Open Yavin IV Vanishing Point: The Funeral of Maxims Tionsion and Talak Rand

[Alexandria Voran]

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OOC: Death Disabled: Open to Jedi Only.​

The Force offered no easy answers. It sought balance, it breathed life into the galaxy, it tied them all together, but the path was rarely clear. There was no road map…no bright flashing lights. The Force set you on your path with little guidance along the way. Some believed in destiny. They believed all would be set right by the strength of the Light. They believed if you looked hard enough you would see your path extending forward. The Force would always find balance in the Light. How could they ever hope to explain the pain wrecked upon the Jedi…over and over again. The Force's warriors of Light ripped asunder across generations.

It was happening again.

The Force offered no answers.

Jedi Master Alexandria Thayless Voran stood motionless, her heart broken. Her mind tried to make sense of anything. He had promised her it would be okay…he had promised her they would take these steps together. Terrified and alone, her mind broken by the Curse, Max had sworn he would walk the path beside her. That she would never be alone. Alex had trusted him, believed in him, and took that first frightening step. Now she stood on that path utterly isolated.

She had felt the moment Max was taken, her soul wrenched apart as their connection splintered. Her knees had given out as sobs wracked her body. Waves of unrelenting despair had shaken her core. They poured forth from her mind, unchained, as she grieved. It was only through sheer force of will Alex managed to close her mental walls. She locked away the pain to grieve in silence. And she did grieve. Her body ached and her heart bled. She was not alone in her suffering. The Order wept with the loss of Max.

The Order wept over all they had lost on Denon.

Despair gave way to crippling guilt. She should have been there. She should have been with him. Instead, Padawan’s faced off against Sith Lords, and Max died alone. Her heart broke all over again. She failed him…she let him fall without her. A part of her knew she needed to carry on. A part of her knew the Order needed strength more than ever. Maiko needed her, but it was impossible to imagine a galaxy where she would never feel Max’s metallic fingers on her cheek ever again.

Her eyes tilted skyward. He would not have wanted this. He would not have wanted her to retreat, to give up, to fight alone. He would have wanted her to embrace the Order…embrace who she was. He would have wanted her to fight. He would not have wanted all this drama. No body had been recovered or returned. The Order needed to mourn and so they would mourn. Then they would fight.

Today was the funeral of Master Talak Rand and Councilor Maxims Tionson, the man who had pulled her back into the Order, the man who shepherded the Order forward, and the man a part of her loved. Talak had been an imperfect man. An imperfect Jedi, but he had poured his soul into the Order. He had banished his own personal demons for the sake of his fellow Jedi. His heart beat with bravery that flowed through the Order. There was no replacing Talak Rand. There was no hole to be filled. You could only hope to match the fervor of his spirit with your own.

She would join her fellow Jedi and she would not hide from her pain. There were few Masters left, and fewer Councilors. The Order tilted younger and more inexperienced. She would honor the fallen by facing her responsibilities head on. She would become what Max saw in her. It was right to grieve. It was right to hurt. They faced the struggle together.

So it was, Jedi Master Alexandria Voran lowered her mental walls and let her pain breath. She would not hide her bone deep sadness, but the Order would feel her resolve, they would feel her conviction. Max and Talak were gone but everything they fought for would live on.

 

[Jacata Lurel]

Why did doing the right thing always carry such a high price?

Jacata couldn't shake the questions from his mind. He hadn't been on Denon, but he had tried to help in whatever small ways he could in the days since the Jedi had returned to the temple at Yavin. He felt helpless, more in the way than anything. He would try harder; he would learn to be a strong Jedi like the two Masters they were honoring that day.

He hadn't known either Jedi personally, only by reputation. His pain was the one that the entire Order felt by the absence of two of its strongest members. Jacata wanted to be angry and furious at what had happened, but he knew that would diminish their memories. No, they had died defending what the Order stood for, what was right.

The Padawan sat silently and watched; emotions of uncertainty, doubt, sadness, pride, and determination all swirled within him.

 

[Vahn Berand]

No one was ever truly alone; least of all a Jedi. But this would always be a cold comfort to those who had to live with the immediate consequences of loss.

Vahn Berand had been there that day, and he had a chance to help Master Tionson, but he had made a different choice. In the moment it felt like the right thing to do. But now… he had some doubts. Surely there was another way he could have acted? Another decision he could have made? Knowledge of his choices would have quickly spread among the ranks, and Vahn was sure opinions varied as widely as there were Jedi themselves. He would have to find a way to live with this.

He had never known Master Tionson on a personal level, and even less of Talak Rand. He had known of their exploits, of the outsized effects they had made upon the lives of other Jedi. That he could relate to. Years ago, many of the same faces he saw strained against grief had been there for him and another; young newly minted knights in mourning. He could be there for them now where he could.

