Ask Umbara Revulsion

[Zorya]

A holocron. The word swirled in Zorya's thoughts, gaining substance and form as Azar uttered it. It was somewhat relieving to engage with him in this direct manner, their conversation untainted by the habitual barriers of language and interpretation.

"In the ruins of the academy, we found naught but time-ravaged relics and shadows of what once was," Zorya responded, her voice, rich and resonant, filled the ethereal space between them. "We unearthed no holocron, Sith or otherwise." The once-majestic halls had been concealed beneath layers of rubble and entropy. It had taken considerable effort from half a dozen robust construction droids to lay bare its hidden mysteries, and yet a holocron was not amongst the treasures revealed.

As her thoughts meandered, so did a litany of questions: Was there a particular holocron they sought? Would any holocron serve? And, most significantly, was it still buried within the labyrinthine depths of the academy? Could it have been plundered, or perhaps sequestered by the Brotherhood of Darkness upon their exit? Such uncertainties began to morph the very fabric of this mental realm, her ponderings giving birth to ethereal tendrils of smoke.

She observed, intrigued, as her thoughts seemed to take physical form within this realm, wisps of smoke coalescing into tangible specters. An idea sparked within her – an audacious hypothesis, perhaps, yet worth exploring. Focusing her mind, she began to manipulate the ethereal smoke, coaxing it to form the characteristic pyramid of a Sith holocron.

"Azar," she began, her thoughts punctuated by the reshaping of her psychic constructs, "tell me everything you discerned about this holocron. I seek not the tales told in ancient scrolls, but the wisdom devised from your own observations." As she spoke, the phantom pyramid in her hands began to take on a solid, if not yet tangible, form, reflecting the shimmering light of their surreal surroundings.

@Sreeya

//Rolled a 13/20.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar scoffed at her response, “You’ve only looked at the surface,” He explained, “The academy was buried over time. The ruins only represent the top levels.”

He knew what was coming next - that this would turn into a major undertaking. In many ways, he was curious himself. His specialty demanded that he pursued knowledge in multiple mediums to expand his wealth of resources. Few things contained more value than holocrons - especially ones that still kept an essence of their creator. Azar watched her quickly shape the world around them, admiring it in silence until she spoke again. He was still not used to it.

“All right,” He stated flatly, “But say my name a few more times. Sounds better from you than the monkey,” Azar said, a half grin appearing on his face. He wasn’t going to get the same chance to banter with her back in the physical plane, so he decided to take advantage of it here.

The Pureblood then focused his attention where she began to shape the Holocron, “The last time the Holocron was used was almost two hundred years ago. It was pieced together and disassembled again. They were hidden and scattered by people like…like the blue blade man,” Azar still didn’t completely comprehend the concept of Jedi - it was something Zorya would have to educate him on, “We can track down each piece and I can use my powers to rebuild the holocron. The only other option is to destroy a big part of the academy to access it,” Neither of those sounded like pleasant options, but the Sith had jealously protected the location of this temple. This also meant that it was likely full of secrets and plunder because it remained untouched.

“Why this academy?” He asked curiously. He was sure there were others like this that weren’t so painful to get into.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

At Azar's words, a flicker of bemusement crossed Zorya's face. His peculiar fascination with the utterance of his name from her lips was endearing, in a quaint sort of way. "Azar," she humored him, her tone resonating in the mental plane, the echo of her voice transforming the otherwise insensate environment with a semblance of vibrancy.

As he revealed the history of the holocron, the nebulous outlines of the artifact started to take form in the ether, directed by Zorya's focused intent. It coalesced into a pyramidal shell, its ephemeral surface dappled with imaginary inscriptions, and though it was but a hollow mimicry, its crafted sophistication exuded an enigmatic allure.

"The task ahead is monumental, indeed," she murmured, observing the phantom holocron's ephemeral intricacy. "The droids can commence establishing the preliminary infrastructure. We, however, have a graver mission to undertake."

"Why this academy?" Azar's inquiry hung in the air, and Zorya offered him an unperturbed smile. "Subtlety is an underappreciated art form. The Brotherhood of Darkness had an understanding of this," she began, her voice imbued with a respect for the ancient order. "Their stronghold here, ensconced within the Ghost Nebula, makes for an optimal bastion for a re-emerging Sith Order." The twinkle in her eyes reflected her personal fascination, "And, well, the bioluminescent wildlife of Umbara... it does add a certain charm to the setting."

