These Shattered Stars -- Logs

A few days have passed on Gyndine. In that time, Fhazil has practiced rigorously with the new Awatea lightsaber, learning its balance and, more importantly, learning how to actually safely use and handle a lightsaber. He's been a little reluctant to talk about what he saw, both in his time meditating that first day or so, and when he first put together the Awatea lightsaber, but he has calmed down somewhat since then.

The morning finds Freyja returning to the small encampment -- the ship serves neatly as housing, with a small ramshackle but well-tended shelter nearby -- to find Fhazil handing a small pouch to one of the lay caretakers of Gyndine, who has apparently dropped off some supplies. The layperson bows and moves off towards her air speeder, while Fhazil scoops up the packages and heads up into the ship.

Freyja has been meditating, and is quietly fascinated to note that there's... something; she can't quite pin it down, but the lightsabers 'feel' slightly different as Fhazil adjusts to his. It's like they're 'settling themselves in' to the new situation... or something? She's not sure precisely what it is... but it's interesting.

Freyja looks curiously after the departing person, then pads in quietly after Fhazil, "Good morning! How're you doing? Do you need any help with that?"

Fhazil is just putting the packages on the counter in the galley, and gives a bit of a start when Freyja comes in. "Oh! Freyja, good morning! Well, there's some perishables that should be put into the preserver..."

Freyja helps Fhazil put stuff away as she considers... finally she says cautiously, "So... I was wondering. I've heard about Sedraki courting, and Khar Velos courting, and I've seen Balmorran courting... um... so what's Corellian courting like?"

Fhazil blinks a bit, pausing as he puts some items in one of the carrying containers, then laughs. "Corellian courting? Well... depends on whom you ask. It's been said that if you ask the opinion of five Corellians, you'll get six answers. There are almost as many ways for Corellians to court as there are Corellians. There are a lot of subcultures and metacultures and traditions on Corellia, so I guess the main thing for most Corellians would be flexibility in courting. Does the person you're interested in like flowers and long walk? -or do they prefer something more Alderaanian? -or even something else entirely?"

Freyja looks a bit embarrassed when Fhazil laughs, ducking her head slightly as she puts things away, but still listens carefully. She's silent for a moment, thinking, then finally says slowly, "Well... maybe I'm asking the wrong question, then. Um..." she glances sideways from under her fiery gold bangs at Fhazil, then concentrates on tidily arranging things on the shelves, "Well... so what exactly does a Corellian mean by 'falling' for someone, then?"

He tilts his head to the side, smiling as he looks over to Freyja. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, and it wasn't at you or the question. Corellia just doesn't have a single set of courtship rituals."

He pauses for a moment, then nods to himself, continuing packing. "'Falling' for someone... it depends. I know Corellians seem pretty culturally anarchic. For the most part, though, it means that he or she has found someone they're interested in learning more about, in making happy, in experiencing things with. Something about the other intrigues them, catches their interest, and they'd like to see if that interest might be returned, if there's a spark there that might be fanned into something more. Like, if they saw someone who was attractive, physically or emotionally or mentally, they'd wonder if they shared interests, and wanted to share future experiences."

He crouches down and starts digging through one of the counter's preservers. "Of course, you can't 'wonder' for very long and get anywhere; you have to ask. I guess that's where courting might begin, and that's where the differences start happening, I imagine. Because of the differences in the many subcultures and metacultures, though, that's where most Corellians try to be flexible. So it starts with idle conversation, if they can arrange it. Hi, how are you, what's your name, pleased to meet you... and somewhere in there clues are picked up on, they learn about each other, and it starts. A passing comment about liking the flowers of spring might lead to a suggestion for a visit to a botanical garden. Mention of a band or musical group might turn thoughts to a garden concert."

He stands, and with a flourish presents a bottle of deep, rich azure glass to Freyja. "Or in this case, apologies that I couldn't quickly find any riding animals that anyone was able to part with for even a day, and the temptation of sapphire wine which I remember you asking about some time ago."

Freyja blinks a bit startledly, first at the bottle and then at Fhazil -- then blushes and grins at the same time, "I, ah..." She has no idea what to say, so falls back on old training, accepting the bottle, "Thank you! Um..." she eyes the bottle fascinatedly, "-is this really 'that' sapphire wine?!" She blinks again, looking back at Fhazil, "No riding... oh... you... you wanted to go riding?" She brightens, "You like riding?"

Fhazil smiles and nods. "It is, yes. It doesn't look it, but the glass is actually clear. That's the wine's natural color when sealed. When opened and exposed to oxygen, it turns a very pale blue." He grins. "I remembered that you enjoyed riding. I haven't done much myself, though. Corellia is fairly industrial, and the Empire doesn't have an equestrian tradition. But if you enjoy it as much as you do, then I admit I would like to find what it is like, and why it captures your imagination so."

Freyja's eyes light up -- she's deeply touched both that Fhazil gave her something so unusual and rare (at least in the Republic), and that he's willing to try something she loves a great deal -- apparently mostly because it gives her a great deal of joy. She hesitates, holding the bottle carefully in both hands, mostly because she isn't sure how to say thank you properly -- then carefully, a bit slowly so he can step away smoothly if he wishes to do so, she steps forward a bit to offer him a thank you hug.

Fhazil returns the hug warmly, but not crushingly. "You're welcome!" he says cheerfully. "And I mention it now, because I was wondering..." he sets the container on the counter; it is one of the light, portable ones that's easily carried, "...if you would care to enjoy it with a light noonday meal on a really nice hill about a kilometer yonder?"

Freyja blinks again, "Er..." then looks -- then laughs, and decides to roll with the surprises Fhazil seems to be springing on her today, "Ah, sure! Certes, why not?" She grins, pushing her bangs out of her face and adding, "-as long as Master Roakkana doesn't need anything. Let me check quickly, hai?"

Roakkana gives his blessing, and less than half an hour later the two are walking towards the hill. It is within sight of the ship, and if Freyja squints a little she can see Vakkal atop the ship, keeping very much alert and aware of his charge. "If you don't mind my asking, Freyja," Fhazil says, "-how did you first become enamored with equestrian? I guess I should start by asking if they call it 'equestrian' on Balmorra!"

Fhazil Taas is a Corellian of medium height and medium build, athletic and well-toned. Silver hair frames his face, and startling yellow eyes peer out from beneath loose, moderately unkempt silver bangs. He wears a dark teal shirt of a medium thickness material, beneath a brown jerkin of some leather-like material with matching boots, and black trousers; a brooch of some dark metal is worn at the throat of the lapelled shirt. From his belt hangs a holster, a single pouch, and a slender metallic cylinder with ebon trim, with the pommel-jewel marking it as one of the Awatea lightsabers.

Freyja grins to herself at spotting Vakkal, touched again. She's very fortunate, she thinks, to have such good friends. At Fhazil's question she blinks, focusing on him, and grins again, "First? Um... I have no idea, Fhazil. I just know I've always loved being around animals. They made more sense to me... I could understand them better, and actually communicate effectively. With other sapients..." she wrinkles her nose slightly, her grin turning a bit rueful, "-well... I could see what they were doing, but I couldn't effectively imitate it... or communicate. It didn't help any that Syffie seemed to do it so effortlessly, either. I mean, it seemed kind of pointless to even bother when she was so good at it... so I'd go out riding instead. That I was good at."

She grins again, adding softly, "Equestrianism."

Fhazil nods, also grinning. "Equestrianism, thank you. And you seem to communicate with people perfectly well. To me, anyway."

Freyja considers for a long moment as she silently climbs the hill next to Fhazil. Finally she says slowly, "I... hai, it has gotten easier. I don't know exactly why... but I think I'm finally starting to be a bit more confident in myself. Odd though it may sound, I realized during the betrothal ceremony that I don't have to always be in my father's and sister's shadows... I can be my own person. I can be considered smart and attractive on my own... not just as the baron's heir-daughter, or the Balmorran Diamond's sister." She sighs in quiet amusement, adding, "I'm still working on precisely who I am... but I think I'm getting glimpses... and I'm comfortable, at least so far, with what I'm seeing so far." Her sideways grin is a bit sheepish, "I hope that doesn't sound too... stupid...?"

