These Shattered Stars -- Logs

Freyja awakens very, very early on the morning after both her birthday and the wedding. She feels lovely, tangled comfortably between her beloveds -- very warm and well loved. Sitting up carefully, she sees it's false dawn -- those mystical, misty moments just before the sun first starts rising, when the shadows are as thick as the fog, and light is still just a possibility; not yet a certainty.

Freyja slides lithely out of bed, careful not to awaken her wonderful, sleeping paramours, and slips out of the room, past Vakkal sleeping in the antechamber, through the suite and out the door. There she pulls on her clothes, standing in the hallway and waiting with a grin.

It doesn't take long -- the door opens slowly and silently, and Vakkal's head sticks out, ears perked as he looks first one way, then the other. He spots her then, and his ears tilt back in amused embarrassment at being so predictable. Freyja just giggles softly, though, happily taking his hand and drawing him after her. The two of them dart lightly and soundlessly down the hallway and out of the manse, not even noticed by the sleeping frehkees.

Freyja is soon delightedly mounted up on her silver-pale slaypneer, Torden, with Vakkal running beside. She's just using one of the heavily decorated bareback pads, with no bridle, using the Force to 'talk' to the big gelding instead. She's quietly elated as she slips away from the barn with her companions, murmuring happily to Vakkal how nice it is to be able to go running with the big dog Sith, and still keep up! She's having a wonderful time -- the three of them are soon panting clouds of steam in the briskly cold, weak-lit, foggy morn. It looks like it's going to be a really lovely, fresh new winter day.

As Freyja, the slaypneer, and Vakkal enjoy themselves, a watcher would see them floating hauntingly in and out of view through the misty gloaming of early morning. Sounds echo disorientingly in the fog -- it's hard to tell exactly where they are. The silvery slaypneer dances along the untrodden, snowy path, the laughing golden girl a small, scarlet-topped rider clinging to his back. Her long and wind-stroked hair streams like fire, as freely as his flaunting tail and beribboned, shaggy mane -- with the grinning frehkee-sark a quick and dangerous companion in their delight.

The three of them seem strangely alighted into this moment of here and now, like swift and mysterious visitors from the ancient Faerie who'll soon, with light-footed magic, bound away once again through the ever-changing landscapes of the shifting mists... lost to the half-forgotten Summerland realms of the Queen of the Folk of Sun and Mist.

Freyja blinks -- did she just catch sight of someone in the fog? Just a startled, upturned face for a fraction of a second as they cantered by... initially she's worried. Who's out on the estate unescorted at this hour?! -then, with a quick burst of relief, she realizes it could well be Leif, of course. Looking curiously over her shoulder, she wheels the slaypneer about with a mental command, and comes to a halt.

Freyja can half-tell in the mist there's someone there, and she opens her mouth to call out -- then grins mischievously. Might be fun to tease Leif a little bit, especially since he was so nice as to compare her favorable to the Queen of the Fey! She mentally alerts Vakkal to what she's going to do and why, then takes a moment to draw breath, so she can make her voice sound right for a Fey Queen.

Freyja grins, then gets her tone properly throaty and sensuous as she almost purrs the command, "Stand forth, mortal. None may hide from the Queen of the Fey!" Torden paws the ground with one silvery cloven hoof, happily snorting plumes of steam and shaking his heavy, shaggy head. Vakkal is a dark, sleek, wolf-headed shape next to them both, one clawed hand resting with casual familiarity against the slaypneer's side, next to Freyja's thigh.

Freyja herself sits tall and joyous on the slaypneer, her face flushed from the brisk morning chill. Her wind-tossed scarlet-gold mane is tumbled about her shoulders and down her back, and her lips are parted to laughingly tease her new husbond. The figure in the fog becomes a little more distinct as Freyja approaches. The fog clears... and there stands Lord Ghang.

Freyja goes completely still in the quiet dawn chill, her ice blue eyes widening slightly and her already-parted lips forming the word 'oops...'

Several silent heartbeats pass as the little tableau holds, and the participants stare at each other... then the corners of Freyja's mouth start to quirk irrepressibly upwards. Without taking her gaze off the Sith lord, Freyja leans slightly to murmur in conversational tones to Vakkal, "I don't think that's Leif; do you?"

Vakkal murmurs, "Er... no, Freyja... it doesn't look like him."

Freyja tries hard to be respectful and not grin, as she brings her loosely closed right fist up to her left chest in a proper Balmorran salute, "Good morn to you, Sith lord Ghang. Are you lost?"

Lord Ghang raises one brow slowly. He doesn't seem insulted or put off, but he does ask in a curious tone, "'Queen of the Fey'?" p>At his question she flushes and grins in spite of herself, "Ah... the Fey are part of Balmorra's mythology, and the three of us here accidentally look rather like them. They're golden-skinned and fire-haired, and ride ghostly, silvery slaypneers. Their Queen chooses the most valorous of heroes and gifts them with a magical sark, or shirt, to give them the ability to change into a fierce ice-wolven shape. It's a mixed blessing -- they're forever lost to Midgarden, to roam eternally with her and her Court."

Freyja thinks a bit, then adds self-consciously, "So... she's a legendary beauty, and my betrothed was kind enough to say I looked like her... and..." she blinks, and her tone changes to curiosity, "I didn't think anyone else would be out at this hour. Are you all right?"

Ghang smiles a little at the tale. "I fear Sith mythology is hardly as bright, but there are not... dissimilar legends in our tomes. I typically awake before dawn. An old habit; very often armies have struck before the break of dawn to catch their opponent unawares." He smiles a little. "I, in turn, try to catch them unawares."

Freyja tilts her head, smiling as she casually brushing a scarlet lock of hair back from her face and regards the standard-bred Sith lord. After a moment she says thoughtfully, "Well, if you don't mind company, I'm happy to walk with you. At the very least it should prevent any challenges to your passing from the Haus guards."

He inclines his head a little. "I would be grateful, Lady Freyja. Though I have conferred with the House guards. There are a few out in the mist, and watching by sensors."

