Ask Kashyyyk The Silence of Ash

[Krinn Nelthar]

In. He breathes. The smell of soot rests upon his tongue. The taste of burnt wood and ash. The remnants of fire that drift like shadowed dust into his lungs. Out. A ragged exhale, sharp and desperate, and the carbon carried with it the emotion of a man that had seen too much.

Every step stirred clouds of grim silver into the misty air. Gnarled roots scorched and twisted, trees, once towering and vibrant, little more than shattered trunks, scorched bark that rests among the ruins of the crumpled, ruined undergrowth. He swears there's a glint of ivory in the ruins, smudged with soot and grainy dust. A shard of bone. A macabre song of destruction that glows stained white among the grey.

It's quiet. Eerily so. There is no life. No birds. No village chatter. No critters surging between bushes and ferns. Not serpents in the leaf litter. No birds among branches. There is only the solemn wind. The sound of his breath. The fast beating of his hearts.

Whispers of death.

He's not sure where he's going. He walks, and walks, and his mind is numb, and his eyes are distant, and where his feet will take him, Krinn does not know. Does not care. He had come to face the fire, to swallow his emotion, to let go of his guilt. Instead, he was trapped, coiled within the echoes of life so desperate to escape the burning. So desperate to live.

And they had done nothing. They had awakened for their morning chores. For their jobs and schools and hobbies. And they had burned for it.

The Nautolan hasn't noticed the shadow in the dust that creeps upon him with a desperate hunger, because it's ecosystem was gone, and it was all that was left. But he senses nothing, dulled and numb, his mind a cloud of memories, because every time he closed his eyes, he could still see the planet burning.

Krinn's reactions are slowed, as the creature pounces upon him from behind. He only manages to roll onto his back, to look into it's maw as it tears at him with large claws.

A katarn.

It takes him far too long to respond, to reach for the lightsaber at his hip. The nails had already ripped across one side of his face, a bloody wound, but one that would heal with time, and perhaps that was more than could be said for wounds of the spirit. The fingers of the Sith finally find his weapon, coil around the hilt as Krinn prepares to strike back.

@Clove Vanhoop @LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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Another day at Kashyyyk, another day of biting through the thick smoke and trying to ignore the Force screams as much as possible. There was no time to celebrate her promotion to Jedi Knight when she knew a planet was on fire. So, instead of partying with her friends, Clove was dragging her feet and cane through the ashes, making her way to one of the refugee camps on the southern border. She could have flown with a speeder, but she needed a break, some alone time.

The half-Annfyn's large eyes danced around ever so quiet ruins of what had once been a forest. Nothing remained but burned tree stumps, fallen branches, and a collection of bones and scorched animals.

They were trying to flee the flames, but couldn't escape the forest in time.

At the start, Clove had a habit of burying whatever body she could find in the dirt as if to give life to the soil. But she quickly realized that there were far too many of them. So she tried her best to avoid their vacant gazes and instead focused onward, staring at that same old horizon that cast an orange hue at night.

But, somehow, the horizon had... changed? Did her eyes deceive her, or was there a figure standing in a desolate part of the ruined forest, amidst the still raining ashes? That was strange; these places were devoid of life. Clove's eyes squinted as she noticed movement in the figure.

Clove began to move towards the figure, curiously. Bit by bit, more of the stranger's identity was revealed to her; first, she concluded he was a man, or at least had a masculine-looking body. She then noticed he was a Nautolan. Then she realized she'd seen him at Altair's birthday party. It was the cute Nautolan! Clove's fluted ears twitched as she was about to raise her voice and say hello, picking up on a few footsteps that didn't belong to either of them.

No, it was a Katarn, and by the looks of it, it was hunting.

While dropping the cane, Clove instinctively guided the Force through her body. The Lightside flushed through her muscles, propelling her forward at an unnaturally fast rate. But she didn't arrive in time; the Katarn had already tackled and clawed the Nautolan in the face. But Clove did not stop running until she was close enough to the creature to leap at it. Her body slammed into the creature mid-jump, at full speed and weight. The impact was strong enough to cause the Katarn to fly off Krinn's body, and Clove to roll along with it on the ground.

Not her smartest move, but hey, it worked.

Quickly the half-Annfyn dug her heels and hands into the dirt, to stop herself from rolling and gliding. By the time her body had come to a stop, her pink and black armor was covered in a layer of grey. She looked around, a little disoriented, trying to find her barings and, most importantly, the Katarn. Ah, there he was! In the ashes, right next to her. Clove channeled the Force once more through her body without moving an inch. This time, however, she held it for two or three seconds, allowing it to build up. Then she pushed it against the creature's body in a Force Push powerful enough to push it far enough away to no longer be a threat. And, hopefully, that'd scare away the Katarn for good.

"Are you okay?" Clove called out to the Nautolan as she pushed her upper body out of the ashes, her hands digging into whatever roots or dirt they could find for support.

