Rain of Blades

[Syfu Jin-Dyer]

Syfu let his mind wander off the time it took her to shower. Part of him didn’t want to wash off her from his body, for fear it would be the last time he got to be intoxicated by the scent. Briefly did he consider joining her, but he knew all too well the trouble he had turning around inside of it by himself. Though once she emerged, he found himself doing his best to face her, like a vornskr-pup did its bound sentient caretaker. Adoration was the term for it, pure and simple. They struggled with small-talk, as they had since the night before. Too many Rontos in the room, he supposed. And it was best to deal with things head-on, as Syfu knew from experience.


“Of course,” he practically chirped with excitement at the mention of tea. It struck him, that he enjoyed doing things for her, large or small. Syfu rose, taking the small number of steps required to the modest, plain writing desk, devoid of all but a few datapads, and old leatherbound books, to the teapot. Hands deftly started the process, pulling some freshly ground leaves from a container. The scent filled the small space, pleasant and sweet, a hint of mint and a dash of citrus. It only took a moment to fill and heat the pot—he preferred to do it all manually, from picking the leaves out of the garden outside to grinding and infusing.


Syfu returned with a pair of glasses—well-used, and offered one to her before taking his seat on the bunk beside her once more. With the ceramic mug in one hand, the other was free to rest upon her thigh. He raised the cup to his lips, blew gently to cool it some, and took a satisfying sip, sighing contentedly as it warmed his chest on the way down. The herb itself had natural calming properties, a sharp contrast to the caf it contained, making for a unique blend of his own invention. Everyone loved Syfu’s tea, and he had plenty for all comers, a cup of tea being another of his favorite indulgences.


He turned his head slightly, so that he could look at her as he spoke, finally drawing up the fortitude to speak on what could have been a difficult subject. “I hate to spoil…this,” Syfu started slowly. “But I can’t help but wonder what this is. To you. You see, ah..” He paused, gun-shy about spitting it out. “Well, Arden. It meant—means quite a lot to me, to have you. You. You mean a great deal to me. I…can’t explain it, but… Ever since I found you on Tattooine…well…” He was a mess, stumbling all over himself to say one simple thing. It just went to show how much he did care for her, and how afraid he was of never seeing her again or somehow fowling this up.


Syfu certainly didn’t feel as if he deserved any of what was happening, much less her. And on some level, it didn’t really matter if she walked out the door, never to darken his threshold again, for he would always have the night before and the day that followed it. “What I mean to say is…I don’t enter this lightly, and…” He shook his head slightly from side to side, realizing finally just what a jumbled mess of words kept coming out, no matter how hard he tried to make his mouth cooperate with his thoughts.

 

[Arden Marr]

The scent of the tea was familiar; a far off memory that lingered on the edge of her awareness, never quite coming into view. She liked it, and the warmth of the cup in her hands was as soothing as the hot water that had helped scrub the dirt from her skin. Both palms wrapped around the vessel, she took in a deep breath and tried to live for the moment: they were together, nothing was on fire, no one was being shot at or killed or hurt. Nothing was going wrong. It seemed like a luxury worth cherishing, knowing the state of the galaxy and the sides they had chosen in the conflict.

Turning to face him, Arden felt herself cocking her head to one side, though it wasn't a conscious act. Nothing in her expression changed: the pleasant small smile remained, her attention wholly on the message Syfu was trying to convey. It was difficult to listen to people, sometimes; to do more than simply wait for her turn to speak. But she was trying, and it was obvious: as he stumbled through his feelings she remained quiet, nodding only slightly as he trailed off, message conveyed albeit in a somewhat roundabout way.

What was there to say? Biding her time, Arden took a sip of the tea. There was no part of her that wanted to leave their budding relationship where it was, and return to a strange existence as friends, or utter strangers. But was that selfish? Surely it would be better, less painful somehow, to tell him no, it meant nothing, it'll never happen again.

What a terrible lie that would be.

Slowly, Arden unfurled her legs, draping them lazily over his lap. The incidental intimacy was what meant the most: the touch of his hand against the small of her back, her forehead against his chest, and so on. It made her feel closer, connected through their physicality. She liked it. "Syfu, I.." Looking down at the tea, gazing into the liquid, her lips pulled up in a flicker of a smile. An embarrassed, amused gesture. "I've wanted to kiss you since I was seventeen years old." Horrible confession. Morifying. Awkward.

Why did I say that?

