Ask Yavin IV The Awakening...

[Raz Citlali]

The Awakening​

Yavin IV. The verdant world had a comfortable, temperate climate but a challenging ecosystem and dangerous predators... It made Rav feel right at home. There was a wildness here, not unlike that of her Dathomir. Though different in some parts, the essence was still very much the same; the land was vivacious and untamed. Unhindered, despite its long history of conflict. The Jedi were right to settle here; a strong home begot strong people. The Order would endure.

As much as Rav liked to wander, she anchored herself close to a particular sector of the temple which specialized in healing. Only recently knighted, the Dathormirian wasted no time in honing her skills. She wished to become an asset, a pillar amongst the Jedi's foundation. In order to do this, she needed to better herself. The new generation of Jedi would look to knights like her for support; she would do everything in her power to ensure their success.

Truly the art of healing was a marvel. In times of observation, Rav noted how the Force poured itself into wounds, its power blanketing the injured and afflicted; broken bones set themselves right, all whilst seeping wounds began to halt. Yet she distinctly remembered a master cautioning her; she warned against overestimating one's ability. The force can only do so much. Just like one's body, there are limits. That goes without saying, healing the mind and spirit...that was a true test for any master.

Nevertheless, the eager knight busied herself. Most admitted to the wing were padawans who had fallen afoul of training; nothing too serious, despite some stifled whimpers. Rav aided in their recovery the best she could, some being easier to treat than others. By late afternoon, all had grown quiet and the Dathormirian found herself relieved of duties. She could explore the borderlands of the forests, or venture deep into the depths of the ever-growing library...

But she stayed. She stayed as if compelled to.

Rav was no stranger to this sensation. It was the Force and it was resonating with her, more than usual. She had to stay here. For some reason, she had to be present. Right here, at that moment. But for what? At first, she was apprehensive. Was something wrong? Would a grave casualty about to arrive from a mission gone awry? No. The more she reflected on this feeling, the more at ease she felt. There was no warning to be heeded, no rightful foreboding. Instead, this feeling reminded Rav of a beacon. Weak at first, very weak. But then, with each passing moment, it grew stronger.

Following this 'beacon' with her kohl eyes, Rav's gaze began to drift. Across the healing chambers, there was a secluded spot. It was a private place, away from noise and chatter. Rav knew it well because she visited it often in recent months. In there lied something....someone tragically special.

Before even realizing, the knight was at the entrance of the room, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"It's time..."

@Sakie

 

[Hiranikorssa]

10 YEARS AGO. . . .​

Dawn cracked open like an egg. Ajan Kloss, as though in warning, shuddered the green feathers of her mighty trees, from which she cast birds to fleet. Breaths of wind weaved and crushed before ancient trunks and padawan's planted legs alike, flattening out along damp black earth in whispers. These passed over dark berries, freckles of the forest floor, each one likely ripe enough to burst underfoot. Amidst all of this, young Hirani stood terrible and still, taming these many clustered sensations, as slippery gusts claimed her deeper into visceral meditation. She felt the crushed air spin, warm. Idly, she retraced a familiar odour hinting at thicket, honey, sweat: the smells of any other summer's day by the temple. Someplace she came to know as home.

But by these scents the air told a little lie. For Hirani it was to be no plain summer's day, nor could it ever bear plain fruit. Though she hadn't known it then, fates from faraway bents of the galaxy were already set to converge irreversibly in and beyond the very temple she then so took for granted. Sunlight slitted through canopies; hot rays slowly burnt in strips upon her shoulders, and physically she walked to sit down on temple steps. But Hirani was elsewhere, somewhere over the horizon. The Force nibbled at her the way it sometimes did, as if there were something she was missing, something possibly important.

Hours folded by with the insects. At some point she hadn't noticed, chatter had begun about the temple, filling it's walls with the ebb and flow of nervous gossip. Even passively hearing, one could not help but learn many Jedi Masters were at that very moment arriving on Sullust to assist the Sector Rangers. Her head louder than ever, the Twi'lek padawan paid no mind, and focused her attention, rather, on the forest, in it's own way more beautiful than a temple could possibly be. She walked out into the plant life, to once again treasure it's diversity, to be grateful. The forest calmed her.

