Alone Time (Mara; closed)

[Karl the Unfettered]

Shard was in trouble.

He knew he was in trouble, he knew why he was in trouble, and he could only hope he'd be able to make up for it.

More importantly, though, was who he was in trouble with: his student, his only student, Looma Isana. She had nearly lost a lekku to one of the hated Jedi at Subterrel, because he had not taught her enough; the error was on him, and him alone.

Not only that, but he had neglected her most unforgivably! Nothing could have excused it!

The Sith Lord had felt her on Bastion, had known she would be coming since he'd told her to do so, but even then he had had to make her wait before he could properly extricate himself from the responsibilities of the Dominion and the countless followers and weirdos he seemed to attract. She was angry with him, and she had every right to be so.

At the moment he was driving a speeder, far away from his responsibilities at the main city, and Looma was behind him. He drove fast and expertly despite his blindness, and the noise of the vehicle precluded conversation: his words to her, though, stuck in his mind. "Come, Miss Looma, we must leave this place." That was all; he had gestured imperiously at a speeder-bike, fired it up, and waited for her to be seated before racing off.

Nevertheless she would sense his attention on her, when he wasn't veering around cliffs and trees and tearing through too-narrow canyons at entirely too dangerous speeds; it was a wonder the bike didn't break down, with how hard he was pushing it.

Finally, as the sun was setting, he came to an abrupt stop amidst a stand of old trees; they towered overhead, their interlocked branches blocking even what remained of the fading sunlight. Nevertheless there was a wide space between the trees, more than large enough for practice and teaching.

The Miraluka dismounted, leaving the bike at the edge of the clearing, walked to the center and turned to face his student. For a moment he didn't say anything, and beneath the glasses and goatee his face was oddly expressionless. Finally: "Whatever you have to say, say it. I deserve it all." Obviously he wanted her to vent before they began; she had to be clear-headed and rational before they could do anything constructive. On another level he seemed to be saying that whatever she wanted to say, he had already said to himself, but that didn't matter so much.

[Mara]

[...from Temporary Home]


She had been right. Her master had not been able to ignore her for long once she had stepped out from their quarters on Bastion and into the sunlight to stand off to the side, watching him supervise the unloading of supplies. Just standing quietly, waiting for him to respond to her presence, her anger spilling into the Force. Waiting for him to excuse himself and come up to her and say something. Looma didn't care if it was an apology, a comment about the weather, or even a reprimand. As long as it was some form of contact between her and her master. Explanations could come later.

But the form of his response to her presence surprised her. Enough surprise that her anger had wavered. Instead of approaching her, he had spoke to her through the Force, into her mind. It had been so unexpected, he had entered easily and send his message. Not that someone as powerful as her master would ever be stopped by her own attempts at blocking telepathy, but at least she would have tried, had she thought of it. They were simple words, ones that made her pause as he had gestured to a speeder bike and mounted one himself. Perhaps it was surprise. But more likely it was the fact that he had finally decided it was time to speak to her, after all this time, after abandoning her after Subterrel. Looma almost didn't believe it was happening.

Slowly she had moved to a speeder bike and stared at it. Never in her short life had she ever used a machine such as that. The yellow Twi'lek had no clue whatsoever. But fain not to show weakness in front of her master, especially since she was so angry with him and believed he was in the wrong this time, she jumped on the bike and pushed the closest controls. With a little trial and error, she got the thing running and was soon speeding on after her master, her cloak billowing behind her along with her lekku.

As the wind buffeted her, she drew on the Force for the pain. Despite the majority of her injury being healed, it was still sore, and blowing such in the wind, sometimes banging against her back, was not a pleasant experience for her. Even with her species' control of the headtails and use of the Force, it was all she could do to keep herself upright on the bike and still following her master; some healing pulses from the Force would have to do until she was strong enough to expand her awareness more fully.

Her master was gaining ground on her, putting more and more distance between them, but she didn't care. Going at a bit safer speed kept her alive that much longer. She followed at more or less a straight line, avoiding the obstacles that her master was getting entirely too close to. This also allowed Looma the chance to focus on what was ahead. With herself opened more to the Force to help with her lekku's pain, and her anger slowly coming back and pouring from her, she began sensing her master's attention on her. She had to smile; let him stew a bit longer. Looma would keep her feelings hidden behind her mask of rage for the moment. Shard would have to pry into her mind to get to her motives. But he didn't; he probably had already deduced the seed of her rage, of her appearance outside the base. Looma wasn't sure if his reckless driving was a result of this knowledge, or just that he wanted to keep their meeting from starting just for that many more seconds.