Struggling with the confession and everything it implied, she let out a laugh, shaking her head. "I'd like to keep doing it, if it's all the same to you." Emotions were difficult. Expressing them, even more so. Arden couldn't help but feel like her answer wasn't what he wanted to hear - it lacked the soul-spilling of his own inquiry - but she was inexperienced with sharing how she felt, unless it involved a rude gesture or a blaster waved in anger.

 

[Syfu Jin-Dyer]

Oddly enough, it wasn’t the first time he had heard someone say that. Nyx, too, had confessed the same thing. The words had slightly taken him aback, but this was different. He hadn’t felt quite this way about her, as he now did for Arden. Certainly, it had been love and romantic love at that, but with Arden it seemed to be more, like a small piece of him that Syfu hadn’t been aware was missing had suddenly fallen into place. Though as she spoke, almost as awkwardly as he had, the answer had warmed his heart far more than the tea. Reflexively, the corners of his mouth turned up to bring out all the other lines in his face that weren’t born of a scar.


“As you wish,” all Syfu could muster, fingers idly running about in small circles upon her leg. “I am yours for as long as you’ll have me. Never above you, never below. Only beside you.” A simple promise, one that would be easy to keep. Beyond his current knowledge, however, was that this was one oath that would be held in higher regard than any other he had, or would, make. All was put at ease—it was all that he needed to hear. Syfu took another sip from his cup of tea, all too happy to gaze upon his lady-love longingly, practically exuding elation through the Force. Indeed, emotions were a tricky and often fleeting thing. A dangerous thing when treated improperly.


There were other Rontos in the room, of course, such as just how a Jedi and Fallen Jedi could make such a relationship work, but it didn’t matter. Syfu would make it work however he could—whatever it meant. Finding her was a bit like waking up to a warm sun on Hoth; one taste, one reprieve from the cold dark of solitude, and he would do anything to bask in it. In truth she hadn’t needed to express herself with words, as she spoke he could feel how she felt. She shared his uncertainty, but more importantly she shared his love, whether she realized the extent of it or not. “Come here,” Syfu beckoned, lifting his hand from her leg to pat his side so she might slip underneath his arm.


In truth, he wasn’t certain that they could ever truly be close enough for his taste, until they were both one with the Force. Once she snuggled in, Syfu draped his arm around her shoulders and rested his head atop hers as it sat upon his chest. Very much as it was earlier in the morning, he was unwilling to move from the bunk they shared and loathe to let her move from comfort.

 

[Arden Marr]

It was more than their allegiances - it was the differences in age, in lifestyle, in outlook; all of it whispered warnings that the path ahead would not be an easy one, but Arden was determined to see it through. If the Force had brought them together - which it surely had - there was a reason for it, and though she liked to believe in free will, that nothing was ever truly fated to occur, it would've been foolish to ignore such an obvious sign. Even if the Force couldn't obligate them to fall for each other, surely there was more to their meeting than blind chance.

Curled up against him, Arden wasted little time in resting her head against his chest, gingerly sipping at the cup of tea as it cooled. It was an idyllic moment: both parties reassured that there would be arms to welcome them next time they met, all they had to do was exist in the present in comfortable, easy silence. She wasn't much for small talk, and it seemed Syfu shared her inclinations. Rather, she could feel him through the Force that surrounded them, the soft warmth of pure happiness that radiated from his being, and hoped that what she felt - and diffused from her coiled form - was even half as comforting as the wordless reassurance his presence offered her.

Being with him was easy. She knew the road ahead of them would be hard - someone would have to compromise, eventually - but for now, easy was good enough.

"Do you think the younglings know what happened?" The question was soft, but abrupt; an inquiry out of nowhere. "Maybe they thought you were armored." Why that was a concern, Arden couldn't say. But if the learners believed they could stop lightsabers with their wrists, well, they'd have a harsh lesson waiting for them when the traded in their training sabers for their more lethal counterparts. "I can't get the image of it out of my head," she confessed, hiding her concern behind a laugh. "I'm.. worried they might try and follow your lead." Worried about a bunch of Jedi younglings? The High Inquisitor would have her reprimanded for sure.

 

[Syfu Jin-Dyer]

The other part of the visions that had come to him, once or twice in practice, but continued to plague him had been ruin. Pain. He knew from experience how this would end, but he was nothing if not a little optimistic. Hopeful. When granted a premonition, it was important to remember that it was only one possible future, not the future set in stone. He was a different man, stronger now than he once was, and Arden was a different woman. It wasn’t insane, at least not the definition of insanity. Much of the wisdom he had acquired had come from the universe as much as experience; just like the Vornskr-pup: Today was always THE Day and it might work this time. The truth was that she had made him optimistic, caused him to venture forth from his comfortable pragmatism. He would thank Nyx for that lesson soon enough. To go out on a limb for fruit was never a mistake.