Freyja nods, pleased he was smart enough to check in first, before wandering around in the fog in unfamiliar territory. The slaypneer swings around smoothly, shaking his mane a bit impatiently, but paces evenly next to the slower bipedal Sith lord. "Thank you for your consideration, Sith lord." She studies him thoughtfully as she rides next to him. On the heavy, big slaypneer she's actually about a foot taller than he. It gives an interestingly different perspective.

The slaypneer seems a little shy of Lord Ghang. Even when Freyja nudges Torden to pace closer to the Sith, he always edges a little further away as soon as Freyja lets up on the knee pressure just a bit. Ghang walks at a steady pace. This close Freyja can tell he's released some of the strict muting he's held on himself, and he feels almost like a dark version of Roakkana.

Freyja lightly brushes the Force with her mind, fascinated at the similarities as well as the differences she senses in the tall man next to her. The more she can learn about Dark and Light, perhaps the better she can understand them both? She also whispers to Vakkal, How're you doing? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything...?

This early in the morning Ghang seems to have chosen not to wear the elaborate headdress typical for Sith. Instead his faintly wispy, grey-auburn hair is straight to his shoulders, and seems somewhat flat and lusterless in the mist-diffused light. A few beads are woven into the ends of some strands, and that seems to be the only decoration he opts for. He doesn't appear bothered by the dew that clinks to his feet through the sandals. "You have been away from home for some time," he comments, almost a question.

Vakkal replies, Nono, I'm all right... this is just unusual for me. I know Lord Ghang often becomes introspective and walks at odd hours. I simply never went with him on these walks.

Freyja smiles a bit ruefully, both reassured at Vakkal's response and thinking about Ghang's comment. "Hai... so I have." She's silent for a moment, looking up and away from her fascinated regard of the alien beside her, to gaze out at the view before her. The cold morning is crisp and clear, the sky an amazing blue. Snow softens edges to an even white smoothness, and the frost-kissed trees on the horizon are but black shadows under their burdens of snow.

Thoughtfully she murmurs, "Home... I guess it is again. I may have trouble with individuals... but... the land, the people... they have a hold on my heart, I think." She turns her frosty blue gaze back to the Sith lord, "Is that how Khar Velos is for you?"

He nods, once. "Mmm. I inherited the lordship of Khar Velos from a Lord of State who felt it was better ruled by one of War. It was my first fief, and remains the one closest to my heart."

Freyja looks faintly surprised, "Lords give fiefdoms over to other lords, without resorting to conflict or the command of superiors? Interesting."

He smiles a little. "Not... always. There was merely no contest that I should receive that fief. Some feel they may rule over a fief better than another. Some covet a particular fief's resources or the people within or some site or shrine within. Khar Velos has none of these things, but for a people who are a strength and benefit to the Empire. None of the Lords of State wished to contest it being handed over to me."

Freyja nods thoughtfully... then adds with quiet interest, "How long ago was that? Have you also, then, been long away from home?"

He nods a little. "It has been almost a full Republic standard year. When I returned to the front from Ziost I stopped at Khar Velos for a few days."

Freyja blinks, a bit confused, "You... received Khar Velos almost a full Republic standard year ago? I... must be misunderstanding, hai?"

"Oh, no. That was when I was last there. I received Khar Velos some thirty standard years ago."

"Ah!" Freyja grins, adding, "Your pardon." A moment later she thoughtfully adds, "Well... for me it's been almost two years -- yesterday was my day of birth as well as the wedding, in fact. I returned because... familial duty called, of course, and I... ah, may be away for quite some time again."

He simply nods, thoughtfully, to Freyja's answer. Meanwhile the haze lightens somewhat as dawn begins to break over a hill somewhere to the east. Freyja tilts her head to regard the Sith lord again, and asks quietly, "May I ask you some questions again?"

"Hmm? Oh, certainly."

Freyja says, "Thank you." She thinks a moment, then says slowly, "I was wondering if the following names meant anything to you... and if so, if you'd be willing to share." She pauses, then gives the names of the companies the young Trandoshan Arving lord gave her, "Dosen Military Automation and Urnis Galactics..." she worries a moment, then asks anyway, "And... Haus Narsgott?" She blinks at a sudden memory, then casually adds, "And... Hirian Jhul Naller of Shazek...?"

He smiles slowly as she speaks, then chuckles softly. "They are the ones who have been leaking war droid technology to the Oath, Lady Freyja. I will be informing the Republic of that this morning. I shan't be surprised if they don't show up at the Chamber of Commerce. Though I do not know Haus Narsgott, or that other name you spoke of."

Freyja takes a slow breath, at first deeply disappointed -- then suddenly relieved at the further news. She grins at the Sith lord, "Thank you!" Then she hms thoughtfully, "Actually, I should have asked about Nasiirka Corp, not Naller." She looks keenly at the Sith lord to see if he recognizes that one -- if he does, she intends to share her speculation that Naller may have some connection with Kalatis, or Fergohsen may be a stop-over point for Kalatis on his way to the relative safety of Hutt Space.

"Mm. No. We know of that company, we have fought some of the droids made by them, but we know of no connection between them and the Oath."

Freyja looks faintly relieved again, but simply says politely, "You are too kind, Sith lord."

Freyja grins to herself, remembering Naller yelling about whether Sith cared if a droid kicking their lekku was pretty or not... then covers the smile and turns her attention to something else more somber, "I know the Sith take their oaths quite, um... seriously." More like they might just kill you to get out of them, but that's another story... I hope... "May I ask you about one you made -- as in whether or not you consider it still operative or neh? I refer to your stating the life of Vakkal of Khar Velos was yours...?"

He looks at her in surprise at that. "I would assume he told you if not for the sense that you know by another means. Yes, I did. The life of Vakkal of Khar Velos is mine." He is quiet for a moment. "The life of Vakkal of Balmorra, however, is his."

Freyja smiles, "Thank you again, Sith lord." She's quietly impressed. Ghang Si'yul, for being the warlord and commander of an invading fleet... seems quite sensitive to his people, she thinks. She hesitates, then says with quiet sympathy, "I... am sorry for your losses, Sith lord. The war must be far harder on you and yours than I realized."

