept his eyes strictly on what he was doing, “That thing spits acid,” He said dryly.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

When you lived on Nar Shaddaa long enough, certain instincts would become a habit. When Sevrin burst through the bedroom and fell on the bed, she was awakened to instant clarity, the stun blaster whipping out and aimed. However, registering his words, the nightmarish being, and the now-slammed door, she threw back the covers and rolled off the bed to a crouch, then popped back up.

The stun blaster would be worse than useless against something like that thing. Scowling, she holstered it, then slipped out a vibroblade, standing close by, giving him space to cut a doorway.

She cut her eyes to him, both brows raised. "Acid?" she finally managed to utter out on a tired croak, then winced. Her throat was still sore. "Why can't these things ever be simple..." She twisted around, facing the door when the thing slammed against it. She could see the door frame begin to splinter and buckle, and could hear the gurgling snarl as it began trying to claw and eat its' way through.

She had to sneak another glimpse at the glowing blade, and her expression seemed contemplative. Just for another moment, before she gripped her blade and focused on preparing in case the creature would successfully break in. It wouldn't be too much longer, even with antiquated doors and shutting mechanisms.

@Sreeya