---

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

His hand is wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber, and he moves to bring it against the beast's hide, ready to ignite the scarlet blade into flesh. He had no qualms about killing something that was actively attempting to maul him. But there's something else, a ripple in the force, like the suddenly changed current of a fast flowing river. Dark eyes widen, because who else would be out here but the misguided souls of the dead? The refugees, perhaps. Volunteers and anyone else seeking to help heal the land, and it's remaining people. But Krinn could sense it well enough, this was someone like him, in a sense.

He doesn't recognize the blur that strikes the creature, that rolls through ash and dust and solemn, sooty remnants of plant-life. Not until she's frightened the predator off. Not until she speaks. Memories of sun and sea rise to the Nautolan's mind, the taste of salt and fish blood, the sensation of the pool, and... huttball. Altair. The party. She had been there. Sometimes, he wonders how small the galaxy actually is, that he can come across those he's seen once before, with no intent to meet them again. Krinn blinks owlish eyes at her as she picks herself out of the dirt. He's quiet, numb, and the haze of his depression slows his thoughts, muddles his thinking. Idly, he raises his left hand to his chest, where the katarn's claws had ripped through black fabric and across the viridian skin there.

The hand comes back red.

Next, he touches lightly at his face. Torn skin that laces across his forehead and eye, down one cheek. His vision itself is nearly blinded by the blood that trickles in a crimson ooze from the wound. He's certain that it must hurt quite a bit, but... he doesn't feel it. Not quite. The sensation is distant. Everything is. Krinn thinks he must have stumbled into a cloud. Skins turns clammy and breath comes quick. The sound of his rapid heartbeats drowns his mind as he gazes at his bloodied hand.

His blood.

And the death around him. Ash. Bone. Crumbling tree trunks, scorched black by flame.

He feels sick. And so very tired. So tired, in fact, that he isn't sure that he wants to get up. He isn't sure if he doesn't want to just simply... close his eyes and rest. Perhaps that would ease his gut, too. Stop him from throwing up what little he had devoured in the past days. And that no doubt contributed to his sorry and emancipated state, because food and sleep were hard to come by when thoughts of personal care no longer took precedence.

Slowly, Krinn raises himself into a slumped sitting position, and his pulse still roars through his addled thoughts as he finally looks up to peer at the sharp-eared woman again. What was her name? He couldn't remember. He racked his mind in silent desperation and he... could not recall. Did she know his? Why was she here? The Sith wonders if Altair is here, too. He brings his lightsaber into his lap, the fingers of his right hand rubbing lightly along it's scale wrapped hilt. He should say something. She had saved his life. He should be grateful.

She had... she had used the force.

Had she done that at the party? And once again, he isn't sure. He can't remember. His mouth is dry, and he swallows roughly, the warmth of his own blood trickling across his skin.

"Yes." And finally, finally, Krinn finds his voice, little more than a croak, a lie, but the Nautolan had never really been an honest man. He knew the cost of looking weak. That katarn had been able to see it well enough, to view him as a potential meal. But the woman was... softer. Warmer, perhaps. Not something with sharp teeth and claws intended to maul him. Even so, looks were deceiving. She is Altair's friend, he reminds himself. But he did not know her. "I'm just tired. I just need some rest." Even though he knew he wouldn't sleep, and the force could only provide so much. Where... had he left the Interceptor? Why was he still sitting in this ash? And... he thinks the pain of his wounds is sharper now. His body quivers with a cold sweat as adrenaline fades.

His large eyes drift back to the blood that painted his left hand.

@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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While lifting her head from the ashes, the half-Annfyn noticed the crimson blood that ran down the Nautolan's face. And based on the claw mark on his shirt, she assumed he was bleeding there as well. Clove huffed her way up until she was on her knees, her thighs and back tingling as a result of the intense movement and the somewhat sensitive cybernetic spine.

"You're not fine." She replied bluntly. Stubborn patients lying about their injuries was nothing new. She'd met them countless times in her life, even before becoming a Jedi. Although she never understood why they felt the need to lie, she developed a type of patience for it. It wasn't the sugar-sweet soft kind of patience, and she wasn't going to beat around the bush about it, but it was a kind of patience. "But I can help."

Clove shuffled through the ash and dirt towards the Nautolan, her knees and lower legs leaving a trail behind her. She could and should have gotten up and walked. But it just wasn't worth the effort when shuffling was just as effective. Ish.

"You are bleeding pretty badly." Clove's voice had softened now that she was sitting next to him. Sure, she noticed his lightsaber on his lap, which indicated he was either a Jedi, a Sith, or a raider, but that wasn't as important right now. Because even a Sith deserved better than to die in a remote location on a burning planet. Even if they started the fires in the first place. "I can mend the worst, and fix the rest with some bandages." She wasn't asking for permission at this point; it was more of an explanation.