Syfu quietly sipped his tea, happy to enjoy the comfortable silence and glad there was no need for chit-chat. Good enough would have to do. Strange, though, it almost felt too easy, but perhaps that was just the leftover paranoia from old damage. But soon enough it was her turn to have something thoughtful to bring up. The thought hadn’t yet crossed his mind, that the younglings might attempt to replicate his actions before them. “Hmm,” all that escaped from pursed lips, in careful consideration. “I don’t wear it unless I’m going on a mission.” Though his consideration slipped into a bemused chuckle, rumbling from his belly.


“Tomorrow there will be more than a few injured arms to heal—if there aren’t already.” The image of the younglings attempting what he had done with their training sabers, or even sticks had been too funny not to share with her. “Fret not, Miss Arden. I shall just have to explain to them some of the finer points of realistic combat, that Old Syfu has a few tricks up his sleeve yet.” His thoughts pushed back to when he was but a youngling on Coruscant, how even he and his ilk were quick to replicate the teachers they admired. It had been a long time before Syfu came to understand the wisdom in ‘do as I say, not as I do,’ and it was one he was somewhat hesitant to use on children, for he remembered too what it was like to hear that from one’s hero.


It was odd to him, to be someone looked up to. Being a Master suited him, perhaps, but he would have been much happier as a humble Knight. But the Order needed what the Order needed. Stranger still to be considering that it was slowly turning to Syfu needed what Syfu needed as well. And it was clear that Arden wasn’t a want but a desire. A fixture. A necessity. Adorable that her thoughts were with the younglings still. A child was a child, no matter their allegiance. A Jedi was a Jedi, despite their path—he despised the term ‘Sith’ greatly, but reserved it for but a few who were indeed too far gone. Palpatine. Dooku. The old Lords of Korriban. Arden Marr was no Sith, but an unfortunate statistic.


One of the fallen. Just as he had been in the Dark Times. But he knew all too well, not to harp on such things—one had to realize what they wanted, before anyone could truly help them. It seemed more to him, that it was she who helped he; it was Syfu’s debt to repay, though it wasn’t a debt and love wasn’t a competition, nor a victory march but a long and broken trail.

 

[Arden Marr]

Exaggerating her distaste for the nickname with an almost comical frown, Arden shook her head. Miss Arden just sounded.. well, matronly. And while Syfu was certainly of a more advanced age, she was in her prime! It wasn't going to stick. Not if she could help it. So she ignored it, instead taking what she felt to be the high road. "Tricks or no, the younglings have been corrupted." Pausing, she gently wet her lips, suppressing a laugh that would've otherwise ruined her deadpan delivery. "My mission here is completed." Like Syfu, Arden's jokes left something to be desired. Where his were simply unfunny, hers were just.. bad. Ill-timed, to say the least, and quite certainly in poor taste. But sometimes, she just couldn't help herself.

But the laughter eventually came, soft and pleasant, far from the maniacal cackle of a corrupting influence. There was something apologetic about the look she offered him, sitting up enough to set her cup aside now that it sat empty. Hopefully, the levity banished any lingering doubts about her sudden appearance on Yavin IV; she wasn't spying on the Jedi Order, nor had she come bearing any ill-will. She hadn't arrived looking for a lover, either, and yet..

"I don't think I'll be here for mending wounds," she offered, somewhat seriously. There were so many topics hanging over them, even in their comfortable silence, and Arden couldn't help but address what she only assumed he was wondering. "Dinner, yes; broken bones, no, unless they happen relatively soon." Briefly, she thought of Feather, all alone on the skiff. No doubt lounging about, tearing up the seat covers, luxuriating like only a domesticated animal could. Part of her missed her. Another part wondered what it might be like to see the longhair prowling around the darkened avenues of the Temple, boxing with shadows and being a general nuisance. Would she be happier? Could a cat ever prefer the confines of a starship to a jungle?

Tightening the towel wrapped around her torso, Arden stretched a bit, got comfortable against him once more, and cast a long look around his meager lodgings. It needed a painting. Or a plant. Maybe a little tapestry, or a rug? She wasn't sure - just something to make it more inviting. Something to make it looked like a person actually lived in it.