Vahn had been among the first to gather. The weight of his choices obligated him to show up promptly, to organize things where he was able. He hung towards the flanks of the growing crowd of Jedi and lay-members of the temple, silver-white robes shrouding his body with his hood up to shade his expression. He was contemplative in his silence, worn, dark leather gloved hands crossed over one another as he stood in respect. But he was there; and he was visible.

 

[Sevrin Valtiere]

Sevrin knew this day would come as soon as news arrived of Denon. He had been away training padawans on courses in backwater planets. His style of training was slightly unorthodox, but it resulted in tougher padawans that adhered closer to Jedi principles. He often spent months away from the Core Worlds to train his cohorts.

The Sephi arrived quietly at the gathering, the ambience solemn and pained to where it was almost tangible. His face was passive as always, silver eyes piercing and observant. Long strides took him closer to Jedi Master Voran. He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed ahead at the pyres.

“We are meant to be here,” He said quietly after a moment, “The will of the Force demands it. We were not meant to be at Denon. It was not our time. When it is our time, we will meet fate that day, but it was not so just yet,” He tilted his head to look at her, “Cherish the time you had with them, for it is always fleeting in the life we have chosen as Jedi. Our friends would want us to find the courage to carry on the torch after they leave us behind.”

He turned back to regard the pyres. His demeanor was unwavering and calm through the spiral of emotions and pain that surrounded him. He was a ship that stayed the course through the waves, not because he didn’t care, but because he had no other choice. Just as the rest of them did not.

“We are here to celebrate the lives of Max Tionson and Talak Rand. We are here to remember all the ways they upheld the ideals of the Jedi and reminded us of what it meant to stand together in the face of an adversary.”

@Valen Pelora @Raydo

 

[Indy Sati]

Pain.

She could feel it through the eddying of the Force, the grief that racked through all of them and the tears that fell down cheeks, some silently, some not so silently. She had been recently back from deep within a long meditation; before, she had held vigil at funerals, but was detached, an outsider to the pain. Now, it was personal, and deep.

The loss of Roland alone left her almost inconsolable, lost on the sands of Corsin and letting the waves soak up her anguished screams. To return in silence, to resume the path of training Padawans, lose herself in the endless work of the archives and annals of history.

And then... Max and Talak.

Long black robes cloaked the slender Pantoran, the hood covering over violet hair. Yellow eyes burned dryly, her throat thick as she stared at the pyres. Locked in her chest was an overwhelming crest of agony, and though she ached to release the torrent of grief she held firm, refusing to even loose a quivering of breath. Her aura was calm, accepting, as she stared at the flames, and her hand clenched over her heart, gritting her teeth as she could feel the prick of tears, letting them sink back, fade.

One slid free, but that was all as her voice lifted, soft in the background.

"We will meet again, old friend. Death is not the end in the Force." Though this was directed for Max, it applied to both of them. To Roland. To her Padawans, who in their zealotry was lost and confused. She had let so much slide in her selfish pain, that lives had been lost. A single thought crystallized into existence, hardened by the resolve that began to spark in her pulse.

"Your example will live on, and I will walk with your path in my heart."

The Sith would not escape with this bitter victory; they may have killed the man she loved, and the man she cherished like an older brother. But so many others would have to come to grips with their losses, so many others suffered at the hands of the Sith. She would stand here, allowing others to grieve. She would live by these two Jedi's examples, but the time to stand by studying the distant past was over.

It was time to move forward... and there was so much left to do.

 

[Isen Ramm]

Heartfelt emotions swirled around the funeral of Master Tionson and Talak Rand. Isen could sense it. There was grief. Self-doubt, sadness, a tinge of anger. So much regret. Isen didn't know Talak Rand. His reputation as a fierce combatant had spread through the order, however. For a Jedi that had emphasized martial skill, Isen had a deep respect for Rand based on that reputation alone.

Master Tionson, however, he did know. Master Tionson was there during his rite of passage in the Kyber crystal caves and was present on the ship headed for home when Isen built his first lightsaber. He was there on Onderon when Isen fought and got bloodied for the first time in battle...and when Isen was forced to spill blood for first time to save one of his Jedi brothers. Likewise, Max was on Sullust when Isen first laid his eyes on the Sith enemy and felt the power and darkness that flowed from the Eternal's fingertips.

In the grand scheme of it all, Isen was a minor side note to Max's life, an "Oh, yeah...I remember him," type of character in his illustrious career. But as is the case with legends, Max was more than that to Isen. He had taught him. He tempered him when Isen was too eager for martial conflict. He had been there for so many of Isen's Jedi firsts. In Isen's eyes, his Master, Izel Thral and Master Tionson exemplified everything a Jedi should be. Everyone else ran a distant second.