Clove became quiet for a moment, her body motionless; she hesistated. Force Healing would drain her energy and reveal that she was a Lightside user. And, while Clove was known as a Jedi on the internet, Hell on (W)heels, or Sugar Heels, was not. If Krinn knew Altair, as she assumed, he would be able to leak everything.

Then again, so could Aadya. And he really needed help. Well. She'd deal with the consequences once they arrived.

"You can rest while I patch you up, okay?"

The half-Annfyn raised her hand into the air, in front of the man's chest and face. Clove began to channel the Force through her body with a few deep breaths in and out. It wasn't difficult to ignore the death and suffering in the Force and act on instinct during high adrenaline-fueled moments, but now those sensations were there, right at the front. It made focusing difficult. And yet she managed, thanks in part to Crix's lessons, which threw her into the deep end and forced her to function in similar scenarios, and in part because she'd been on Kashyyyk for a few days.

The Lightside began to swirl out of her hand and into the Nautolan's body, searching for cells that would speed up the body's healing process. It engulfed the man in warmth, the kind of warmth that would bring comfort to a Jedi or a neutral. For a Darksider, however, the Light could feel differently.

---

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

He... isn't quite sure what about her blunt response is funny, but Krinn laughs anyways. It's not the right sort of response. He's not amused. He's hurt, and sick, exhausted, and probably dying from malnutrition or... blood loss. No, he's not bleeding that badly, is he? The Nautolan glances down at his chest, but he can't really tell, can only nod numbly at the Knight as she shuffles toward him to look at the wounds herself. Maybe he was bleeding to death. And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Maybe he deserved it.

But he doesn't say anything. Doesn't move to stop her. Just blinks large eyes, a numb expression that reflects only an ounce of his pain, and then he leans back against the ash once more with a heavy exhale of breath. Rest sounded good. He wanted to sleep. But then, he wanted a lot of things. Krinn had always been a greedy man, but what he longed for now was not riches or power. It was... comfort. Dreamless sleep and peace. Dark eyes drift closed as clawed fingers coil with discomfort into the ash at his left side, where his bloodied free hand rested solemn in the dust.

But as she reaches out with the light, begins to heal him, those eyes open once more. He isn't sure what he feels. A persistent discomfort, perhaps. Certainly not the warmth that Clove was used to. No, it was a stubborn and pricking thorn, a nagging persistence that seemed to tug at the fraying corners of his mind. Like an unwanted temptation. Something that promised things he was certain that he could never have. The warmth of a tightly woven blanket that he knew was a trap.

At least it isn't painful.

Krinn is staring at her, large eyes reflecting her face within maroon pools that shimmer with a glassy sheen.

"I forgot your name." The Sith admits, ushering those soft words lightly past his dry lips, hardly louder than a whisper. Of course, there were plenty of more logical things he could say. Why are you here? Are you a Jedi? And he's starting to think that she must be, because the pieces were clicking together, however slowly his muddled thoughts could place them. A light-sider on Kashyyyk. A trained force user. She was on Kashyyyk to heal, then. Jedi healed, didn't they? He's certain enough that they like to do that. Liked to heal the victims of war. But Krinn was no victim.

"You shouldn't... help me." He thinks aloud, a cracked and dried reasoning. He was no wookiee that had lost his home and family. He hadn't lost his cities. Or half of his world. "I was here." A quiet admission upon a pained voice. Krinn doesn't really have the strength to elaborate, isn't sure why he should. And a part of him knows that this... should not be. If she was a Jedi, and he was a Sith, then he is certain that they are not friends. No matter her ties to Altair. He should ignite his saber as she leaned so close, and add two more bodies to the soot, because he's not so certain that he'll make it back to his ship anymore.

But he can't do that, and he's not entirely sure why. It did not take much strength to press the button on the hilt that was already in his hand. It was not a matter of fatigue, or pain, or weakness. The turmoil of his mind was such an odd thing, and the thought of killing her so ruthlessly, as she tried to heal his wounds. It seemed foul. Unfair. Cruel. So he just stares. Quiet, and numb, and entirely uncertain of how she'll respond to his admission, or what she'll do next.

@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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Clove gave the Nautolan a sidewards and somewhat distracted smile. "I'm Clove, how about you?"

Healing was a slow and draining process, one that took a lot of focus. Despite having gotten reasonably good at it thanks to her two to three years of practice in the medical bay, it always came with a strain. So when the Nautolan casually mentioned that he was there during the attack, the girl's concentration was shattered, and the Force Heal faded with it. Luckily enough for the both of them, it was healed enough for the bleeding to stop.

The half-Annfyn turned her head towards the man, this time focusing on him rather than his wounds. He looked like hell, as if he'd been carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders without a single night's sleep. Something about his gaze, which was far more empty and hollow than the average Nautolan's, told her he was suffering. Suffering from more than a few severe scratches. No, there were no other physical wounds or illnesses. He was brought down by pure, heavy mental weight.