Her gaze met Azar's, her countenance softened with genuine camaraderie, "Are you prepared, Azar? We have a world to return to."

INTERLUDE​

While Zorya and Azar navigated the realm of the mind, their physical forms remained motionless in the corporeal world. One might presume that the solemnity of the moment would be respected by all present, but such assumptions clearly failed to account for one garrulous and mischievous Ximpi by the name of O'bog.

With the stillness of his ordinarily animated companions, O'bog had the run of the place. And it was an opportunity he was not about to squander.

"Oh, the mischief to be had!" he cackled to himself, his voice a mix of whimsical delight and devilish glee. He darted around, first Zorya's unresponsive form and then Azar's, an impish grin illuminating his face in the dim light. He began a game of "Knights and Monsters", employing the two Sith's lifeless bodies as his castle walls. He fluttered around, chortling and shouting incoherent battle cries as he 'fended off' invisible foes.

Noticing a small shiny bauble, O'bog swooped down and quickly pocketed it. "Spoils of war, my hearties!" he crowed, performing a victory lap around the room. Next, he perched atop Azar's head, using the Pureblood's tendrils as a makeshift throne. "All hail O'bog, king of the castle!" he whooped, throwing his head back in laughter.

After a few moments, he fluttered down to Zorya, plucking at her raven-black hair and attempting to fashion it into an elaborate hairstyle resembling a bird's nest. "Aye, there ye go, lass! All the fashion in Coruscant, that is!" he declared, admiring his handiwork.

Suddenly, his eyes fell on Azar's outstretched hand, palm upward in a pose reminiscent of their entry into the mental plane. A devious grin spread across O'bog's face. He hovered over the hand, jiggled about in a dance of his own making, and dropped a handful of sweet Umbaran berries smack in the center of the Sith's palm.

"Brought ye a present, ol' buddy!" he snickered, watching as the berries squished, staining Azar's palm a brilliant blue. Chortling to himself at the thought of Azar's baffled reaction upon waking, O'bog then plopped down, exhausted from his antics but utterly pleased with his efforts. After all, with the Siths lost in their minds, who else but O'bog would bring the merriment to the physical realm?

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar quirked a brow at her, “With a companion like yours, I’m certain you are a paragon of subtlety,” He mused dryly. Her reasoning seemed simple enough – even he knew that this new Sith Order was attempting a comeback. What he wasn’t sure of, however, was whether he genuinely believed in it. It wasn’t as harsh as how he grew up thus far and he had yet to meet this Dark Lord he kept hearing about.

He nodded in response to her question, “Why don’t you speak?” He asked curiously before he stepped out of her thoughts. Without the influence of the monster, it was almost pleasant being here. The lands were calm and breezy, a reflection of Zorya’s unwavering and steadfast bearing.

After a few moments, they were back in the physical realm. It would take Azar a bit longer to return because he taxed himself trying to liberate her. There was plenty of time for O’bog to complain to Zorya about how the Pureblood almost squished him.

A few minutes later, Azar began to stir, groaning quietly as he came to. He rose to sit up, rubbing his face groggily with his hands. Azar’s brows scrunched in confusion as he felt something sticky on his face, looking at his hand to see it smeared with bright, blue fruit.

Azar stared in confusion before things began to register quickly. He looked up and began to search for that insufferable little beast, “DIABLE TU, KIEFA!” He bellowed angrily as he shakily rose to his feet, stumbling over to chase down O’bog.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

In the tranquil stillness of her mental plane, Azar's questions unfurled, the silent resonance of his curiosity echoing through the ethereal space. Zorya turned her gaze upon him, an intense focus that seemed to strike deeper than mere words could.

"O'bog," she began, her mental voice serene yet assertive, "Is a formidable shield, his clamor distracts, ensuring that I'm often overlooked, free to act unobserved." She paused, her mind gently probing into his, an intimate connection she allowed only in this secluded realm. "As for my voice, I too belong to an ancient Force tradition, the Yacombe. In forging a bond with O'bog, I offered my voice. A choice I have never regretted."

The transfer back to the physical realm was like the abrupt snap of a hyperspace jump, jolting Zorya's consciousness back into her corporeal form. Her head pounded with the temporal shift, her senses overloaded with the physicality of the world once more. Her hand instinctively shot to her hair, fingers entwining with a mess of intricate knots. O'bog's mischievous handiwork, no doubt.

