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Post by Vidalu Na'an on May 5, 2013 15:27:34 GMT -8
Na'an's goodbye to Jecib Milnik had in fact delayed their leaving the hangar; fortunately, the medical facility was not hard to find. The Jedi that had preceded them paid the girl and the droid little mind as they entere--they were busy with their own Healer. The wide room held a variety of Healers with their patients, none of them the obvious leader of the facility. As Na'an debated asking outside, A stocky bearded man approached them, taking Na'an in with a probing eye. Na'an met his gaze uneasily, waiting for him to start,. But rather than asking her questions, The old man took her by the hand and led her to an empty table. Gesturing for her to get on it, he waited patiently until Na'an was settled awkwardly on the surface, then spoke. "I'm Healer Dax Hamee, he said in a gravelly voice, then abruptly reached for her face. Well, then, let's take a look at you--"
Na'an's heart went to her throat. "Wait-"
The old man whipped the eyepatch off, batting Na'an's hands away as they flew up to cover it. "We can't see if you cover it up, dear," he chided, pulling her chin up to give him a better look. His hands on her face were firm, but gentle, and soft with age. "Let's see...from the skin tears this wasn't an blaster or laser cut, so blunt trauma . Collapsed retina from the burst, clearly, but the removal of the damaged organ and nerves was masterfully done."
The old Healer hmm'd in his throat again as he pulled the scarred eyelid open. Na'an tried to hold still, resisting the impulse to flinch away from his hand. It's not him, she told herself. This is a Healer, he's just trying to help, I'm not on Tattooine, don't resist, this is a Healer, it's not him it's not him...
"You haven't been maintaining."
The Healer's comment jolted Na'an back to the moment. "Sorry?"
"You have some swelling. And this patch," the Healer shook it in front of her, "Is still wet and dirty. The Healer who did this patch job this expertly should have told you about maintenance, or at least given you some medication..." Putting the patch away, he gave her a concerned look. "I'm shocked the socket isn't already infected. So why weren't you maintaining?"
Na'an could not respond for a moment. What could she say--She'd gone insane with the Dark Side? She'd ignored it in favor of time-travelling and attempted assasination? That the red voice didn't care about infection? Her breath hitched in her throat, stuck behind the words, as she forced herself to answer. "I've... I've been sick."
The Healer's lips tightened in response. His grip on her face tightened as well, gripping her so that she could not move, could not flinch away. "So I see." Abruptly, he dropped his hand, leaving Na'an unbalanced on the table. He wiped his hands on his cloak, and pulled out a slim datapad. "We'll have to get you a specialist, then. Name?"
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on May 5, 2013 10:00:53 GMT -8
Diamonte immediately becomes a very nice man. He's complimentary, gives away free puppies, and is later voted the World's Friendliest Dude. He leverages his newfound personal charm into political power, rapidly rising through the ranks of several major world governments. Before we know it, his very nice-guy persona has given him the keys to what he always secretly wanted: leadership in a new despotic world order, run on painless euthanasia and secret police around every corner to ensure that EVERYONE IS SMILING FOREVER. Diamonte is the king of the Stepford Universe. And we can't bring ourselves to hate him for it.
I wish kittens had wings.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on May 4, 2013 21:48:25 GMT -8
In another time, the split second before the cannon went off would have been enough time for Na'an to react. As it were, all she could do was flinch against the blast of superheated air, wait for the moment when the heat turned into agony...and then blink owlishly as the wind ceased entirely. The heat had blown her hair into dry, staticky tangle around her face, which was for once more pink than pale. Pink, and still feeling the remnants of warmth, but definitely still there. "Did you just try to--" she started, until she saw the machine smirk. Whatever it had done, Na'an then decided, she would have to assume was done on purpose. There was too much else to deal with without the paranoia returning so soon. Without completing her sentence, she turned on her heel and led the way inside. If they'd lost the Jedi going in, they would just have to ask directions to the medbay.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on May 4, 2013 21:37:51 GMT -8
It does. That's because it's a wig. You went incurably bald years ago.