Despite all of that, Isen was not beset with grief like many here were. Perhaps it was a shortcoming, but Isen didn't feel like others felt. His stoic nature prevented him from getting too high or too low, and in times like these, he wondered if it wasn't a detriment. Did he need this deep, soul-cleansing grief that he could feel from many of the others?

He was saddened by Max's death, but the grief that permeated the very air around them here did not come from Isen. And, Isen figured a particular annoyance of his would pop up at some point...someone would say, "A Jedi's life is sacrifice." Someone always said that when a Jedi died defending the greater ideals. While it may be true, and he understood what they meant and why they said it, he despised the Jedi using it in that sense. To him, the phrase made much more sense used differently, and would be much more beneficial if the Jedi used it more pragmatically than as an emotional crutch. If he ever took a padawan, he would at least set that Jedi straight on the issue.

But Isen's nature was more pragmatic than emotional. He wondered where the Jedi would go from here. Talak Rand, one of their great leaders on the field of combat lie dead before them. Master Tionson, the very conscience of the Jedi also became one with the Force. One of the Orders greatest duelist alongside who was unquestionably the Order's greatest philosopher- gone. The Sith had been handling brutal blows to the Order, seemingly systematically taking out the Jedi leadership. There was a vacuum to fill, and Isen had faith that the Order would rise to the challenge. Individuals within the Order would take the reins. As he looked around, he felt comforted. Whatever the future held for Isen and the Order, he would accept it. He looked at the men whose memory were being honored today. While the Order would no doubt change without these men, Isen never felt more proud to be a part of the Jedi Order. Their resolve, even until death, strengthened the resolve of the Jedi Knight.

 

[Maiko Sigur]

It was foolish of him to believe that nothing could ever be worse than what he had witnessed in Ajan Kloss. And while he shouldn't be so dismissive of the horrors the Jedi Order had been dealt with that time, the loss of Councilor Maxims Tionson and Master Talak Rand was a horror in and of itself – a blow so devastating it left the Order reeling once more.

With their bond made stronger after her mission to cleanse the temple on Ajan Kloss, it was nothing short of a miracle that Maiko had managed to keep a straight, smiling face to the younglings surrounding him when Master Alex's pain, despair, and grief crashed over him through the Force – a visceral mixture of emotions drawn from his heart the first time he truly experienced loss. The feelings, the connection, were short-lived as she closed herself off, and Maiko would've been at a loss on what to do had he not promised to be by her side through thick or thin. Despite the growing ache in his heart that his Master was grieving, was wracked by guilt again, the young Padawan took the courage to go to her, to ask and understand why she was suddenly feeling that way.

With her answer he understood, and despite not knowing Master Tionson nor Master Rand personally, the young Padawan still felt devastated.

He stood beside Master Alex, ever respectful and mindful about giving her space in their time of shared grief. It screamed loudly in the Force, and for someone who felt so much it was a feat that Maiko still had it in him to stay up on his feet. Mixed with grief were shock, regret, pain, bitterness, and a twinge of anger. They were right, allowed, to feel those things. This was a funeral, and yet it seemed to the Padawan that there were no bodies to bury. This was a funeral, but on whatever part of the galaxy, whatever accursed planet they were holed up, this was a celebration of success of those who had taken the lives of the two Jedi – or so Maiko believed.

This was a funeral, and for the first time in his life, Maiko felt the cold grasp of unrelenting anger.

Why was it that Death always came first, always came eager, for those who did good? Why did Death always hunger for those who do the right thing? Why did Death choose the righteous, the redeemed and the kind, instead of those who wanted nothing but evil?

Why did Life turn a blind eye to the deserving and let Death claim them?

A Jedi's life was sacrifice. But did it have to be that way? What more, how much more, did they need to sacrifice to bring peace to the galaxy?

His vision swam with tears as he gazed at his Master, his heart breaking all over again for her. She grieved for the two fallen Jedi, but there was something about the way she felt strongly for Master Tionson's departure that made her pain more unbearable. Master Alex told him how the Councilor saved her on Ajan Kloss, that they had each other in the face of the Curse left there by the Sith. Perhaps it was a bond forged long before they faced the darkness of that desecrated place, something that went beyond the superficial level of camaraderie. Something that should've been given the chance to bloom further had not one piece been viciously plucked away by evil hands.

It angered him.

It angered him that all the Sith did was to take and take and take, not just from him but from everyone else. They took irreplaceable people from the Order – from past and present – and it was unforgivable. It angered him that the Order – his second family – was mourning again. It angered him that good people always died first, that life was unfair to those who did nothing but extend a kind and helping hand to those in need. It angered him that there was nothing to be done to bring Councilor Tionson and Master Rand back to life because they deserved it, they deserved to live because they were going to help more people than Maiko could count–

And yet they were gone.