Fhazil shakes his head as he crests the hill with Freyja. "Not at all. Finding who you are, yourself, goes a long way towards your self-image. And I would imagine that the... what, years? -years of coming into your own as a Jedi helped, too." He smiles wanly. "Because if you don't mind my saying, the first time we met you exuded self-confidence. And not merely because you held a blaster on me, either."

Freyja laughs! "Oh, that." She grins for a moment, remembering... then shrugs a bit self-deprecatingly, "Well, that was different. It wasn't just me. Someone was depending on me... and if I failed, they might very well die." She holds up a hand in amused warning, "Neh, I don't want to know what your orders were, either, please!" She adds a bit consideringly, "It's always easier when you're needed, when your goals are very simple and straightforward, I think... don't you?"

Fhazil considers for a moment, then nods, with a bit of a sigh. "Yeah, it is. There's something to be said about being on your own, 'on a mission,' so to speak, with just yourself to answer to -- but it's comforting to have... to have a goal, a purpose, someone or something to work for or towards."

Freyja gives Fhazil a curious grin, "So... could you even see me past that huge honking blaster? I was really trying to hide as much as possible behind that couch! Or was it later you actually saw me?" She pauses, considering, then adds slowly, "If you don't mind my asking... what were you thinking then? I remember your eyes the most... you looked utterly mad, I remember, and I recall thinking this was an all or nothing situation, because of that."

Fhazil laughs as they arrive at what is indeed a nice location, with a pleasant overlook over the river valley beyond -- and incidentally still within sight of the ship and the chaperone from Khar Velos. "Oh, I saw you. You were aflame in the light of the Force. If I had any less control over my senses, you would have blinded me. As it is, you still do blind me already, though in a different way." He nods quietly, remembering. "Yes, I was in the Sith equivalent of Jedi battlemind. When I arrived I was thinking, 'This is not good, things have gone to pieces, what could have happened?' and so I went in cautious... well, as cautious as battle frenzy allows."

Freyja blinks and flushes slightly at the compliment, her sideways glance from under her bangs rather pleased. She looks around as Fhazil pauses in his walking, assuming this is where they'll spread their improvised tablecloth and eat -- then pauses and looks more carefully. "Oh, this is pretty! Nice choice, Fhazil... thank you!" She's still smiling as she helps set out their small repast.

Fhazil bows, smiling. "I'm glad you like it! I ran into it the other day before -- ah, well, before a ticked-off Jedi tripped me, you could say." He sets the container down. "I've never been to Balmorra," he says. "What's it like? That is, the parts that you like about it?"

Freyja waves cheerfully to Vakkal, then settles down cross-legged and comfortable next to Fhazil. She'll grin at him, "So... what did you bring?" A pause... then a curious question she can't help asking, "Ah... so is it hard to be around Master Roakkana, or something? Is he... um... bright?" She opens her mouth, intensely curious about his comment about the Jedi met in meditation -- then politely doesn't ask, much though she'd love to! Instead she gestures courteously for him to answer first, if he'd like, while she cuts some locally-made bread, meat, and cheese for nibbles.

Fhazil grins. "Nothing spectacular, I'm afraid. I was really only able to bring the sapphire wine out with me from the Empire -- nothing else would really keep for the long trip... oh, no, it's not uncomfortable. I can 'moderate' my senses enough so that he isn't blinding when I 'look' at him."

Freyja nods thoughtfully at the comment about not being blinded -- then laughs quietly, "Silly, I meant for here!" She gestures with the hand holding the knife at the small array of food spread out before them, and grins -- then cheerfully answers his question in turn, "Oh, hai, there are parts of Balmorra I love, certes! How could one not love one's birth-home?" She grins, "I know it's mostly very tamed, and there's not much spectacular about it, compared to many other planets and worlds, but..." she pauses, tilting her head and studying the horizon as she considers.

Finally she says slowly, "Perhaps... perhaps it's context. I know I was in a castle courtyard once, on Alderaan with my parents, and I was tired and bored... and then my father pointed at the sort of porch thingie, with steps leading down into the courtyard, and told me... there -- that was where the Alderaanian sky-queen Aurrisa Thann, known as 'the Explorer,' and her consort High Prince Deme-Ril Vauun, received her subject, Lord Khurram Rigg, from a cadet branch of the then-royal House of Thann... when he returned successfully from the first Human excursion to Balmorra, four thousand years before the founding of the Republic."

She takes a long breath and smiles slowly, remembering, her voice quiet, "Suddenly it wasn't just a cobblestone courtyard any more. Suddenly I could see it... all the pomp and circumstance, the excitement and interest, the lovely ceremonial clothing and gifts and symbols of the trip and the Alderaanian court... it all had meaning to me at that point, you know?"

Freyja turns her head to look at Fhazil, still smiling faintly, her eyes alight with cherished memory, "Well... that's how Balmorra is to me. Nothing so grand, of course, as that moment in Human history -- just little things that are precious to me. I remember standing over my first gullinbursti kill -- it was freezing, with my slaypneer steaming great gouts of smoke as he panted, and the frehkees were simply wild with excitement -- and my father slapped me on the back and was so speechlessly surprised!" She looks back down at the short eating knife in her hand, still smiling faintly, "Evergreen... the scent of evergreens, and the crunch of the snow, and that odd metallic scent arterial blood has... up by the Northernmost family estate... hai, I love parts of Balmorra. Mostly out in nature -- the riding, out by myself. I felt most free then." She gives Fhazil a faintly embarrassed glance, "Um... I'm not sure that answers your question...?"

Fhazil listens attentively and intently, and smiles quietly. He nods. "It does, I think. It isn't the place, so much as... what happened there? That it's what happened there that makes a place important; cherished."

Freyja nods, quietly stacking a piece of cheese and meat on the bread and handing it to Fhazil... and feeling vaguely self-conscious for letting so much of herself show. She's quietly relieved he didn't laugh or anything. She changes the subject, feeling a bit nervous, "So, um... would it be impolite of me to ask... what you saw in your meditation?"

Fhazil smiles as he accepts the sandwich. "Thank you. Most of my time with CorSec was a blur, it seems. I was never in one place any length of time for it to make an impression on me. The first place that really did, though, was Ziost -- and I've talked about that long and many times before!" He looks to Freyja, tilting his head to the side, and grins a little. "No... no, it wouldn't be. It..." His smile fades a little. "Well. I was walking, and found a nice spot about... a hundred meters north of here, and it struck me that I might want to try to meditate, or at least sit down, collect my thoughts, and think. It's hard to do that on a spaceship, after all!"

"So I did that. I did some of the meditation exercises Lord Ghang had taught me. But it felt... a little different. Like it was easy to loose myself in the ebb and flow of the Force. And that's when I ran into Tsung -- Master Uiello Tsung of Corellia."

Freyja blinks, wondering how Ziost could make so much more impression on someone... than their home world -- the land of their birth. As Fhazil continues, however, she listens with interest... although she does also feel a faint thread of curiosity; a small desire to one day see Ziost.

"The scary thing is, my grandfather's pre-mating name was Tsung. And this Uiello appeared out of nowhere in this... vision, or such, calling me, 'My wayward, Darksider son,' and 'Tainted blood.'" He shakes his head. "He calmed down a little, but I never knew a Jedi could be so confrontational. He demanded to know why I had turned away from the Republic, why I'd joined the Brotherhood -- he never called us 'Sith.' At some point he mentioned seeing the ruins of the moon of Brentaal, and... showed it to me, somehow. He didn't quite blame me for it, but he came close.

Freyja blinks, struck by the curious term. Pre-mating? Huh... maybe they have a paramour-like relationship or ritual already extant on Corellia...? Fhazil continues, "Then it got weird..."

Freyja blinks again as Fhazil speaks, wondering if they could indeed be related... and then wondering -- why did he turn to... well, to those who are, pretty much, seeking to destroy the Republic... does that ever cause him any moral qualm, she wonders?