I wish I had mind-control powers.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on May 4, 2013 21:31:47 GMT -8
"I wish slow walkers knew to stick to the sides of walkways."
This is of course the case; in this world, 100% of slow walkers do not inhibit the path of the fast walkers. The people you encounter, however, are not walking slowly because they are natural slow walkers. Instead, they are devious psychological assassins, using annoyance tactics to delay you to the point of dragging you into nigh-fatal situations. You have escaped them several times, solely due to your impatience and ability to weave. They will learn new tricks when they realize this tactic is not working. You will not escape next time.
I wish every post I ever wrote was the best post on the site.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on May 4, 2013 21:21:24 GMT -8
You fall asleep immediately after reading this. This does not imply that you wake up in the morning; rather, you are found two days later to be in a coma caused by an benign but inoperable tumor in your brain. You are shipped to a hospital and kept on life support until the ripe old age of fifty-six; at that point, having found no legal guardians or close relatives to claim you, the facility's budget cuts force them to let you quietly slip away into eternity. Being asleep does not prevent you from voiding your bowels as you die.
I wish I was a natural redhead.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on May 3, 2013 19:13:41 GMT -8
Na'an watched the ship swallow him, still trying to understand what he said. Jecib had called her a Jedi, without any trace of irony or bitterness, and said that he had had faith in her. He'd stayed, past all logic and expectation, and then he'd said he had faith in her. "He's a good man, isn't he," she finally said when the ship closed up entirely, as much to the silent droid at her side as to herself. "I hope he gets where he's going." Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned back towards where the Jedi she'd seen had vanished into the building. The drop in temperatures was causing her sodden tunic to stick to her skin, and if she didn't get inside soon she'd have more than one sickness to deal with. This wasn't Yavin, but she might as well start here. She turned back to the machine, who was still watching her with a dull expression that on a human body she would have called befuddled. "You coming?"
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 29, 2013 20:27:35 GMT -8
"Jedi are good people. Even if the people here don't see to your immediate needs, I have a friend in Coronet that would help you get better. Anya Sel, she's a good woman, an administrator at the academy there. Tell her 'Professor Milnik got his contraption working', that should suffice as an introduction." Na'an blinked, abashed. When had this guy gone from shooting her venemous looks to actually offering her help? She'd done nothing to earn it. "I'll consider it. At the very least I'll pass on the message." She shrugged lightly, smiling sadly. "But if you're leaving me here, it might take a bit."
She wasn't going to question why he was doing it. Jecib Milnik had proved himself to be an honorable being; if he was dropping her on Felucia rather than anywhere near the conflict on Yavin, he had to have his reasons. She looked around at the hangar, just catching sight of a small group heading into the base. The short one was rattling on about the medbay in a high cheerful voice, presumably on their way there. It seemed as good a place as any to really start the process. "In the meantime, I might go. Get my eye checked out," she said lamely. "But really. You...you didn't have to stay when you did. I wish there was something I could do to thank you." Her eyes flicked back to Jecib, for what would probably be the last time.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 28, 2013 18:47:37 GMT -8
"I..." Na'an hesitated. She hadn't expected to be forgiven so easily, and the scientist's sudden question had taken her by surprise. "I wanted to. But the price was too high to pay."
Her response sounded pathetic, even to herself.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 28, 2013 15:09:06 GMT -8
Since I'm off world, I might be useful in calling in backup.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 28, 2013 12:24:50 GMT -8
When he finished turning, Na'an was framed in the ship's open door, LE-03 a hulking shadow behind her. Her face was drawn and pale, making the harsh purple-red line of scarring visible just below the edge of her eyepatch all the more visible.
"It's pretty, isn't it?"