And then, in a moment that came and never left, the wind carried a divergence. A fork in the air, a fork in the road—and a sense altogether new to Hirani. A shuttle had landed some distance behind her, bearing with it a feeling which started as merely quiet dread. But this soon shed it's false skin, revealing something deeper and darker than any berry or forest tree, a sudden and suffocating heaviness which bled into her entire sensation of the Force. It was a sense she knew, one she'd read about, even one she remembered. These were the vicious shadows cast by Sith. Snapping out of her meditation, she reached for her lightsaber, but before she was even able to ignite the blade, a horrible strength grabbed around her neck, and tightened endlessly.

The padawan dangled mid-air in her forest, clawing nails at her throat, red spill dribbling down her collarbones. Darting her eyes around the lush for anything she could use to defend herself. Nothing. Nothing. Not even a slight breath fixed into her lungs. Cracked shouts and cries crawled out from the temple; in the corner of her eye, she saw slaughter through the trees. Innocent people were broken, maimed—psyches, like hers, irreparably scarred. Her family she loved and knew—slain, dead, vacant.

Seashells scattered on the shore, by the rapping tide.

Death probed her mind, then, but shrieks of tangled fury warded it out. The padawan had no time for her training, for tranquility or balance. In that moment, nothing mattered. She could not let go of life. No, she could not let go of her family. Tears—which must've been her own—churned against her cheek, and bubbled over her lips, mingling with stinging blood trails. Which must have been her own.

Transfixed in the day, like a flimsy rope bridge, her neck threatened again and again to snap. Her teeth mashed, battling for some control over the agony raking her own body. No use. She had to cry. She had to scream for help. She had to scream.

But Hirani was all out of air.

. . .


PRESENT DAY, PRESENT TIME​

Nothing. Everything. Black. Hirani was drowning. Worm-like cordage pressed against her face, spun thrice around her neck in curls. Sinking, the liquid felt heavy, like a thick blanket, against which her arms and legs twisted and flailed. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Fingers, she swore, still clasped her neck. Desperate to orient herself, she opened her eyes to blistering white: an immediate sting blazed sharp and bright, and her eyelids snapped themselves shut just as fast as they were opened. Messily tugging at her throat, she unraveled the cords which had been around her neck, but there was no way she would make it out of the liquid in time to breathe.

She had to be methodical. She had to try. Opening again her burning eyes, Hirani found that the blinding white light slowly coloured into a less harsh blue, and she could actually glimpse some of her surroundings. A fairly plain room with the occasional bouquet of flowers was visible through curved glass. But as far as she could make out with her blurried vision, there was no one to be seen. She was abandoned here. Confused, disoriented, yet ultimately unable to hold her breath any longer, she gasped her mouth open and, for the second time in what felt like minutes, expected she just might die.

In water's stead, air filled her lungs. Some bulky thing attached to her face, which she hadn't realised was a rebreather, made a loud hisssss as it gave her oxygen. She was shaking, and horribly confused, but she was still alive.

You can breathe now. You can breathe.

Hirani floated there for some time, closed eyes, her focus on slowing her heartbeat back down to a less erratic speed. She could be claustrophobic, or panic at being left in a tank—or she could calm down and work things out step by step. Yet another notion slowly occured to her: the cords she had so speedily untangled were providing her with air, and probably ensuring that her breathing apparatus stayed on properly, too. All things considered, it seemed that whoever was keeping her here intended to keep her alive for the time being, which provided the young Twi'lek some small consolation.

Finally reorienting herself upright and pressing against the glass, Hirani could see someone outside. Unless her connection to the Force was deceiving her, the visitor was no Sith, she could feel that much—and she certainly was not garbed in traditional Sith attire. The person on the outside was far more drenched in light. Relief washed over the padawan like bacta did: not without pain, yet ultimately worthwhile.

And maybe she should have known better than to be so attached. But when she reached out in the Force at that time, Hirani could only think of one question worth asking a fellow Jedi —

"Who else made it out alive?"

 

[Raz Citlali]

At first, when inspecting the bacta tank, Rav found nothing unusual; things were as they had always been. Monitors steadily beeped with the systems operating at normal capacity. Inside the tank itself, the padawan Hirani slept. Well, it wasn’t exactly sleeping. When the healer of the chamber first explained the Twi’lek’s circumstances, Rav was shocked. Nearly ten years had passed since the padawan had last stirred; since then, she simply remained there, suspended in artificial hibernation. Many had lost hope, believing she’d never awakened and that it would only be a matter of time until she released herself from the physical plane.