It angered him as much as it pained him, as much as he grieved.

He never even got to thank Master Tionson for what he did for Master Alex. Maiko never got the courage, never got the right time, and when he was finally ready – a small basket of his signature cookies in hand – the Councilor had left the Temple for Denon.

For the first time in his life, Maiko felt unrelenting anger that was slowly melting into hatred. He knew it was wrong to harbor such feelings, to direct them at another being no matter their transgressions. But as his Master, as Knights and Masters and Padawans grieved around him, a cold, quiet voice whispered to him that it was alright to feel that way. That it was okay to be selfish for once and to feel anger, hatred, no matter how destructive they could be.

This was a funeral, and yet Maiko allowed himself to hate the Sith. Allowed himself to dream, even just for a moment, of their total annihilation to spare the galaxy from their evil clutches.

Maiko felt hatred, and it terrified him.

 

[Orenth]

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Pain followed the Jedi wherever he went. Every which way his body moved caused it to ache. The cane he was using pushed into the soft ground as Byron made his way towards where the funeral was being held. The phyiscal hurt and loss the Knight felt was nothing compared to everything Master Rand and Councilor Tionson had given. When he came across the hard ground, the new prosthetic foot wasn't fully integrated yet and far from comfortable.

Wearing dark but simple clothes, Byron had only just returned to the Jedi Order. On Denon, he had fallen and been left for dead by Lyra. But it had not been her. It had been something darker and changed by him.

Another loss​

He had not borne witness to the two Master's sacrifice but he had felt it well enough. Even as he had lapsed into unconsciousness, Byron had felt the disappearance of the lights belonging to the two Jedi. Days had gone by where Byron had remained in the lower levels of the ecumonopolis before managing to get off planet. It had been plenty of time for the Knight to think.

Byron had always been one of the lowkey Knights though part of him did feel better at seeing familiar faces. Indyana Sati, she was here, alive. He didn't see his other former master yet, Hannibal. Byron hobbled over to join the others that stood within view of the ceremony. The bearded Knight would remain silent.

Funerals were not for the dead but instead were meant for the living in Byron's eyes. The loss of the two masters weighed on his heart but he knew that some people could become exhausted by loss and grief. There were others, closer to the dead and gone that told him through the force how difficult this was. Swallowing, part of him wondered if it was a wise idea to attend this. A man of many failures, his latest weighing the heaviest on his heart. But Byron wasn't here for the dead. He was here for those that were alive, for those that needed hope. But that was not to say he was not filled with sadness. Raising his head to the sky, his eyes looked up to the rest of the galaxy. That was where the future resided and where Byron would find his own hope.

 

[Crix Aran]

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Crix didn't attend the funeral proper, instead choosing to sit atop one of the nearby stone pillars and watch. It wasn't close enough to hear what anyone else was saying and that was probably a good thing. Mourning in private was very much more his speed and he had so much to say and he knew that so much of it was... wrong. That so much of what he had to say was so very against everything he had ever been taught as a Jedi and he despised that weakness, that little part of him that, even now, resisted the teachings of his Master.

Or maybe it was the purest form of what Hannibal was teaching him? To allow himself to feel it all, everything, and come to terms with it in his own time and on his own terms. Maybe that was it but he doubted his Master would agree with what he was feeling, what he had to say.

"Talak... you coward, now I have to have this fight with myself."

His right hand shook and, for once, Crix couldn't find it within himself to feel embarrassed or weak or defeated by the lack of control. Instead he just clenched his eyes tightly and tried not to focus on anything else but what he was saying.

"You died fighting some Sith Lord, died fighting like a Jedi Knight should, died fighting until your last breath - if you always had so much fight in you, then why didn't you fight more where it counted?!"

Crix clenched both hands tightly into fists as he demanded answers from the wind that snatched the sounds away before they could carry. Shaking his head, he reached up to press the palms of his hands into the horns atop his head.

"You didn't fight that hard for her and I saw what she meant to you. You didn't fight that hard to fix everything that had happened but you went and fought Sith until you died and you LEFT me here like this!"

The horns digging into his palm hurt but he ignored it, pushing through to the crux of the matter as far as Crix's unresolved emotions went.

"I trusted you, looked up to you and you just... you just... kark..."

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

"So much left unsaid that I needed to say to you and now? Now I have to shout it to the wind because you're gone... you're gone and she doesn't even remember who you were! You left it like that?! You left me still wanting so desperately... to hate you..."

Crix shook his head, eyes open, wiping away tears that pooled at the edges of them. He didn't want to cry, not over this, not when he hadn't actually managed to get through the backlog of emotional baggage he held for Talak Rand.