O'bog, catching the ominous glare of Zorya's narrowed eyes, bleated, "Time to beat a hasty retreat, methinks!" before darting into the shadows, his pixie laughter echoing mockingly.

No sooner had the Ximpi escaped, Azar stirred from his slumber, his outcry of rage at his smeared hand a discordant note to O'bog's gleeful cackle. Zorya watched the ensuing chase unfold, a ghost of a smile gracing her usually stern features. The cat-and-mouse game, a well-deserved repercussion for O'bog's cheek.

However, her mirth was short-lived. A peculiar sensation distracted her. Opening her palm, she found the holocron shell nestled within, its emptiness a stark contrast to its metaphysical complexity. A surprise, to say the least. The mysterious artifact from the mind realm, manifesting in the physical world, set the gears of her mind whirring. One step closer to their goal, perhaps?

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar gave up on chasing the ximpi soon enough, the little monkey purposely making himself scarce. He wiped away at his face, unable to get the blue entirely off. Moodily, he looked over at Zorya as if this were all her fault. His expression changed when he spotted what she held in her hand. While she may have been thrilled about it, he felt sick. The Pureblood walked over and touched it, noting how it felt entirely tangible. Except he knew that wasn’t possible - a missing Holocron piece couldn’t be conjured in the physical plane with just a thought. Not without extensive efforts in alchemy - which he was studying extrensively. It was a clue that something was off.

If his assumption was correct, it meant the defense mechanism of this school was far more complex than he originally anticipated. When this thing trapped people, it sought to trap them for eternity without them realizing. Azar looked at Zorya as he spoke ur-Kittat, “Do you understand me right now?” It was a simple, but profound test. If they were still in the realm of the Force, language wouldn’t be a barrier. If they were in the physical, she would just hear him rambling in Ancient Sith.

He had fully believed that slaying the shadow beast had cleared them to leave and he hoped he was right. That hope was rapidly fading. What explained the interaction with O’bog? Had that been from Zorya sharing a stream of consciousness with the ximpi now that she wasn’t imprisoned?

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

As Azar's words washed over her, Zorya froze, her pulse quickening. His utterance was wholly unfamiliar, yet, somehow, the meaning was clear. Unsettling, to say the least. Had Azar’s lingering psychic imprint bestowed upon her some residual understanding of his language? Or was there a more insidious underpinning to their predicament?

Her gaze flitted to their surroundings, a tableau that should have been buzzing with the commotion of droids working tirelessly on the academy’s borders. Yet, a sepulchral silence reigned, void of any mechanical humming or the characteristic scurry of metal limbs. The uncanny glow of Death's Embrace too seemed askew, its luminescence too even, lacking the flickering, dancing quality that gave the plant its morbid moniker.

A chilling realization clawed its way into her conscious mind – they were still ensnared within the mind realm.

She looked back at Azar, her gaze filled with a hard resolve, and affirmed, "Yes, I understand you." Her voice rang out, defying the stillness. In the physical world, she had long since surrendered her speech. This anomaly only cemented her suspicion – they were far from free.

With the sobering acknowledgment of their reality, O'bog shimmered in the distance, his sprite-like form wavering, and then disappearing with a pop, his impish presence stripped away from this illusory world.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Unlike before, he was less pleased when he heard her speak this time. This all but confirmed that they were still trapped in the prison constructed by the Force. Azar looked around, thinking about how easily they had been fooled into believing it was reality. The Pureblood absentmindedly rubbed at his face - was the blue still there?

“You cannot actively manipulate your thoughts,” Azar said after he considered the kind of trap for a long time, “This prison relies on Force users consistently believing that they have awakened. It’s akin to a dream where you get up, get out of bed, go about your day, but you are still in deep slumber. You must center your mind and bring it to a neutral point so your natural, organic thoughts construct this world. It is whatever your mind is at rest and contentment,” The Pureblood explained, “Once that land is created, we will then look for any…irregularities. That will lead us out because anything out of place - that you do not recognize- will then be a product of the Force trap. The irregularities should guide us towards a doorway of sorts out of this realm."