Rav, however, was not convinced. No one hangs on that long, just to then let go.

The Dathormirian was right to trust her instincts. The Force had willed it, the padawan was to return.

At first, though, Rav was concerned. As expected, Hirani seemed confused and disorientated; understandable, given her surroundings. Still, the knight was patient and waited for the padawan to settle. She didn’t want to crowd the Twi’lek, nor did she approach. Only when Hirani reached out did Rav step closer, and even then, it was slow and deliberate.

The question, however, made her pause. And it was noticeable. Who else?

Ah. Rav remembered now; being a survivor of Ajan Kloss, Hirani knew all too well the carnage that befell the Order that day. The event itself, not to mention the aftermath, sent shockwaves throughout the galaxy. It was wound, slow to heal. One the Jedi were (even now) still recovering from. Hirani, however, was an entirely different matter...

Placing her hand upon the tank’s glass, Rav spoke slowly. “Welcome back, friend.” She then paused, debating whether or not to answer the question at all. Ultimately, she decided it best to speak the truth; Hirani had been robbed for too long of time.

“Padawan...you’ve been in a coma. It’s...it’s been nearly a decade.” She let the weight of her words sink in, hoping it would allow Hirani to process them in her own mind. Rav joined the Jedi Order after the event on Ajan Kloss; it was better if someone more familiar spoke of it to the Twi'lek.

Moving towards the control panels, Rav inspected Hirani’s biometrics. With all seeming stable, she initiated the draining process.

“Please, try to relax. This will only take a moment.”

Gradually, the bacta fluid drained; it was a slow procedure; as the fluid levels decreased, so did Hirani’s level of buoyancy. Soon, instead of floating in the tank, she would need to stand. That in itself was a concern. After days, if not weeks of treatments, patients of bacta tanks might find themselves unsteady on their feet. The medical fluid shouldn’t have major adverse effects on muscle density, but still, Rav was watchful.

“Hold out your arms. This won’t hurt.”

A droid, programmed with retrieval procedures, hovered itself over the opening capsule. Its padded tendrils looped themselves under the Twi’lek’s arms, the motion slow and gentle. When fully secured, it elevated upwards, bringing Hirani out of the tank with it. Not wanting Hirani to dangle too long, Rav motioned the droid over to a gurney where it deposited her down without issue.

“My name is Rav Citlali. You are on Yavin IV; I’ll alert the others to your awakening”. There was an inbuilt communication module near the rest of the equipment; Rav activated it, knowing that soon the appropriate contacts would be notified. Apart from that, she gave Hirani her undivided attention, unsure how the Twi’lek would respond whilst processing all this.

 

[Issyl Damol]

Unlike many of her peers, Issyl's life as a Jedi was that of paradise. A pacifist, she mainly trained as a healer, spending time in the medical chambers learning how to help others. It was fun, relaxing, and new. Every morning before training she ventured outside the temple, collecting and studying the various Fauna. Placing them in her large woven basket that she carried around frequently.

Issyl would always return to her chambers after training to study both what she had learned and about the plants she collected that day. On this particular day, she realized she left her basket behind at the healing chambers, and quickly rushed back to collect it. Turning the corner into the chambers, Issyl laid eyes upon Knight Citali. The young padawan did not know much about the Dathomirian, other than occasionally seeing and working with each other.

"Ma-" Issyl quickly stopped herself and hid behind the wall by the main healing chamber's entrance. She wondered why the Knight was still here, and as she peaked around the corner her interest grew. She watched the Dathomirian knight approach another room, one in which its contents have not been explained to Issyl.

"What if she could be stealing something" she thought. Slowly following the knight, Issyl stopped at the entrance of the new room and watched from a far. A girl in a bacta chamber, a twi'lek. Issyl had no idea who she was.

She watched as the bacta tank was drained and the girl lifted out. The Knight was too far away to be heard clearly, and the scene as bizarre. Issyl stepped into the room "What's going on?" she called out to Knight Citali.