 

[Syfu Jin-Dyer]

If she thought his quarters in the Praxeum were sad, devoid of life, Arden should have seen his quarters aboard the Acclimator-class assault ships he lived on a lifetime ago. This was downright homey. But that’s just how it was for Syfu Jin-Dyer. A room was just a room, things were just things; he had never been the sentimental type when it came to things. Objects d’art.


He shouldn’t have laughed at her joke about corrupting the younglings, but laugh he did. Dark humor wasn’t his usual cup of tea, but Arden wielded it rather well, he had to admit. Syfu leaned up to set his empty teacup aside as well, clearing the laugh with a soft sigh. Syfu stretched his arms a bit, and decided to lay down a bit, placing his head somewhere between her lap and stomach to gaze up at her. “Yes, like the thief in the night. Pandemonium while you’re here, not a trace of you the next morning. You know dinner won’t be served for another couple of hours...”


Syfu might have had a few years on her, but it seemed at times as if he were just now hitting his stride. As graceful with a blade as he had been twenty years ago, he was more dangerous now. More powerful, and more wise. Sure, the years of hard living added up, but Syfu hadn’t once considered himself to be old, despite the somewhat self-depreciating humor. It was more that he heard the chatter of the young ones, though they thought he couldn’t—probably because they thought him practically venerable. Fifty was the new thirty, and Syfu knew that just about everyone wished they would look half as good as he did when they reached his years; his scars and slightly salt-and-peppered hair and beard the only things that have his age away, else he would have looked to be a man in his prime—exactly what he was. Just with a few bumps and bruises that were slower to subside in the morning.


Though his own words had caused his thoughts to roam some. Dinner wasn’t for a few more hours, and she was already in his bunk. Dessert was within reach, all he had to do was take a bite. That it was proper or not to have her here wasn’t even remotely close to the periphery of his mind. But it would have been quite rude to wallow around in the sheets after Arden had just taken a shower. Inconsiderate. No one had ever said that Syfu was inconsiderate of them, their feelings or lives. He stretched his arms again, this time folding his hands behind his head, still resting on her lap as he gazed up at her.


Belly full and soul content, sleep threatened his eyelids. A yawn interrupted his breathing, sure to be contagious and spread to Arden as well. No matter how much he wanted to, Syfu wasn’t about to ask her how long he had left with her today; there was no reason to spoil it further. She would be back when she was back, and they would be together again when the Force deigned it so, and not before. Though he had no thoughts of going to visit her at the Inquisitor’s building, surrounded by Stormtroopers. Again.


His eye caught just a glimpse of the fractal burn scar on her leg, Syfu rolled his head to the side just a bit, planting a feather-light kiss upon it, as if that would make it better. “What happened here?” Though he already knew it was from a blast of lightning at the hands of some dark Jedi. The last time they met, Arden had asked of him what happened to his face and eye. It wasn’t like him to swap war stories, it served only to dignify the atrocities committed in the defense of an ideal. Battle he craved, but war was abhorrent. Still he couldn’t shake that feeling, that he would go to war again, and the only reason he needed was her. Syfu truly did believe that one’s past was just a story, and it held no power if one didn’t allow it to. Some things, not many, but some things were unforgivable. Using pain to teach a lesson. Slavery, and sentient-trafficking. But it wasn’t as if he believed that pain was without its uses. Rage, even, made for a hell of an anesthetic.


The burn on her leg required no explanation, for he already knew it was born of malice. To harm a songbird was to commit the greatest of sins, in his book. A songbird did nothing but sing its morning song, and to harm or cage it was to kill it slowly but surely. Something he would have to rectify, but Syfu wanted to hear her tell it. Needed to hear it so he could quietly stew and listen to his own dark thoughts a while, consider how he would work to free her. Pure fantasy, at least until she showed up again with a fresh one.

 

[Arden Marr]

The notion of privacy among Jedi was a laughable conceit. In a Temple full of mind-readers and beings attuned to the living Force, Arden knew it was simply a matter of time before their relationship became an open secret. Try as she might to keep her darkness hidden, she was sure some intrepid Jedi Knight would eventually glean a hint of what lurked beneath - but by then, perhaps things would be different somehow. Maybe the Order had changed, or could change; maybe she could change, too.

Leaning herself against the wall, Arden watched as he moved to make himself comfortable, trading her head against his chest for his head on her lap. It wasn't an unwelcome change in the slightest. But it was new, and it took her a moment to get properly adjusted, eventually finding a hand moving slowly through his hair as he lounged. It was a gentle touch, nails dragging softly against his scalp, expertly working out little tangles with a minimum pulling or pain. It was, again, a perfect moment: sleep lingered on the edge of her consciousness, but it wasn't a pressing concern. There was quiet. There was peace.