"Hmmm." Clove hummed for a moment before opening her leather bag and removing her medkit. By this point, the top of the medkit had been painted pink with white flowers on top, which the kids adored. "I was also here, during the attack." She eventually replied while opening the medkit. She took a small can of Bacta from it, as well as two gloves, which she quickly slipped over her pale hands. "This might sting a little bit at first." Her voice had grown even softer.

She took a small amount of Bacta from the can and began to gently rub it into the claw marks around his eyes. Then she did the same with his chest; normally, she'd have to remove someone's shirt, but this didn't feel like the right time to strip the Nautolan naked. Instead, she pushed her fingers through the open gashes in the shirt to gain access to the wounds. Any harmful bacteria would be killed by the Bacta anyway.

Clove grabbed some more standard bandages and butterfly closures and began to close and cover the wounds with them, now that everything was coated in Bacta. Because the Nautolan's eyeball was relatively unscathed, she only needed to carefully close the wounds with the butterfly closures and secure them with the bandage. "There you go."

Clove huffed, removed her gloves and sat down next to him, her chocolate eyes fixed on the horizon ahead of them. She had long suspected he was a Sith or a Raider, but a Raider with a Lightsaber had no reason to be on Kashyyyk during the attack. And while that should have sent her running, fighting, or even summoning all authorities to her help, all she could do was sit next to him.

Next to a Sith, responsible for the millions of death.

"I know I shouldn't be helping you," she finally admitted. "But I'm trying to build a place where everyone, regardless of who they are, can get help... so I'd be setting a bad example if I refused to help you here, wouldn't I?" She said with a faint smile. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you even here in the first place? I expected the Sith to be celebrating their victories rather than wandering the surface of Kashyyyk as if their soul had left their body."

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

Clove. Like... a clover. That would make it a bit easier to remember.

"Krinn." He responds with tired vocals, and he thinks he can tell that the bleeding has finally stopped, as the woman finally lowers her hands from the lacerations carved across his skin. The Nautolan doesn't say anything more, merely watches her pull a decorated med-kit from a bag, a painted little thing with pale floral design that glowed against the pink. His gaze flickers back up to her face as she speaks again, though. She had been on Kashyyyk too. Krinn wonders how much different the burning planet must have looked from her perspective. Probably even more horrifying.

He might have flinched away, had he not been so exhausted. The stinging of the Bacta application eventually settles, though. Dark eyes flutter closed as she moves to tend to the wound across his face. He doesn't open them again until he hears her huff, feels her withdraw her hands. Clove is staring distant upon the horizon. He wonders if she is just as conflicted as he was. She must be, he thinks. Because like him, she had been here at Kashyyyk during the attack, but they had not been on the same side.

She had seen the death far more clearly than him. She had probably heard their screams.

The words that finally fall past her lips drip sluggishly through his thoughts, and he isn't entirely sure what to say. How could he answer such a loaded question? She did have a point. But while other Sith might have celebrated, Krinn had tried, perhaps desperately, to forget. He had tried returning to his criminal roots, if only to serve as a distraction. And he had tried drowning himself in alcohol, only to end up worse than ever before.

He's not entirely sure about admitting all that to a Jedi, though.

"I don't know." The Sith would finally respond, and it's true enough. He had come here to face the memories, to swallow his emotions and drag himself out this crippling depression that had swallowed him. But... that hadn't worked, had it? No, he had stepped foot in the ash and had promptly collapsed. He had wandered lost through the echoes of death that plagued the force. He never should have come. "Maybe I came to get eaten by the katarn." A weak and sorry attempt at only a half humored jest. Because the force had it's will, didn't it? The force knew what it wanted, knew what he deserved, what they all deserved.

"The will of the force as the hunger of a katarn." A katarn that had lost it's home, it's den, it's prey, it's life, to his people. To the Sith he had helped bomb this world. It was a bit like... poetic justice then, wasn't it? Poetic justice that Clove had intercepted, and he's not really sure how he feels about that yet.

@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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Clove's gaze shifted away from the horizon and toward the Nautolan, who was clearly considering how to respond. And watching him scramble for an answer made her wonder if he was on Kashyyyk to grieve, to lament his actions. How must it feel to know that a million innocent citizens died as a result of your actions, as a result of your group of people? Seeing the weapons slam into the planet and hearing the result echo in the Force?

It was one thing to watch them die while knowing you couldn't help them. It was another thing to feel them die while knowing it was (partly) your fault.

So, was that it, remorse?

Clove snorted at his half-hearted joke. He wasn't particularly funny, but he did break some of the silence and tension that was slowly creeping up into the sky and instead gave a sense of relief. "Hah. How about no? I'd rather not feed the Katarn anything bad." She tried to jest back, before her smile dropped again.

The will of the Force as the hunger of a Katarn.

