The Resistance had escaped.
Worse than that, the Resistance had escaped with the information relating to Luke Skywalker. They had arrived at their base on D’Qar too late, distracted by escaping from the destruction of Starkiller base and getting everything in order. D’Qar was cleared out. Leia had learned from Hoth what to do, when on the run, and there were no leads on where the Resistance had gone, or where Luke was. Not even their best cryptologists could figure anything out from what little had been left behind. It was infuriating, and Kylo found himself locked in a game of anger and blame as he stood outside Snoke’s Throne Room.
Not an auditorium.
Not a projector room.
He had been transferred to the Supremacy due to his wounds, all of which were now covered by his black armor. Helmet in place, the only real sign of his anger was the way his fists were clenched at his side, and the tense posture he took. He was waiting for an auburn haired officer, one of the cryptologists who failed, but still stood out from the others, known as Octavia.
Apparently, Snoke wanted to see them both.
Kylo didn’t know why, but he wasn’t happy about it. It was bad enough seeing Snoke alongside Hux, it was worse with an unknown element involved. It didn’t help he knew she was a ginger, too. He wasn’t exactly having good relationships with them as of late, and he couldn’t help but think they might all share a similar trait of being tiresome. He wasn’t keen to find out, and hoped whatever it was, it wouldn’t extend long beyond the throne room visit.
He knew of Octavia’s approach before she was visible. The Praetorian guard shifted, and he felt the new presence in the Force as she came into sight. He assessed her silently behind his mask, making silent judgments on what use she could possibly have in this meeting on her appearance. If she knew more than he did, he wouldn’t ask, just simply turn as she got closer and open the door so they could both stride into the room where Snoke was waiting for them, decked out in his golden threads and slippers, lounging upon his throne.
It was not often that he let just anyone see him in person.
He was…well, much less intimidating in person, though that was not something Kylo Ren would state aloud. It was hard enough keeping it out of his thoughts, where Snoke wouldn’t see such a thing in his mind.
There was no one in there previously, thankfully, beyond the many praetorian that stood guard over Snoke. Kylo often wondered what it was they did all day, but he wouldn’t be asking that question, either, as he stepped forward in silence, coming to a stop some distance off to drop to a knee, and bow his head before the disfigured face.
“Commander Ren,” Snoke greeted, “Officer Octavia,” he addressed the other, before averting back to Kylo, “How is your wound?”
Kylo stiffened, but didn’t rise, or look up. “It’s nothing,” he dismissed, not wanting to delay this meeting with talk of his failure, or the scars that would remain to remind him of it. He was still furious that he’d been bested by a Scavenger with no training.
Snoke did not let it go, of course. He looked to Octavia, offering her a wry smile with a chuckle, “The Mighty Kylo Ren,” he said, rising to his feet as his tone took on that mocking note. Kylo resisted the urge to again clench his gloved hands over the smooth floor, to look up, to challenge Snoke. “Afraid to admit when he has been defeated, afraid to admit when he needs help.” Kylo felt his lips twitch beneath his helmet, and he looked up, “Take that ridiculous thing off.”
Irked, but unwilling to disobey in the moment, Kylo lifted his hands, and undid the clasps of his helmet to take it off, and reveal the unhealed wound on his face. ‘What is the point of this?’ He wondered, but couldn’t ask, as Snoke’s eyes assessed the wound that was there, the black strip that ran over it.
“To think, a mere scavenger could do this to you, a mere scavenger you let escape with the map to Luke Skywalker.”
“She—”
“Silence!” It wasn’t a shout, but it held enough authority that Kylo nearly bit his lip. He glared at Snoke, but still, did not rise.
Snoke returned to his seat, to settle there, “We will rectify it.” He stated simply, looking then to Octavia, with a smile, “As you can see, Commander Ren does not seem to know how to gather information any longer. We had the chance to have a droid that had the information we needed, but he let it go, and has suffered gravely for it,” Kylo swallowed down a comment. He wouldn’t hear the end of that damned droid. “There is a transmission coming from Eedit Temple. It is too far away for us to hear it clearly here. You will go with Kylo Ren, he will offer support where you see fit to use him. I believe it carries information that will lead us to Luke Skywalker, and put the Order back on the correct track.”
~***~
Dathomir was in mourning for Senator Velroz in the major cities, but that was not an unnatural state for Dathomir.
Where the Sith Lady, Darth Psyche, lived was more a necropolis than anything else. It was here that old battle droids mingled with bones of the fallen, here where the Clone Wars had nearly committed an act of genocide against the Nightsisters, those women of Dathomir blessed with the ability to manipulate the Force in a kind of Magick so unlike the way the Sith were trained to manipulate it.
The planet teemed with that energy.