"Gods but I wanted to hate you so badly... But I couldn't then and I can't now. You got me my mom back when no one else would and I... I... I adored you, Talak."

A truth, hidden beneath so much anger and betrayal since his mother's recovery. The betrayal had only come because Talak had come to mean so much to him, because he had built up a picture of Talak in his head and it had been cracked. In time it would have mended and he would have forgiven him but he couldn't do that now. Forgiveness wasn't about venting to someone who couldn't answer back, it was about forming a bridge to move forward again either together or apart but on better terms regardless.

He didn't get that.

"Talak, you were everything I wanted to be. I thought... I genuinely thought that you were proof that a Jedi could do better. That anyone could take whatever shrak they'd dragged themselves up out of and be better - and I needed that. I needed to believe in you and I did. So much..."

Crix just stared down at the assembled funeral, watching as Jedi his own age and beyond wallowed in their emotions. To feel was to be sentient and no Jedi could escape their emotions, even if they did then turn around and deal with them at their own pace. Crix? He could feel it even now, the knot of anger and betrayal he had stubbornly clung to in regards to Talak Rand starting to ease, to come undone.

"I can't keep wanting to hate you anymore, Talak. There's no more time to wait for us to have a resolution - because there isn't one coming, is there? This is it. This is me... shouting against the wind and wishing, desperately, that you were here instead. This is me, choosing to let go of the petty stuff I kept bottled up for a confrontation that never came."

He smiled a little bit.

"This is me choosing how to remember you; as the man who helped me save my mom and showed me that a Jedi could be so very flawed, so very human and still so very good... I don't think I said this enough when you were alive so I'll say it once more."

Now he didn't stop the trickle of a tear that tracked its way down his cheek.

"Thank you, Talak, for everything. And goodbye."

 

[Avayli Torfree]

A Jedi funeral. It was the first she'd ever seen in her time with the Order. Avayli hadn't been with the Jedi long enough to have met either Master Rand or Councillor Tionson personally, but the padawans and younglings had been buzzing with stories of them for as long as Ava had known. They'd seemed like invisible figures, straight out of a movie. Like something out of a historical tale.

And now, they were gone.

Ava could feel the emotions swirling around her. It was near-impossible to avoid, especially with her novice experience of the Force. Grief held in many, many forms. Resolute determination in one direction, despair in another. Ava hadn't known either of them beyond their reputation, so she was at a loss for what to feel.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Whatever she felt, Ava took solace in her beliefs. Both of the Jedi were now part of the living Force, surrounding all of them. Part of the great stream, the rush and gentle swirl that eddied all around them. Though their time had come, they would forever live on as part of everything and everyone. She bowed her head silently. There was nothing she could say that felt anywhere near enough.

May the Force be with you both, and all of us.

It was the first funeral she'd seen in her time with the Order. Ava knew it wouldn't be the last.

 

[Willa Kanz]

She stared vacantly at the two memorials set up for the Council member and the Knight. On the periphery of her senses, she could feel Crix there, though where exactly she couldn't tell. Ahead were familiar bodies; Maiko was there with Master Voran, whom she'd only heard about in rumors. There were a few others that she might have seen before, but approaching closer to the crowd, she could feel her knees threaten to buckle.

Her throat burned as she stared from the rear of the crowd, struggling hard to keep control of her breathing. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and without realizing it, her knees crumpled to the stone beneath, fingers splayed to keep herself upright. Mouth parted as though to say something, but all that came out was a croak, vision blurring as tears suddenly rushed down cold cheeks.

Memories rushed through her mind as she stared ahead, taking in deep gulps of air.

Max, talking to her about the Force, about her fears. Sitting next to her, with that stern dad look, and her first trial as a potential padawan. He wouldn't leave her. He would guide her---

"Kark..."

Teasing her about her music tastes, and realizing he listened to hers. That smile, poking her in the forehead, Chalacta and the well,--

“Think I’ll use this to make a holocron, actually. What do you think, Willa? Reckon I can make it look less ‘mean’ looking with some bright colors?”

She shuddered hard, struggling in gasps of air as her shoulders shuddered to control the sounds that threatened to pour out of her.

"You karking idiot..." she managed to gulp out, glaring at the monuments. She reeled in grief, regret, but most of all... guilt. She was his student, and she was nothing but hard work. Yet he seemed so strong, so secure in the Force, that his being gone felt unreal. It couldn't be, but here she was.

"Who else is gonna teach me, huh?" she tried hard to sound accusing, but it came out weak, throat closing on her again. "By the Force, but you were a stubborn old coot. Probably tried to... talk some bullshit about... p-p-peace or something..." She gritted her jaw, forcing herself to stand, swaying at the soreness in her legs. Wiped at her cheeks, and just stared. Even though it felt like a knife in her gut, she would stay here, and force herself to stand vigil at his memorial.