It sounded a little crazy, but Azar couldn’t think of another way out without being tricked once more. While he may not have been the best saber duelist, he knew how to come up with complex solutions to problems. He waited for Zorya to meditate and still her mind and craft the lands they were in to her default state. Azar couldn’t deny that he himself was curious about what that looked like.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

As Azar expounded on his hypothesis, Zorya felt a flicker of doubt nestle in her thoughts. His plan, while intricately conceived, seemed predicated on a multitude of uncertainties. Yet, she regarded him, her gaze as clear and resolute as a polished kyber crystal. For all his quirks and temperamental inclinations, Azar had demonstrated a proficiency in their predicament that resonated with her.

With a measured exhale, she yielded to his directive. Ensconcing herself in the lotus position, she focused on her breath, a steady in and out that echoed the rhythm of the universe. Each exhale expunged fragments of doubt and fear, leaving behind an increasing stillness that swelled to fill the hollow spaces in her psyche.

As she delved deeper into the wellspring of her subconscious, reality quivered around them. The macabre forest of Death's Embrace retreated, surrendering to verdant bamboo stalks that reached skywards, their leafy crowns rustling like whispered secrets. The gnarled, thorny vegetation made way for a dense, vibrant jungle brimming with concealed life, its sibilant symphony enveloping them. Unfolding in the heart of this lush wilderness was a clearing, within which a humble village lay. The unnamed denizens of this hamlet ambled around, engaged in the mundane, their lives untouched by the intricacies of the Force.

Opening her eyes to the vivid scene, Zorya felt a jolt of surprise laced with familiar warmth. She had not expected her subconscious to paint such a raw, unembellished portrait of her past. Yet, here it was, pulsating with life in her mind's eye - a potent reminder of the roots she had sprouted from.

Turning to Azar, she offered him a soft, uncharacteristic smile. "Welcome," she murmured, her voice a whisper against the bustling backdrop of her childhood village, "to the village I once called home."

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

For a moment he said nothing, taking in sight of the village that was rapidly constructed around them. So this was her home? In many ways he felt nothing but envy - he recalled his own home in the barren deserts of Korriban. Many of his people had left for Ziost or other planets, but his family was stubborn. It was all about preserving the Kressh name and pride, always biding the time to reclaim some sort of glory. She would see him withdraw for a moment, his expression impassive which was more her thing and less his. It was uncharacteristic, but he snapped out of it soon enough.

“How did you end up in that ghastly forest?” Azar mused out loud out before he could stop himself. He didn’t forget the glimpses of memories he felt through O’bog answering when he asked who she was. However, asking that question in this realm was problematic - if it drew up memories that were painful or attached to strong emotions in any way, it would change the entire landscape around them.

As if on instinct, he reached out to grasp her wrist, keeping her grounded right here in this plane, “Will you show me?” He asked quietly as he looked at her, “Your home?”

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Azar's words rebounded in the echo chamber of her past, stirring up buried remnants long left undisturbed. A sudden tremor shook the pastoral tranquility of the village, converting the unassuming hamlet into a desolate wasteland within the blink of an eye. As if the divine hand of fate had reversed its hourglass, bleak fragments of a devastating past came pouring into their surroundings. The haunting cries of unseen creatures reverberated within the building storm, their agony reflecting Zorya's escalating distress.

Within the whirlwind of her emotional upheaval, she grappled with her inner turbulence, an undeniable demonstration of her unwavering resolve. Gradually, the consuming flames that had engulfed their reality began to ebb, the storm stilled, and the village, untouched by the phantom of ruin, came back into view. Her voice carrying the burden of untold sagas, she murmured, "A story for another day, perhaps."

With an introverted reluctance, she wove her way through the labyrinth of rustic streets, guiding Azar to her former home. It was an unpretentious structure, its bareness augmented by the neighboring stable where a tee-muss lay. The creature, endemic to her home planet, was a symbol of domestic life, featuring a short proboscis, downturned tusks, and long ears spreading outwards in a stance of calm.

"This might seem trifling to an outsider," she confessed, casting a fleeting glance at Azar, "but this was my sanctuary once, the heart of my world."

The words were barely audible, as if hesitant to escape her lips. But in their vulnerability, they depicted a moving picture of a time gone by, a humble narrative of modest beginnings. It was a realm where the Sith Champion was nothing more than a village maiden, a realm now hidden within the depths of her tranquil consciousness.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar braced himself as the landscape abruptly changed to the glimpse of darkness. He knew the question would trigger something, but it was worse than what he anticipated. He stayed silent as she found her own way back, though his curiosity lingered. The Pureblood followed along as she led the way through her village, marveling at every detail of every plant and flower in their surroundings. Clearly she cherished every bit of memory in this place.