Not to say that Syfu ruined it by opening his mouth or anything, but.. well..

It was the kiss that initially pulled her from the aimless wanderings of her imagination, goosebumps lighting up beneath his lips as she squirmed involuntarily. The scar itself was dead skin, it felt nothing. But the inside of her thigh was sensitive to his beard, ticklishly so, in a manner which was equal parts amusing and uncomfortable; a place she had been touched only rarely, one that didn't quite know what it meant to be under scrutiny. "Ah," she gasped, fidgeting some. It wasn't that she didn't want his affection - but there? It felt.. strange.

But it was better than the memory he was digging at, that much she knew. Arden's time on Jedha had been miserable, no doubt about it. But the scar represented her freedom - freedom fought for and won against impossible odds. It also marked the death of Syfu's student, and her own Master. Only one of those lives was worth mourning, and it certainly wasn't that of the Jedi who had raised her. She didn't want to talk about it. The past was a dead thing - but Syfu's past was a dead thing he had cared for very deeply, and to evoke that memory from out of nowhere felt cruel. And perhaps she was afraid of drawing the comparison - herself to Nyx, and the woman's unfortunate demise - as if competition with the departed scared her somehow, though it never had against the living.

"You remember Jedha." Arden sighed, trying to gloss over the gorier details. The ones that wiped out half their camp - a camp of four, but it was still a camp - and sent the remnants of the Order scattering.

"A gift from the Inquisitors," she mused bitterly, if he needed further clarification. "It doesn't bother me anymore."

 

[Syfu Jin-Dyer]

He sat perfectly still as she ran her fingers through his hair for a change. Hey—it wasn’t fair for her to get all of the fidgety attention. There was no comparison between what once was and what currently sat under his head, that much was certain. For once, Syfu took her at her word—if it didn’t bother her anymore, so be it. “Maybe someday it won’t bother me, either,” he said, partly in jest about Jedha. But experience was what made someone what they were now. But it was mostly a confession of sorts, though less that than it was a statement of fact. “You know, I don’t think something like that ever gets any easier—striking down someone you care for, on any level. Even if it’s the only thing to do—lock eyes and draw blades. Goodbye, old friend.” And that was all Nyx seemed to him now, was an old friend who had helped him through a tumultuous time. It was only partially true what people said about time mending hurts of the heart—it took a concentrated effort.


He was silent for a long minute before speaking again, considering what was to be said as carefully as he planned his moves in battle. “We do the best we can with what we have. We vow to do better next time, and we keep on living. That has to be enough. You have made this whole thing worthwhile for me, Arden Marr. I had thought to return to Mandalore to live out my hermitage if things didn’t work out here, at the Order. I still might—mind you, but not for a while yet at least.”


And of course, the statement was just that—a statement. Humorless and dry, as a recitation of the morning’s weather report. But it was heartfelt, and genuine at least. Whatever pain this path of their would evoke upon them, he would face it head-on like the rock he was. The rock he projected himself to be. Really, he was an island. But it was Arden who made him speak from the heart, about his worries, his woes. He could tell her anything. Though, he supposed eventually he would tell anyone a few of his war stories, the ones his own scars told, if they asked directly—he had nothing to hide or be ashamed of. But some things weren’t anyone’s business.


Once upon a time, his motto had seemingly been: ‘ride to town, shoot ‘em up, and keep on goin’. Because he had a job to do, and would be gone come morning. War was dirty business, but it was a lifetime ago. The scars ensured he would never forget, learn the lessons of the past as he had waxed on to her—about vowing to do better, and keeping on living. Fighting the good fight. It was important to note, that Syfu, under any of his various monikers though time, ever gambled lightly; If they were doing this, he was all-in, or nothing. Remorse was for the dead.


And now, he was done ruining a perfectly good silence with talk—until next time of course. Everyone in the galaxy now, had a past that would come catch up to them before too long, for it was a galaxy full of survivors. Guilt was normal, but it was important not to let it rule one’s life. The same went for fear. Hate. The emotions of the dark side weren’t to be rejected, but rather controlled. There was a big difference, in what the old Jedi had preached about the path leading to ruin. He hoped to see the wisdom he learned despite the Old Masters passed on to this New Order. Do not fear the Dark Side. But do not Embrace it.


The heart was always a good compass, it was only that people either didn’t want to listen, or didn’t know how to listen to it.