She wonders what it must be like to have such a terrible churn on the people one trusts and depends on. Fhazil's not been gone but two years -- and yet he knew none of the three the Si'yul brought with him!

Ghang's expression darkens a little. "Yes. It has been hard on both sides. Many have lost their lives nobly and honorably. There is that consolation, at least -- that those on both sides have died for what they believed in, and have done so in ways that bring great honor to their names."

Freyja says a little wistfully, "I don't suppose you know anything of what's happened to poor lord Kuldron Vasser? I... admit, I feel sorry for him..."

Ghang shakes his head. "Do not feel sorry for him, Lady Freyja. He is happier now. It is not well-known, but he is now Bright."

Freyja blinks startledly, "He is?! Whoa... how do you know? Hm... that is better for him, actually, than being a prisoner on... er... drat, I forget the prison planet's name..."

"Carceri." Ghang's voice is a little grim as he says the name. "I have felt him through the Force. I felt the heat that burned away his Sithstain as I was a sector away from his position."

Freyja gives the Sith a curious look, "So... it's a real place, then? Huh... I wondered if it was just a myth." Her small, reflectively thoughtful smile is pleased -- that's several Darksiders now she knows of who're turned to another view of the Force. She finds that tremendously reassuring -- to her that means balance is possible in the Force, and the Light has not yet obliterated too much.

She looks up at the slowly rising sun's molten edge, still smiling at the news. "A new dawn of the new half-month of Tyr, then, for the Bright Sith Kuldron Vasser. Tyr signifies self discipline and sacrifice to further a worthy end." She's silent a moment, then quotes quietly and reverently,
"If you want to see the truth of strength,
it stands neither in the Light nor in the Dark,
but is ground down into the cracks
and corners between the two."

He nods a little. "A real place. Places, actually. We believe there are eight, arrayed equidistantly around the Core in the Colonial region."

Freyja sighs quietly, appreciating the beauty of the rising dawn, then smiles down at the Sith lord, "I hope my constant questions are not annoying. I confess to a great deal of fascination concerning... well, both the Darkside, and Sith in general." She considers a moment, then asks, "Has Magnussen spoken to you yet as to whom will be guarding you while you make your announcements this morning?"

"It is well, Lady Freyja. I do not mind the questions, so long as you do not mind the answers. Yes, he has assigned a number of huskarls, and has also asked for Master Roakkana's assistance." He pauses a moment. "May I in turn ask a question of you?"

Freyja grins, "Hai, of course!" She's quietly relieved -- if he thinks it necessary, Master Roakkana will call on the Force-aware in the household to assist.

"The salute you called for in your wedding. I am curious. It did not seem to be the typical place for such. Why did you ask for it?"

Freyja laughs quietly, "Er... hai, that is not precisely where one would ordinarily do that." She grins, her cheeks flushing slightly with self-consciousness, "Well... you may not believe me, but I'll tell you if you like."

Ghang says, "Certainly."

Freyja says, "Basically, I've been struggling with the ethical dimensions of the war... in particular, with the speculation in one of the Republic's military journals that the Sith advance was occurring as swiftly as it was because there was neh resistance from the local populace on any of the worlds conquered." She takes a deep breath, "That... troubled me greatly. If the populace was indifferent to whom ruled them... why was that? Could it be perhaps due to the Sith being neh different than us? -or perhaps the kurasai preferred the Sith to the Republic?"

He nods quietly as he listens to her. Freyja continues, "So I needed to find out if resistance to the Sith advance was truly worthy. Was the public acclaim of those fighting in the war due to the status quo encouraging the media to report such? Or... did the people truly wish their aristoi to continue to fight for them?" She tilts her head to look down at the Sith lord, smiling faintly, her ice blue eyes almost luminous with the memory, "So... I asked the kurasai."

"And... they answered me. I am sorry, Sith lord Ghang, but my people wish me to fight for them against the advance of your people. Hai, I know crowds are fickle... but their response was overwhelming in the Force as well -- not just verbal." She adds gently, "And the aristoi, as well as the Jedi, are servants of their people." She wonders if the Sith lord will grasp that emotionally as well as intellectually. She doesn't doubt his intelligence.

He nods. "Quite understandable. We knew it would be such. We of War did not relish the thought of attacking Balmorra for that reason, as divisive as the world seems to a Lord of State."

Freyja nods slowly, then says equally slowly, "May I... I have a question which has been troubling me for a while concerning the Sith... but... I am not even sure how to ask it. I... have received the impression from a few Sith of... how to put this..."

She tosses her head back to clear her hair from her face as she thinks furiously, then continues slowly, "It's almost as if... as if those few Sith feel the Order is... is something horrible and unstoppable, once they turn their... not their anger, per se... their attention, perhaps? -to you. As if... as if the Sith 'know' inside they're doomed unless the Calefactors are stopped... and yet, I... I can't feel that. I've tried... but despite how pervasive it seems to Sith, I can't feel it."

Freyja looks a bit frustratedly at the Sith, "Does this make any sense? Am I just... imagining things, or something? Or is this part of Sith propaganda, like we have about your people as well?"

Ghang is quiet for a long moment, then stops and turns to look up to Freyja with a quiet smile. "Lady Freyja, there are many things I have intimated about this war that go beyond the merely political. Some I know, some I suspect, some I divine, and some... I merely guess. The Republic and the Empire have known of each other at certain levels for far longer than the six or seven years this war has lasted."

"There is certain information known to those who study on Korriban... knowledges that are kept hidden even from many Lords who sit on the Moot. I know it is from these knowledges the Moot wishes the Calefactors exterminated as quickly as possible. What they are, I do not know. I know only that the few who have knowledge are fearful for the Empire."

Freyja's eyes widen in interest, but she remains hopefully silent that he'll continue. Ghang adds, "More than this... I cannot say. But I work with the knowledge I do have, in that right now, peace and the punishment of our enemies suits the Empire more than pursuing this war to a bitter conclusion."