He gave the tee-muss a wide berth, not having seen such a creature. Azar’s brows furrowed as he walked behind her, “I do not understand..” He mused, “You were not Sith from birth. You were not raised with it. You simply…. Chose it?” He asked, genuinely baffled by the concept. Azar’s reality was very different - they were all simply born with the Force and it was their way of life. It was never a ‘choice’.

Azar walked over to where he spotted a giant pile of leaves assembled into a mound. He stared at it in wonder, nudging it with his foot. In the distance, he could see other figures - what appeared to be children - jumping into other piles of leaves. Azar shrugged to himself and dove backwards into the pile in front of him, never having experienced this before in his time in the desert. The simple gesture was shockingly satisfying and he got up and did it again.

“What was this strange custom?” He asked her, wondering why she wasn’t participating.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Hearing Azar's genuine perplexity, Zorya halted in her tracks. Yes, she had indeed chosen this path - the path to unfathomable power. It was a decision birthed from the ashes of loss, kindled by the inability of her ancestral Yacombe tradition to safeguard those she held dear. The hollowness that followed was a void only the potent allure of the Sith could satiate. Her path was bestowed upon her by a passing master, who sensed the potential lurking beneath her bereaved exterior. The thought of explaining this to Azar made her shudder, as if she was on the verge of a precipice, the abyss below beckoning her into its desolation.

"I chose this, yes," she finally admitted, her voice akin to a lullaby forged from steel. "Power seemed like the only path left to tread when everything else had crumbled."

Her attention was then abruptly diverted by Azar's sudden childlike antics. She stared at him in disbelief for a moment before a rich, hearty laughter bubbled forth from her lips - a sound she hadn't heard in years. It was infectious and oddly healing. The sight of this stern Sith Pureblood playing with the leaves brought her an unexpected solace. It was a beacon of warmth in the otherwise stoic landscape of her life.

"Here, the seasons change. The leaves fall. Life gives way to death, growth to decay. But amidst the inevitability of it all, we find joy. Simple, unadulterated joy," she explained, her smile lingering. Emboldened, she too leapt into the pile of leaves, her laughter intertwining with the rustling of the leaves and the mirthful echoes of the village.

After a while, catching her breath, she looked over to Azar, her gaze softening. "What about you, Azar?" she inquired. "What brought you joy as a child?"

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was perplexed to see her perplexed. Was this not some kind of ritual of her village? Before he could stand up and pick up his dignity again, she plopped right into the leaf pile next to him. The Pureblood said nothing, gazing up at the sky that was manufactured from her mind. It was vivid - cloudy with just a hint of sun but not overbearing like back on Korriban. It glinted against his yellow eyes as he stared for a moment.

Her question caught him off guard. Joy? Everything in his life had been about the family name, honor, tradition…continuing the bloodline. His best memories had been with his sister, but all of those were tainted with her death and the bitterness leading up to it. The Pureblood was silent for a long time, his darker thoughts actually influencing the environment here. The clouds above grew darker, churning as if to herald a storm. He stopped himself, anchoring back to her question.

“Sandboarding,” He said at last, “My sister and I would make some boards and slide down the dunes and…waste so much time,” Azar said, unable to keep the grin from his face. He chuckled to himself before he stopped, looking over to see her glancing at him. Azar eyed her curiously, “Did you ask me that because you wanted to really know or because you felt obligated to inquire?” He asked. Offworld human customs were something he was still learning. Purebloods had a blunt manner of speech - only asking questions where they genuinely wanted the answer. What did she have to gain by asking him about something as trivial as what brought him joy?

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Zorya's brows furrowed as she mulled over Azar's words. Sandboarding? The concept appeared arcane, inviting a multitude of questions. The grainy, shifting terrain of sand dunes seemed ill-suited for such an activity. Was it possible to acquire speed, given the persistent drag? Unless they used hovercraft technology, which she wasn't certain existed on Korriban.

Azar's inquiry of her intent disconcerted Zorya, stirring an abyss of uncertainty deep within her. As she was ascending the precipice of power, plumbing the shadowed depths of the Dark Side, it felt as though she was shedding parts of herself - her capacity to empathize, her identity. Amidst the whirlpool of her growing prowess, she felt adrift, lost in her own transformation.

