so_out_of_ideas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
so_out_of_ideas) wrote2006-10-30 11:18 am
so_out_of_ideas) wrote2006-10-30 11:18 am
...I could put a lid on my brain...
It's really bad when you start writing AU stories to your own RPG character's lives. *sigh*. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stargatefangurl and I have a couple of Jedi characters who were sort of childhood sweethearts. Since one of them is married now in the RP, it's rather impossible for them to be together, since I can't bring myself to kill off Truen's wife, and there's now a whole series of fics set in the future of the RP in which Talia is present. So, after a bit of scheming, we came up with this idea for an AU in which Sky had returned prior to Truen's meeting his wife.
I know I said I wouldn't fic anything until the end of November, but I felt bad that Nerca was the only person yet to write a story for the current Award Challenge on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_five. I wrote the whole thing in a few hours, so I guess it could be considered NaNo practice...? *wink, wink* *shifty eyes*
Title: Legacies
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: He's going to need you.
Rating: PG
Length: About 2000 words
Category: angst
Fandom/Characters: Star Wars-RPG related...Truen/Sky sorta
A/N: AU to the current plot of the RP. Written forscifi_five. Knight Command takes place 500 years after the events in Return of the Jedi. You might see some things that appear to be discrepancies with what you're familiar with from Star Wars movies or the EU. They're not, it's just that Coruscant and the galaxy as a whole have changed a bit over the centuries.
Legacies
Truen Calladann walked slowly into the dim meditation chamber. As he passed, several tall pillar candles set in recessed alcoves in the wall flickered into life. His robes swirled gently around his feet as he approached the mat in the center of the room. He paused for a long moment, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand before lowering himself onto the ground.
Settling himself into the long-familiar posture, he opened himself to the Force, letting the pulsing, ever-moving energy field flow over and through him, revitalizing his tired flesh and sinew. He let the Force carry him, feeling its eb and flow, its countless tributaries, all swirling and moving according to the pattern of its will.
The Jedi Master lived in constant contact with the Force now, a moving awareness of all life and his own connection to it. He let that awareness deepen now as he meditated, until his own existance seemed to flow within all life, and life itself flow through his body, heart, mind, and spirit.
Suddenly, he felt a ripple in the pattern of the Force. Too small yet, too distant, to discern its nature, but something was coming. Coming toward Coruscant.
Truen opened his eyes, rising silently and exiting the room. He did not rush, but moved with single-minded intent, making his way through the long halls. As he reached the doors, a he paused, smiling at the sight of his students.
Jaen, his adopted brother, had begun learning the ways of the Force with their mother during the war. After her death, Truen had continued that training, and although the young man was still often reckless and irreverent, his antics never failed to produce a secret smile from the Master. Gigi Darkmoon had come to him at the age of thirteen, a young orphan who'd had more than her share of responsibility already. Though she'd struggled early on with her Force training, she had quickly made herself invaluable to the overworked Jedi.
Both padawans were now nearing the end of their training, and over the last several years had become inseparable friends. Truen's smile faltered slightly, his mind drifting backward to a time when the silent Temple had bustled with activity. He and his sister, Kianna had earned the censure of several Masters for piggy-backing each other around the halls the way that Jaen and Gigi were doing now.
He felt his throat tighten, but quickly let the grief pass through him and be washed away by the calming flow of the Force. By the time the padawans had turned to face him, his expression betrayed none of his emotions. Their eyes widened, and Gigi hurriedly released Jaen, who slid off her back.
"Um--Master--" she gulped.
"Tru--" Jaen added, hurriedly straightening his robes. "Uh…we were…uh…"
"Nevermind," Truen told them, holding back another smile. "I'm about to go talk to the Senate. Be ready to leave when I get back."
"To go where?" Jaen frowned.
"I have no idea, yet," Truen replied. "But I imagine I will by the time we actually board the ship."
"Right," Gigi nodded, shooting Jaen a knowing look. "Say hello to Chancellor Markus, Master."
"Oh, I will," Truen's lips flickered briefly as he slipped past the pair. "And no more piggy back rides."