Up ahead, she saw that her master was slowing down, and Looma began focusing on how to get her bike to do the same. She found what looked to be the brakes and pushed down on them; a large squealing issued forth from her machine. Ignoring it, she got the bike stopped a short distance from where her master was standing. With a deep breath, she dusted off her cloak and got it back to rights before turning around and walking towards her master. This was it: the moment she had been waiting weeks for.

And she found that she was at a loss for words as she stood there, facing him. Even after he broke the silence, asking her to speak, to give him the business, she found she had no words. Only anger. And confusion. A swirl of various emotions that she couldn't make sense of. The whole of the past few weeks seemed to be assaulting her mind at once, and she was unsure which to voice first, if any at all.

Briefly she was reminded of one of their few training sessions. The one in the medbay of the Temple, before Caleb had walked in, when her master had asked her to attack him, on purpose. And she had done so, forming a ball of Force energy. He had easily blocked it then. The idea had some merit now; she even gathered the Force more closely to herself for an assault on Shard. Her master may just block it again, but at least this time it would make her feel better.

In the end, though, she did nothing but stand there, staring at his eyeless face, all her emotions and feelings coming unmasked through the Force. Looma did not bother to hide her anger and frustration that had been stewing since her injury on Subterrel. She had weighed the possibilities: attacking her master, yelling a tirade at him about why he left her, anything. But she had chosen none of them, preferring to let him to make the first move, hoping to unsettle him a little.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Shard did not break the silence, he merely waited, arms crossed beneath his chest, staring back at Looma as she stared at him. He was better at the whole unsettling silence thing than she was, and apparently more patient as well; he could feel her thoughts roiling off of her into the evening sky, thoughts of anger and betrayal and revenge. But he would not let her get away with it, not this time; she would speak her mind and bare her soul, or else...

Well, no, there wasn't an 'or else': he would never forgive himself if he harmed her, he had enough problems forgiving himself for letting her be harmed.

A full minute passed, and he chuckled mirthlessly. "It won't do, Miss Looma," he told her at last, his voice amused. "This whole cold shoulder silent treatment act is so cliche." He tossed his head slightly, like someone rolling their eyes; that was a trick he'd picked up early in his life, exaggerating certain head movements in lieu of the things eyed people did with their eyes. Helpful for expression and emoting, of course, and better for when he wished to hide his non-humanness.

Another minute passed, and he leaned his head back. "Oh... I get it now," he said, the amusement sharper in his voice. "You're trying to unsettle me. My apologies but that won't do either," and he tilted his head down, as if he were staring at her chest; she'd feel that strange, eyeless gaze of his shifting down there as well, and the vague sneer of a man ogling a woman crossed his face. He kept that up for a few moments, his facial expressions shifting appropriately, then looked back up.

"In all seriousness, Miss Looma, I need you to be clear-headed if you are to learn anything tonight," he explained seriously, his face clearing again. "Resentment, anger, thoughts of revenge... these will not do. They will cloud your mind, close it off to what I have to offer you." Abruptly that image of herself he had shown her months back, of Looma as a stronger person, a warrior and a hunter of Jedi, appeared in her mind's eye again. "Remember that? This is still open to you, but not if you keep on being an obstinate little brat like you are now."

The image shifted, and Looma saw another vision of herself: wrinkled, stooped, frail and old, gnarled hands barely able to grip a rusty, malfunctioning lightsaber that sparked as she fumbled at the switch. Dusty, worthless rags, the remnants of a Jedi learner's robes, enveloped her withered and worthless body, itself shaking from arthritis; her pretty purple eyes were downcast, mired in cataracts, yet filled with the tearful bitterness that comes from a total awareness of one's own complete uselessness. Then the images faded, leaving her with her regular sight once again.

"That is what happens to people who keep themselves bottled up inside," the Miraluka explained. "They grow old ahead of time, their bodies become infirm and unable to respond." His silenced pistol flew to his hand; he aimed behind and up, fired into the nearest tree, and some little mammal or other cried briefly and fell to the ground in a furry huddle, knocking leaves from the branches it hit along the way. "They die with less dignity than that thing, and their lives never leave any impact on the galaxy at large.

"You do not want that to happen to you, Miss Looma," he concluded, holstering his weapon. "But it will, if you do not confide in me as to what is seething inside your bosom at the moment. Now speak to me, open yourself up, and I promise I will do the same." The way he spoke indicated he meant it, and not even a rock could mistake otherwise.

[Mara]

(((Let me know if the font color is too bright against the new skin...)))