Its secrets were kept on walls and in history that was hard to access, but the Lady of the Sith sought to unlock those secrets, and those followers she had were always helping with it, but it was not enough, and now, time seemed more important than it ever had. She was young – 21 years only, time had not seemed a concern to her until the Hosnian Cataclysm happened, and she knew a side had to be chosen.
So far, she was mute, letting Dathomir mourn first.
That day in particular, she had gone back to translating one of the old spell books, knowing there was something within it she sought, but uncertain what it was. She just had that feeling, and as any Force sensitive knew, it was not a good idea to ignore these kinds of feelings. The Force was ever her guide, and she had to listen to it, as it listened to her will, and guided her towards its completion.
Of course, she did impose herself on it, as well.
She was sitting outside one of the stone homes when she heard the rumble of a ship overhead, and glanced up. ‘Millennium Falcon?’ An infamous ship. What was it doing here, though? Was she caught? ‘Impossible.’ Were they looking for something? Someone? Was this an attempt to rally Dathomir in general to the cause of the Resistance?
Pia reached out with the Force.
She caught a glimpse of an impression – confusion, concern, a lost girl at the helm of it all, forsaken, uncertain…powerful. ‘Hm.’ Certainly not Luke then, nor Leia. She had met neither, but knew of them. Who did not know of them?
The young woman rose from her place as another came into sight, curious. Pia gave a smile to the togruta, “I will go investigate,” she promised, and offered out the book, “Would you take this in to Felicity? I’ve marked the page,” she had slid a black feather into it as bookmark. “Translating takes so long sometimes with language this archaic.”
“I will,” the togruta took the book gingerly from Pia, careful with the old leather, and turned away. Pia left her spot, pulling her pink hair back into a quick ponytail, glad she’d kept a band on her arm. She usually tied it up while reading if it started getting in her face. The wind had been nice, until now – but she didn’t need it in her face if this came to a clash.
She hopped down the rocky incline to the base of the village just outside the mountain fortress, for once glad she had chosen white for the day over black, though the dress was a bit too short, and too revealing, to be considered decent. Not that she really cared about such things. It was comfortable to her to not have so much in the way.
Nonetheless, she made her way towards the Falcon where it had found a clear space to land, one lightsaber on her hip, kept there on a black belt. She wouldn’t actually approach the ship close enough to touch it, but she wanted to be seen, and for the others to know she was aware of their presence, as she sought again to get an idea of who was there, and why, through the Force.
Worse than that, the Resistance had escaped with the information relating to Luke Skywalker. They had arrived at their base on D’Qar too late, distracted by escaping from the destruction of Starkiller base and getting everything in order. D’Qar was cleared out. Leia had learned from Hoth what to do, when on the run, and there were no leads on where the Resistance had gone, or where Luke was. Not even their best cryptologists could figure anything out from what little had been left behind. It was infuriating, and Kylo found himself locked in a game of anger and blame as he stood outside Snoke’s Throne Room.
Not an auditorium.
Not a projector room.
He had been transferred to the Supremacy due to his wounds, all of which were now covered by his black armor. Helmet in place, the only real sign of his anger was the way his fists were clenched at his side, and the tense posture he took. He was waiting for an auburn haired officer, one of the cryptologists who failed, but still stood out from the others, known as Octavia.
Apparently, Snoke wanted to see them both.
Kylo didn’t know why, but he wasn’t happy about it. It was bad enough seeing Snoke alongside Hux, it was worse with an unknown element involved. It didn’t help he knew she was a ginger, too. He wasn’t exactly having good relationships with them as of late, and he couldn’t help but think they might all share a similar trait of being tiresome. He wasn’t keen to find out, and hoped whatever it was, it wouldn’t extend long beyond the throne room visit.
He knew of Octavia’s approach before she was visible. The Praetorian guard shifted, and he felt the new presence in the Force as she came into sight. He assessed her silently behind his mask, making silent judgments on what use she could possibly have in this meeting on her appearance. If she knew more than he did, he wouldn’t ask, just simply turn as she got closer and open the door so they could both stride into the room where Snoke was waiting for them, decked out in his golden threads and slippers, lounging upon his throne.
It was not often that he let just anyone see him in person.
He was…well, much less intimidating in person, though that was not something Kylo Ren would state aloud. It was hard enough keeping it out of his thoughts, where Snoke wouldn’t see such a thing in his mind.
There was no one in there previously, thankfully, beyond the many praetorian that stood guard over Snoke. Kylo often wondered what it was they did all day, but he wouldn’t be asking that question, either, as he stepped forward in silence, coming to a stop some distance off to drop to a knee, and bow his head before the disfigured face.
“Commander Ren,” Snoke greeted, “Officer Octavia,” he addressed the other, before averting back to Kylo, “How is your wound?”