"It was like he wanted to show me every perfidy even remotely attributable to Darksiders. Freyja, there was stuff he showed me that I didn't think was possible for sentients to do; and I'd swear up and down that the Sith would never condone a lot of that. But in some way he seemed to be blaming all Darksiders for all that... really unpleasant things; for everything in the galaxy. And then he confronted me -- he asked me point blank -- that after seeing all that, if I could still remain true to my beliefs, my teachings, my tradition."

"At that point I was really bad off. It felt like a hundred years I'd been there. But I still held somehow. Just because people had done horrible things in the name of the Darkside didn't mean that I would, and didn't mean that I condoned it, either. Somehow I think that satisfied him. He said, 'Then hold fast to your beliefs and your tradition, my Wayward Grandson. There is yet good, honest need for your ilk in the galaxy. If you are strong enough, break the stigma of being a Darksider; bring honor to your tradition... like I could not.' He wouldn't explain it more, just left right there and..." He flushes a bit with embarrassment. "And that's when I screamed and ran and ran until I got back to the ship."

Freyja blinks again, her eyes widening as she listens. "Break the stigma... like he could not...? I... wonder what he meant...?" Bewilderedly she asks, "But... didn't you say he was a Jedi master?" She politely ignores Fhazil's embarrassment at having screamed and fled the area. She suspects she'd have done much the same, after all. She ponders, then adds musingly, "Maybe... maybe he was tempted, but the destruction of the moon was too much for him?"

Fhazil shakes his head. "I don't know, and now I wish I did know what he meant. Maybe... maybe he was a Jedi Master who sympathized with the Brotherhood; believed that there was a place for the Dark Side -- but didn't follow the Brotherhood. Maybe he tried to get others to understand what the Brotherhood was studying... and when the Brotherhood was instead declared heretical, and they turned around and blew up Brentaal's moon... maybe he wanted to make sure that I was... a Darksider for the right reasons?"

Freyja looks up at Fhazil curiously, "Is that what you call yourselves, Fhazil? The Brotherhood? -or the Sith? I mean... well, is there a difference?"

Fhazil shakes his head. "No, as far as I've learned we call ourselves 'Sith,' part of the 'Sith Hierarchy' or the 'Sith Empire,' but never 'Brotherhood.' Some Sith Lords take the name 'Darth,' which kind of matches an old Sith word da'aruth, which has a lot of meanings -- only one of which is 'brother' or 'sibling' or 'comrade' -- but that's about it. I guess, though, that Master Uiello didn't see a difference between the Sith and Brotherhood."

Freyja considers silently as she nibbles on her open-faced sandwich, savoring the sharp flavor of the cheese and the wonderful scent of fresh bread as she does so. Finally she curiously asks, "Do you?"

He nods unhesitatingly as he munches on the fare. "I do," he says, swallowing. "The Brotherhood then and the Sith now are completely different. The Brotherhood had their chance to make a case for their divergent tradition. Instead they used what they'd learned, twisted it, and caused a lot of pain and death and destruction. The Sith... well, we aren't perfect. But we're a living, growing nation. We've learned that with great power comes great responsibility -- sometimes we learned that the hard way. But we learned and grew from the mistakes we've made, and now we have a living, thriving Force tradition." He gives a dry, wan chuckle. "Though I guess even with that there's room to learn. I was going to say the Sith tradition is at least as worthy of recognition and respect as the Jedi tradition... but I realized both have some faults. Well enough. The first part of fixing a problem is to recognize it exists."

Freyja raises one knee to loop an arm around it, slightly nervous as she adds (apropos nothing in particular), "I... hope you really do like me... the inspector said all the triats with Sith ended up... um... messily..." She looks at her bread a bit unhappily... then resolutely takes a large bite. They're on their way; they're committed to their course. She may be nervous, but she's determined -- and she knows the lack of wisdom in trying to change slaypneers in mid-stream.

Fhazil blinks in surprise at Freyja's words and smiles quietly, a little strengthened. "I do, Freyja. I only hope I can prove it to you." He arches a brow. "'Messily'? Uhm. Well, if it helps, I don't want to see this end messily. There's a lot of potential in the future of the galaxy. I really don't want to see all those possibilities, or even most, wiped out by this war."

Freyja nods gravely to Fhazil at his words, then swallows her bite of food and sighs quietly, "I'm sorry, Fhazil. I'm not backing out or anything. I just... well, I doubt myself sometimes, and in this case there are folks depending on me again -- but the goal isn't simple and clear-cut this time." She smiles faintly, lightly touching his arm, "If I've not said it yet, thank you for being willing to try this... crazy scheme with me and Zero."

Fhazil smiles. "Hey. Crazy schemes and me, we go hand-in-hand. Just ask Vakkal. I'm just surprised he hasn't regaled you with some of the more spectacular things I've gotten myself into." He pauses, then nods. "Though seriously, Freyja... if it helps any, from what I gather of this triat thing, all three of us are depending on each other. You won't have to shoulder this burden alone."

Freyja nods quietly again, "Hai, it's true... it's just... well, sometimes I worry I'm asking too much of you and Zero -- to go out on a limb that's partially sawn off -- I just don't know it yet." Her expression is rueful, "Zero says I worry too much... he's probably right, I guess."

Fhazil makes a bit of a show of examining both his arms. "Hmm. I don't appear to be bruised. If you twisted my arm to do this, it was really subtle." He grins then, "Sorry. Freyja, you asked us both to do this with you. Neither of us had to agree; neither of us were forced. And I assure you, while you alone would be enough to set a hundred ships' sails on this endeavor, I am here for more than just to be with you. I believe you, Freyja. I believe in what you want to accomplish with this. I believe in your goals." He thinks for a moment, then smiles. "I guess with what you've read about the Sith it's hard to picture us and the purebloods as being capable of sharing something as deep as romantic feelings."

Freyja looks a bit embarrassed, "Well, I, um... I don't know, Fhazil. Is it manipulation to ask you when I'm relatively certain you at least like me?" She blinks then as part of his comment registers, and giggles, "A hundred ships?! You're funny... silly, but funny." She pauses, considering, then says slowly, "Well... hai, the Sith are portrayed pretty awfully in most of the readings I've done. And... well, it's been my experience that when you call yourself 'pureblood' you've started the process of... of considering yourself better than all others... it's why I'm always a bit leery of the term 'aristoi' used in conjunction with myself, and why I think aristoi-kurasai bondings are good things."

Freyja considers a moment more, then simply says, "I... don't know enough to know, Fhazil. That's all I'm sure of, right now." She smiles, looking down at her hands, and adds softly, "But... I'm really glad to hear you believe in what we're trying to do. That's... very encouraging."

He smiles quietly. "Well... I think I can understand that. But it's all kind of wrapped up in the Sith mindset, at least as far as the Sith tradition goes. You'd think it would be hard for followers of a tradition to really feel romance and love, when our very teachings are such that we subconsciously try to control the world around us every waking and sleeping moment. But it's possible. And it makes for some lovely poetry. I think one of those poems might explain it best." He thinks for a moment, then nods, more to himself than to her, "Keep in mind some of it is lost in translation, but let me see if I remember it..." Freyja listens in fascination.

"Tell me of your dreams
The dreams you hold close to your heart
Tell me what the oracle has whispered to you
In the shadows of the ice-forest
What are the secret fires that keep you warm
When Ziost lies far from her sun?
What are the hidden truths that lie
Within the temple of your heart?
Tell me of your dreams
The dreams you hold close to your soul
Tell me of your dreams
That I might make them my dreams, as well
No greater joy can I imagine
Than to stand with you on your ship's bow
To walk that last mile of thousands with you
And see the light of your face as your joy is found."

Freyja considers, her eyes half closed as she reflects on the poem... then she looks at Fhazil again and smiles, "That is lovely; thank you for sharing that with me." She pauses, then adds a bit puzzledly, "But... where is the Sith mindset in that, please?" She adds with a bit more pragmatic curiosity, "Ziost has an unstable orbit around its sun? There's an oracle? Have you visited it?"

Fhazil smiles quietly. "Would you believe the line, 'Tell me of your dreams,' found its way into an Arkanian drinking song? It's a fun song; I'll have to tell it to you sometime. But that's how I first heard it, and I wondered where it came from. I eventually found that poem. Supposedly a Lord used it to court a pureblood lady."