She held her hands where Jecib could see them as she stepped out of the ship. "Sir, I owe you an apology," she said simply.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 28, 2013 11:27:26 GMT -8
Na'an had not moved or spoken much since she had been locked in. Rather, she had moved into one of the small chairs in the holding cell where she had been guided, strapping herself into the seat and not looking outwards as the ship left its pad and blasted into space. As the power built, flinging the ship back across time, she'd drawn her legs upwards over the straps, hugging them tight to her chest and staring at a point somewhere between her toes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see LE-03 watching her, looking confused, but the droid never said a word. Na'an didn't mind. It gave her time to think.
What was she doing? What had she been doing? Na'an knew the answer, sort of. She'd gone into the past and attempted to change history. She'd tried to wipe the last seven years of her life entirely, taking the Family and everything Formidonis had done with it. At some point she'd told herself that doing so would save lives: Berlin and Bulthos, the old crew of the Pygmalion, all the bystanders on Coruscant and Dantooine, even the Family itself would be happier and healthier, and maybe even all of them would still be alive. But when the moment came, and Aherk Formidonis' throat was in her hands, those people hadn't been on her mind at all. There had only been the rage and betrayal and the red voice demanding blood, and under all of that, red as the voice, there had been pleasure in knowing that this time she'd be the one destroying her enemy. In that moment, the Dark Side of the Force had made Vidalu Na'an more powerful than she had ever been, and she had loved it.
She felt like she was going to throw up.
No wonder the Masters had sent her away after Tatooine. Somewhere down the line, Na'an had let her grief turn to rage, and then willingly let it consume her. That must be why she couldn't meditate properly anymore: she'd given her power up to hate, and now that was the only way she could touch the Force at all. Even now, she knew she still hated Aherk horribly--her hands were still shaking from her encounter with him, those laughing dark eyes ghosting across her recent memory as if mocking her for her weakness. He'd made her this way, and she still wanted his blood in payment.
She was sick. There was no denying it, no faking that she was okay anymore. Vidalu Na'an was sick, and there was no saving herself. When she got to Yavin IV, she would have to submit herself to the Jedi and ask for help. As if on cue, the intercom crackled to life, Dr. MIlnik's voice on the other end. He sounded angry, still, and was ordering her off his ship the minute they landed. Na'an wasn't that surprised, again. She'd earned his resentment at the very least. It also helped that, despite the recent events, she still couldn't help but appreciate someone who wore their hate of her on their sleeve. He didn't seem to want to hurt her...and it was honest, and honestly deserved. Someone like the person she'd been didn't deserve much else.
She finally looked out the port, anticipating their return to the Jedi Praxeum. As the ship spiraled downwards, she could see the lush green-and-blue landscape below, interspersed with grayish ocean and bright, multicolored sparkles where the sun hit the land--
Wait. Sparkles? Yavin IV didn't sparkle--even the buildings there were made matte. This wasn't Yavin IV at all. Why on earth had the scientist taken her to Felucia?
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 24, 2013 19:56:18 GMT -8
do it
Na'an had her hands on Aherk Formidonis' throat, and her eyes on his. She could feel his pulse in her fingers, the steel rush of blood. The Dark Side of the Force was pulsing off him too, great waves of it breaking over her like the sea; it made her feel oddly strong, as if it was mingling with her own.
Do It
All she had to do was twist. One simple motion, and it would be over.
DO it
It would be so easy.
DO IT!!
And then suddenly, in all the screaming silence, the smallest and thinnest of thoughts.
is destroying him worth destroying everything?
Startled, she pushed Aherk violently away from her. He crashed into the table, and Na'an backed away into the door, putting more distance between them.
What are you waiting for?! DO IT DO IT DO IT
She couldn't. The Family was one thing. She could sacrifice that, and gladly. But their lives...the lives of everyone else...the universe itself? Even if he was gambling, what was left of the Jedi in Vidalu Na'an couldn't take that risk. She'd come here because killing him was supposed to save lives, not just her own or the Family's but those of hundreds. If doing it would kill them again, kill them and worse...paying that price would be more than the pleasure of killing him was worth.
pleasure?