@Sakie @Pam0wl

 

[Hiranikorssa]

Had Hirani the ability to speak it aloud, it seemed her question might've hung in the air awhile. (Or perhaps hung in the bacta for these purposes.) Her new Jedi acquaintance came across as taken aback at first, before a moment passed and a look of something approaching understanding grew on her face. The question still probed at Hirani of course, and the longer the answer was delayed, the more her concern grew. Had no one else survived? What of her master, Master Goordayr—what of the woman she'd come to see as her mother? The other padawans? And what of Grandmaster Boan, that blaze of calm fire in the force which now seemed so distant and dim? All these questions and many more naturally bubbled out of the first, but she didn't rush to ask them.

Then, her new friend placed a hand on the glass separating them. In a strange way, this calmed Hirani. Looking out at a fellow Jedi—appearing to be of a similar people to her Zabrak Master no less—speaking to one another in the silent language of the Force... for a moment, everything seemed as it always was. For a moment, it was as though Ajan Kloss never happened, like a strange night terror that had no bearing on what was real. The padawan took hold of that moment, tight.

"Welcome back, friend.” Her muffled voice even warmed the quiet after the words themselves passed. And it was indeed quiet—through the liquid, she could hear only the patter of control panel noise, and the washed heaving of oxygen in and out of her mask. Another pause lent the Jedi's next words a deserved severity.

“Padawan...you’ve been in a coma. It’s...it’s been nearly a decade.”

Oh. A decade. Ten years. Almost twice her entire conscious life.

The bacta tank. The rebreather. The welcome back. That made sense.

But none of it made sense. Panic was setting in for Hirani once again.

There's no way... I, I surely...

Again her thoughts began to roll away from her, until something Master Goordayr once said rippled out from the corners of her memory.

Take care of your breathing, little one. The Force is as that very breath. It is as quiet, as ever-present, as vital. Because it is always with you, you are bound to forget it's there sometimes, but try to remember when you remember. To breathe, Hirani.

Slowly, she inhaled, and she exhaled. The Jedi outside the tank seemed to say something, but Hirani didn't hear it over the noise of the rebreather. The blue wetness clinging to her skin seemed to thin, as her connection to the Force remembered itself, as did the precision of her breath, in spite of the flushes of anxiety which threatened to overwhelm her. Only then did she realise the liquid was actually moving, the draining process beginning. Hirani's feet eventually set down in the bottom of the tank, the full weight of her own body coming down onto her legs gradually, as the fluid left. She struggled to stand, and had to lean most of her weight against the glass. Now that the tank was empty, though, she
could discard her rebreather, and hearing became significantly less difficult.

“Hold out your arms. This won’t hurt.”

Hirani nodded, and did as she was told automatically. Although strange and uncomfortable, being lifted out of the tank by the retrieval droid was the least of her worries at that time. "Nearly a decade" still stung in the back of her mind, no matter her attempts to assuage it, to try not to think about it's impossible implications. Once she was set down, she was finally able to get a good look at the first person she laid eyes on after waking up.

The other Jedi spoke.

“My name is Raz Citlali. You are on Yavin IV; I’ll alert the others to your awakening."

Yavin IV. The others. So Yavin IV is still safe for Jedi. Yavin IV. But... not Ajan Kloss? Not the world that had been her home for so many years? Where else had the Sith taken? Ryloth? She almost forgot to respond to Rav Citlali, but the silence was loud enough to quickly remind her.

[OOC: arni, short form of arni'soyacho, is Twi'leki slang similar to 'thank you'—i forgot how to do the hover-over-text thingy in bbcode lol.]

"Raz Citlali arni. One name of many my mother gave me is Iko Rssa'hiran." Her gratitude sincere, the Twi'lek gave a smile, unable to summon the strength to hide it's difficulty. Her body was shaking, unsure if from the cold, or something else like shock. She hoped talking might ease it. "But that is too formal. Ryloth-born Twi'leks like me, we don't differentiate given and family names often—in most cases, your given name is so enmeshed in your family's name that they disappear into one another. Twi'lek identity has always been about family in that way. But those I know by blood all died when I was very small, and my second family, they all—" Ajan Kloss flickered in her treasured memories, glowing, lively as moon-stained bonfire, "—my friends all knew me only as Hirani."

