Hoth: Blood and Ice

[Darth Bellious]

There had been a woman once, called Hwi Sensara, who used to love bars at night, to sing to lingering patrons between sips of old whiskey. She had had her brief moment of fame on galactic charts as her voice and looks had been popular. But it had been long ago, and galaxy forgot about her, except for some old fans. For good reason, as she no longer existed.

But there was someone who shared many of her habits, her voice and even her repertoire. An impostor, perhaps, an extreme imitator. That woman was now at the bar, drinking whiskey on the rocks. The rocks had to be there regardless of the cold around. That woman looked a lot like Darth Bellious, but instead wore a black one piece and high heels.

She kept rolling the rocks in her glass, perhaps contemplating something restlessly, perhaps being anxious to sing, or perhaps of a meaningess habit, to observe how the cubes dissolve.

[Durasay Mixo]

There's something in the air. Something when danger approaches. Old habits die hard. The Pantoran came to the Cantina to get a drink. Making his way to the bar, and ordering a glass of the finest corellian brandy.

Or whatever was best available given the circumstances. His eyes were closed as the drink was given, his presence in the Force calming, the man at peace with the Galaxy.

[Darth Bellious]

She recognised him without turning; their presence in the Force had become familiar to one another over all those years, even if they might not sympathise with that presence's colour. Once, they had connected from Bankor to Yavin. It was impossible to be strangers within the same bar. Unless they firmly chose to.

At a moment like this, the woman was agnostic about it. They had betrayed one another, they hadn't killed each other for it. Life in the galaxy had its own pace, and the imminent threat to it was dwarfing small issues of individuals. She guessed there was still some commonality between them, and not just recent and political, induced by common enemies and cohabitation.

Still, the rocks were rolling, the staccato on the glass more than an ambience in an empty bar.

[Durasay Mixo]

He felt her, and there was an instinct to clutch the glass. To focus and brace. But after a standard month and a half, if it were going to have happened, it would have happened.

"Is this seat saved?" He spoke when he finally moved near where she sat. If she looked, he would at offer a friendly smile, "Would really prefer to drink with company before an invasion."

[Darth Bellious]

For now, she would look. It didn't exactly exclude having seen his smile. Still, staccato ceased for a moment.

"Conflicts like these make strange bedfellows, so once estranged carousers doesn't seem beyond the pale. The seat is free for one with courage to claim it." Her voice was melodic, mellow, melancholic even. If there was edge in it, it was sheathed.

[Durasay Mixo]

"A lack of courage was never my flaw." He slid into the chair, setting the drink down on the counter. "There's a list, I'm sure. But that's not on there." He continued, allowing himself a sigh as he enjoyed the moment.

"That's the truth. When something threatens the existence of everything, it makes all the poodoo of our problems seem insignificant."

[Darth Bellious]

"They are significant as lessons. But once learned, they lose immediate utility. Dwelling on the past beyond that takes the focus away from shaping the future, which is the only real frontier." She paused to sip. "You aren't after but an obscure epitaph, are you? If I have taught you anything, it is only worthwhile if next generations live with, by or against the intended consequences of your actions."

[Durasay Mixo]

"Whatever I leave behind, It'll be left in the hands of those whose time is long after I'm gone. My children, their children, so on and so forth. I'm not worried, anymore." The Pantoran took a drink, enjoying the burn on his tongue.

"My focus is on the here and now. Even as everything can be unveiled before me, being mindful of my surroundings, the Force, what we do here is what matters."

[Darth Bellious]

She was about to counter it but then stopped; he was no longer her apprentice, she had neither the right nor the obligation to impart any other lessons.

"And what matters now?" She asked simply.

[Durasay Mixo]

"Survival." It was plain and simple. "We have an existential threat coming to make us bend the knee. It's time to push back, and take as many of them out if they try to force it."

The Pantoran shook his head. "I'm sure as hell not letting them try and chain us all here without a fight."

[Darth Bellious]

"Survival of who, survival of what? How will their chains differ from the ones that many in the galaxy are already shackled with, mmm?"

[Durasay Mixo]

"Survival of people I care about. Whether or not those feelings are estranged or intimate." He replied, cooly, leaning back. "And maybe it wouldn't be so different. But there's always those who aren't chained down, that would end up in shackles. And those that current are..." he looked off for a moment, considering.

"The Galaxy has it's own set of problems. People will rise up on their own, try to break those chains, if you give them something to believe in."

[Darth Bellious]

"If you give them something to believe in it is not on their own that they rise, Durasay." She chuckled. "People live and die, in and out of chains. It is the idea of freedom itself that must survive. And it won't by someone who had never fought for their own freedom but got it from some saviour, some big damn hero. No more terrible disaster could befall people than for them to fall into the hands of a Hero."

She paused. "I'd rather you wouldn't become one, but I see you too far gone. You seem to have betrayed me in more than one way. Mark my words, Durasay, however, maybe they will return to you one day. In the end, you can't save anyone. They have to save themselves on their own."

[Durasay Mixo]

"No. I can't save anyone." He shook his head. "But I can save myself, and show others they themselves can do the same. But I'm not a hero, Moyr." The Pantoran pursed his lips, contemplating things.

"I'm just someone who isn't going to be pushed around."