***
Dreams had plagued Skynia Drego all night. She had seen Truen, which didn't surprise her, but she had also seen Kianna, and that did. The Truen she had seen was not the one she remembered. That Truen Calladann had been a happy-go-lucky young man with a ready smile, who's one fault might have been that he showed more interest in playing his flute than in becoming a Jedi Knight. The figure in her dream had been a powerful Jedi Master striding alone through the whitewashed corridors of an Imperial Star Destroyer.
The burden of safeguarding what remained of the Jedi Order had changed him greatly. Yet seemingly not enough to make him raise a lightsaber against his sister. Skynia had felt his shock and horror upon seeing her, then screamed a silent, fruitless warning as she watched him toss his weapons to the ground and kneel before her, calmly waiting. The red blades had risen, trembled ever so slightly, and then flashed out toward him--
Sky surged upright in bed, hugging herself and rubbing her sweat-dampened arms with her hands. Automatically, she began an old Jedi calming technique--three quick breaths and then a slow one, releasing anxiety with each exhalation--but she found herself shaking and unable to concentrate. The image of the lurid red sabers slicing through his neck remained firmly rooted in her mind, replaying itself despite her efforts to clear it.
Finally, she threw off the covers and swung her feet to the floor, welcoming the icy shock as they touched it. She pushed herself up and walked to the door, but stopped there, wondering where exactly she was going. A heavy rain was falling outside; she could hear it rattling down on the thin roof. She wasn't prepared for the long journey back to Coruscant--she wasn't even dressed. Even if she had been, did she really want to go back? Would he want her there now if she did?
Her exile had been self-imposed, not ordered by the Council. Technically, she knew that she could return whenever she chose. He might have welcomed her help once--twenty years ago when the battle for Coruscant was over and he was left alone to piece the Jedi Order back together. The pain and guilt of her own failure had been too new, then, though. She couldn't face him.
She still wasn't sure she could. Despite all his own self-doubts, in the end it had been Truen who held to the path of the Jedi. All their friends--even Truen himself--had failed in some way. Many had fallen to the Dark Side or been killed in the war. Of the few who remained, only one had kept faith with the things they'd been taught…
Sky turned suddenly, startled by another presence in the room. She drew a sharp breath, then let it out again as the Force Ghost materialized. Kestry Calladann's delicate features were unusually somber. She was a bit older than Sky remembered, her long black hair held braided rather than flowing loose down to her shoulders.
"Hello, Master Calladann," Sky said uncertainly.
"It's good to see you, Sky," the ghost smiled warmly.
"It wasn't just a dream, was it?" Sky asked.
"No," Kestry shook her head. "He's going to need you."
***
Truen's heavy footsteps echoed through the halls of the Senate. He moved with the same swift purpose as before, his robes billowing behind him, an anachronism in the stillness of the place. Reaching the wide arched doors to the Senate Chamber itself, he found a pair of guards who each stepped somewhat hesitantly in front of him.
"The Senate is in closed session, Master Truen," the first said apologetically.
"Since when does the Senate close its doors to the Jedi?" Truen asked calmly. "Let me pass, gentlemen."
They eyed one another questioningly, but slid back, holding open the doors on either side to admit him. Truen strode into the chamber, and the men and women seated at the tiered tables within all surged to their feet. The room erupted in a babble of voices, all demanding to know why the Jedi thought he could intrude on a closed session of the senate.
Finally, Chancellor Markus rose, calling for order. "The Jedi have always been welcome in this place, Senators, have they not? Master Truen needs no invitation to address this assembly, I am sure."
Truen restrained the sudden desire to laugh. He'd half expected the old man to have been behind the threat he sensed. He still wouldn't be surprised to find that Markus was somehow complicit with their approaching enemy. Twenty years ago, the Chancellor--then a young, up-and-coming Senator from Corellia--had conspired with the Empire to ignite the Great Force War. Though Truen had never been able to prove his duplicity after the fact, the two men had openly regarded one another as political enemies. There had never been much the lone Jedi could do, though, except watch as Markus' thirst for power propelled him into the highest position of power in the Galactic Alliance.