"If you believe in the Will of the Force, it obviously sent you to the Katarn so that we could meet. The Katarn was simply a means for us to talk instead of rushing to each other's throats." Clove was unsure if she believed in the Will of the Force. While she wholeheartedly believed in the Living and Unifying Force, the Will of the Force was extreme. Because would the Force truly wish for an entire planet to be set ablaze? For millions of Wookiees to die all at once? What good could such genocide possibly bring?

Clove shook her head at her own thoughts and returned her gaze to the horizon. "Are you hungry? I always bring food with me."

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

There's no relief for Krinn, even if the slight jest between them lightens the ash choked air. Krinn blinks, lets his dark gaze shift from her face to the soot covered remnants of scorched grass. The will of the force was not quite something he's sure he believes in, not entirely. Though he often makes reference to it, his thoughts were typically uncertain when it came to such things as fate and sentient cosmic energies that just... allow such horrible things to happen.

Perhaps... if the force did have a will, it simply did not have the means to enact it? Maybe that was what force users were for, but if that was the case, who was in the right? The Sith, or the Jedi?

"I wouldn't have attacked you." The Nautolan admits quietly, but he won't elaborate. Doesn't really need to. His state was a sorry one, fatigued and shattered. He would have lost any battle fought here, in the ash. Her offer of food just makes his stomach churn. He should eat, but he hadn't had an appetite since the glassing. He certainly doesn't have one now, sitting in the soot.

"I can't eat." Krinn doesn't want to be impolite, but he also doesn't want to deal with trying to swallow down food that he knew wouldn't stay down, at least not without making his gut feel it was filled with angry hornets. "Sorry." An awkward expression, really. It wasn't the first time he had offered needless apologies, but... perhaps this one had a bit more weight than Krinn would care to admit.

"I just want to sleep, really." The Nautolan utters, though he knows it's a futile effort.

Krinn finally pushes himself over, stumbling into an upright position as he stands, his lightsaber still held gently within his right hand, as his left toys with the edges of his dark clothing. He should not linger for much longer. He needed to get back to his ship and... find some way to deal with this newfound mess he had created of his own spirit.

@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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"Good, because I wouldn't have attacked you either." Clove smiled at the Nautolan before closing her eyes for a moment. It was exhausting just to be on Kashyyyk and do nothing. As if a needle were constantly poking at her mind, attempting to pull the strings she kept hidden from it. When the Nautolan mentioned that he couldn't eat, her eyes fluttered open again, and she looked up at him. "That's okay."

His apology didn't seem to bother her, or if it did, Clove didn't dwell on it. She observed him slowly rising to his feet, making movements that contradicted his intent. The way he fumbled and stumbled, the way he toyed with the hem of his clothing. No. She couldn't just leave him alone, whether he was a Sith or not. "If you want, I can set up camp for you so you can rest here. Or maybe join me to the shuttle and rest there?"

Wait, no, that made her sound like a creep. "Don't worry, I'm not going to be a creep like you see on the news." That's much better!

While it was clear that she would not force him, her tone revealed that she was concerned about how the man was doing and felt uneasy about leaving him. What would stop him from almost being killed again if he had already almost been killed once?

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

Dark eyes flicker to peer down at her, crimson pools of corruption glowing among the ash. The reflection within is dim, glassy, but thoughtful. The grim landscape surrounding them chokes his lungs and mind like the twisting, tangled roots of an ancient tree, one that lurks within the murky, muddied depths of a foggy swamp. It's... hard to think. Harder to be logical. But he thinks he understands. Krinn was in no shape to wander the soot alone. One katarn had already taken him by surprise. Did it still lurk just beyond his sight, waiting for a second opportunity? He hates how pitiful he must look, for Clove to see that he shouldn't be left alone. Truthfully, Krinn doesn't even know how he feels about that. It's bad enough when an ally sees his weakness, but this was a Jedi. An enemy. But... she had been to a Sith party. She was Altair's friend. She had mingled among his kind without any sign of distaste, or hatred.

Of course, the Nautolan doesn't know that, at the time, Clove had been unaware of just what Altair was, or the many others at the party, including himself. But it was that lack of knowledge on his part that made him more inclined to see her as someone that was genuinely concerned, and not just seeking an advantage over a crippled foe. In any case, he doesn't want to remain within the scorched wastes of Kashyyyk for any longer than he has already endured, and he isn't quite sure where he had wandered off during his depressed stupor, where he had left his Interceptor among the splintered trees and grainy ash. Her added comment about not being a creep doesn't really bring about any amusement from the Nautolan, but he at least appreciates that she's trying to help. He's just not sure that she can.

Krinn draws in a quiet breath, tastes the death in the heavy air. It's a vile thing.

"I don't think..." He hesitates, because he's not really sure about any of this, and perhaps it was harder to think clearly, when one was in such a poor state as him. But he doubts her fellow Jedi will share her willingness to provide him comfort or healing, and he doubts his own allies would be inclined to trust him again, if they somehow were to obtain footage of him striding casually into a shuttle with an enemy at his side. Perhaps they wouldn't recognize her, but the relief efforts on Kashyyyk were obvious enough, either way. Her other offer was to make camp here, but he can't sleep on a normal night, and he's certainly not going to sleep surrounded by the remnants of his Empire's bombing.