It was the least she could do for him. She could only hope to live up to his example now.

 

[Alexandria Voran]

Shared loss reverberated among the Jedi. They each shared a unique pain, telling the true story of all Max and Talak had meant to those gathered. The Jedi Masters had held a special place in so many lives. Teachers, leaders, heroes, friends, loved ones. No loss was the same. It created a tapestry in the Force of the lives of the lost. The Old Order would have locked those feelings away, but Rey had shown them a different path. They should face their struggles together…become stronger for it. Alex’s acutely felt the mixture of fear, anger, sadness, resolve and conviction. With her mental walls lowered she felt everything poured into the Force.

A different version of herself would have shied away from the shared mourning. Max had helped her become the Jedi who leaned into the strength she found with those she cared for. The tears in her eyes dripped slowly down her cheeks. She made no effort to hide her face. There was no need among family. The Force vibrated in her mind with the presences she knew best. Crix, Indy, Maiko. Her Force bond with Maiko twisted with grief. The Jedi Master felt Sevrin before she saw him (@Sreeya).

A serene streak in an ocean of roiling confusion. She did not know the contemplative Jedi Knight. Out of instinct, she reached her mind to his, anchoring herself to reality. It was easy to get lost in the torrent of emotion. She kept her eyes on the funeral pyres as she spoke, finally tilting her head to look up and meet his eyes. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Our lives are sacrifice.” She smiled softly through the tears. “That is hard to remember that when staring it in the face.” Her tangled emotions were proof. Alex was an open book to any who looked. She was with her family, there was simply no need to hide.

Sharp dark hatred raced up her bond with Maiko (@Forsythe Crowholde). It was a miracle she managed to keep her face still. That was unlike anything she had felt from her gentle student. She reached across the bond, her mind enclosing around Maiko’s. Her thoughts touched his thoughts. “Not here young one…we will speak later…be strong.” She turned from Sevrin to reach out and squeeze Maiko’s shoulder. He stood dutifully behind her. Her eyes met his as she spoke in his mind again. “For me.” She rose her mental walls around his mind. There was no need for the others to feel that. She would protect her student where she failed to protect Max.

She turned to continue standing beside Sevrin, her eyes on the pyres. As Jedi continue to gather there was an obvious void. Where was Hannibal? Where was the rest of the Jedi Council? Pillars of the Order had fallen. Alex was uncertain it was her place to speak but someone needed to say something. Truly, she was afraid. She could almost feel Max’s hand on her back…pushing her forward…pushing her to be better. Deep breaths Alex.

She stepped forward and turned to face the assembled Jedi. She rose her voice just enough, the Force carrying her words forth. “Our family grieves. The losses we have suffered cannot be measured...Max and Talak are gone.” Her eyes swept across the Jedi. “I feel your pain…your suffering…you loss…as you feel mine.” Alex kept her face calm as she spoke. “But they would not have wanted us to wallow in sadness or to lose who we are.” A new rush of hope beat in her heart. “They would have told us to raise our heads, face our fears, and march on…they would have told us to celebrate who they were and never forget what they gave their lives to protect.” Somehow Max was still teaching her. “They would have reminded us of what it meant to be a Jedi.” She raised her voice slightly higher. “We mourn them today, but we live our lives by their example. This sadness is not weakness but proof of the strength we all share…the bonds that tie us together.” The tears came to her eyes anew. “I will remember Max and Talak as they were and while my heart may ache, I will smile with those memories…and we will heal.” Pain for today…healing tomorrow.

 

[Drow Venn]

The air was somber as the Jedi shared in their collective grief. Drow saw some familiar faces, which was good because it meant that some Jedi he knew were still alive. It seemed the longer he remained in the Order, the fewer friends he was left with over time. An older man by the time he'd become a Padawan, Drow had found it hard to connect to his younger peers and his dark past kept him at a distance from the more pure and pious members of the Order.

Over time, those barriers had broken down somewhat and Drow was beginning to feel like a friendly face here. But Max and Talak...he'd known them. Fought with them several times before, in fact. The Jedi might not put too important a weight on that but Drow had been a mercenary and knew there was no quicker way for two individuals to bond than by sharing in the blood, sweat and tears that combat brought. He made his way over to Isen and bowed his head down respectfully.