Now, he bowed in acknowledgement, turning to sweep the room with his eyes as he spoke. "Senators, today I have sensed a presence in the Force that I have not felt before, but which alarms me greatly. Coruscant itself will, I believe, soon fall under attack. We must make preparation--"
Before he could continue, the room erupted again, this time with disbelief and outrage. Coruscant? There had been no attack on Coruscant in generations! Who could attempt such a coup? Certainly not a resurgence of the Empire...
"Master Jedi, you are suggesting that we announce an impending attack on the heart of our civilization on the basis of your intuition?" Markus frowned.
"What I have told you is not intuition, Chancellor--" began Truen.
"No, more the pratings of a romantic who fancies himself the next great mystic!" cried a strident female voice. "The Jedi Order and its archaic religion are all but extinct. Do you have any idea, Master Jedi, the widespread panic you would cause if we announced an impending attack--by an enemy no more substantial than your imagination?"
"Senators! Order! Please!" cried the Chancellor again, now descending to the floor to stand beside Truen. "There is no man or woman in this room who can deny that your place as a champion of this government and its ideals, Master Truen," he said calmly. "And I am certain that, if only you can provide us with more tangible proof of an impending threat, the Senate will take your warnings under serious consideration..."
"What more proof does the senate need than the word of a Jedi?" Truen asked quietly. But the faces around him remained hard, unflinching, unwilling to even consider that their bubble of security on Coruscant was breakable. Finally, he hung his head, sighing tiredly. All his life, he had served these people...did they not now owe him their trust?
"Owe?" spoke a soft voice beside him, as substantial now as the day, a lifetime ago, when she had first chided him for such thoughts. "Truen, there is no obligation. We serve because this is the path the Force calls us to. What I have done, I was destined to do...and so it is with you...serve with honor. Ask no more."
Master...mother...they'll bury their heads in the sand and be slaughtered… he called out, wondering if she would answer. It had been years now since he had seen or heard her, though he often still felt her presence in the Force.
Trust in the Force… came the whispered response.
Truen nodded. "Very well, Senators. You will have your proof, whether I deliver it...or another does," he said with a bow, then turned, fleeing the chamber. The heavy doors thudded closed behind him with a loud echo that rang dully through his whole body.
stargatefangurl and I have a couple of Jedi characters who were sort of childhood sweethearts. Since one of them is married now in the RP, it's rather impossible for them to be together, since I can't bring myself to kill off Truen's wife, and there's now a whole series of fics set in the future of the RP in which Talia is present. So, after a bit of scheming, we came up with this idea for an AU in which Sky had returned prior to Truen's meeting his wife.I know I said I wouldn't fic anything until the end of November, but I felt bad that Nerca was the only person yet to write a story for the current Award Challenge on
scifi_five. I wrote the whole thing in a few hours, so I guess it could be considered NaNo practice...? *wink, wink* *shifty eyes*Title: Legacies
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: He's going to need you.
Rating: PG
Length: About 2000 words
Category: angst
Fandom/Characters: Star Wars-RPG related...Truen/Sky sorta
A/N: AU to the current plot of the RP. Written for
scifi_five. Knight Command takes place 500 years after the events in Return of the Jedi. You might see some things that appear to be discrepancies with what you're familiar with from Star Wars movies or the EU. They're not, it's just that Coruscant and the galaxy as a whole have changed a bit over the centuries.Truen Calladann walked slowly into the dim meditation chamber. As he passed, several tall pillar candles set in recessed alcoves in the wall flickered into life. His robes swirled gently around his feet as he approached the mat in the center of the room. He paused for a long moment, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand before lowering himself onto the ground.
Settling himself into the long-familiar posture, he opened himself to the Force, letting the pulsing, ever-moving energy field flow over and through him, revitalizing his tired flesh and sinew. He let the Force carry him, feeling its eb and flow, its countless tributaries, all swirling and moving according to the pattern of its will.
The Jedi Master lived in constant contact with the Force now, a moving awareness of all life and his own connection to it. He let that awareness deepen now as he meditated, until his own existance seemed to flow within all life, and life itself flow through his body, heart, mind, and spirit.
Suddenly, he felt a ripple in the pattern of the Force. Too small yet, too distant, to discern its nature, but something was coming. Coming toward Coruscant.