Kylo stiffened, but didn’t rise, or look up. “It’s nothing,” he dismissed, not wanting to delay this meeting with talk of his failure, or the scars that would remain to remind him of it. He was still furious that he’d been bested by a Scavenger with no training.
Snoke did not let it go, of course. He looked to Octavia, offering her a wry smile with a chuckle, “The Mighty Kylo Ren,” he said, rising to his feet as his tone took on that mocking note. Kylo resisted the urge to again clench his gloved hands over the smooth floor, to look up, to challenge Snoke. “Afraid to admit when he has been defeated, afraid to admit when he needs help.” Kylo felt his lips twitch beneath his helmet, and he looked up, “Take that ridiculous thing off.”
Irked, but unwilling to disobey in the moment, Kylo lifted his hands, and undid the clasps of his helmet to take it off, and reveal the unhealed wound on his face. ‘What is the point of this?’ He wondered, but couldn’t ask, as Snoke’s eyes assessed the wound that was there, the black strip that ran over it.
“To think, a mere scavenger could do this to you, a mere scavenger you let escape with the map to Luke Skywalker.”
“She—”
“Silence!” It wasn’t a shout, but it held enough authority that Kylo nearly bit his lip. He glared at Snoke, but still, did not rise.
Snoke returned to his seat, to settle there, “We will rectify it.” He stated simply, looking then to Octavia, with a smile, “As you can see, Commander Ren does not seem to know how to gather information any longer. We had the chance to have a droid that had the information we needed, but he let it go, and has suffered gravely for it,” Kylo swallowed down a comment. He wouldn’t hear the end of that damned droid. “There is a transmission coming from Eedit Temple. It is too far away for us to hear it clearly here. You will go with Kylo Ren, he will offer support where you see fit to use him. I believe it carries information that will lead us to Luke Skywalker, and put the Order back on the correct track.”
~***~
Dathomir was in mourning for Senator Velroz in the major cities, but that was not an unnatural state for Dathomir.
Where the Sith Lady, Darth Psyche, lived was more a necropolis than anything else. It was here that old battle droids mingled with bones of the fallen, here where the Clone Wars had nearly committed an act of genocide against the Nightsisters, those women of Dathomir blessed with the ability to manipulate the Force in a kind of Magick so unlike the way the Sith were trained to manipulate it.
The planet teemed with that energy.
Its secrets were kept on walls and in history that was hard to access, but the Lady of the Sith sought to unlock those secrets, and those followers she had were always helping with it, but it was not enough, and now, time seemed more important than it ever had. She was young – 21 years only, time had not seemed a concern to her until the Hosnian Cataclysm happened, and she knew a side had to be chosen.
So far, she was mute, letting Dathomir mourn first.
That day in particular, she had gone back to translating one of the old spell books, knowing there was something within it she sought, but uncertain what it was. She just had that feeling, and as any Force sensitive knew, it was not a good idea to ignore these kinds of feelings. The Force was ever her guide, and she had to listen to it, as it listened to her will, and guided her towards its completion.
Of course, she did impose herself on it, as well.
She was sitting outside one of the stone homes when she heard the rumble of a ship overhead, and glanced up. ‘Millennium Falcon?’ An infamous ship. What was it doing here, though? Was she caught? ‘Impossible.’ Were they looking for something? Someone? Was this an attempt to rally Dathomir in general to the cause of the Resistance?
Pia reached out with the Force.
She caught a glimpse of an impression – confusion, concern, a lost girl at the helm of it all, forsaken, uncertain…powerful. ‘Hm.’ Certainly not Luke then, nor Leia. She had met neither, but knew of them. Who did not know of them?
The young woman rose from her place as another came into sight, curious. Pia gave a smile to the togruta, “I will go investigate,” she promised, and offered out the book, “Would you take this in to Felicity? I’ve marked the page,” she had slid a black feather into it as bookmark. “Translating takes so long sometimes with language this archaic.”
“I will,” the togruta took the book gingerly from Pia, careful with the old leather, and turned away. Pia left her spot, pulling her pink hair back into a quick ponytail, glad she’d kept a band on her arm. She usually tied it up while reading if it started getting in her face. The wind had been nice, until now – but she didn’t need it in her face if this came to a clash.
She hopped down the rocky incline to the base of the village just outside the mountain fortress, for once glad she had chosen white for the day over black, though the dress was a bit too short, and too revealing, to be considered decent. Not that she really cared about such things. It was comfortable to her to not have so much in the way.
Nonetheless, she made her way towards the Falcon where it had found a clear space to land, one lightsaber on her hip, kept there on a black belt. She wouldn’t actually approach the ship close enough to touch it, but she wanted to be seen, and for the others to know she was aware of their presence, as she sought again to get an idea of who was there, and why, through the Force.