He continues, "I believe it means... for a Sith at least... romance is in part wanting to bring joy to someone in the same way most people think of it, but with the added passion of... of bringing their own world into harmony, of sorts, with their romantic interest. To make the goals and dreams of one's paramour into one's own goals and dreams.

"It's... it's really hard to explain. There're some words in Sith I could use, but they loose a lot in translation. It means... the love, the passion, is strong enough that one would be willing to... not divest themselves of their own dreams so much as take on the dreams of their paramour; to want to help them achieve those goals and dreams. Does that make sense? I know I'm not fantastic with words..."

Freyja blinks, confused again, "Wait... the Sith lord wasn't a pureblood? Er... do they do that -- marry outside the pureblood lines?" She pauses, considering, then says slowly, "Bring joy to another... how can a Sith care more about someone else than themselves?" She considers... then suddenly turns pink, "Oh! I'm sorry, Fhazil, that... er, came out really wrong!"

He grins a little at the tangential questions. "Well, not unstable so much as it is eccentric. Aphelion for Ziost can be brutal -- it's no wonder a Ziost winter is considered almost legendary, as far as obstacles to overcome goes. I don't know if there is an oracle, but there've been legends. Like most oracles, supposedly the answers it gives are equal measures of riddle and an uncomfortable amount of truth."

He blinks a little, then shakes his head, smiling a little. "No, that's all right. I think I understand what you mean. And that's the point, really. Love so strong, passion so deep, that the dreams of the Sith's paramour become their own. Not literally, but metaphorically."

"As for the Sith lord... gosh, you know, I don't know. There've been occasional stories about purebloods mating with non-purebloods. Sometimes their children breed true, supposedly, but I've never read any medical dissertations on it. There've been stories of a non-pureblood being courted by, or courting, a pureblood. Sometimes the courting is successful, sometimes not, but the protagonist is never shown to have lost face by it. Heck, I remember one story where an Arkanian lady was courted by a pureblood lord, and she refused. She's one of the mythic heroes, if I remember right."

Freyja blinks, listening in fascination, then says wistfully, "I wish I knew Sith. I keep hearing that so much is lost in the translation... I wish I could read it for myself." Curiously she adds, "What do you mean by 'breed true'? True to what, please?" then puzzledly muses, "But if they never lose face... why call themselves purebreds?"

Fhazil smiles. "I can try to teach you what I know. It's a complex language, but I can't imagine it'd pose that much of a problem for you."

Freyja brightens, sitting up straighter in excitement, "Ooh, really?! Oh, I'd love to learn it, if I could! Can you teach me subjunctive too? -er, I mean, um... whatever they call courtly or formal or hierarchical Sith?"

Fhazil purses his lips, considering her second batch of questions, "I think I see the confusion. When I say 'pureblood' or 'purebreed' I mean people of the original ruling caste of what was once the Sith race, before the start of the Sith Empire; before the Empire became a multi-species government. Over the eons the old Sith ruling caste and the other castes -- like the Massassi warriors -- have diverged genetically. It's still theoretically possible for a pureblood and a Massassi to mate, but I understand the chance of viable offspring is really low, and with all that time to develop divergent genotypes, the mutation rate is also pretty startlingly high."

Freyja listens in fascinated confusion. "The purebloods are... genetically unstable? I... am I understanding you correctly?" She blinks, considering, then adds, "Well, that'd explain a lot... like why there don't seem to be that many aside from the small ruling group...?"

"Not unstable, just... separate. Distinct. They almost have their own genotype which is only passingly similar to that of the Massassi. But you're right -- there are very few purebloods. The Moot has a disproportionate number of purebloods compared to the Empire's demographics, but at the same time I think they're painfully aware that they're seriously outnumbered, and that there are more than just a few non-pureblood Lords. They're very careful not to give any impression of species-ism. Most seem satisfied with the fact that the Empire, after all these millennia, is still essentially named after them, though 'Sith' these days refers more to the adherents of the Hierarchy's Force tradition. That's why they're usually referred to only as 'purebloods.'"

Freyja wraps her arms about her knees, fascinated and puzzled, "So... are they dying out, then? Where'd they come from? Their genotype has to have some origin, after all? And does breeding true just mean the offspring aren't horribly mutated or something?"

He grins. "I'll teach you as many dialects as I know, which includes 'court' Sith. I think they call that 'the Tongue of Visible Whispers.'" He hesitates, then adds, "Not 'dying out' really. When I say there are few of them, there's still millions, possibly even hundreds of millions, of purebloods. They're in no danger of disappearing into history. But what they are in danger of is being out-bred. Humans, for example, outbreed just about every other species. The Arkanians have one of the highest populations in the Empire, numbering on the order of seven hundred billion throughout. The purebloods aren't dying out... but they are being left in the dust, in percentage of population.

"As for where they came from... well, they had their own little multi-stellar empire, some ten thousand years before the Republic was founded. But they were always squabbling, clannish, bickering. Civil wars would come and go. Every so often one of their worlds would be ravaged by an atomic holocaust, or other disaster. They got their act together, though, and had a somewhat stable nation for several thousand years. They had their own rudimentary Force tradition -- religion, really. One of several faiths, but it was the major one.

"Official history is the basis of the semi-secular Sith Force tradition was developed by Empire scholars, but after Marnaas we both know the truth. Eventually the Brotherhood came to the Empire and brought the much more advanced Dark Jedi teachings, which were integrated into the Sith tradition. From that day on the Empire's slowly and steadily expanded and grown, and the Sith Hierarchy has become an integral part of the Empire.

"It ironically became the great equalizer. Even though most purebloods were strong in the Force, the balance of power changed. Only the purebloods could really command the fearsome Massassi armies. But almost anyone could become a Lord of the Hierarchy. The purebloods had to acknowledge that, and their hegemony was quietly dismantled. The Empire became a meritocracy. Purebloods are almost omnipresent because they're all mostly strong in the Force. But one's advancement depended more than ever on ability and skill, and not only with the Force."

Freyja looks puzzled, "But if they command the Massassi, who breed easily -- do they? -- then why would they bother releasing that power?"

"Because even though the Massassi breed easily, a Lord whose weapon is the Force cannot be defeated by a mere army. In the beginning it was rough for the empire. An Arkanian claimed the title of 'Lord' and demanded recognition from the Moot. She had a fortress on a moon and ten thousand followers. The High Lord -- the title that predated that of 'Dark Lord' -- sent a million Massassi and one of his most trusted generals, who happened to not be Force-awakened. It was judged to be of no consequence. A few months later the general was sent back to the Moot. His head, anyway."

Freyja raises an eyebrow, murmuring, "That... wasn't wise of them... hai, I'm not surprised."

Fhazil says wryly, "No, it wasn't. They learned, though. The next general they sent was a Lord in his own right, and he had an army of ten million. He crushed the Arkanian's forces and executed her... but not before two more Arkanian Lords rose up, as well as half a dozen from other species in the Empire. The purebloods realized if they tried to crush every upstart Force-awakened Lord, they'd soon not have enough Massassi and other soldiers to secure so much as a village. So they came up with the compromise that still left them ample opportunity to retain power, but would let the other species have a say in how they were governed. The real turning point, I guess, came seven hundred years later, when an Arkanian Lord -- and not a pureblood -- became ruler of Arkania, her own people."

Freyja murmurs in quiet astonishment, "An army... of ten million...!"

Fhazil nods casually. "Ten million. Though that was a pretty significant fraction of the Empire's military at the time. I'd say that there were maybe ten-fifteen million other soldiers throughout the rest of the empire, scattered here and there in garrisons or patrol fleets."

Freyja blinks again, incredulous, "They sent half of all their forces... for one battle?! Hela -- they must have really feared her!"

"Well, they were nervous. None of the Massassi from the first attack survived, and from all reports all she had was herself and ten thousand followers. By all rights they should have been crushed utterly. Instead they came out in relatively one piece. They certainly fared better than the forces the Moot had sent.

"But... well, actually, I think you're right. They did fear her. They feared what she represented: a drastic change from their comfortable status quo. They probably even feared what she was capable of. Maybe ten million Massassi was overkill, but fear makes you do... not entirely sensible things." He pauses thoughtfully, then murmurs, "-something I'm sure the Brotherhood taught them all too well."

