Things never changed.
A new crisis arose in the galaxy. Joiners, Kiliks, AMS. Sith. Jedi. Deaths and powers rising, collapsing, rising again.
She watched it all from her high rise, sipping a red wine vintage and listening to something smooth, a cigara perfectly balanced between two long, manufactured fingers. The poster child for her own brand; this new prosthetic glinted and gleamed in cold white. She thought she was fixed up, for a while. Worked with the ISC, the Republic, and the NWA. Met a Jedi, and Bonded. Had a child.
Had everything.
But everything meant nothing if you were alone.
Silvi Velt wanted to follow in her father's footsteps; she wanted to be a Ranger. The argument that followed there lasted for days. Eventually, she moved out for her first steps into the real galaxy, and all Amariel could do was put on a brave smile and wave. And then retirement; is such an odd word to say. Like she could suddenly relax after the galaxy began to fall apart.
Some things would never stay buried, even if you wanted them to.
Her fingers shook slightly, and the ash fell onto expensive marble tiling. Old reflex; these prosthetics didn't tremble on their own.
Fell in love with a Jedi... and where was he now?
She scowled, ignoring the taunt. Tried to.
Ilana didn't exist anymore. The old pain, desperation, and rage that drove her to blissful madness had scarred over. She was over it. Sevrin helped, hadn't he?
Typical Jedi, they help someone and then they disappear. Unreliable, unable to give the galaxy what it needs. Funny, isn't it?
She gritted her jaw, exhaling through her nostrils. "He'd arrive if I summoned him. If I called, he would answer."
"Would he?" Amber eyes, tinged with red, reflected and refracted in the blasterproof glass, a wicked smile over her shoulder, a hand on her shoulder. Lips at her ear, so vivid she could almost touch it if she believed hard enough. It is a reflection. Merely a knee-jerk reaction to doubts, to old scars that sometimes sang with memory.
"Then why is he so silent?"
She had no answer to that. Her hand began truly shaking now; she let out a rattling sigh, and turned away from the glass, reaching to grab her glass to smooth ragged nerves. By the time she turned around again, the apparition was gone. And the high rise filled with silence, as she blankly stared at the cityscape.
She wasn't so sure the silence would be forever. Sooner or later, the galaxy would come to run its' teeth across her life again, and leave her cold again. It was just a matter of when.
A new crisis arose in the galaxy. Joiners, Kiliks, AMS. Sith. Jedi. Deaths and powers rising, collapsing, rising again.
She watched it all from her high rise, sipping a red wine vintage and listening to something smooth, a cigara perfectly balanced between two long, manufactured fingers. The poster child for her own brand; this new prosthetic glinted and gleamed in cold white. She thought she was fixed up, for a while. Worked with the ISC, the Republic, and the NWA. Met a Jedi, and Bonded. Had a child.
Had everything.
But everything meant nothing if you were alone.
Silvi Velt wanted to follow in her father's footsteps; she wanted to be a Ranger. The argument that followed there lasted for days. Eventually, she moved out for her first steps into the real galaxy, and all Amariel could do was put on a brave smile and wave. And then retirement; is such an odd word to say. Like she could suddenly relax after the galaxy began to fall apart.
Some things would never stay buried, even if you wanted them to.
Her fingers shook slightly, and the ash fell onto expensive marble tiling. Old reflex; these prosthetics didn't tremble on their own.
Fell in love with a Jedi... and where was he now?
She scowled, ignoring the taunt. Tried to.
Ilana didn't exist anymore. The old pain, desperation, and rage that drove her to blissful madness had scarred over. She was over it. Sevrin helped, hadn't he?
Typical Jedi, they help someone and then they disappear. Unreliable, unable to give the galaxy what it needs. Funny, isn't it?
She gritted her jaw, exhaling through her nostrils. "He'd arrive if I summoned him. If I called, he would answer."
"Would he?" Amber eyes, tinged with red, reflected and refracted in the blasterproof glass, a wicked smile over her shoulder, a hand on her shoulder. Lips at her ear, so vivid she could almost touch it if she believed hard enough. It is a reflection. Merely a knee-jerk reaction to doubts, to old scars that sometimes sang with memory.
"Then why is he so silent?"
She had no answer to that. Her hand began truly shaking now; she let out a rattling sigh, and turned away from the glass, reaching to grab her glass to smooth ragged nerves. By the time she turned around again, the apparition was gone. And the high rise filled with silence, as she blankly stared at the cityscape.
She wasn't so sure the silence would be forever. Sooner or later, the galaxy would come to run its' teeth across her life again, and leave her cold again. It was just a matter of when.