Second thoughts flooded her mind as she stood there, wondering if she should have just said something, anything. Plucked one of the many emotions and ideas rolling through her and voiced it out loud. But Looma hadn't known where to start. No clear words would form on her tongue, and she could just stare across at her master. When the silence she had created continued on, added to by Shard, she half-turned back to the bike she had followed him in, thinking to leave. That this confrontation was a bad idea after all. Who was she to call out her master for? She was the student; he was the all-knowing master.

Looma continued the turn, putting her back to her master, but not moving any further away. She came to a quick decision and turned back around to face him. No, just up and leaving wouldn't solve anything. The problems and her anger would just keep festering until, quite possibly, she could put herself in mortal danger without realizing it. Her rage creating recklessness. Her lack of resolution with her master creating a further rift. Things were coming to a head now, and she had to deal with it now. No matter what she thought of her master's actions in the past few weeks, this confrontation was her idea, and she needed to do something about.

But she had no chance to get her thoughts in order and speak her mind; Shard broke the silence finally, taunting her. Looma forgot anything she had been possibly about to voice as his words just fueled her anger further. Her master seemed to be making a mockery of this meeting. A meeting that, if it hadn't been for his lack of care, wouldn't need to happen at all. She clenched and unclenched her yellow fists as her violet eyes narrowed and bored into his glasses. It took all her willpower and a full grasp of the Force to hold herself in check. One of the few things she had actually learned while in his presence was to let him finish speaking, and right now, he didn't seem done with her yet.

The act of him pretending to actually notice her bosom didn't bother her. For one, she was used to it; it was a necessary evil of a female of her species, even one trained in the Sith Force arts. And secondly, she was dressed in casual, comfortable clothing, with her cloak on top of everything besides. There was really nothing to see, even for a being with real eyes. The gesture was lost on her and didn't unsettle her in the least way. Looma never even considered the possibility that her master was doing such for more than just tactical reasons. She had seen fleeting glances of him with Shandari. Besides, if he ever did make moves on her, she'd dump as her master so fast... And try not to let Caleb know. The poor, handsome fool would get himself killed needlessly.

Briefly she had thought about repaying the favor, but decided against it. She found she couldn't really remove her eyes any lower than his face; he held her attention, plus her anger wouldn't let her stop trying to shoot blaster bolts from her eyes at him. Looma let up, though, when her master seemed to be finally getting to the point, his voice and words turning serious, speaking of training and lessons. This made her skeptical, but she was willing to keep listening for a while longer. Why he should want to teach her something now of all times was odd, especially after ignoring her for so long.

She took a couple steps nearer and folder her arms across her chest, the gesture moving her cloak open a few more inches, revealing the mostly useless lightsaber hilt at her belt. Looma was ready for her lesson, but it didn't come. Obviously Shard was not yet ready to let go of the anger that she had bricked away again at the prospect of moving on. She had been foolish to think that. Of course they would have to settle things before he would even teach her the simplest tasks. And his tactic was to show her again the vision he had shown her what seemed like a lifetime ago. What he hoped to gain from it, she wasn't completely sure.

Trying to figure out his motive, and the motive behind his motive, the vision morphed, showing her a very different image of her future self. It barely looked like her. Looma was appalled, and her anger spilled over the dams inside of her, flowing into the Force around her. Why would he show her such a thing? That if she didn't shape up and obey him, she'd turn into an old hag instead of the first, vibrant image of herself? There was no way he could see the future, only manipulate her view of it.

His words, the death of a random animal, barely penetrated as she allowed her anger to grow. Her fists clenched again, her knuckles showing white against the yellow skin. The only reason she would ever turn into that image is because of what HE did or did not do. Not because of her. It was her master's failing, not hers. How could she be expected to act the way he wanted her to if he was hardly ever around?

That was the last straw for her. No longer did she care what she said to him, as long as she said it, loudly. And not just with her tongue either. Looma lashed out at her master with a singular focus. Perhaps if she had been in a clearer mind she would have realized she was obeying him by attacking him so, instead of remaining stoic in front of her. But that didn't leak through to her anger-addled mind.

A hand reached out and squeezed the air as she pulled in all the Force and anger she could get and focused on her master's windpipe. A small piece of her mind knew that it wouldn't do any harm, but she didn't care. The anger was driving her now. Looma continued to squeeze, nails digging into her hand. Her purple eyes darkened further and blasted glares against Shard's goggles. "It's all on you! It's your fault. If there's any failing of mine, it's because you failed me!" She screamed at her master, the words just pouring out without a filter, without complete organization.