Freyja hides her small pang of disappointment there's not more information forthcoming. Instead she simply says, "How does the Empire feel about there being more Light within its demesnes, just as there is now more Darkness within the Republic?"

He considers for a moment. "For the most part we accept it. Rather unwillingly, but we do. Our tradition, the Hierarchy, relies upon the Darkside. That will not change. The Darkside's rule is assured. We are not threatened by the sparks that flit through the night. It is the torches of the Calefactors, who would banish the night and twilight into the burning of the day, which we would resist."

Freyja looks both relieved and pleased, "Oh, good!" then grins, "That being the case... what did you think of the, er... salute I called for at the wedding?" She's quite pleased again -- it looks, oddly enough, like balance in the Force might actually be easier to achieve in the Empire than in the Republic! That's excellent, considering currently the Dark has a stronger foothold in the Republic than vice versa.

He considers for a moment, then continues walking. "I found it... interesting. I knew it was not merely militarist rabble-rousing. Besides that, though, I didn't know what you were attempting to discern."

Freyja grins again at that as she looks around, searching for a place where she can dismount and the three of them can sit. A moment later she waves a hand, "If we head that way, Sith lord, there is a small bower at which we can seat ourselves. I would like to do something for you, to say thank you for taking the risk and coming here, if you'll permit me."

He looks at Freyja warily for several moments. "And what is it that you are... wishing to do?

Freyja grins with gentle amusement at his quite-natural wariness. After all, to the best of her knowledge the Sith cannot do what she's going to attempt. "There was a reason I asked you about the blighted wound you carry on your left shoulder, Sith lord Ghang." She smiles, "I think I may be able to heal it. I would like to explain the situation to you a bit more completely before I try, so you can make an educated decision as to whether to allow this or neh... but I do think I can do this."

He studies her for a long moment, then shortly she can begin to feel the full measure of his presence within the Force. No longer muted, to Freyja he is like a tightly massed vortex of emotions, controlled and yet just barely, and each one as if another threat that winds its way through the Force. In terms of sheer power, it is somewhat less than Roakkana; but its effect upon the world around them is startlingly noticeable.

As he unmutes his presence, Freyja can also sense the hissing, snapping Sithstain that coils itself around him. Where Fhazil's was a snake coiled warily in his tree of life, this is a dragon -- but even more so than any other time Freyja has sensed it. It is a hydra, a many-headed serpent that whips its tails about, hissing. It is as if she can hear its multi-voiced hiss: A bright one, yesss, come to cast Light on the Darkness, she hasss. Do we let her, do we let her touch usss? Or do we bite her a thousand timesss? Or do we wrap ourselvesss around her and take and welcome her warmth?

Then Freyja notices the place in his shoulder where he was wounded. Small and dark and twisted, like a cancerous tumor in the fabric of the Force, the knot of blight writhes and twists. Where its threads whip against the Sithstain, that meta-psychological construct hisses and snaps at the acidic touch. But it also attempts to choke the blight out of existence, and so must wrap a few coils around the blight, searing itself even more.

Torden snorts and stamps his feet, skittish and uncomfortable as he tries even more to edge away from the Sith Lord. Ghang's voice comes to Freyja then, suddenly and startlingly normal. "It is the wound I received from one of the Oather Lords that you speak of, isn't it, Lady Freyja?"

Freyja blinks, torn between the fascination of what she senses occurring in the Sith lord, and reassuring her poor slaypneer. She compromises, slipping off the big gelding's back and gently rubbing his nose, "There now, there, shhh... calm, pretty boy. Go graze a bit, hey, and relax? I'll call you when it's time to go home again." She pats his rump as he turns and smartly trots away, not loathe at all to leave the vicinity of the creepy (to him) big humanoid.

Freyja grins at the slaypneer's hasty departure, then turns to face the Sith, looking up at him interestedly, "Hai, although I'd just guessed the wound was due to an Oather. I'm glad I could help with that." She considers a moment, then adds calmly, "Hopefully the news that two other Oathers -- Hrrajak the Catharian and Lord Tavra Soon of Arkania, Lord of Smiths -- are deceased too, will be useful to you also."

Ghang nods a little at Torden leaving so quickly. "There are few animals who are entirely comfortable with Lords of the Sith. And few of them are quite natural in origin."

Freyja tilts her head to consider the Sith with even more fascination. "Few? How sad... it must be... somewhat lonely, I'd think?" She turns with a gesture of invitation, "Shall we talk as we walk?"

To Vakkal, Freyja whispers with a hint of pleased excitement, Is it just me, or is Lord Ghang's Sithstain not horribly painful to be around? I think maybe you and Fhazil have really helped me to handle that- her beaming smile is almost audible across the link, -thank you so much!

Vakkal replies, You've gotten used to it in great part, Freyja. I think he may also be withholding the more nauseous aspects of his Sithstain from you, out of courtesy.

Freyja beams happily at Vakkal's news -- she's pleased to hear she may well be able to handle being around Sith lords at least a little bit. She thinks with a hint of dry amusement that she'd not be much of a healer if the patients themselves made her keel over, after all!

Ghang inclines his head to Freyja, starting to walk towards the bower with her. "Few animals deal well with expressions of the Darkside to the level at which we Lords reach. Hrmm... it is pleasing news. We had been wondering where Hrrajak had fled to. And we suspected Tavra Soon to have been an Oather conducting bio-alchemic experiments, but the evidence against her was fairly damning."

Freyja nods, unsurprised at either bit of news from the Sith lord. She adds, "Well, we took care of the worms she was riding herd on... they have good homes now." She pauses at a fork in the path, her slender golden fingers resting against her lips, "Hm... actually, perhaps Grandmother's rose garden isn't the best choice. If we accidentally spread blight there... there'd be a lot of terribly unhappy, hurt people."

She looks around, then nods and smiles, waving a hand, "Let's go over to the edge of the forest. The wildlife rarely comes out in the open, and I doubt they'll be curious about you anyway... and we'll have a sheltered place to sit." She grins up at the Sith lord, strangely unworried about the insane-feeling Sithstain dragon, adding, "And if either of us falls over, it won't matter -- Vakkal can watch over us until we recover!"