He'd long been at odds with his own nature. The Order had been a home for him and had given him a fresh start after he'd lived a terrible life. He very much wanted to keep the Order pure, welcoming, and happy. But his skills with combat had made it so he often found himself taking lives in the name of protecting others for the Order. He had struggled with this part of his existence; the desire to move on from violence tempered with the good that his skills in battle could do. No more. He'd long grown used to taking lives and Drow was...fine with it now. If it meant that good Jedi like Talak and Max didn't have to die, he'd be prepared to kill anybody that the Order needed him to. If it meant that young Padawans didn't have to deal with the pain of battle, then Drow would kill for the Order. For the sake of the Jedi that he so admired and had taken him in, he would do dirty work so that they didn't have to.

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

MUSIC​

Here he was once again. It felt by this point almost like a familiar sensation to the young Councilor, a repeat of events from beginning to end. Hannibal had been out in the galaxy getting himself hurt and now came back to the temple for the sake of a funeral. Two more friends had gone, two more he'd known well to be mourned, two more brave Jedi to outlive.

Two more had found peace in death. Hannibal hoped it was more comfort to Max and Talak than it was to himself.

He wore his robes of course, black and white, the same as the last time with one sleeve empty. In silence he stood for a time before the burning pyres just watching the smoke rise and fly away. Emeralds seemed to take great interest in the way it flittered to and fro through the air, forming vague shapes and traveling in whatever direction the wind decided to take it that second. The smoke was without real form of purpose and simply drifted, unbound by destiny or duty or grander things. Two Jedi flew away just the same, and Hannibal thought it was almost a fitting symbolism for the two.

As he stood he did not speak as some others chose to do but instead remembered their lives. Hannibal had always kept himself at a safe distance from others. Over time he'd opened up more and learned how to truly cherish people and allow them close to him, to understand him more. Even if it hurt in times like these he didn't regret it, and in part he had these two men to thank for that.

Max had first met Hannibal as a Knight back when he barely considered himself a Jedi at all. Over time the older man had become one of the young Jedi's few close friends and figured him out more and more, while Hannibal had done the same. Max had always stuck to his policy of non-lethal confrontation no matter what, a good and just man who only wanted to help others however he could. The simple truth of it was that while he'd been a wise and good hearted Jedi he just hadn't been cut out for war. He'd said as much after Sullust. Killing just wasn't in his nature.

Talak had been a Sith with then they met rather violently on Nar Shaddaa, the first of several encounters. He was the Arcanist and frankly had been at best a mediocre Jedi after abandoning the Sith, struggling every step of the way and weighed down by everything he'd brought with him. But he tried, faltered, stumbled, and tried again. He was determined not to go back and when it came right down to it would throw himself into danger to protect the lives of others. Just as Hannibal had, once upon a time.

Both were Jedi in their own ways no matter with what or how they struggled with it. Even if he hadn't always got along with them- Talak especially, a times- he considered them close friends. Now they were gone and he had to accept that. Crix might not know it just then but Hannibal would be proud of him finding a way to work through and accept what he felt, to move forward in spite of it. Just accept, and let it go one step at a time.

Tears fell freely in long rivulets down his face, blurring his vision as he silently said goodbye. For a while he let others speak, but the time eventually came where he felt it was his turn. His right sleeve wiped the tears away and he stepped forward around the crowd. His presence in the Force awakened with the cooling winds and falling leaves of Autumn as he approached the pyres directly. He was sorrowful, but still here and now he was at peace in his own way.

"We will heal," he said, speaking up in agreement of what Alexandria had said as he joined her at the front. Slowly he bowed once toward each fallen Jedi before turning to face the crowd. Hannibal had never had much of a gift for long speeches, but sometimes a few little words could mean all the difference in the galaxy. So at least he would try. Even as he was clearly and obviously hurt by their passing, eyes reddened and bombarded by the emotions of others along with his own he would try.

Hannibal stood tall and began to speak. His face reflected how he felt as it often did these days, not so serene in appearance as others tried or succeeded in being. But it was honest and accepting and that would have to do.

"Remember well Maxims Tionson and Talak Rand. Learn from who they were in life. Every success, every failure, every kind word, every moment of brightest joy or deepest sorrow. Remember that despite everything they endured they never gave up on what they truly believed in. The way of a Jedi is to shoulder the burdens of others, to help them and carry them through when they cannot help themselves. They chose to fight on behalf of the people of Denon. Max and Talak would not regret this choice and neither should we."

The young Councilor paused, bright emerald eyes that shined with some strange and distant light slowly looking out over the crowd. There and then he took them all in, every feature of how they grieved and every feelings that floated through the air just like the smoke behind him. There and then he made a choice of his own while fresh tears dripped down his face.

"Remember them as you take that next step into tomorrow. Remember them, and let them go."

Hannibal turned back to the pyres of his friends and laid a bare hand on the flame-warmed stone, his voice now quiet and strained.

"Good bye, Max. Good bye, Talak. May you find peace in death."

