Ciphered Holos

Cold.

The hangar was empty and devoid of even the usual sounds that filled it, the chitters and chatters of Sparks.

Sparks.

Aran bowed her head, sliding down with her back to the wall, a choked and muffled sound coming from her throat. It was cruel that of any species she was Miralukan and unable to find the normal release tears seemed to bring the rest of the galaxy. Her throat was closed, a stuttering heave of her shoulders as she pulled arms around her torso, hugging tight. The scent of blood was gone, the walls scrubbed but she knew it was here where she'd gotten one friend killed.

And another kidnapped. That she'd managed to only get a non-sentient killed was cold comfort to what she knew could happen. Would happen.

And there was no way it wasn't her fault. Not this time. It had been her fault, entirely and unequivocally. She wondered if she'd been living in a little bubble, one where the war and its connotations had just refused to penetrate - it was war and she'd ignored it. Because she somehow could get away with ignoring it.

Jedi fought Sith. Sith fought Jedi. Imperials fought the Republic, the Republic fought the Empire. No matter the pleasantries exchanged they were on opposing sides in a conflict she was trying hard to stay out of, to make a profit off of, because she couldn't stand with the Republic and now she couldn't stand against the Empire. But even as she cast her mind back she realized Arkatorn had meant nothing in his attack. It'd been a demonstration. Educational. Impersonal. There'd been no hatred, no spike of emotion heralding the attack it had just been and then it was done.

You must file away the imperfections and she'd seen - watched in stark and utter horror as Arkatorn had drained some measure of emotion from Sverdas. When she'd arrived at Kaas, led there by his once-ally-turned-traitor Shadow, his screams had been unending. She knew those screams, knew what could happen from them, what was happening.

It'd been why she'd omitted to Sriia that Arkatorn was an Alchemist. Which Shadow had told her. Shadow, who'd made two simple rules for their shaky alliance. And then Syose had come up, asking how long it'd be before her plans culminated in angst, violence, destruction, failure.

And then there'd been the little seer, the one who wanted to know. Know what had happened to allow Sverdas to be kidnapped, what had been in the boxes in her hangar. Her remaining collection handed over for that failed shot at getting Sverdas back. A collection which even now was beyond both her and Shadow's reach as he'd apparently sent it along to Kaas where his betrayed ally resided.

Ahn'akiir wanted her to find someone. And she would, as it'd finally pay off the debt she'd owed the former Sith. Akkai- he'd helped her, taken her back to the Mary Sue after Arkatorn had left her twitching, broken, utterly and completely defeated. A broken cur he'd said. Her hands curled unconsciously into fists, unable and unwilling to break the tides of emotions now. She'd given up the ghost of playing a Jedi as she'd told Shadow. Dropped the persona. She would even be willing to drop all of them if it meant getting her friend back.

All the lies, all the deceptions. She didn't know what she'd be left with, losing everything she'd spent years building up. Maybe nothing worthwhile would remain behind.

If you value the misery you call a life now, Aran, be somewhere else...

It had hurt. though she'd been the one to break the bonds when she'd first gone away from the Republic it had hurt, hearing the deathknell on her tongue. From the only person she'd felt close enough to call kin outside of the Miralukan's concept of it.

One more thing lost to her choices. The choking, strangled sound of tearless sobs echoed before even those faded into silent shudders.