"I've been so patient, going along with you on all your stupid travels, waiting for a lesson, and rarely getting one. Feeling more like your pet or slave than your student! You've been my master how long? And what have I learned? Nothing!

But you're blind to that! So blind that you took me into battle before I was ready. And look at what happened!" Looma took a moment in her rant to pull at her right lekku, the injury now hidden by her new leather covering. "Would any other master have taken a student into war with my level of training?

And then the worst part... you deserted me! When I needed you most, you were gone! I was alone! ALONE! For weeks on end. And then you show up later just to force me to bask in your own stupid pride and glory, Lord Memnon..." She spat out the name and rank he had been given by Darth Iniquitous. "Only to leave me again!"

She paused in her rant to catch her breath, her chest heaving with the effort, before delivering the final blow. Looma took a couple steps back from her master, removing her grip from his neck, a grip that probably never endangered him anyway but had felt good. "I should find a new master, someone who cares about me and actually wants to train me." And then she turned around and took a couple more steps towards her speeder bike. Looma was still angry, probably would be for a while, but it was slowly fading and no longer had a clear direction against her master. He had wanted her to speak her mind, and she had done so.




EDIT: I accidentally had left lekku instead of right, so edited to fix back to right... to be consistent with all other mentions of it.

[Karl the Unfettered]

And so it comes, Shard thought as the heat rolled off of his student. "Yes... let it all out," he muttered as she lashed out, with the Force and with her words; the Force attack was a bit more effective than she might have thought, had she been thinking, but ultimately pointless nonetheless. Really more of a distraction from her words, discordant as they were despite the skewered truth lurking in them. They hit their mark more than her paltry try at choking him, to be sure, and he would have to work on that.

"I did not force you to attend that ceremony, Miss Looma," he said quietly. "In fact I had no idea you were planning to attend at all. I'd rather you hadn't; I wasn't at my best that evening, not by a long shot. Do you want to know why?" At that he threw something past her, toward the bike she had driven to get here; it came very close to her arm, cutting through her clothes like a lightsaber through ice and leaving a very shallow wound, little more than a paper cut, about an inch long just below her shoulder.

It was a knife, and it flew on to embed itself through the ignition mechanism of her bike, clear through to the hilt, plainly ruining the vehicle. "That dagger... its edge cannot be measured with conventional tools," he explained. "There is nothing it cannot cleave through or pierce, so sharp is the blade." He had come up beside her, and now seemed to be regarding the vehicle; his strange gaze was on her, however. "I have so many ways of killing people, even without the Force... you'd never think a mere slave could come so high, would you?"

The Miraluka chuckled bitterly, and retrieved the dagger, returning it to its sheathe with exaggerated caution. "Oh yes, Miss Looma, I was once a slave... why do you think I have outlawed slavery within my Dominion? Why do you think I am always so displeased with that creature Lee Ru Bass? You are lucky, you know, you and all the other young Sith; you have teachers, instructors, Dark Lords to look up to and emulate. I? I had to make my own way through the darkness, fumble futilely around and teach myself the things I know now. And to hear you complain about not getting lessons when it suits you? The irony is... painful. And not in a good way." He chuckled again, the sound just as bitter as before. "Ingratitude does not suit you at all, you know. Not in the least."

"Anyway, that is neither here nor there." He turned away from the bike and went back to the center of the clearing. "What is here and now, are you and I." He turned again, facing her directly. "And you need not worry about me 'making moves' on you, Miss Looma; I have no interest in robbing cradles, and no interest in having to kill your boyfriend in self-defense." This was said with a completely straight face, unlike most of the things he said where one couldn't tell if he was serious or secretly laughing at you behind his glasses.

"Now. I had meant to begin with teaching you the basics of Makashi, but that little trick you pulled just now... I believe it worth exploring. Do it again, only without the screaming rage of the bratty little kid you've been acting like for weeks on end. You just turned eighteen recently, did you not?" He had meant to give her something for that, something extravagant yet practical; a new set of robes, some jewelry, something. Obviously he had not been able to. Hopefully she would accept a delay. "Well, act like it. Clear your mind, be as cold as the wastes of Rhen Var, and do that little trick again. With focus, this time."

[Mara]

She was still wrapping her mind around the fact that what she had just done was in fact real. That she had finally voiced all her frustration of the past months since gaining Shard as her master. It was a strange feeling for Looma. The Twi'lek had never really been the type to do something like that, to anyone. Perhaps her wound had messed her up more than she and the doctors had though. Or perhaps her master's indifference had wounded her in the say way.