"Are there other Jedi here?" If he's not in the state to fight off the wildlife, he knows better than to get into a scrap with a group of Jedi, healers or not. Walking into any sort of refugee camp was bound to be similar to tripping into the maw of a sarlacc. He doesn't know them, doesn't know if they won't just swarm him while he's too tired and sick to pose much of a threat in return. A Sith more deeply aligned with the dark might feed off the surrounding devastation to bolster their own power, but Krinn is not quite so seeped in the shadow as some of his higher ranked peers. "They'll attack me. If I rest in your shuttle, what's to stop them?" The more experienced and older Jedi would have little issue sensing his connection to the dark. They would know what he was.

@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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Clove's large brown eyes lingered on the Nautolan as he began to weigh his options. Or... was he? Perhaps he was just staring into the void until a thought popped into his head, it was honestly hard to tell. He didn't exactly show a lot of emotions. Still, she sat patiently, fiddling with the ends of her long cape-like sleeves.

When he finally responded, the girl's head tilted to the right. "Yeh, there's a lot of other Jedi." Ah. That's why he took so long to respond; the Nautolan was actually considering what to do. She couldn't blame him; he was a Sith, an enemy of the Jedi, and the cause of Kashyyyk. Jedi would arrest him on the spot, if not try to kill him to pay for the glassing. She should have been doing the same, and she will most likely arrest him at some point, but his health was a higher priority for the moment. "Hmmm."

Well, there was one way to solve this problem, and it was a fairly simple one at that.

Clove began to crawl back up on her feet, cursing herself for dropping her cane in places where it was difficult to collect it. But despite not being as quick, she did manage. Clove began to stretch her arms and back once she was on her feet, her eyes closing for a second or two. When they reopened, she gave Krinn a warm smile. "In that case, I'll just summon the shuttle; it has auto-pilot." Because Force knew she couldn't drive, and the Jedi would never let her borrow a shuttle without auto-pilot. "That way, the Jedi won't attack you and can get some rest."

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

She confirms his worries, brings truth to his concerns, and the air seems to grow thinner, colder within his lungs. The threat of Jedi was one he had accepted upon landing on Kashyyyk, but to purposefully wander into their camps? Krinn is exhausted, weak and starving. His mind is addled, clouded with the fog of grief and stress. But still, he holds enough clarity to know better than to do that.

Clove seemed to have a solution to the issue, though. Krinn peers at her as she slowly finds her feet, as if he cannot believe that she, his enemy, the one that had seen the death his own Empire had caused first hand, would be so willing to offer him comfort, even if in doing so, it was under the noses of her fellow Jedi. Such empathy, such selfless compassion, was so beyond his understanding that he's really not sure what to say. A part of his former suspicions are revitalized, because how could anyone be so concerned for him? For a Sith. It's not something he's used to.

Clove was... what was she?

"You are weird." Krinn finally manages in a soft voice, but he doesn't say it to be rude. He's just simply never met anyone like her before. She was so out of the realm of his own reality that it was practically surreal. He thinks, perhaps, that katarn had killed him, or had mortally wounded him, and he's laying in the ash dead or dying, and hallucinating all of this just as some last, desperate attempt to grant his own spirit some manner of peace.

Without quite realizing, he's reaching out, aiming to lightly brush his fingers against her shoulder, because he had to be sure. His mind was not being entirely cooperative as of late. But... Clove was real. She had healed him. She was offering him shelter. Clove was Altair's friend. Clove was... his friend too? He thinks that maybe she is, if she's willing to offer so much for a stranger, for a Sith.

"You're real." The Nautolan breathes aloud, as if that solidifies that none of this is a dream. None of this is some... post-mortem trick of damnation, or... a gentle spirit reaching out to soothe him before guiding him home, as he had heard tales of before. She was just simply kind, and to a normal person, that might not seem so strange. To a man who had never really known such altruism, though? It was entirely new. It was special. "Thank you." Krinn finally offers, letting his free hand fall back to his waist.

@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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Clove snorted in response to his sudden 'You're weird'. She couldn't help but be amused, as insulted as she should have been. Partly because being called weird was nothing new, and partly because he sounded as if he was talking about some type of galaxy's mystery that he couldn't decipher.

He then stretched his arm out, ever so lightly brushing his fingers against her shoulder.

Despite the fact that she was slightly frozen, her smile never left her lips. Sure, she was paying close attention to his body language in case he suddenly activated the lightsaber, but she remained where she was. "Huh." Her smile became a little puzzled. "Of course I'm real, silly. Did you think you got killed by that animal?" Clove's head tilted to the right, an amused yet kind smile on her face. "You're welcome Krinn." She replied before reaching for her belt and removing her commlink.