Ghang's lips curl in a not humorless grin. "That would be unpleasant, yes," he says in reply to not going to the rose garden.

Freyja finds a wide-spreading, ancient, powerful old tree, its branches thick enough to prevent the snow from falling on the ground below it. She gently rubs a hand along its rough bark. "Heiyo, Grandfather Oak. Thank you for your shelter from the snow. I promise, if we accidentally spread blight, I'll do my best to clean up afterwards."

Freyja pulls off her outer coat, revealing her sleeveless, high-necked silk top and snug, well-worn leather breeches and boots. She settles cross-legged at the tree's base, her back firmly braced against it, and sets both the outer coat and the all-weather cloak next to her. She looks up at the other two men, waving a hand to indicate they may sit nearby if they'd like. "Shall we discuss this, Sith lord? Your, ah... Sithstain appears to have... conflicting opinions on whether or neh to allow me to try." Her small grin is dry.

Ghang sits quite comfortably in a full lotus position before Freyja, unconcerned about the early morning dew on the ground. "You've already grasped much of what Sithstain is to a Sith," he says pleasantly enough. "Some of heightened awareness can sense the ego and sense of self behind it, and the forces and imperative that fuels its existence. It is shield and sword and crucible, as much as any rigorous discipline requires. It is our expression of the Sith's relationship to the Force -- and as a meta-psychological construct arising from the ego of the Darksider, it is hard to control."

His lips curl upwards again. "However, since I would not be one to turn down a request from my apprentice's paramour, and one whom I have come to trust to some extent besides, I will try."

Freyja looks pleased -- she'd intended to explain all the experience she'd had so far, so Ghang could make an informed decision. However, if he's willing to trust her, she's happy to do her best. She smiles, "I'm very happy to hear that! Here's what I want to do..."

She pulls out her medkit, holding it up, "First, a good medscan, and to leave it on you while I work, to be as careful as possible. Second, once you're comfortable, I'll try dissipating the blight." She adds to Vakkal, "Can you keep an eye on the medkit for me while I'm concentrating on the blight?" She's momentarily forgotten that to Ghang, Vakkal is a terror when it comes to healing.

Ghang arches a brow a bit at the comment to Vakkal, but says nothing, instead nodding. "Very well," he says, resting his hands on his knees. "Begin at your convenience, Lady Freyja."

Freyja nods, considering as she murmurs some instructions to the medkit. She tilts her head thoughtfully... then lays out the all-weather cloak in front of her, and rolls up her greatcoat to use as a pillow. "May I ask you to open your shirt, so I can lay my hands next to the wound, and for you to lay with your head in my lap, so you will not fall if you should go unconscious? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I do not know how much, if at all, this will pain you."

Ghang raises a very amused brow, but says nothing, instead parting the jerkin enough to reveal the bandaged wound. It is rather firmly bound. Up close Freyja can see the faint, dark stain of blood just barely visible under a few layers of the bacta-impregnated gauze. He turns and lies back, looking up into the lightening sky as he rests his head in Freyja's lap.

Freyja is pleased Ghang is just amused rather than offended... but she really doesn't want to be halfway through a blight healing -- only to have her patient fall on her and smoosh her! She sighs in faint relief, setting the medkit on his chest and activating it.

A raised eyebrow to Vakkal, and he nods, indicating he's watching... and she pulls out her curved surgical knife to gently begin working the bandage free. She hums quietly to herself as she works -- a quiet, relaxing ballad. She's careful at all times to work slowly and calmly, not wishing to startle or alarm the Sithstain hydra at all.

Even though it's essentially ballistic cloth, the bandage starts to come off easily. Ghang gives no indication of any pain, though as she pulls away the layers of the bandage the serpent-hydra of Ghang's Sithstain is rather uncomfortably watching her. At one point, as she tugs on one of the layers, one of the heads lashes out as if to bite her -- and indeed, Freyja can feel as if a small snake had bitten her hand. She pauses only long enough to say sternly, "You stop that! I'm not hurting you!" then continues her slow, careful work.

Ghang gives a low quiet laugh. "A moment, Lady Freyja. This might make your work easier...." Freyja mms? -pausing a moment to look inquiringly at the Sith lord.

Ghang closes his eyes and takes a few breaths, placing his hands together. It is remarkably similar to techniques Freyja has seen in use for meditation, but the overall effect is somewhat more startling. Like Thorrer reining in the Midgarden Serpent, the Sithstain squeals and complains as it is ordered and forced to withdraw within the tangled skeins of Ghang's presence in the Force.

It is a hard battle, and several times Freyja can feel more than hear the dark mantra the Sith chants, as it rises in volume, as if verbally berating the thing. Shortly, however, the Sithstain is nothing more than a score of ember-bright eyes staring at her distrustfully from between the cords of his being. "Try now," he says distantly, and even with that moment of focusing away from it, one of the heads begins to inch its way out.

Returning his focus and concentration completely on his own self-control, Ghang's Sithstain retreats, for the moment content to watch Freyja with a mixture of suspicion, caution, rapture, and hunger.

Freyja raises an interested eyebrow, watching with fascination, then smiles once he's done, "Thank you; that does help." She pauses long enough to double-check the medkit and the back of her hand before continuing. The medkit shows only that Ghang is in some sort of trance; and where the hydra bit her there is a faint red welt but no punctures.

Freyja nods, reassured, then finishes cutting away the bandages. She grimaces slightly -- old, unhealed wounds are just... icky! -- then takes a moment to clean the physical wound. She's being as careful as possible, to do this right the first time.

The wound seeps blood; fortunately, Ghang has been fastidious about cleaning the wound daily -- apparently part of some regimen the Sith Lords follow when dealing with blighted wounds. Even so, Freyja can see the effects of the blight: the wound may once have been a clean stab, but it now appears as if some animal has worried its ragged, jagged claw into him. The wound has been packed several times in the past with a sort of herb that apparently turns to ashen dust from being in touch with the blight sore for so long.