Looma had taken a few steps closer to the bike when something flashed past her side, slicing through her clothes and grazing her skin. Still a bit tightly wound from her anger and recent outburst, she barely felt it, only heard it. And though she was still deep within the Force, she hadn't felt the attack coming, her body still prickling with the adrenaline of earlier.

At the same time, her master had finally responded, bringing up what was probably the most benign thing from her tirade of moments before--the ceremony. No, maybe it had been more of a request, than an order, but in the heat of the moment any being was prone to exaggerate. And what did he mean about not being his 'best'? Looma, in a more suicidal mood, would have voiced something to the effect of him never being his best when she was around, but decided not to and left the comment go.

In the process he had come up closer to her, retrieving the object which had just recently slashed through her cloak and rendered her bike inoperable. She was not surprised to see that it was a knife. It wasn't the first time that she had seem him use something other than a lightsaber or the Force as a weapon. But what was strange was she wasn't sure his motives behind such. To prevent her from leaving? That could been done with words. Words she needed to hear but hadn't yet.

He spoke on then about his past, about being a slave. Was Looma supposed to feel sorry for him? To feel lucky that if it hadn't been for the Jedi showing up when they had to her village she would now be a slave herself? The yellow Twi'lek wasn't exactly swelling with happiness at the present moment. Did the ignorant bastard even know her older sister was currently a slave, if she was even still alive?

Again she wondered what the purpose was of this speech. Her master kept avoiding the important things. Focusing on her ingratitude, having the gall to say that it was her fault he wasn't teaching her. Looma hadn't been the one always running off. She had called him out on his disappearances, his lack of training and time with her, his failings as a master, practically screamed it at him, and all he could speak of was his past life as a slave. Earlier Looma hadn't really meant it when she said she would find a new teacher, but now... she was considering it for real. If this one couldn't focus on the real situation, she'd find one who could.

Apparently he was finished, had said his piece, a very nice but completely unrelated piece. She heard him move off behind her, back into the clearing, spewing off something about Caleb that was entirely irrelevant, once again, to the current conversation, if what he had said could be construed as sense. Looma had never brought up anything of the sort; she had been focused on other things during her rage-induced tirade.

Shard thought the matter was over with, his words flowing right into what could be taken as the beginning of a lesson, but Looma wasn't finished yet, even though the prospect of closing her invisible fist over his windpipe was tempting. Not with so many open ends still lying around. So many things her master hadn't answered for yet. The screaming and 'brattiness' might be done; she had gotten that out of her system for the next long while. Now she would 'act her age' and ask, as an adult, that her master explain a few things. There was no way she would let him teach her anything more until she had answers.

"No." She said it simply and quietly, without any hint of anger. There was still some rage lingering but nothing she couldn't handle, nothing that wouldn't go away soon enough. Now she was speaking out of concern for her own future. To get her master to account for his deficiencies instead of hiding behind them under guise of lessons. Looma turned around, finally, away from the broken bike and faced her master. "Not until you actually answer me, instead of throwing up wasted words that mean nothing to me." A deep breath before she continued again, plunging into the matter that, of everything that frustrated her, was probably the biggest one. "All I ask is 'why?' Why leave me when I needed you the most?"

[Karl the Unfettered]

((This is the final post in which Shard as he was will appear, and it should tie up most of the loose ends regarding his departure and the dissolution of the Dominion. He will not come back for a long time, if he comes back at all.))

The Miraluka opened his mouth to respond, but for a second nothing came out. Why had he left her? He had other responsibilities, but he doubted she would accept that even if it was true. The Dominion, his duties as Lord Memnon, the unrelenting horde of supplicants, hangers-on and overawed followers that he seemed to attract like honey does flies... Normally he dealt with it easily, almost unconsciously, but lately he'd been feeling his age. That was the real reason, no doubt, but he didn't want to mention it.

"I have other responsibilities, Miss Looma," he said slowly, "to the Empire and the Order, and to my Dominion. Now, enough of this chatter and stalling, we have a training session ahead of us and I do not intend to spare you." And then there were no more words; he drew his lightsaber, stepped forward and beckoned for her to approach him as well, and he began teaching her about Makashi.

The sun went down, and still he pressed her; Makashi wasn't the only thing he covered that night, he had her practice the makeshift choke she had tried, they went over Dun Moch and how to unnerve opponents in fights, and he worked her telekinetic prowess to its limits in attempting to uproot one of the great trees that surrounded them. He had water bottles from somewhere, and he called breaks when necessary, but overall it was the lesson perhaps she had always wanted.