Freyja shakes her head in silent amazement... then says a little wistfully, "I wish I could see Ziost. You talk about it so evocatively... but I suspect it'd be a rather bad idea." She sighs softly, staring thoughtfully out at the horizon, then grins faintly at Fhazil, "Pity."

He looks up, then, and smiles. "Maybe for now. Well, certainly for now it would be a bad idea. Neither of us would survive orbital insertion unless it amused the Dark Lord that we do. But... ah, here..." He scoops up the two glasses he'd packed and pours a modest amount of the sapphire wine into each glass, then offers one of them to Freyja with a flourish. "If I may, Freyja...?" he says, with a roguish grin. Freyja looks curious, but accepts the wine glass. The sapphire wine pours as a dark azure, but as it settles into the glass it slowly turns into that rich, pale blue hue -- a color that is not unlike the shade of Freyja's own eyes, something surely not lost on the Corellian.

He raises his glass to her. "I make this promise to you, Freyja," he says, solemnly but with a smile. "I will be with the triat, with you and Zero as my brothers, my da'aruthec, for as long as I can live and breathe and fight. I will not abandon you. And at the end of it, even if it must be subtly, I will find a way to let you see Ziost."

Freyja watches the wine, fascinatedly holding the glass up to see it glow gently in the sunlight, lowering it only enough to curiously observe Fhazil over the goblet's edge. Her eyes widen slightly in astonishment at his promise -- then she pauses, considering. Finally she murmurs softly, "Fhazil, I... you don't have to promise this. I don't want-" She pauses, considering again. He must understand what he's promising -- he's not a fool. He must realize how difficult and uncertain it all is, and how dangerous it may be to, in a way, turn his back on his Sith training -- better than she knows, in fact, since he's actually been there and experienced it! She's silent for a moment, feeling both a bit awed and humbled at the enormity of what he's willing to promise, just on the basis of faith in her... then, a bit misty-eyed, she just raises her glass and whispers, "Thank you."

Fhazil smiles quietly and lightly touches his glass to hers, the faint crystalline sound ringing in the midday air. "I know I don't have to," he says. "But... I want to." Freyja swallows the lump in her throat and takes a small sip when he does... and while she does so, her free hand slides over to shyly entwine a finger with his, if he doesn't seem to mind. Quietly, without a further word, Fhazil's own finger lightly squeezes Freyja's in return.

A moment later Freyja raises an eyebrow, distracted by the slightly unusual taste of the wine. She holds it up again, swirling it gently in the glass and admiring its color as she murmurs thoughtfully, "Mmm... strong legs, fruity flavor... but still quite dry. Not sharply so, though..." She grins at Fhazil, "Very nice! Goes down smoothly. What's it made of; do you know?"

Fhazil smiles, looking at his own glass. "It's a fruit from Ziost. Somehow it manages to keep the water it takes in from freezing, and when the fruit are plump, just before they burst, that's when the fruit is collected and the juices pressed out. Then they're allowed to ferment in sealed casks in an ice cave. During that time they go through some sort of endothermic reaction, and when it's time the casks have a thin layer of frost on them. According to tradition the winemaster must unseal the cask the instant frost begins to form on it, to get the best wine."

Freyja raises her eyebrow again, "Hnh. Interesting... I've never heard of wine being prepared precisely like that." She leans back on one hand and takes another sip, savoring the flavor as it rolls across her tongue, fruity and tart and sweet, sliding smoothly down her throat... and smiles, "Very pleasant. Thank you."

Fhazil smiles warmly. "You're very welcome. To the best of my knowledge no other fruit is made into wine in quite that way." He also takes a sip of the wine, enjoying the flavor for a moment. "I remember the first time I tried it, a month after I came into Lord Ghang's service and not long after I met Vakkal. I'd never seen anything quite that shade of blue before, and Vakkal had to cajole me into trying it!"

Freyja laughs softly, her eyes going half-closed as she leans on one elbow and rests on one hip, stretching her legs out and letting herself relax in the sunshine, "Did he? How funny... hai, I recall commenting to you how it looked like blue juice -- the anesthetic we used to put sorely damaged animals peacefully to sleep." She looks out over the small valley, still smiling quietly as she observes both its calm loveliness, and the vigilant Vakkal on top of the ship. She's not sure why it feels so nice... but it really does feel good to know there are folks who care about her -- not just the Arving lady.

Fhazil grins wryly as he likewise reclines, mirroring Freyja's lounging form. "You can imagine how shocked I was to hear that. But no; fortunately sapphire wine isn't used for that."

Freyja giggles over her goblet at Fhazil as she takes another sip, "Just as well. The animals would doubtless feel better, but it wouldn't help their healing any!" She's silent for a few moments, savoring the wine and enjoying the sensation of sunlight on her back and side... then she idly murmurs, "Do you know of Tavra Soon?"

Fhazil chuckles softly. "No, it probably wouldn't. There are other things, potions and draughts, involved with healing -- but sapphire wine isn't one of them!" He tilts his head inquisitively to the side at Freyja. "Tavra Soon.... I've heard a little bit of her... an Arkanian Lord of Smiths. Some say she's a descendant of the first Arkanian Lord I told you about. She's got a reputation for being a bit touched. How did you hear about her?"

Freyja's smile is as dry as the wine as she glances sideways at Fhazil from under her fiery gold bangs, "She was an Oather. I'd have told you about her, so your Sith lord could stamp out her branch of the Oath as well -- but when a Sith lord tells you not to... ring the mental chimes any more, well..." her grin gets faintly mischievous, "I thought it incumbent to refrain. So I wondered if her branch got caught anyway... but I guess you have no way of telling, hai?" She adds almost dreamily, as she gazes into the sapphire depths of the remaining wine in her glass, "I wonder what he'll be like..."

Fhazil arches a brow. "Really? Huh... he might know about her branch already, but even if he doesn't you did the right thing. Like I said, if you'd tried to contact us a few days later you'd have run into the wardens. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. Like I said, she had a reputation as being a little less than sane." He looks over to Freyja and smiles. "What who'll be like?"

Freyja says, "Your Sith lord Ghang." She grins cheerfully, lazily running her slender golden fingers through her hair to brush it back out of her face for a moment, "You didn't think we'd abandon you when you went to see him again like you promised, did you?" She giggles, adding, "Vakkal said to me once that he was a patient man, but even he had his limits!"

Fhazil blinks, then smiles. "No, I wouldn't have thought you'd abandon me. And if all goes well I can't see your coming with me would be impeded. Thank you. I... just hope that we'll be able to meet him. As he said, he asked me to visit him even if it meant going to Korriban. And with the war starting again...." He shakes his head quietly, not without a little emotion, and takes another sip of the wine.

Freyja takes another savoring sip of the wine, then tilts her head, studying her companion thoughtfully over the goblet she's holding lightly in her slender, interwoven fingers, "What?"

He shakes his head a little. "Just... worried. I didn't hear much about the war plans while I was with Lord Ghang, but I got the impression that this phase would be... a little more intense. Which means not only more fighting, but more risks taken. I was wondering if it would be on Khar Velos that I would next see Lord Ghang -- or on Korriban."

Freyja nods gravely, listening and considering... then says slowly, "Well... I would hope neither. Korriban implies he'd be deceased, neh? Obviously neither you nor Vakkal desire that. And Vakkal would come-with, I think, if we went to Khar Velos... but I would prefer to not have to ask that of him."

Fhazil nods. "Hai," he says quietly, studying his glass. "I know that it is the way of things -- to pass on, to go away, to decay and fade. But that doesn't mean I wish it upon Lord Ghang anytime soon."

Freyja tilts her head thoughtfully, her ice-blue gaze intent from behind her wind-drifted bangs. Her voice is faintly puzzled, "You... seem to care for him... more than fearing him...? Is that ordinarily the case with Sith lords and their apprentices?"

Fhazil holds up his glass, looking at the sun settling through its icy fingers, and nods. "Fairly common, I imagine. It's an incredible level of trust. Some few Lords worry that their apprentices might rise up and smite them down or such, and keep their apprentices at arms' length. But most recognize that what binds the apprentice and the Lord together has to be free from any childish concerns like that."