Freyja finally takes a deep breath -- she's ready to start cleaning away the blight itself now. She places one hand on each side of the wound, then starts concentrating. Light... she is of the Light... it fills and permeates her. Old phrases spoken to her by the wise return in memory... "The lust for revenge / is unquenchable unless / one learns to forgive," in the soft sing-song of a bard she heard one Solstice, "The Light is incredibly forgiving, child," from the lovely Jedi-lady hetaera who trained her...

...and finally, in Master Roakkana's deep basso rumble, "Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind."

Freyja can feel the Light's shining, blazing powerfully within her. In her mind's eye it stirs like a rising wind, gently lifting her flaming hair and making her eyes smolder a cool pale ice, with intense concentration... a growing glow emanating from her hands like spheres of healing energy. The blight is a small, sad thing in comparison... a wrongness she will set aright.

This is not an ordinary healing process, however. The blight resists, squealing as if some amorphous vermin given voice. It twitches and warbles, sinking claws deeper into Ghang's flesh around the wound, refusing to let go of its poisonous embrace.

Freyja is as patient as the Light radiating around and through her like a glowing halo. Slow, persuasive, radiant fingers work at each claw, determined to free it not only from the wound, but from existence as well. The blight clutches tenaciously, its mindless imperative to cling to Ghang and consume him like a dark lover. It holds and claws to him still tighter, shrieking in protest and its own pain, trying to share that pain with Ghang as if showing how selfless it is.

As she focuses her will through the Light, a soft chorus of voices encourages her: It is a blight not only upon the Dark Lord but upon the Force as well. It's meet and right to detest it and hate it, for it is a blasphemy against Life itself. See how perversely it clings to him? What else could be more worthy of being completely wiped out? Be strong, Freyja! Finish it, and free him! You have the power of burning light; destroy this thing and let it cling to him no more!

Freyja smiles faintly, wondering who the voices are... perhaps some version of the Sithstain hydra? She's reminded of the revenant in Methel-ssa's form, trying to seduce her to hatred of family by catching her alone in the Force. A moment later she chides herself gently -- just because she doesn't believe the voices doesn't mean she should do less than her best, and concentrate fully on Ghang.

She softly pushes the voices aside -- while I do not berate you, you are not of the Light. Please don't distract? I want to help here, and I need to concentrate... then focuses more fully on the blight. Enough now... let go, please. He needs to heal properly.

The voices are silent for the time being, but the blight resists. It is mindless; it does not speak or think. In this altered state of consciousness the tiny blight wraps itself around Ghang, sinking talon-like fingers into him, snarling at the Light. But already it's starting to melt and sear away as if being carefully cauterized. It sinks itself deeper into Ghang, causing him at first discomfort, then pain, as it slowly is forced to relent and be burned away.

Freyja tries sliding a smoldering hand of Light under the blight, to prevent it sinking deeper into the wounded man. Hopefully Light will hurt less than blight... and she can gently pull it free that way, leaving a clean seal behind and entirely melting the blight caught in the palm of her shining, brilliantly lit hand.

The blight screams as nothing alive has any right to scream, and with one last, vindictive stab of pain at its former host -- is gone. The pain startles Ghang, making him gasp and lose concentration for a dazed moment.. and in that instant the hydra-headed Sithstain leaps from the dark confines of his self to converge on the being of Light that is far, far too close to Ghang's core: Freyja.

Freyja smiles as she sees the last bit of blight fading impotently away in her glowing palm, a strange, joyous calm alight inside her... then looks up, still wrapped in that wonderful sense of oneness with all, to see the Sithstain charging her. She's not threatening it, nor does she wish to harm it -- but she also knows it can't possibly be aware of that.

Freyja has time only for one small but very sure thought, We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness... and her Light -- the same Light in everything, everywhere -- blazes brightly all around her. It does not attack the Sithstain, nor slap back... it tries to blend with it, welcoming and redirecting the energy. They are all the same... they are all part of the Force... how could she attack it without attacking herself as well? -and, as follows naturally -- how can it attack her without harming itself?

The Sithstain doesn't quite blend the way Freyja expects it to; in fact as soon as she attempts to redirect it, it bends with the movement itself. The hissing morass of Sithstain dragons becomes twenty, then three score, then a hundred, arcing around her with the movement of her blending, attempting to weave a cocoon of identity around her, protecting its master from the blinding Light she used to sear away the blight. Should have listened, bright one! Ssshould have listened! Had been but inclined to Darkness, would have seen a kindred spirit, but no. Fear you, Jedi, fear you greatly, and ssso protect ourselvesss we mussst....

In the moments while the Sithstain has leaped up to begin enfolding Freyja, Ghang regains his senses enough -- it could only have been less than a second -- and she can sense him attempting to rein in his own subconscious need to be absolutely safe from any and all perceived threats.

Freyja smiles, reaching a glowing hand out to the writhing mass, Silly thing... didn't you hear me? I helped -- I removed the blight. Why fear me?

One of the heads snaps out at her, attempting to sink fangs into her hand even as it squirms from the harshness of the light. Fear you! Fear you fear you fear you! Are strong in the Force, yesss, you and othersss. Are threats, dangers, Jedi of Marnaasss and favored of the Serpent and of the Red.

The cocoon is almost completely woven. Sleep, Jedi, sleep, bright one. Put out thy Light and sssleep, sleep in the coilsss of the dragon. We will keep you warm as velvet upon your skin, soothing and soft and comfortable. Come and sleep... -- and Freyja begins to feel that warmth the Sithstain speaks of, beckoning and close and inviting.

Freyja is instantly, fascinatedly curious, Who're the Serpent and the Red, pretty dragon? She can feel the stirring wakefulness of her lovers, and happily shares with them what the Sith hydra said to her. To the spooky dragon, however, she smiles and replies, Light doesn't go out, silly... it is shared. Neh need to fear... see? She trails a slow finger of Light along one coil, like stroking a jumpy catta to soothe it.