Finally, in the dark hours of morning, he stopped and regarded her. "Well done, Miss Looma. We shall return now," he said, activating the remaining swoop bike with a wave of his hand. "There is only one vehicle, so you will have to ride behind me; do hold on tight, I will not be taking it slow." He mounted the vehicle, waited for her to climb up behind him, and with a roar they were off. Like before he did not slow down much, taking turns at speed and generously applying the throttle; for someone with eyes such recklessness would have been suicidal in the darkness, but he had no eyes and was not bothered by the night.

Dawn was just streaking the sky as they approached the base, though he did not stop at the bunkhouse or his headquarters; instead he went past these, pulling up at the starport outside the settlement. He shut the bike off and was silent for some moment, contemplating something, then he swung himself off and stood at Looma's side, a hand on her shoulder to forestall her own dismount.

"Miss Looma," he began, and she would never have heard that particular note of hesitation and weariness in his voice, "I did not tell the full truth earlier. I have not been with you because I am getting old; I cannot multitask as I once did, all my other duties have occupied me to your detriment, when your training should have been foremost on my agendas. I cannot make up for this, not now, and perhaps not ever."

He paused, took his hand away and turned to face the port. "Confronting you yesterday opened my eyes, if you'll pardon the metaphor; it made me see what I've been blind to, which is that my efforts have been in vain. My Dominion is stagnant, fractured and useless, her soldiers and warriors denied the glory they deserve as I fuss about with politics and the posturing of the Lords; at Korriban, my name is a joke, spoken as a mark of shame upon those who claim allegiance to me and mine. They do not deserve this, and I am remiss in holding them back."

Shard faced Looma again, and in the darkness his hands glowed; in the white light his face seemed gaunt, scarred, beaten. "Go to my man Kurtz, tell him the Dominion is no more; find Lady Madora and Lord Phaestus, tell them their debts are paid and their duty to me is discharged; tell my faithful Cho Wroth his life-debt is fulfilled, and he is no longer in my shadow. Go before Iniquitous and the other Lords, tell them I renounce the name of Memnon and the duties of a Sith Lord, and will not trouble them further. If any of them should doubt your words, show them this," and he reached inside his tunic, removed an ancient and ornate golden necklace with a huge ruby at the center of the elaborate pendant, and hung it around her own neck.

"This is my sigil, a lucky charm that has never left my neck since I found it twenty-three years ago. I pass it on to you, as your assurance that your words will not be doubted; once you have done as I asked, once you have seen to it that my Dominion is no more and her resources are once again in proper Sith hands, destroy it utterly, for its purpose will be fulfilled." He stepped back, and regarded her again. "You must obey me in this, Miss Looma. These are my last orders, to you and to everyone, for when I board that ship I will not return. You will not see me for a long time, if you ever see me again at all.

"Find another master, Miss Looma, one who will do for you what I could not, who could fulfill the promise of glory and power I made to you when we first met as master and student. What I have taught you, such as it is, was but a step in that direction; I have taught you to fight, to manipulate, to command and intimidate, and I implore that you never forget these few lessons. They will, in all likelihood, be the last ones I will ever give."

Another pause, longer than the others, and he looked older than ever. "Do your new teachers proud, my dear," he said in a low voice, finally turning to go away before stopping once more. "No, this is a bad note," he muttered to himself, turning back. "I cannot leave you with only a trinket you are charged to destroy once it is useless, that's bad form." He reached down, removed his lightsabers, and held them out to her; the black casings and golden fixtures gleamed in the white light he still gave off.

"I give you my weapons, which have drunk deeply of Jedi blood and the blood of our enemies. They will ever seek out the foes of the Order and of my shattered Dominion, and they will certainly guide you through your training. Use them or not as you like, but please keep them; do not sell, or destroy, or give them away or allow them to be stolen. This is my final command to you, Miss Looma, while I am still your master.

"Now go. I have placed a heavy burden on you, but your shoulders are strong and I am certain you will carry it well. Always remember that I am proud of you, as your future teachers will be." When this was over, Looma might realize he had spoken to her as an equal, treated her as one worthy of the enormous trust he'd put in her; as an adult, in other words, not a child or a student.

But that was for later, for now he was done; the light of his hands went out, he turned away from her and walked up the ramp and into the starport. A shuttle was quickly prepared, and the Looma Isana would be the last witness to Charlill Sylvorr as people knew him; a swiftly rising ship, confidently piloted, rapidly disappearing into the endless blanket of stars.

And like that, he was gone.

((Well, that's that. No more Shard, no more Dominion. It was fun, but it has to end. Thanks to everyone who made the Dominion what it was, and what it could have been, and who joined me in RPing Shard's story. This is the end of it, for now; eventually I may bring him back, but I'll have to grow as a writer and a role-player before I can pick him again.))