And then Hannibal could speak no more.

@Valen Pelora @Nefieslab @Phoenix

 

[Alexandria Voran]

Alex remained still and silent as Hannibal stepped forward. She had been waiting for the Councilor. They all had in a way. Her heart broken and bleeding she stayed standing. Tears continued to carry down her cheeks while Hannibal spoke. She felt an urge to reach out…offer him some comfort…anything to show they were not alone. The Councilor stood right beside her before the pyres and the Order, but she hesitated. Truly she knew Hannibal not at all. Alex only knew what Max had told her. Another failing of her isolation. So instead, she simply remained beside him hearing the pain in his voice.

And then it was over.

Hannibal said goodbye and finally washed over her. It truly felt that they were gone. For a moment, she could pretend this was all some horrible dream. Max gone? Never. Other Jedi had been lost but not Max. He always made it through. They always made it through. They had been shot, harassed, and had their very life drained. They’d made it through. Hannibal’s words made it real…made it all impossible to deny. Max and Talak were done. They were never coming back. What was she supposed to do?

She gathered herself for one small moment. Lowering her voice and turning to the Councilor. “We should speak…when you have the time.” (@Mr. Teatime) She felt broken beyond repair, but that small voice in her head never stopped push. He would not have wanted you to retreat. He would not have wanted you to run away. Fight…push…become the Jedi he saw in you. “When we are both ready.” She then did pat Hannibal on the shoulder before walking away. It was an extremely familiar gesture for a Jedi station above. Decorum just did not seem to matter at the moment.

Alex walked away, heading for jungle outside the Temple walls. She needed time away. Time alone. She needed cry and scream, shake her fists at the sky. And she needed no one to try and stop her.

OOC: Exit Thread

 

[Maiko Sigur]

This was a funeral, and yet he had failed again to support his Master, much like he once did.

Maiko's vision blurred with fresh tears, hands curling into fists and nails biting viciously on the skin of his palms. In his grief he had failed to shield her from the anger, from the hate he felt, and the young Padawan drowned in his failure and grief. He was supposed to be a pillar for her in these trying times – the support he could offer her to somehow ease her pain at the passing of the two Jedi who were laid to rest on the funeral pyres ahead of them.

Maiko had one job, really. And here Master Alex was, supporting him – protecting him when it was supposed to be his turn to do it for her.

Fighting within himself to dispel the hatred he felt, to completely eradicate that malicious, twisted feeling, Maiko bowed his head in shame and did as he was told. Ever dutiful, ever obedient. And yet time and time again he seemed to fail. This was a funeral, and yet he had managed to make it all about himself between Master and Padawan.

He could do nothing but listen as his Master spoke, as more people paid Masters Tionson and Rand their parting words. When his Master passed him by he let her, knowing through their bond that she needed some time for herself. He wouldn't stop her from crying, from asking why the two Masters had to die. He would've let her, should he follow after her, but he fought the urge and let her be. As Master Alex walked away Maiko stepped forward, closer to the funeral pyres until he stopped just a few steps from Master Tionson's.

Here his tears fell, unbidden, as he bowed in gratitude for the man who kept his Master safe in Ajan Kloss. For the man he never got to thank in person because Maiko had been painfully shy, apprehensive, and without courage to do so. It was probably one of the Padawan's biggest regrets, and while he knew he couldn't wish to turn back time he had to make up for the lost time he never got.

"Agyamanak."

...even that did not feel enough. He was aware that he was being hard on himself, that he was beating himself up for something his Master would not want for him to do. Maiko never met Master Tionson, and yet he had a feeling that the Councilor would feel the same as Master Alex would. The thought only made him sob harder.

"Thank you!" the Padawan said, voice rising in volume as he kept his head low, tears springing past shut lids. "Thank you! Thank you for bringing her back to me! Thank you for being one of the pillars of the Jedi Order! Thank you! T-Thank–"

He never met Master Tionson in person, and yet Maiko felt deeply moved to feel this immense gratitude for someone the whole Order was laying to rest alongside another brave soul who fought for what was right at Denon. His words cut off into a choked sob, shoulders shaking and throat aching from how hard he was weeping. The grief all around him did not help, and yet the shared feeling reminded him that there was no other path to take but forward.

"I will protect Master Alex from now on, I promise! I–" the young Padawan took a deep, shuddering breath, lifting his head and gazing at Master Tionson's pyre. Promises were meant to be broken. He had to do better. "Adda maysa nga saritak."

With one last look and an offered bow at Master Rand's remains, Maiko turned on his heels and broke off into a run away from the gathering. He had to be strong, but for now he would grieve and cry until there was nothing left but the determination to pick up the pieces and move forward.

After all, it was all he could do for now.

[Exit Thread]​

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