Truen opened his eyes, rising silently and exiting the room. He did not rush, but moved with single-minded intent, making his way through the long halls. As he reached the doors, a he paused, smiling at the sight of his students.
Jaen, his adopted brother, had begun learning the ways of the Force with their mother during the war. After her death, Truen had continued that training, and although the young man was still often reckless and irreverent, his antics never failed to produce a secret smile from the Master. Gigi Darkmoon had come to him at the age of thirteen, a young orphan who'd had more than her share of responsibility already. Though she'd struggled early on with her Force training, she had quickly made herself invaluable to the overworked Jedi.
Both padawans were now nearing the end of their training, and over the last several years had become inseparable friends. Truen's smile faltered slightly, his mind drifting backward to a time when the silent Temple had bustled with activity. He and his sister, Kianna had earned the censure of several Masters for piggy-backing each other around the halls the way that Jaen and Gigi were doing now.
He felt his throat tighten, but quickly let the grief pass through him and be washed away by the calming flow of the Force. By the time the padawans had turned to face him, his expression betrayed none of his emotions. Their eyes widened, and Gigi hurriedly released Jaen, who slid off her back.
"Um--Master--" she gulped.
"Tru--" Jaen added, hurriedly straightening his robes. "Uh…we were…uh…"
"Nevermind," Truen told them, holding back another smile. "I'm about to go talk to the Senate. Be ready to leave when I get back."
"To go where?" Jaen frowned.
"I have no idea, yet," Truen replied. "But I imagine I will by the time we actually board the ship."
"Right," Gigi nodded, shooting Jaen a knowing look. "Say hello to Chancellor Markus, Master."
"Oh, I will," Truen's lips flickered briefly as he slipped past the pair. "And no more piggy back rides."
***
Dreams had plagued Skynia Drego all night. She had seen Truen, which didn't surprise her, but she had also seen Kianna, and that did. The Truen she had seen was not the one she remembered. That Truen Calladann had been a happy-go-lucky young man with a ready smile, who's one fault might have been that he showed more interest in playing his flute than in becoming a Jedi Knight. The figure in her dream had been a powerful Jedi Master striding alone through the whitewashed corridors of an Imperial Star Destroyer.
The burden of safeguarding what remained of the Jedi Order had changed him greatly. Yet seemingly not enough to make him raise a lightsaber against his sister. Skynia had felt his shock and horror upon seeing her, then screamed a silent, fruitless warning as she watched him toss his weapons to the ground and kneel before her, calmly waiting. The red blades had risen, trembled ever so slightly, and then flashed out toward him--
Sky surged upright in bed, hugging herself and rubbing her sweat-dampened arms with her hands. Automatically, she began an old Jedi calming technique--three quick breaths and then a slow one, releasing anxiety with each exhalation--but she found herself shaking and unable to concentrate. The image of the lurid red sabers slicing through his neck remained firmly rooted in her mind, replaying itself despite her efforts to clear it.
Finally, she threw off the covers and swung her feet to the floor, welcoming the icy shock as they touched it. She pushed herself up and walked to the door, but stopped there, wondering where exactly she was going. A heavy rain was falling outside; she could hear it rattling down on the thin roof. She wasn't prepared for the long journey back to Coruscant--she wasn't even dressed. Even if she had been, did she really want to go back? Would he want her there now if she did?
Her exile had been self-imposed, not ordered by the Council. Technically, she knew that she could return whenever she chose. He might have welcomed her help once--twenty years ago when the battle for Coruscant was over and he was left alone to piece the Jedi Order back together. The pain and guilt of her own failure had been too new, then, though. She couldn't face him.
She still wasn't sure she could. Despite all his own self-doubts, in the end it had been Truen who held to the path of the Jedi. All their friends--even Truen himself--had failed in some way. Many had fallen to the Dark Side or been killed in the war. Of the few who remained, only one had kept faith with the things they'd been taught…
Sky turned suddenly, startled by another presence in the room. She drew a sharp breath, then let it out again as the Force Ghost materialized. Kestry Calladann's delicate features were unusually somber. She was a bit older than Sky remembered, her long black hair held braided rather than flowing loose down to her shoulders.
"Hello, Master Calladann," Sky said uncertainly.