Freyja continues to regard Fhazil with thoughtful curiosity as she takes another sip of the wine... then sighs softly, realizing she's finished her glass. She gives the bottle a faintly wistful glance, then firmly reminds herself not to be greedy. If that's the last bottle poor Fhazil has, she shouldn't be wheedling it away from him. Instead she sets the empty goblet aside, merely commenting, "Strange... interesting. How does your propaganda represent the relationship between Jedi Master and Padawan?"

Fhazil seems to notice Freyja's glance at the bottle. With a smile, he offers his own glass to her. "I'm afraid that is the only bottle I brought, Freyja," he says. "As for the 'propaganda,' most Sith Lords see the relationship between a Master and a Padawan-learner as being... cold. Emotionless; without warmth. Close, but the kind of closeness you'd find between shingles on a roof. A lot of them were surprised when I told them it wasn't that way."

Freyja blinks, slightly taken aback as she glances startledly between the offered goblet and Fhazil. She hesitates... does he know what that means on Balmorra -- that it's the equivalent of intimacy, of a kiss between lovers? She studies his face, considering, then remembers how utterly floored he was by the Balmorran betrothal ritual. That's right, he's not familiar with Balmorra -- he's just trying to be courteous by his training. She feels a bit self-consciously flushed, but smiles gamely as she accepts the glass, "Thank you, Fhazil. That's, ah, that's very thoughtful of you."

Freyja still has trouble taking the first sip, stalling a bit by holding up and admiring the wine. Honesty compels her to admit to herself... it's not that she wouldn't enjoy a kiss from Fhazil, it's just... well, she wants to know it's a kiss, she supposes. She grins wryly to herself, suddenly understanding Zero's embarrassment the morning after the night he was drunk, and a relative stranger he was interested in took him to his room -- and he couldn't remember what had happened!

Freyja almost misses Fhazil's comment about Jedi Masters -- she laughs, "Cold? How funny." She raises the goblet carefully to enjoy another sip of wine, savoring it quietly, lightly running the tip of her tongue over her lips... then happens to glance, smiling, at Fhazil. He actually colors a little as he ducks his head in a bow. "You're very welcome, Freyja." He lies back on the ground, looking up at the sky, but also glancing to Freyja edgewise, with a slightly wry if sheepish grin.

Freyja goes utterly still, studying Fhazil intently. Her thoughts seem to suddenly speed up, flashing by and making connections almost too fast to mentally verbalize. He's... blushing. She's never seen him blush except when talking about... intimate things... she takes a slow breath of realization, feeling a tingle across her skin, almost as if her hackles should be raising -- he knows...!

Fhazil's color, if anything, deepens a little, becoming more blatant in his complexion as he sits up sheepishly. "I have a confession, Freyja," he says, sounding contrite and sincere even as he smiles quietly. "I've been reading about Balmorran customs ever since we parted company on Marnaas. It was like reading those stories about the feudal worlds on mythic, pre-spaceflight Corellia all over again... except it wasn't a myth, of course, it was your world. A world I wanted to know more about." He makes a slight, sheepish gesture. "And, er, well... I could not easily ask you while we were separated to... to 'tell me what the oracle has whispered to you.'"

Freyja just stares at Fhazil for a very long, shocked-silent moment, still utterly unmoving except for the wind gently caressing her fiery gold hair. Finally she whispers, "You... you knew? Oh... hai, you must have..." she looks away sharply, setting the goblet carefully down, heat flaring along her face and flushing her skin.

Fhazil's hand gently touches Freyja's, resting lightly upon hers. "Freyja," he says quietly, then sighs. "Yes; I knew. I wanted to share that with you, even though you may not have known I knew. I didn't think enough, though, that you might not really know I knew." He pauses. "If it offended you, I am sorry. But the truth is... if it helps any, I am... I'm honored that you did... even if it was but a stolen kiss."

Freyja sits rigidly, still not looking at Fhazil, although she doesn't pull her hand away. She's still shaken and unsure as to what to say... finally she whispers uncertainly, "You... you could have asked..."

He asks quietly, "What would you have said if I had?"

Freyja opens her mouth... then shakes her head slowly, "I don't know... and even if I did, I don't think I'd tell you just now. Why should I be the only one to feel stupid and vulnerable?" Her tone isn't angry -- just quiet. She honestly doesn't know.

Fhazil's voice carries a gentle hint of humor. "But you aren't the only one, as it is," he says. "It was an unfair question, and it was unfair to you. And I know that answering it would make you feel vulnerable. But if I seem so cavalier about it, then it is only because of all the things in this war-torn galaxy I could fear, one thing I do not fear is to be vulnerable to you.

"I know these are just words, and words can mean little if not made resolute with action. I will, if you would let me. And if not... why, then it is still good wine. Freyja, you have shown me a great deal of trust in bringing me into this, and I will not ever fail you in that -- no matter what happens, now or later.

He continues quietly at her steady silence, "Freyja, I didn't really know what other way to show you -- not just tell you but show you -- how I felt. I know how little just words can mean. Maybe I don't understand the ritual of sharing food or drink completely, but I know what it means. There weren't any other ways I could think of to show you that I want to share in your dreams, your goals... 'what truths lie at the steps upon your temple'...."

There is no reply from Freyja, and Fhazil sighs silently to himself. Quietly, he retrieves the glass of wine, still with some of the sapphire blue liquid in it, and moves quietly, so that he sits before Freyja, in her gaze. He looks resolute, as best as he can while blushing deeply, as he takes a sip from the glass.

He swallows the sip, then swallows again, a bit nervously, as he gingerly reaches for Freyja's hand. When she does not pull away he gently places it upon the goblet, to hold it with him. "This is how I feel, Freyja," he says softly, with a smile. "I do not expect anything back, now or later or ever. But this is how I feel; what I know in my heart. This is what I hope for, and what I hope you would want as well... but only if and when you wish."

With that, albeit a little haltingly, he says in a voice that actually is a little reminiscent of Roakkana -- or perhaps, more appropriately, Lord Ghang, "I am Fhazil Volan Taas of Ziost, journeyman of the Sith Hierarchy, captain of the Empire. Son of Donal Kormorant Taas and Marguerite Taas of Corellia; grandson of Major Michelle Taas and Koran Tsung Taas of Corellia by my mother's side, and Viqi Kormorant and Cullan Antilles Kormorant of Corellia by my father's side. I would ask you, Freyja Rigg, to accept me as your paramour."

Freyja's gaze is cool and steady as Fhazil sips the wine as well, in front of her. She's still not sure how she feels, or even yet how to react, although she appreciates the gesture. She doesn't prevent Fhazil from taking her hand, and listens quietly -- and then her ice blue eyes fly open in startlement as she recognizes the beginning cadences of a Balmorran swearing ritual! A small, shocked, "-oh...!" escapes her lips, and she stares in astonishment again as Fhazil finishes the speaking and makes his request.

It takes her a second, in fact, to register he's done. She blinks, realizing he's waiting for a reaction, and flushes slightly again, looking hastily down at her hand, the goblet, him, anywhere, "Oh, I, uh..." She pulls herself together a second later, firmly snapping an internal, Get a grip, girl! at herself, then straightens a bit.

Freyja swallows, then takes a deep breath, pulling formality across her demeanor. She brings her other hand up so she's clasping Fhazil's hands around the goblet, and regards Fhazil with a steady gaze, "D-do you know what you ask for, Fhazil Taas of Ziost? As someone not native to Balmorra, do you understand what the relationship of paramour entails?"

Freyja knows the question is usually just a formality, but it could be necessary this time. She hopes Fhazil's done thorough research, so he understands the long-term implications, and the loyalty involved on both sides -- that the stronger partner (if there is one) will care for the paramour even if the affair ends; that the other partner will remain always discreet, and understands the importance of not shaming family.

Fhazil's gaze is gentle and warm, infinitely patient; as if it was part and parcel of being a Sith, instead of the other way around. He smiles and nods, albeit solemnly. "I do," he answers quietly. "I may not have ever experienced it first-hand... but I know what it is I ask."