Zero's reaction is in keeping with his character; decisively quick and to the point. Two words, delivered via his link to her with such speed they almost drop their syllables, the concept getting there before the message: I'm coming. Freyja is almost singing with Light and life -- it's not yet occurred to her this might not be a good thing. She's very deeply immersed in brightness, as wildly in love with life as the hetaerae she's seen dancing in memory.

The coil of the dragon she touches recoils, squealing, but it feels odd to her -- like something crystallizing. No, bright one. Much to fear. The Sithstain's voice seems to be deepening, sounding almost brittle in tone. Light overwhelms, banishes Darkness. Master knows this but didn't believe us. Now we must protect him. Light can go out, bright one. Light is extinguished when life is extinguished. A silver shadow, all half-perceived movement and haze, interposes itself between the blazing light and creeping darkness, But there is a third option.

Freyja sings gently to herself and the darkling dragon, still quietly happy at her success in healing the Sith lord, and her simple, reassuring words are woven into the song just as her slender golden fingers are woven into the Light, stroking what parts of the Sithstain she can reach, Calm, little darkling one... neh fear, protector still... my Light's neh burning sun... warm yourself, drink your fill... love life, share Light and Dark...

To Zero's sight, Lord Ghang is confused and barely conscious in the few moments after the blight has been burned away. A moment's loss of concentration has seen his Sithstain attempt to cocoon Freyja in its obsidian coils. The cocoon is not complete. Even in places where it is almost crystallized, Freyja's light burns from within, the crystal seeming to run or flow like slow water where she touches it.

In other places are eyes that burn like hot, angry coals. At Zero's approach the coiling pauses, and half a hundred sharp-toothed snake heads turn furious glowing eyes on the Sedraki's mental presence. Graysider! Ssssss! She burns us! What to do, what to do! Freyja senses Ghang attempting to reassert conscious control over his Sithstain, but like the lurker at the threshold of consciousness that it is, it is an implacable enemy.

Zero's ghostly presence hovers over Freyja and Ghang, protectively. She won't hurt you. She can't. It's not given to her to destroy... that's your place.

The Sithstain seems to shiver a bit in confusion, and this time it doesn't recoil completely from Freyja's touch -- a bit skittish, but not squealing in pain. Is true. Is what she said, but one in coils always says it not a threat.

Freyja reaches out happily with both hands, caressing them along the dragon's side in long, slow sweeps, Heiyo, Zeriza! Isn't it pretty? I think I fixed the blight too, although I've not had a chance to check yet... can you see his left shoulder? Here, wait... She pushes gently, trying to lift the Dark hydra's coils away from the afflicted area, Move over, please... I can't see your master's shoulder to see if we're all fixed yet.

Zero doesn't take his metaphorical 'eyes' off the dragon. Addressing it, he says, I'm the place you can't go alone-- I'm the edge of the blade. As long as I'm here, you can't overwhelm one another. You're safe here. Addressing Freyja, he says, Careful, please. I don't know what it may try to do.

Freyja is still half singing, half humming to herself. If she can do it, she'll casually drape a coil over one of her own shoulders (so it's supported -- for some reason shoving it rudely seems wrong to her) and duck her head enough to be able to see Ghang's shoulder, to examine it and be sure it's clean. To Zero she says happily, Always, beloved!

The cocoon shivers a little... and a moment later seems to explode in a screaming torrent of coils and teeth. After a moment the metaphysical conscious selves of Freyja and Zero are surrounded from a modest distance by a cloud of what looks to be hundreds of small pairs and trinaries of small glowing eyes, hiding just beyond the shadows and watching them, blinking warily.

Are speaking truth. The both of them. Saber's Edge. And Warmth-bringer. A moment later there is the sense of that same nigh-Ragnaurokan struggle, and the Lord's Sithstain is once again under his tight control, deep within his self. To Freyja's senses, the wound is seeping blood still, but is starting to coagulate, and there is no sign of blight.

Freyja blinks a bit startledly, looking around -- that was odd! She smiles, still perplexed, but simply says, Hai... we wouldn't lie to you. Then she turns her attention to the wound. A moment later she 'looks up' delightedly at Zero, Looks wonderful -- thank you, sweetheart, for calming the dragon down!

Zero's presence flicks back a step, closer to Freyja-- then pauses as the construct seems to calm itself down. That's right. I won't lie to you. To Freyja, he sighs quietly, I just hope it lasts.

Freyja's glowing mental fingers trail gently along Zero's cheek in an affectionate caress, What, the healing? Neh reason it should not. Oh... did you mean the dragonling? That I don't know... she grins mischievously, adding, but I have some fascinated questions for the Sith lord once he awakens!

Freyja opens her eyes to the physical world, still smiling quietly to herself. She's tremendously pleased... not only is the Sith lord doing well, but she's going to have some excellent readings on the medkit. That means she can help other standard-bred Sith now, without worrying she's really harming them!

Ghang is slowly coming back to full consciousness -- and the reason for Vakkal's unusual silence becomes apparent when Freyja hears a scissors-like metal-on-metal sound. Lord Ghang's Soulguard folds his double-bladed sword and wordlessly sheathes it. Vakkal, standing opposite him, relaxes visibly.

You know, there was a time when you chided me for being too impulsive...

Freyja blinks with sincere innocence at Zero, What? What'd I do? then blinks a bit startledly at the Soulguard as well. A faintly amused smile crosses her face, "Well... heiyo, there." She waves a hand, "Have a seat, if you'd like," then turns her attention back to the Sith lord, happily checking for the medkit's data.

Zero hms. Well... it looks as if things are under control here. I'm going back to myself now. Come back to the room soon, Freyja. I miss your touch... I have a hard time sleeping without you.

Freyja almost purrs with happiness, hugging Zero mentally with real pleasure, Thank you, dear heart... that means a lot to me, to hear that.

Zero sighs softly at the mental touch. It's nothing. Just how I feel. I'll be waiting for you, love. His presence fades away along the link again.

The Soulguard silently inclines his head in greeting but does not move to sit. Freyja finds the medscanner is still showing Ghang to be healthy and recovering well, but something's happened -- the data recorder has shorted out, and the memory chip damaged.