When had she started thinking that? When had she let herself go so far into the dark that she was thinking of murder as pleasure? That one wasn't the red voice--which had been pushing all this time for blood, blood for every victim on that hideous videotape? That was her...or was it?
Na'an hadn't thought of that. Then again, she hadn't been thinking much at all lately. If she'd come this close to potentially destroying the universe without knowing...
go home, Nanii. Rest.
She glanced back at Aherk, still struggling with the wreck and scrap she'd made from throwing him at the table. She wished she could press at him again, take one last strike to at least leave a mark, a warning about where all his scheming and gambling and evil would lead. The red voice was still screaming for it loud enough to give her a headached, begging to make him hurt, to make him bleed. Instead, she just watched him scramble back to his feet, what little blood streaming from his face staunched by his hand. She watched this man, who she'd come across time to kill, this man who had burnt her so deep Na'an wasn't sure how much of her was left. She watched Aherk Formidonis, who coaxed and bragged and insulted and lied (and yes, had even whispered the sweet things she'd never thought she'd wanted) and somehow still knew what to say to her in order to make her think and feel and do whatever he wanted.
Well, she'd only say one thing now.
"I hate you so goddamn much."
She stood there, trembling with more feeling than a body should ever hold, for one last doubtful moment. It took everything in her to turn away, towards the distant exit. As she passed the door where she'd left Eliana and her droid, she did not stop, but called into the oddly silent space as she passed. "Leigh. I'm tired. Let's go home." Without any more goodbyes, the metal behemoth followed. After what seemed like a long time, they reached the only door to the lab. It slid open silently, revealing the sodden heap just outside that had been her cloak. Na'an didn't look down as she stepped over it, and out into the sheeting rain. She could see at the end of the platform that the timeship was still docked and waiting. It hadn't occurred to her to expect that it would be; in fact, she hadn't thought much about the scientist inside or his ship at all. The fact that it was there at all, its sleek form resting on the dock like a silver fish dropped by some mammoth bird, now almost seemed fated. The time-traveller had probably even guessed that she wouldn't go through with it. He was a scientist, after all; he'd be as arrogant about it as Aherk at been.
As he was. As, no doubt, he would always be, because he always won even when he lost.
She knocked her fist against the hull once, feeling rather than hearing the dull boom that followed.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 23, 2013 19:27:22 GMT -8
As the words sunk through, Na'an couldn't stop her surprise even long enough to bristle at Aherk's laughter.
It wasn't hard to see what he was suggesting: that by showing up at all, he'd convinced her to change the timeline and leave her alone. All she'd have to do was turn around and walk away. She could give her younger self a second chance, end the cycle of fixation and death, and she wouldn't even have to kill to get it. Something in Na'an--what was left of the Jedi, maybe--wanted just that. It wasn't about the murder, after all. It was about an end. This way would make an end, and maybe even a peaceful one.
There was only one problem...the red voice wasn't having it.
liarliarliarliarliarliarLIAR
And it wasn't wrong. Aherk was--and always had been--a liar. There was no reason for him to let her just walk away, when he could simply just attack her himself and kill her. Other than saving his own sorry skin. All he wanted was for her to not kill him, and for that he'd say anything.
Na'an shook her head once, the surprise in her face hardening into something grim and sad. "I don't believe you. You're already planning how to go after me next." Her fists tensed again, feeling the slow build of blood and power. "I saw my face on those screens," she said, pointing at the polished black surface to their left. I'm just a toy to you, and you're not a man that lets go of his toys."
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 22, 2013 20:08:05 GMT -8
"A chance at what? YOU? THIS?" Na'an closed the distance with both hands, taking fistfuls of Aherk's ruined finery and dragging him bodily to his knees. From there, it would take only a swift movement to have his neck in her hands. "My friends are gone. The ones that aren't dead are better off without me around. And I'm the only one who cares because I can't move past what you do to me." She could feel the cloth rip in her tightening fists, and hear the hateful shaking break in her voice. "I can't get past you. And I saw my face on your screen, you've already started."