She activated the shuttle's lock-on-target with a few screen clicks, and the auto-pilot did the rest. "All right, the shuttle should arrive in a few minutes." Clove began to huddle her way over to her cane while talking, because now that she had fully calmed down, after all the running and body-tackling her posture resembled that of a grandmum more than anything else. She swirled her finger, directing the Force to the cane, which was now only a few meters away, and levitating it back to her hand.

With her cane in her hands again, she quickly began to lean against it, exhaling a deep sigh of relief. "Much better!" She muttered to herself before turning around to face Krinn. She'd make her way back towards him if he hadn't followed her before opening her mouth. "Hey, I was wondering. I saw you walk out of the ocean during that beach party. And... I honestly don't know much about Nautolans, so I hope you don't mind me asking. But do you go out into the ocean and hunt for alive fish to eat?" There was no hint of judgment in her voice; rather, it was clear she was curious. Curious and eager to learn more about another species. "You don't have to answer if it's too personal!"

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

She was smiling, a friendly sort of expression, such a odd thing to see upon an enemy's lips. Krinn bore no such similarities. His face was set within hard, stony lines, the creases of stress and failing health. He can't find humor here, on Kashyyyk. Not the way she could. He doesn't answer her when she asks for his thoughts about being killed by the Katarn. It embarrasses him. Shames him. That he could be so ignorant, and that his mind could be so clouded by dark mist. But the shuttle was on it's way, at least. He could get out of the ash.

Dark eyes follow the Jedi as she moves toward her cane, where it rested in the grim hued soot of burnt ground. It was a slender looking thing, floral patterned and colorful, not so unlike her decorated medical kit. Krinn can't help but wonder why she needs it all, or why the Jedi have allowed her to stay, if she had sustained such grievous injury. Why hadn't they just simply kicked her out? Of course the Nautolan's not entirely blind to Jedi antics, even if he's never had a pleasant experience with one before. He knows well enough that they don't execute one another, as the Sith do. It must feel so odd for her... to live that life without the threat of punishment looming over her head for any grave mistake she might make, any failure, or loss. What motivated her to succeed, then? What motivated her to get back up, even with that cane? Nobody was threatening her, or at least... Krinn doesn't think they are. Perhaps he's wrong, because he's no Jedi, and what do the Sith know of their foes, truly? Surely their views of the Jedi Order are just as skewed as the Jedi's view of the Sith?

It's hard to think. Harder to contemplate such things. He wipes a hand over his face, feels the bandaging with light, probing fingers, before he wipes large eyes with green skinned knuckles. The curiosity could wait, he supposes.

When Clove speaks next, it's surprising, and it only solidifies his opinions on how strange she was, compared to what he's used to dealing with. They were surrounded by the scarred land of a burned world. So many lives lost in the ash. Yet she asks such a simple question about their time at Altair's party, a time before he had seen the glassing, a time where he had been more concerned with his own greed than for the loss of life caused by his own Empire. He really doesn't know how to respond, because how was she able to do that? Distract herself so easily? How did she stop the emotions from consuming her?

Krinn blinks, confused for a few moments, all too tired and weak and hurt, and he can't stop to think about such casual chatter, can't calm his mind the way a Jedi was trained to do. Krinn didn't work through his emotions. He embodied them. They controlled his life, his rise to power, his, well... everything. And he doesn't know how Clove expects him to think straight, to just... talk like they weren't surrounded by utter destruction and death. He's already been silent for several moments, peering at her with glassy eyes.

"I..." He tries to speak, swallows thickly, and then tries again, "I don't eat... alive fish." Krinn finally answers, wavering vocals colored with confusion and fatigue. Perhaps he had taken her question a bit too literally, but in his state, who could blame him? "But I hunt them, yes." He could eat cooked meat, and many Nautolans did, but Krinn had lived a life of survival, and so, he had the skills needed to survive. Hunting was one such ability, and his body was more than capable of digesting the raw meat, unlike other races. Krinn preferred his food fresh, in any case.

@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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Oh. Whoops. He was clearly either too sick to talk or not in the mood. Clove should've seen that one coming. She couldn't really blame him for it, so she took the hint and shifted her gaze back to the horizon. It must've been hell for a Sith, who are frequently portrayed as wild and uncontrollable with their emotions. And, while that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she couldn't help but wonder how a Sith feels in a place like Kashyyyk, where suffering and death clung to your skin.

She couldn't stop herself from biting the inside of her cheek. While the half-Annfyn could endure silence well enough, standing next to a Sith on a planet glassed by said faction and feeling the death in the Force constantly beating down on her mind was an awkward and almost uncomfortable experience. Still, she wanted to help, regardless of the man's history or location. How was she going to handle the hospital if she couldn't even help one person in need? No. She was determined to follow through.