At Fhazil's response Freyja breaths a quiet sigh of relief, nodding once, "All right." She falls silent then, thinking. The ritual usually calls for acceptance (if that's what's desired), followed by... by, um... ahh, she's not sure she's exactly ready for this just quite yet... a bit nervously she says, "Uh... Fhazil, I'd like to say hai, but I, ah... well, I hope you don't mind, but would it be all right if I said hai, and then we, uhm... well, we let things develop in their own time?"

Fhazil smiles and nods. "Hai," he says warmly. "I don't mind at all. I have no problems with it at all."

Freyja grins in relief, "Oh, good!" then gently squeezes Fhazil's hands as she happily adds, "I am the Arving Lady Freyja Erde of Haus Rigg of Balmorra, daughter to Baron Forsetti Baldur Rigg and Baroness Erde Valdandi Rigg. Fhazil Volan Taas of Ziost, I accept your freely given offer to become my paramour, with all the responsibilities and rights we both accrue from that relationship." She turns a little pink at that, but continues gamely, shifting so her right hand is free to reach out and brush her golden fingers lightly across Fhazil's lips, followed by a gentle caress on his forehead, then chest, "Spoken in Truth from head and heart, and received with Truth returned, between us and the gods alone." She softly touches her own lips last, slowly and thoughtfully, although her eyes are sparkling as she does so.

Solemnly, but also with a warm smile, Fhazil gently touches her lips with his right hand, followed by a light touch on her forehead, then chest. "Spoken in Truth from head and heart, and received with Truth returned, between us and the gods alone," he repeats.

Freyja suddenly leans forward, careful not to spill the goblet held between them, and swiftly, lightly brushes her lips across his -- then hastily sits back and looks away, her face flushed and her eyes nervously bright... although her lips are quirked up a bit at the corners. Fhazil looks a bit surprised as she does so, and actually colors a little with that touch. The ghost of a smile she has enlivens him somewhat, though, and he smiles too, gently touching her cheek. Finally he says (with a nervous tone), "You don't know... how many times I've imagined saying those words -- and wondering if I'd trip up horribly saying them."

Freyja blinks, and Fhazil can hear the suppressed nervous laughter in her voice, "Oh, you too?! Oh, thank goodness -- I worried about the same thing!" She looks at him, grinning, "Especially since Syffie always said them so smoothly in the later holovids." She rolls her eyes in amusement, "I swear, you could spread her voice on a honey roll sometimes, it was so sweet and smooth! I was sure my voice would crack or something... a-heh... I'm babbling, aren't I..." She looks away again, her grin still accentuated by her blush.

Fhazil laughs softly. "Has she? Somehow I can't see it comparing at all to... to the real thing." He grins. "And that's all right. It's not babbling to my ears.

Freyja grins, pleased at his compliment, then nervously says, "Uh... sorry... uhm, would you, um, w-would..." She looks around, then grins sheepishly at him, "-uhm... have some more meat and cheese? Or, um, or..." a little more softly she adds, "-or a hug?" then hastily adds, "Er -- just if you want?"

Fhazil smiles and nods. "All three, we have." He embraces her then, warmly but not crushingly, his breath lightly tickling her hair as he puts his arms closely around her. Freyja sighs in silent relief -- he's not laughed at her nor pushed -- and quietly hugs back. After a moment, a bit hesitantly, she lets her head rest against Fhazil's. When he doesn't seem to mind she sighs again, a bit gustily... and he can feel her starting to relax a little against him.

Fhazil relaxes in Freyja's embrace for along time, before murmuring, "Freyja... a question, if I may...?" Freyja mmms lazily, distracted by the nice scent of Fhazil's hair. Fhazil says curiously, "Is it really comfortable to sleep dogpiled with Vakkal and Zero all at once? I'm just wondering; I mean, there was the first time we were on Ziost when Vakkal and I found our heating units had been sabotaged and we ended up curled up together under this one thin blanket...."

Freyja mmms happily again, idly nuzzling the side of Fhazil's neck the way Vakkal does when he's half asleep. Fhazil blinks a bit at the sensation. "I... guess it is, then, at that...."

Freyja murmurs lazily against Fhazil's hair -- and a bit dreamily, truth be told, "How come you didn't dogpile with him all the time? Vakkal's so nice 'n warm... did you not know how much he likes that? I think he thinks of us as like his pack..."

Fhazil says quietly, "I just hadn't thought of it in that way, really, I guess..."

Freyja says, "Mmm? How'd you think of it?"

"I'm... not sure, really. We were just both really, really cold that night..."

Freyja's voice is quietly sympathetic, "I'm sorry to hear it... it must've been really bad for even Vakkal to be cold. I'm pretty sure he's not been troubled by cold while we've been together. Even up on the Northern estate, the coach house is really well maintained by the droids." Fhazil can feel her grin where her cheek rests against the side of his head as she adds, "Heat, on the other hand... poor guy was shedding as madly as possible, and was still panting, on Sedrak! -at least initially. He was more comfortable when we were with the nomads, and we quit wearing so many clothes."

Fhazil blinks in surprise, though Freyja probably can't see it. "Poor guy," he murmurs. "Yeah, he doesn't deal well with heat too well. Lord Ghang has a lot of people from Khar Velos in his service, and he keeps the Malice slightly cooler than most other ships for that."

Freyja blinks herself, sitting back a bit so she can see Fhazil's face, "He does? Oh, my... do they know about why Vakkal left home? The other folks from Khar Velos, I mean?"

Fhazil nods. "Most of them. Some of them left because they were considered criminals, as well, though... er, well... none of them did anything considered as... well, infamous as what Vakkal did."

Freyja frowns thoughtfully, considering... then says slowly, "I hope he didn't get flak for that." She tilts her head thoughtfully, then adds firmly, "He won't be getting any while I'm around, that's for sure!"

Fhazil nods quietly. "He'll never get any from me for it, and never has," he says firmly. "He... was mostly avoided by the others aboard the Malice. They didn't hate him, mind you. They feared him. And Vakkal didn't seem inclined to fraternize with his people after he left Khar Velos."

Freyja nods thoughtfully, "Hai, it is fear, isn't it... Sith lord Soon's apprentice was terrified of him too, initially..." she happily adds, "-until I talked him out of it, of course!" She smiles at Fhazil, then turns so she can lean backwards against him this time, gently drawing his arms about her waist and laying the back of her head against his shoulder. Once she's settled and he's comfortable, he can hear her murmuring to herself, almost in a sing-song, as if she's trying to place a tune to words, "Tell me of your dreams; dreams held close to your heart... tell me what the oracle has whispered to you... what are the hidden truths that lie... within the temple of your heart?" She falls silent at that line, thinking.

Freyja considers for a long moment, then quietly asks Fhazil, "Fhazil... could I ask a favor of you? You've been Vakkal's Brother, his family-of-the-heart, for the longest of us all here today. I... have to talk to him about something that's, um... potentially a bit... emotionally wrenching. Could I ask you to stay here with us while we talk about it, if he'd like?"

She can feel him hold her snugly and gently, his head resting beside hers and his breath dancing through her hair. "Of course. But as his Brother, I have to ask... what is it you're planning on talking with him about?" A moment later he quietly adds, "It's about his... his block against healing, isn't it?"

Freyja nods quietly, "Hai. How'd you know? Did your meditation Jedi mention it too?"

He shakes his head. "No. At least, Uiello Tsung didn't say anything about it directly. But Vakkal told me about it once a long time ago, and when we had time we tried to figure out what it was all about. Lord Ghang was mostly baffled about it, himself." He grimaces a little. "I was there when he tried to use a medpac to heal someone's frostbite and managed to put the person into cardiac arrest instead."

Freyja nods quietly, "Hai. You were there in the Marnaas infirmary when he said it gnawed at him. So... I think I've figured out how it happened, and I want to tell him."

Fhazil blinks. "Oh? What... what do you think it is?"

Freyja sits up and grins over her shoulder at Fhazil, "Tch, greedy one! This is Vakkal's information -- he should get it first, neh?" She looks over to the ship and 'reaches' out to Vakkal, to ask him if he could join them please?

A few moments later Vakkal comes jogging up to the group, blinking. "Ah," he says, "I take it nothing's wrong? You don't wish me to throw Fhazil off a cliff, I take it?"