[Mara]

Looma saw him start to speak but pause. Then, in that moment, she thought she had finally got to her master. That after all the shouting and loud declarations and biting words on both sides of their conversation he finally understood what she had been telling him. She stood there quietly, her violet eyes searching Shard’s eyeless scarf-covered face. If she was to finally get some answers, she wanted to be as attentive as she could be. Though there was probably a dozen ways he could respond to her question, and only one of them that she wanted, she felt that any reply would satisfy her. It wasn’t a giant request, after all. The Twi’lek just needed to know why the Miraluka master of hers had abandoned her, had spent more time away from her than with her. Even if she didn’t like Shard’s answer, it would be a start.

But then he did supply her with an answer to her question, and she didn’t like it at all, to be certain. And despite all of her thoughts, she was absolutely not satisfied with it. Looma felt like she had been slapped or betrayed. She didn’t care who her master was. It seemed like a cop out to her to say that he had left her alone, gravely wounded, in the Temple’s medbay because of his other responsibilities. The Twi’lek didn’t think she was being selfish about the situation. She just felt that she deserved a bit more of her master’s attention than she had been given. All of the other Sith who had students also were under the thumb of the Order, maybe not to a sub-group like the Dominion, but they still had multiple responsibilities. And during her brief time at the Temple where she had been around other students Looma had never heard any of them claim that they were ignored. Her eyes hardened, and she felt like lashing out again, with words, with the Force, to hell with her so-called brattiness and immaturity.

And continuing, he had the gall to just swipe the matter aside as if it was finished—or maybe he was just avoiding giving her a real answer or the chance to talk back to him—and again bring up his wanting to teach her something this day. Looma was seething inside; she didn’t want to learn anything more right now. Despite all her earlier words and the fact that all she really had wanted from her master was some attention, some lessons in the Force. But she wanted more answers. It was not to be, though, because almost immediately after he ended the conversation about his explaining his actions he drew his lightsaber. Setting her jaw to the task, she forced her anger back, where it continued to simmer and reduce into something more potent, waiting for its chance to be released again. Now she would just have to play along with Shard, and so she drew her own weapon, glad that he meant to teach her, not strike her down for insubordinance.

Having pushed her anger away, she focused all her concentration on his words. Even if this wasn’t the ideal situation that she had hoped would result from this confrontation, it was still a chance to learn something from her master. And perhaps this was the start of a new beginning for the both of them, master and student. With a little of this optimism now at the forefront of her mind, she dove into the instructions. She moved her lightsaber through the unfamiliar moves of Form II, gradually picking up some of its nuances throughout the afternoon and into the evening and night. Throughout the lessons there were brief rest breaks or stops to learn about something else, keeping her body and mind fresh to the task at hand. Besides Makashi, there were further lessons in enhancing her natural telekinesis skills, in breaking down her opponents’ wills with the use of Dun Moch.

Though some part of her had noticed that the day was growing darker, the night growing lighter, in the hours spent learning, Looma was still surprised to notice how late, or early, it was when finally her master stopped the marathon lessons in various aspects of the Force and lightsaber combat. Feeling exhausted but in a good way, she shut down her own weapon and regarded her master, wondering what was coming next. Any thoughts of what had happened only a half day earlier were a distant memory at the moment. Right now she was just looking forward to what was next. Looma had been encouraged by this time spent with her master. Perhaps they really had turned over to a new leaf. She was ready to return to the base, or even the Temple, for some rest before meeting Shard again for more lessons.

As they sped back to base with her holding tightly to her master without a self-conscious thought, she stayed quiet. Not because the speed at which the bike was traveling inhibited speech—anything could be enhanced with a touch of the Force—but because she was lost in her thoughts, thinking about what he would teach her next. Looma was prepared to forget her anger now; no longer was she just putting off the inevitable as she had thought when the lesson began. Confronting him again now with her questions, after what he had just shown her, would just prove fruitless to their newly re-forged relationship. The wind whipped her cloak and her headtails behind her, and for once, still resting in the elation of gaining her master again, the jostling did not bother her wounded lekku.

Flying high as she was, she didn’t notice until the speeder bike came to a halt and she looked around in the pre-dawn light that they hadn’t stopped at the base. Instead, she was looking out at the small spaceport, near the spot where the whole awfulness of the day before had begun. Confused, she looked to her master standing beside her after he had dismounted and shut down the vehicle. He laid a hand on her, ostensibly to keep her from joining him on the permacrete, but at the moment the gesture was fruitless. Looma had no inclination to move, her entire mind buzzing with what this stop meant, whether this would be yet another lesson.