After a short moment of silence, the Nautolan spoke up, much to her surprise. He took her question far too literally, but Clove was already grateful for his attempt to respond. So she turned to face him, a genuine bright smile on her face. "Woah, that's cool! I've only had super fresh fish once in my life, and nothing beats it." She kept her response brief, one that the Nautolan could easily choose not to respond to without looking like a butt.

After a few minutes of waiting, the roars of the shuttle's engine finally reached the Jedi and Sith. As it broke through the horizon, its metal hull reflected the flames and sun of Kashyyyk. "Ah, there it is." Clove mused cheerfully. While it wasn't her own shuttle, she'd been borrowing it for her trips to Kashyyyk and back, so seeing it brought her comfort.

The Eta-Class Shuttle finally landed in front of the two, creating a cloud of dust and ashes in the air. With a slight creak, the ramp slowly began to open, creating a path into the shuttle. "Do you think you can get up the ramp on your own, or do you need help?" Her kind tone and warm smile never left.

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tag @Nevermourn ​

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

Of course, he agreed. Fresh fish was by far superior to the preserved stuff, stripped of it's glistening scales and cooked to a flaky dryness. It was tolerable. It wasn't bad. But preserved fish was far from the greatest thing he had ever tasted in the galaxy. Still, the Nautolan doesn't respond, just swallows thickly, and tries to tune out the echoes of death that twirled through the ash-choked air surrounding them. By now, the throb of his wounds is all too present, and the clammy sensation that had previously crawled across his skin had turned to a hot dryness that was equally as uncomfortable. At least he didn't feel quite so dizzy, anymore.

In the distance, the roar of a fast approaching vessel, it's shadow gliding across scorched ground. Krinn blinks up at it, but finds the light of the sky too piercing. His gaze flickers back toward burned earth and shattered tree trunk remnants, as he keeps his jaws clamped firmly shut, and holds his breath as the cloud of soot takes form to blast his exposed skin like fine granules of soft sand. But, eventually, the ramp does lower, a slope that appears far more intense than it really was, in his sorry state. He peers at it for several long moments, glances at Clove as she speaks with such kindness toward him, a question meant to offer help. Krinn stubbornly turns his eyes away, though. He had to remind himself that this was a Jedi.

"I can do it." The Sith responds, and he takes the first few steps, forces his trembling legs to push him upward, and despite his fatigue, his exhaustion and pain, Krinn makes it to the top of the ramp, and sucks in slow breaths to hide just how taxing the effort had been upon his battered body. "I... do you-?" His voice is a croak, so he swallows, waits for Clove to reach his position, and then tries again, "Is there alcohol on board? I need it to fall asleep." Krinn doesn't like admitting to such a thing, but he wasn't going to get any rest if all he could think about was the millions of lives he had helped extinguish on this world.

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@LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

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Clove breathed a sigh of relief; not having to drag the man up the ramp was a ray of light in an otherwise dark day. She slowly followed him up the ramp, not hiding her own struggles, especially since her cane didn't have the best grip on the slated metallic surfaces. But, like Krinn, she made it to the top and boarded the shuttle. "Alcohol...?" The girl tilted her head to the side. "I'm afraid not; I don't drink. That beach party was the first time I'd ever had alcohol like that."

"But I can play some music for you? When I meditate, I usually listen to music." She took a seat in the cockpit while speaking. She pressed the buttons and entered the coordinates that would launch them into deep space. After adding them and double-checking them she activated the auto-pilot and let the ship run its course. "I sorta know how it feels. I'm not sure why you need alcohol, but I'm guessing it's to keep things quiet? And I can relate to that. That's why, when I meditate, I need music. It's better now, but a year or two ago... I couldn't sleep, eat, or drink for weeks on end, and all I could do was cry." Clove smiled as she looked over her shoulder. "But music helped. It gave me something to concentrate on, which silenced my thoughts."

Clove rose to her feet as the ship finally left the thinner parts of the atmosphere, confident that the ship would be fine without her supervision. She hummed her way over to one of the chairs and pressed a lever once in front of it. The mechanism of the lever was activated, and the chair began to lean backward with one smooth movement, the lower end extending outward until it resembled a couch or a thin bed. "There you go, you can lie down there and rest if you want."

Clove eventually turned around to face Krinn again, regardless of what he said or did. "Listen... If you want, I can bring you with me." She heard Altair's voice in her head accusing her of taking broken Sith and fixing them without even asking their permission. No, she was going to prove him wrong. "But only if you want. I can't make you do it. I've taken a raider with me before, a sweet girl named Luxor. She didn't join the Jedi Order, but she became my companion."

Clove abruptly stopped speaking and snorted. "Dear Force, I just realized this offer came out of nowhere. I'm sorry. It's just... You look so deeply unhappy, Krinn. And I suppose I want to help you." Plus, the alternative was to throw him in prison with no chance of redemption, which she didn't want to do if there were other options.

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tag @Nevermourn ​