Fhazil grimaces and rolls his eyes. "Vakkal!"

Freyja giggles, then pats the ground next to her in invitation so she'll be sitting right next to Vakkal, within stroking distance. Once he's settled she takes a deep breath, then says carefully, "Vakkal, as you know I've been researching the problem of your not being able to heal folks. I think I've figured it out... and I wanted to tell you my conclusions so far." She pauses, then adds, "I thought maybe you might like having your Brother here too...?" She grins mischievously, adding, "If not, I guess it's okay to throw Fhazil off the hillside."

Vakkal pauses in sitting down at the mention of his inability to heal -- then grins and finishes settling, "May I do it just on general principles? I'm sure I can come up with a reason...."

Fhazil grumbles, "If I go over a cliff, I'm taking you with me...." Freyja laughs delightedly! She hadn't realized how much she enjoyed their interplay.

A few moments later Freyja's made sure everyone has a nibble and a drink. Then she takes her time, thoroughly delineating all her various hypotheses as to how this might occur, as well as how each one was disproved. As she speaks her tone remains calm, even, and reassuring. She knows this probably isn't really exciting information, but she's hoping this monologue will accomplish two things -- put Vakkal into a calm and thoughtful state of mind... and perhaps help him make the same realization she finally, reluctantly came to -- that the only person who could have put the mental block there... is Vakkal himself.

Vakkal listens quietly, frowning. "I... do not understand. I have had this... issue... since even before I left Khar Velos. I don't understand... how it could have been something I did to myself...?"

Freyja considers. Interesting -- he had it before leaving... "Well, how did you know you had it then, if I may ask? Did you have it before you started arguing with your family about leaving?"

Vakkal considers, chewing on his lip. "Uhm... now that you mention it... I first noticed it a year before I left... when I first had, uhm, issues with my father...."

Freyja nods thoughtfully, quietly running one hand down the back of Vakkal's ruff as she speaks, "You remember the Jedi we all met while meditating? Well, mine let me ask her a question. I asked how I could fix this issue for you, and that's when she confirmed the vague suspicion that'd been slowly forming in my head. Apparently I could indeed fix it for you... but it'd be a Lightsider repair, deep within what makes you most you."

Freyja sighs quietly, then says, "I... can't do that to you, Vakkal... not in good conscience. It would risk the, um... the 'Sithness' of you... it would be wrong of me to do that. On the other hand..." she waits until she's got Vakkal's gaze before continuing, "-the best person to cure this for you -- is the person who put it in place, she said."

Vakkal blinks, then bites his lip again, considering. "It... it would mean no longer being Sith, wouldn't it? Still Force-awakened, but no longer... Sith."

Freyja nods, "That's the impression I got."

Fhazil himself blinks, stunned. Vakkal nods quietly, thoughtfully. "I... I do not know what to decide," he says softly. "This is... a decision from which I could not turn back from."

Freyja continues quietly stroking Vakkal's ruff; it seems to be helping him relax, like it did before. She nods again, "Hai, there would be no turning back from it." She smiles, adding, "But again, as I said... the Jedi Master did say the very best person to remove it... would be yourself. That means there is a way to do so, without changing you damagingly from who you are." She adds quietly, "My best guess is... maybe it's time to forgive yourself, my friend. As far as I can tell, you yourself are your harshest critic."

Vakkal nods, sighing and relaxing under Freyja's touch. "I get the impression, however," he sways softly, "-that I would no longer be even Darksider. I... do not know what to think, Freyja. I need... some time to think. Telling myself such, I know, is only the start."

Freyja says gently, still slowly and calmly stroking his fur, "Vakkal, if you asked me to do this, you'd have to work very hard to convince me to do so. I can shove Light into blight and heal it... but I've never done so to anything alive. Not only would I be venturing into completely unknown territory -- but I'll be damned if I'll experiment on my dearest friends. And I know you do not think well of yourself sometimes, but I'm very proud to have someone as brave and strong, as thoughtful and loyal as you, as friend and huskarl and Soulguard -- I don't want to change the essence of you. I like that person inside your fur. Hai, you're Darksider and Sith... so?"

She grins, "I'm Lightsider, but you somehow manage to see past that to the good in me! So hai, take time and think... but don't worry that I -- or any of us, really -- will think any less of your for your decision, whatever it may be. You'll make the right one for you."

Vakkal nods quietly, then takes a breath and says softly, "Yes. I will... think about it. I will think about it long and hard." Freyja smiles, leaning to gently hug Vakkal. He smiles quietly, returning the hug. "Thank you, Freyja."

Freyja says, "I hope this helped, Vakkal. I wish I could have done more... if there's something I can do that won't hurt you, I will gladly do so, my friend."

Vakkal nods, "I know this, Freyja. And if there is anything I can do for you, you know that you have but to ask it."

Freyja smiles affectionately at the big canid Sith, sitting back after a moment, "Hai, Vakkal, I know... and thank you." She considers for a moment, then grins and adds, "So... are the two of you busy, or would you like to accompany me down to the township? I'm going to get my armored gloves decorated a bit, I think, with some new symbols!"

It's much later Freyja is quietly sitting cross-legged in her room, letting her mind drift. She's not yet meditating, and her door is still open in case someone wants to speak to her... she's just sort of mentally sorting through her day, letting her non-conscious mind 'speak' to her if necessary.

Freyja glows in the light of sun or moon; a willowy, long legged, golden skinned woman with an unruly mane of fiery gold hair; frost-blue eyes alight with serene happiness; and the strong, supple musculature of an athlete. An iridescent-blue band gleams at the end of her very long, thin Padawan's braid, swaying in constant motion. She moves as lithely as a dancer, pragmatic in well-fitting breeches and a laden utility belt, well-cared-for leather boots, a cropped athlete's top, and decorated armored gloves. The right hand glove sports a Bendu wheel flaring joyously with enlightening flame, signifying the future; the left carries past and present: the Arving sigil of Haus Rigg, encircled by a strong, rich, interwoven plait of gold, silver, and ebony strands.

Freyja makes quiet mental notes of things she's taken care of and can 'release,' as well as things she wants to take care of later. She'll be learning Sith from Fhazil -- that's good. She's mentioned Tavra Soon to him also, and spoken with Vakkal about healing; those are good too. Her armored gloves are proudly sporting the new designs she came up with -- that's very good, she thinks happily! What else... well, she wants to try helping Zero somewhat in his weaknesses, just as he helps her with hers. She should try coming up with something... hmm. Maybe some of the old bardic storytelling thought puzzles she heard so many of as a child? That might be interesting for him.

Freyja blinks as one strange, new thought occurs to her, as she considers the bards of Balmorra -- she should update her will! If she doesn't make it back, she still wants her friends to have the financial and help they might need. Master Roakkana is already provided for, in her personal fortune, as is Vakkal, as her huskarl. However, Zero and Fhazil are not -- and each in his own way is just as important to her as the other two.

Freyja considers for a long moment, composing in her mind, then pulls out her datapad and dictates a missive to her mother, to be sent encoded later. "Dear Mother; I hope this letter finds you and the rest of the family in good health." She continues with the standard polite greeting, chats blandly about current events, hopes Fafnir is enjoying the giftings from his husbanda-elect... then gets to the meat of her note.

Freyja says, "I would also ask a favor of you, if I may. It appears Master Roakkana has us starting on a new phase of training, which may be quite difficult, and may take a considerable amount of time. That being the case, I would like to ask you to add the following updates to my will, please. I know Master Roakkana and Vakkal are already cared for, but I would like to add two other individuals to the will as my paramours. Their names are Zero Satau and Fhazil Taas, and the standard clauses will do nicely, please."

Freyja pauses, wondering if she should admit the two men aren't quite yet, er... consummated as her paramours... then decides a bit embarrassedly to not mention that. She certainly hopes that will change in the near future, after all! She closes the letter with polite queries after her blood family and Fafnir, then quietly shuts down her datapad, smiling in quiet happiness. Strange days... who'd have ever thought she'd find so many wonderful people to love and be loved by?

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Last modified: 2002-Jul-16 16:14:54

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