"I..." she started, then paused, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I'm not sure, Azar. I used to know myself, but as I grow more formidable, I find myself becoming... detached. I fear I'm losing sight of who I am, who I am becoming," she confessed, her tone resonating with a profound sense of bewilderment.

This wave of uncertainty reverberated through the shared psychic realm, distorting their surroundings. Piles of leaves transformed into mounts of snow, the season shifting from autumn to the frigid grasp of winter. The tee-muss standing in the field morphed, its shape transmuting into a large fambaa, its enormous amphibian body shuffling in the snow.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

He hadn’t expected the question to stump her - he had asked to better understand how humans operated. And yet it managed to trigger something, and it manifested in the way the landscape changed. Though the plane of the Force, the iciness was mostly in appearance. His breath came out in wisps, and the skies above them turned gray. He turned to regard her while still lying on the pile of half snowed leaves, propping his head up on an elbow.

“Does that..” He paused, thinking back to her earlier question, thinking about the laughter that came from her but sounded so alien- as if she hadn't done it in years, “Bring you joy?” He asked, curious. His entire life he had been taught to seek power and ascend in the Force. The Force could liberate them - but his interpretation was that the Force could liberate one to embrace their flaws and strengths. It meant accepting vices, giving into desire, allowing anger to fuel and to remain apathetic when it called for it. Her path was taking her towards apathy alone, which was curiously deviated from the paths he knew.

“You chose, did you not? All of it?”

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Zorya's gaze, steady and penetrating, lingered on Azar as he questioned her. The words hung in the air, suspended in a strange state between reality and illusion. He wanted to know if it brought her joy, this steady ascent to power, her immersion into the obsidian depths of the Force. She had been warned of this, the intoxication of dominance, the illusion of invincibility. The sacrifices. But had she truly foreseen the extent?

"I sought the might of the Sith, yearned for the power to shape reality." She paused, surveying the desolate scenery, the beauty of this cold landscape a stark contrast to the inner turmoil she faced. "I chose... all of it. The path to power, the immersion in the Force, the abandonment of what once was. It was a choice born of survival, of a longing to never feel powerless again."

The phantasmal landscape reflected her tumultuous emotions, the wintry scenery shifting like a living painting. The snow deepened, covering the transformed leaves beneath its cold embrace while the fambaa grazed placidly in the background. The scene was tranquil, eerily so, a stark contrast to the churning sea of her introspection.

"But it seems," she continued, her gaze piercing the wintry scape, "that I didn't foresee the full spectrum of consequences. The path to power is solitary, even in the crowd. It's not... It's not how I envisioned it."

"As I wade deeper into this ocean of power, I lose touch with what I once was. I watch my old self recede, barely visible now. And it begs the question, who will I become once I have reached the zenith? Will there be anything left of the Zorya who started this journey?" Her voice wavered as the echo of her words dwindled into silence, and she found herself entranced by the sight of the fambaa plodding through the snow.

"Is it not the same for you, Azar?" she turned to him, her icy gaze meeting his golden eyes. "Is this the path you envisioned? Is this the life you sought out?" she queried, her voice echoing with the starkness of the snowy landscape around them.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

He should have expected her to turn the question on him, but he was surprised. Perhaps it was O’bog that usually cut conversations short with some sarcastic jab or a reminder that they had things to do. They still did - they were technically still trapped here and had to find a way out. Their bodies were vulnerable in the physical world and left to that monkey to guard. Azar grimaced at the thought.

“I was set on a path towards what you describe - mastery of the Force, ascension into power, perhaps even towards the throne of a kingdom,” He didn’t delve much more than that. He hailed from a prominent pureblood line, and his family name carried weight, “But I…ran from it,” He admitted quietly. It was not something he ever thought he would share with anyone. Perhaps it was the intimate setting they were in and the vulnerability that came from Zorya opening up the realms of her mind to him. He didn’t feel quite so alone in his nakedness, “That was my choice. I’m starting from nothing when I started from everything.”

He looked away towards the manufactured sky, “You will not be Zorya anymore. For most people it’s never worth it in the end,” He tilted his head to look at her, “I will take what I need from this new Order, but I will not surrender my life to it and the Dark Lord.”

@Aberforth