Durand Cottage, Corellia
It was a sense of normalcy to be back here. It was quiet, isolated, a sliver of peace in a galaxy that continued to torment and suffer those who tried to break from the chaos. Though for herself, it seemed she created such chaos in her own life and for others. It now boiled in the back of her mind as she did her best to carry herself as normal as possible as she returned to her home, setting the small sack of perishables before stripping down on her way to the refresher. The normally hot shower was ice cold, but she followed her routine, cleaning her hair, nails, and slipping into her frumpiest sweatpants and oversized t-shirts but not before she paused to stare at her own scars she carried on her back. She lowered her arms, her eyes tracing the grooves that had been created over the years, surprisingly her mind was silent as though a conversation deeper than her subconscious was taking place.
She found herself in one of the spare rooms she used for meditation, pulling open the drawers in which she kept her flail, incense, cleaning supplies for her wounds; she dumped them all into the pocket she created with her shirt, flipping the lip to hold it in a manner of an apron as she stepped heavily through the cottage, throwing open the door and exiting. Following a well-worn path, she dropped the supplies she used for meditation and repentance as she quickly picked some kindling, stuffing it into the fire pit. With an easy spark made with her finger tips, the woman fed the fire, watching the flames lick the stars of the evening sky as it grew.
Satisfied, Tia grabbed each of the objects she brought out, tossing them one by one into the fire, watching them burn and melt. She didn't find herself hesitating or reminiscing on their lesson or value, but would watch until they turned to ash. With her hands freed again, Tiamat stepped back, she didn't realize how hard she was breathing, how tense her entire body felt, no thought floated through her mind, only a voice:
Her name is Lyra…It’s Lyra...