In the next few minutes Looma felt her world fall apart again. The high she had been on earlier completely dissolved when Shard began speaking to her. She was frozen in her seat, wondering if the past hours he had spent teaching her even mattered any longer. Had he been just teasing her? Her violet eyes were glued to him as he spoke of his true reasons for abandoning her. And now that she finally had the answer she had been hoping for since Subterrel, Looma wasn’t feeling satisfied at all. In fact, she felt sick to her stomach. His apologies, though truthful, hit her hollowly. She almost felt disembodied, listening to him. A distant part of her brain wondered if this was just a dream, or a test. But her feeling through the Force and her master within it dispelled those thoughts. His words were brutal to her, but honest.

She couldn’t believe her ears. Shard was disbanding the Dominion? After all his words about being busy with so many responsibilities, wanting to do her more justice, she had just thought he’d delegate more. But to completely shut the organization down? Looma had no idea how to respond and could just listen, dumbfounded. The young Twi’lek took in his words, memorizing them, not yet letting their meaning fully settle on her yet. It wasn’t something she could deal with yet. Of course she would do what he said; he was her master. Just at this moment, though, it seemed an impossible task that he was assigning her. Telling the other members of the Dominion would be hard enough, but he expected her to discuss it with the Dark Lord himself? It was unfathomable to her.

He placed a pendant around her neck, and she finally broke her gaze, looking down at the gift laying against the black of her cloak. Never in her life had she ever seen anything so beautiful and expensive-looking, let alone worn one. Looma couldn’t help lifting a hand to touch it, as if she didn’t believe it was real. There was reverence in her gesture, for the gift, for what it surely meant to Shard to part with it. She looked back up at her master, not able to stop the tear from dropping from the corner of an eye and sliding down her yellow cheek. His earlier words, she hadn’t wanted to believe them, but now she had to deal with it. Her master was leaving her, and she didn’t feel an ounce of rage about it. That would come later; for now, it was just sadness, disappointment. She didn’t even want to consider finding a new master. No matter what their differences had been, Looma had respected Shard and had been grateful for the chance he took on her.

Now she could just sit there, motionless, her breathing quickening, trying not to sob like a little girl. It was the heartache of losing her older sister Leef all over again. It was the pain of the Jedi telling her she was not cut out to be one of them. Once again, she would be all alone. She had Caleb, yes, but he was busy with his own master. A small wry smile passed across her face as she thought about it before her face settled back into sadness. For once she would be jealous of him, after all the times he had seen her rather more advanced Force skills.

Whether it had been meant to console her or something he been planning all along, Looma didn’t know, but Shard then removed his two lightsaber hilts and placed them in her unresisting hands. She could feel the heft of them, could see all their details without even turning her face down to look at them. Knew that once their activators were switched, the familiar yellow and orange blades would shoot forth. Until then she had had a small fleeting hope that he would change his mind, that this was all a joke. But giving her his weapons, that was no gesture of whim on Shard’s part. He was grimly serious, and Looma couldn’t handle it. She had just gotten her master back again, and now he was leaving her. Leaving her alone with the impossible task of taking care of his loose ends.

No matter how much confidence he still had in her, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to do what he had asked, commanded, of her to do. One last order from her master, and she wasn’t sure she could complete it. But try as she might, she would do her best to obey him. It was the least she could do. She would have to go back and find the others and tell them, explain to them that their leader was gone, never to return. And then there would be the difficult journey back to Korriban and trying to gain an audience with Darth Iniquitous. It was a big responsibility, but if her master trusted her enough to assign it to her, he must feel that she was worthy enough. She resolved then to do what she had to do until someone stopped her.

Until then, though, she could just watch her master turn from her, his ever-decreasing form as it walked away from her. Now that he was no longer looking at her, she stopped damming up the tears and let them flow down her face. She was not ashamed to mourn the loss of her master. Looma did not feel it was a sign of weakness, despite what other Sith might say.

It was hours before she had been able to move, to put her master’s weapons inside her cloak, clipped to her belt. Slowly she settled herself into the front of the speeder bike’s saddle and turned over the engine. All her tears now dried crusty on her cheeks, she pointed the bike back to the base, and drove the short distance to the living quarters and barracks. She had finished her mourning, and now it was time to get down to business. It was time to carry out Shard’s last request to the best of her own ability. It was time to move on to the next chapter.


[to Dissolve and Fade...]



(((And.... Looma's last post with her master...)))


EDIT: Just to fix color of lightsabers...