Her face twitched, as if in response to a sudden loud noise in her ear. At the same moment, one of her hands loosed itself. It slid upwards, gripping Aherk's jaw tightly and tipping it to expose his throat. The angle brought his face into view again--strong-jawed, arrogant, now half-obscured by a bloody hand over his eye.
His left eye. How appropriate. "You already know what happens next. "
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 20:17:19 GMT -8
Na'an blinked once at his words, taken aback. The red voice, however, only laughed. That was his weapon? That was his big attack on her psyche that was going to get him out alive? Happiness? Was he even listening? Why would he even think that she'd believe that, that she'd buy him caring enough to bother...
No. That was irrelevant. She shook it off.
"No, I suppose this version of me won't. In fact, I'm counting on it."
The power in her veins surged, and she threw her other fist forward, aiming for his face.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 19:43:31 GMT -8
Na'an snorted, still walking farther into the room. "Happiness was never the goal." She stopped just within arm's reach of Aherk's chest. From that distance she could hear his heartbeat; it mingled with the pulse of blood in her head, moving in time with it. The tempo of both sped, from excitement or fear or something made of both, when her eyes met Aherk's.
Blue. Always that shade of blue, dark and laughing and arrogant. Even when he was alone and defenseless, he had that laughter there, like he knew something that he was about to use against her. In the end, those eyes were why she had to kill him. Even they were a weapon that could throw her too far off balance.
"It just has to stop. All of it has to stop." Na'an's voice came out too high and desperate, and she reached out for his ribcage with a charged fist. "And with you it never stops. You just keep taking, even after you're dead, because once you start you just don't--
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 18:24:22 GMT -8
"I don't know." Na'an had skidded to a stop in front of the lab, and was now watching the muscles in Aherk's back tense and stretch. The odd sense of disconnect that had settled in during her talk with Eliana had not quite lifted...the red voice was coming back, but quietly, only whispering about angles of attack and pressure points to make those muscles relax for good. She could feel the power it gave still building, though, like coils of fire growing in her fists. When the room went dark, the computers abruptly cut off, she'd almost expected to see her hands glowing red.
"I'm not a genius, you know, I never was," she said. "But what I want has to come from this somehow." Na'an took a step into the dark room, her own arms held out tensely from her sides. In a moment they would be up and ready to
make him bleed
plow him into the computer panel. From there she'd have to find a weapon, but with the panel broken either she or the voice would figure something out. Before then, however... "Turn around, Aherk. Let me look you in the eye before you go."
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 13:44:34 GMT -8
The moment passed. Na'an slipped off her seat, bouncing lightly on the balls of her heels. If she held her breath she could feel Aherk's breathing just a few yards away. She'd let this go on for far too long now; Aherk was supposed to be dead, the timeline altered, her existence...erased? Reset? It didn't matter. It hadn't happened yet, and whatever its name, this would be where it started. So it couldn't hurt to say a goodbye to a friend she hadn't made, could it?
Reaching up, she placed a thin hand on Elly's cheek. The spot she patted was soft, slick from the tears still drying there, and against the inflamed red color her blue eyes were confused and bright. Not like the sea, though--lighter, like the sky in miniature. Absurdly, Na'an found herself wondering if afterward she'd remember how this color--these blues, in any shade--seemed to end up being the harbinger of bad things. It was almost funny, and she found herself smiling at the question.
"Anyway," she said softly, "you should go to your brother." Her hand dropped, and she stepped backwards quickly towards the door. "Don't follow me." As she slipped through into the hall, she was already drawing Force power into her now-clenched fists.
"Forget us both. "
And Na'an turned back, running towards the heartbeat pounding a slow tattoo in her skull.
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