"It's good to see you, Sky," the ghost smiled warmly.
"It wasn't just a dream, was it?" Sky asked.
"No," Kestry shook her head. "He's going to need you."
***
Truen's heavy footsteps echoed through the halls of the Senate. He moved with the same swift purpose as before, his robes billowing behind him, an anachronism in the stillness of the place. Reaching the wide arched doors to the Senate Chamber itself, he found a pair of guards who each stepped somewhat hesitantly in front of him.
"The Senate is in closed session, Master Truen," the first said apologetically.
"Since when does the Senate close its doors to the Jedi?" Truen asked calmly. "Let me pass, gentlemen."
They eyed one another questioningly, but slid back, holding open the doors on either side to admit him. Truen strode into the chamber, and the men and women seated at the tiered tables within all surged to their feet. The room erupted in a babble of voices, all demanding to know why the Jedi thought he could intrude on a closed session of the senate.
Finally, Chancellor Markus rose, calling for order. "The Jedi have always been welcome in this place, Senators, have they not? Master Truen needs no invitation to address this assembly, I am sure."
Truen restrained the sudden desire to laugh. He'd half expected the old man to have been behind the threat he sensed. He still wouldn't be surprised to find that Markus was somehow complicit with their approaching enemy. Twenty years ago, the Chancellor--then a young, up-and-coming Senator from Corellia--had conspired with the Empire to ignite the Great Force War. Though Truen had never been able to prove his duplicity after the fact, the two men had openly regarded one another as political enemies. There had never been much the lone Jedi could do, though, except watch as Markus' thirst for power propelled him into the highest position of power in the Galactic Alliance.
Now, he bowed in acknowledgement, turning to sweep the room with his eyes as he spoke. "Senators, today I have sensed a presence in the Force that I have not felt before, but which alarms me greatly. Coruscant itself will, I believe, soon fall under attack. We must make preparation--"
Before he could continue, the room erupted again, this time with disbelief and outrage. Coruscant? There had been no attack on Coruscant in generations! Who could attempt such a coup? Certainly not a resurgence of the Empire...
"Master Jedi, you are suggesting that we announce an impending attack on the heart of our civilization on the basis of your intuition?" Markus frowned.
"What I have told you is not intuition, Chancellor--" began Truen.
"No, more the pratings of a romantic who fancies himself the next great mystic!" cried a strident female voice. "The Jedi Order and its archaic religion are all but extinct. Do you have any idea, Master Jedi, the widespread panic you would cause if we announced an impending attack--by an enemy no more substantial than your imagination?"
"Senators! Order! Please!" cried the Chancellor again, now descending to the floor to stand beside Truen. "There is no man or woman in this room who can deny that your place as a champion of this government and its ideals, Master Truen," he said calmly. "And I am certain that, if only you can provide us with more tangible proof of an impending threat, the Senate will take your warnings under serious consideration..."
"What more proof does the senate need than the word of a Jedi?" Truen asked quietly. But the faces around him remained hard, unflinching, unwilling to even consider that their bubble of security on Coruscant was breakable. Finally, he hung his head, sighing tiredly. All his life, he had served these people...did they not now owe him their trust?
"Owe?" spoke a soft voice beside him, as substantial now as the day, a lifetime ago, when she had first chided him for such thoughts. "Truen, there is no obligation. We serve because this is the path the Force calls us to. What I have done, I was destined to do...and so it is with you...serve with honor. Ask no more."
Master...mother...they'll bury their heads in the sand and be slaughtered… he called out, wondering if she would answer. It had been years now since he had seen or heard her, though he often still felt her presence in the Force.
Trust in the Force… came the whispered response.
Truen nodded. "Very well, Senators. You will have your proof, whether I deliver it...or another does," he said with a bow, then turned, fleeing the chamber. The heavy doors thudded closed behind him with a loud echo that rang dully through his whole body.
no subject
Yeah, he's also good at making stuff up as he goes. You should see him undercover.
no subject
*Lol!* I imagine he ad libs everything and manages to make it work through sheer earnestness.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
http://community.livejournal.com/shipper_asylum/35451.html check this out. It's sort of your fault.
no subject
What, who, moi? *Makes innocent face and then goes to click on link*