Ghang makes a quiet, discomfited sound, raising his unwounded arm to rub his eyes, moving very slowly. "You... have my apologies... Lady Freyja."

Freyja sighs, looking a bit disappointedly at the medkit she's holding... then smiles at the Sith lord, "Apologies for what, please?" She grins internally, politely not making any mention of the somewhat amusing dichotomy of handing over his sword but not disarming his followers. It was a lovely gesture, though... she does not begrudge him that.

"For not being able to... quite control myself. Especially after I had surrendered my sword to you." He starts to pull himself up, wincing a little as he glances to his shoulder. "Fascinating...."

Freyja quietly supports him from behind as he sits up, careful his wounded shoulder is not stressed at all. "Quite all right, truly... and hai, it was indeed fascinating!" She grins, her natural exuberance resurfacing, "I fear you've given me much to ponder -- and many more questions!" She adds with cheer, "Blight's gone! And you have a pretty darkling dragon."

Freyja wonders, a second after the words leave her mouth, if Sith lords have the concept of machismo... and if she just stomped it! She hopes not. She'd meant it sincerely, after all.

"Yes... I noticed. Thank you, Lady Freyja." He considers for a moment, then nods. "If you will accept it, there is something I will send to you, no matter what course this war takes. Please accept it as a sign of gratitude for this, and as apology." He glances to her, arcing a brow curiously, then smiles quietly. "Ah. You speak of my Sithstain. Thank you. Is that how it appeared to you?"

Freyja looks curious again, but manages to restrain the rush of questions -- Ghang is doubtless still pulling himself together, and she doesn't want to be rude. Instead she nods, "Hai, like... like a dragon, or hydra. It formed into this huge pile of coils and cocooned around me." She smiles a bit ruefully, "It... was really scared for you, I think. It didn't like me at all... said I was favored by the Serpent and the Red." She brightens with curiosity at that, "Who're they?"

Ghang arches a brow curiously as he readjusts his jerkin. "Indeed?" he chuckles softly. "I should learn to keep myself from talking too much of things I barely know about when panicked."

Freyja gives the Sith lord a quietly thoughtful look, and doesn't continue telling him what the hydra said to her. Instead she says quietly, "Is the inner Darkness truly nothing more than merely a sliver of your Self?"

He makes a thoughtful sound, pausing. "It is... considered by some zealots of the Sith tradition to be the penultimate expression of will and desire empowered by the Force, of the ego's triumph over the id, of the subconscious' ability to wield the Force in ways Lightsiders cannot understand. Bah; I see it as much cause as effect. It is... myself, and yet not myself. In some ways it is a portion of myself, that portion which wields the Force. Because it wields such power, it can seem to have a life of its own at times. It is a weapon I wield... but sometimes, if I am very uncareful -- the weapon wields me."

Freyja nods, understanding that rather thoroughly after her experience with watching him struggle to control it/him-self. It seems a bit odd to her -- to her the Force is as much a part of her as... as her arm. She considers what it might be like to struggle with controlling her arm. It's a very weird thought to her.

Freyja looks up from her thoughts and says consideringly, "Sith lord Ghang, I did this to say thank you... you need not feel indebted, please." Not least because I've been repeatedly warned not to let Sith lords feel indebted to me... anyway! Focus, please... "However, if you're willing, I would greatly appreciate your letting me do another medscan on you?" She holds up her medkit with a regretful look, "I fear we blew this one out... and I'd like to have a good review of a standard Sith, in case I ever meet another wounded one." Hopefully she asks, "Would that be acceptable?"

He waves a hand. "The gift is actually as much to help you understand what happened as it is to say 'thank you.'" He considers the request for a long moment, then smiles a bit. "Very well. A noble intent. I would be so willing."

Freyja brightens, pleased, "Thank you so much!" then adds thoughtfully, "For both, I think." She starts to rise... then winces. She's gotten stiff, sitting so still for so long in the cold. She looks out into the fog and 'calls,' both physically and mentally, "Hey, Torden! A lift, please?"

A moment later, looming out of the fog, the big slaypneer's form comes quietly, warily pacing, careful to keep Vakkal between him and the Sith lord. Ghang has muted himself again, however, and the slaypneer is willing enough to get as close to him as Freyja is. The silvery gelding lowers his big head, snuffing warm breath gently on her, then effortlessly pulls her to her feet once she's got a good grip on his mane, "Ah, thanks, pretty boy..."

The Soulguard appears impassive -- at least, there's no way to tell his expression or reaction beneath the featureless helmet... or even gender, really. Freyja looks thoughtfully at the Sith lord, "How're you feeling? If you're feeling at all wobbly, do please let me know, hai? Do you need a lift back to the house?"

Ghang stands, albeit slowly. "No, but thank you, Lady Freyja. I shall take my time in walking back to the house." He smiles a little. "Besides, your steed would probably not desire me to ride atop him."

Freyja says a little tartly, "Patients get special privileges, and he knows that!" then grins, "But it's nice of you to consider his feelings."

Ghang smiles a bit. "Even so, the walk will do me well." He brings his fist to his chest, bowing slightly. "I thank you again, Lady Freyja."

Freyja will haul herself a little tiredly up onto the slaypneer's wide, warm back, then sigh in quiet relief. Hard part's over now... "You're quite welcome. Well... let's head back then." As the group slowly paces back towards the house, she adds, "And don't forget, keep yourself warm, and you'll want to let the wound breath a bit to heal, and..." The healer in her has taken over... she's completely unaware of the irony of a Padawan lecturing a Sith lord. To her the relationship is currently that of chirugeon and patient, and he needs to know how he should behave for best healing!

When Frejya gets back to her room, Zero's lying there on his back with his face turned toward the window. A dull silver slant of light comes in, and his skin is a pattern of light and dark where the pale morning moon shines on him. When he hears her come in he turns to look, then just smiles and opens his arms for her, not saying anything at all. Her tired face lights up with happiness, and she slides contentedly into bed to cuddle and sleep.

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

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