Despite her attempts to push them back, slim pools of glitter water lined the cups of her eyes. It seemed as if full-blown tears were inevitable.

And at that god-awfully-timed moment (at least as far as Hirani's ego was concerned) a quizzical-faced creature appeared in the doorway, rather too quickly to be among those Raz Citlali had only just alerted. "What's going on?" was what she'd blurted out the split second after her appearance, and instead of breaking down, Hirani composed a chuckle, her tears disappearing into the expression of amusement. The situation felt so ridiculous that giggling about it, although bittersweet, felt like something that helped her get a handle of herself. It seemed to work, as her shaking too was lost in the confused convulsion of her lungs.

What's going on? I just woke up from a ten-year sleep, I don't know anything about the galaxy as it is right now, and I think I'm having my mid-life crisis before my twenties. What's going on with you?

Hirani wiped away the wet from her eyes with a wrist and, through some deliberation, sat down cross-legged on the floor. She would have to try to walk later, but for now she just wanted to try to catch up on... everything. That said, it seemed clear to her that the new girl's question was directed more at Raz, so she let the other Jedi respond, and kept the source of her earlier humour to herself.

Once Raz had explained the situation to the newcomer, Hirani would introduce herself.

"It's nice to meet you. Really you're the first other padawan I've met since waking up here, and the first padawan I've met in almost ten years, I guess, so that must mean something, right? Maybe the Force wanted us to meet." Hirani smiled, and this time it wasn't so difficult. Somehow the new girl radiated an infectious innocence even in the first few moments of having met each other. But it was more than that, and she couldn't find the words for it. It was more than that.

Maybe, Hirani thought to herself, I'll be okay, if only for today.

@Altaria @Pam0wl

 

[Raz Citlali]

The Twi’lek’s emotions were so raw, just experiencing them second hand was almost enough to inspire tears. But Raz hardened her resolve. She was a knight, a pillar in which to support her younger peers. Better to stay level-headed, than an emotional mess.

Still, this did not stop the Dathomirian from extending her sympathy. “Oh, Hirani... I’m so sorry. I can not even begin to imagine what you must be feeling.”

She would offer the padawan a hug if needed, but for now, she refrained and instead offered a blanket. The shivering was a concern, so Raz once again checked the latest bio-diagnostics. The last thing either of them needed was Hirani going into shock.

Being so focused on the task at hand, Raz almost balked at the arrival of Issyl Damol. Any other Knight might have scolded the intrusion, given the delicate situation, not to mention the extremely unprecedented nature of Hirani’s condition. But rather than strain the situation, Raz noticed now Issyl’s presence seemed to help instead.

She explained, briefly, the current circumstances, therefore sparring Hirani in reliving too much. “Padawan Hirani has been in a coma for a very long time. But, her awakening is very welcome.”

Thinking that perhaps the two might bond, Raz would let the younger ones speak (if they so choose). Admittedly, she didn’t want Hirani up and moving just yet. Talking would be a good distraction perhaps, especially whilst waiting for a response to her earlier communications.

 

[Issyl Damol]

"Ah yes, long coma, bacta tanks in a strange room, how couldn't I have known? Seems so simple and so unimportant that zero context is needed." Issyl said, teasing the knight. Her attention was drawn back to the Twi'lek that was sitting on the floor. "Well obviously I'm the first padawan you've met after waking up.... I was here as you were waking up!" she chuckled as she further entered the room to approach the girl.

"Jeez, these two are definitely something" she thought to herself.

Issyl sat in front of her, cross-legged as well. "I'm Issyl Damol. You can just call me Issyl unless you're one of those serious types." she recalled meeting Knight Marr for the first time, and her monotone straight-forwardness. Issyl reached out and gently grabbed the Twi'lek's hand while presenting a warm smile "It is nice to meet you as well. I'd love to learn about, well, whatever happened."

Realizing that it might be a sensitive topic, Issyl let go of the Twi'leks hands "unless you don't want to! I know many of us do not feel comfortable sharing our hardships." She was unsure of what it was like during Hirani's time, but the padawan of present constantly struggled with emotional and mental pains. Some of them even being weakened physically due to the trauma they endured. A long coma could have easily been caused by a traumatic event, and sharing that immediately after waking up was probably not the best thing to do.

@Pam0wl @Sakie