Saga The Force Chosen (OC, AU, 3/4 posts so far)--Thread reopened 02/26

Title: The Force Chosen
Author: leiamoody
Timeframe: Between ANH and TESB
Characters: Civriel Giropos. Nalieza Fejier. Josym Di'sallach. Meaithe Akam.
Author's Notes: This quartet of stories was originally meant to provide background for a group of Force sensitives in my AU GFFA that I call "The Oddlings". They come from different backgrounds, but are drawn to one location by a unique yet shared trait which will ultimately shape their destinies.

Mother Ocean
It was early morning. In front of Civriel, the sun sat at the halfway point between the horizon and the sky. Behind him stood the small bundle of buildings that formed the Tethys Community Beach Club. Yesterday marked the end of the high summer season. The club's doors were shut, except for the little kahveon. The chairs were still out for anyone to use, but they would see very few people taking advantage of them for months. No more families would come to the shore and spend hours laying about or playing in the water.

Today marked an ending, too. The end of his formative years on one planet. By the afternoon, he would be elsewhere. On the first leg of an intersystem journey taking him away from home. A journey that would ultimately end on another world, far away from this place.

He had made the decision to attend the Cultural University on Aeithera because the history and archaeology departments there were among the best in the galaxy. At least, that had been the conscious reason. The unconscious reason, when he had become aware of it, was one that he couldn't understand. It felt like a calling from some higher deity, or an impulse drawn from the most primitive region of the inner mind. Yet it was strong, and persistent. He had to leave everything familiar behind. His place, ultimately, lay somewhere out in the galaxy.

But his heart felt another pull...to stay here on Vouroso, where his soul felt most complete. On the world of the Mother Ocean...How could he leave? There was too much that he loved, which by all normal logic should keep him here. His parents and sister. The other members of his family. His friends. Ena.

Making the decision to leave wasn't nearly as difficult as following through with it.

The required applications had taken three hours to fill out. During that time, one half of his thoughts had been focused upon such important matters as remembering to spell his name right and how to write comprehensible answers for the essay questions. But the other half of his concentration was focused on how to explain this to Ena. He never worked up the courage to tell her about it, not until after he had received his acceptance. She wanted to get married and raise children. He wanted that too. But not yet.

The morning mist was dissolving, and the clouds were beginning to thin out, revealing patches of blue. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Off in the distance, the first fishing trampers were heading out to catch nuri. The tradition of working on the water was intertwined into the bonds that formed the society of Vouroso. Ancient trading vessels set out from Medoun in the far north, and sailed across the sea, setting up nation states that eventually coalesced into a unified civilization. Much later on, they went out into the galaxy, continuing the mercantile vocation their ancestors had begun millennia ago.

He was going to miss the harvest season. By now, his father and some other kinsmen would be out in the vineyard, taking the metsimes from the vines and gathering them into baskets. Within three months, each small fruit would become part of the wine called metsima...another thing that he cherished from this world. The first tasting was subtle in its sweetness. A gift of the islands, blessed by the winds and currents of the ocean herself.

The sea before him was growing choppy, caused by a change of winds.

Civriel glanced over his shoulder. Looming over the beach below was the Castillon of Ceuta, the last remaining fortress from the days when Vouroso was nothing more than a world of disconnected nations.

He could see the ghosts of vessels from those times. The meturahs, still plying their trade across the aquamarine and azure waters, heading for ports that no longer existed. The kiturahs, ancient warships set high with billowing white sails and deep blue pennants. The haturahs, with their lone sheets made from royal blue traille stretched across the masts, pushed along by ghostly breezes. Phantom fishing boats, constructed of cesim wood when it still could be found here, returning at night with the sounds of their long dead crews calling out to each other in the darkness.

These were not mirages. He had always been able to see and hear them through inner sight. This was the primary manifestation of some power carried within his blood. What the Vouro called mfan, the power of clear light. Or what the Triniteos, those three legendary Jedi Masters from this world, would have known as the Force.

Did that mean anything? It certainly couldn't mean that he was destined to become a Jedi. They hadn't existed for ages, and weren't likely to return so long as the Emperor held the galaxy in a death grip.

But the instinct remained. It caused the drive within him to leave. Try as he might, it could not be ignored or denied. Civriel knew that it would do no good to stay here with the familiar rather than follow the instinct. To go beyond the known out into the unknown was a great challenge. But it was essential.

Still, the things that he would miss...like spending an afternoon on the family's haturah, the new one constructed by his uncle...set with her glorious ultramarine colored broadcloth sails, the twenty good fortune stitches added to the corners by his aunt. One lazy afternoon alone, granted to him by his father as a gift before he left. A generous gift, so close to the beginning of the harvest season, when every available hand was needed. But his father understood the need to collect as many memories as possible before the long journey. Once upon a time, his father had "taken up the grant" and spent two years off-world. He knew it was necessary to collect as many memories as possible, like small bundles of shore roses, and pull them into himself, to keep the sting of missing was what most cherished at bay.

Memories...the crashing of waves, the sight of ganni and meuste drifting and gliding over the delicate blue surface dotted with whitecaps. Water that could be utterly cold in the morning, then perfectly warm by the end of the afternoon. Older memories...standing with his mother the first time he was brought to the shore...not here at the club, but at one of the smaller beaches, where the sand wasn't quite as soft or bright...he had a vague image of screaming in childish terror as the receding tidal pull swept past his ankles.

That first experience did not have a negative effect. He learned to swim by the age of three. And soon, Civriel seemed to act as one of the Mother's offspring when in her element. Holding his breath had come naturally to him. He felt no sense of danger that day when he headed out past the safety markers. That had caused a ruckus when he came back and found his mother crying, his father angry, and his little sister laughing at his predicament.

Many nights he would sneak out of the house and head down to sit on the rocks for hours watching the sky come alive with the flash and shine of stars. Those were the times when the calling was strong enough to almost overwhelm him. As if the stars were saying that he must come forth from the ocean, and reach out to the sky. Touch the stars, then go among them and explore.

Casting off from a familiar shore...but he wouldn't be adrift. There would always be a mooring line that kept a part of his soul tied here, to the blue island in the middle of the black sea.

Civriel let out a breath. The ferry would be coming soon, taking him to the mainland. Then he would head for the spaceport, and board the first of three shuttles that would take him to the planet where the next phase of his life would begin.

For now, he was leaving home. But there would be semester breaks when he could return. And one day, when he graduated, he could always return and stay for good...if he were inclined to do so at that point.

He stared out at the sea once more, then turned and headed for the main building of the club. His mother, sister and Ena had come with him and were waiting inside, sitting at a small table in the kahveon. He had just enough time to join them in a farewell toast, and to create one last memory for his collection.

 

A most beautiful piece. I can[t help but think you love the ocean as much as Civriel. You've painted such a lovely and descriptive picture here.

 

Wow! Absolutely vivid imagery here!

He could see the ghosts of vessels from those times. The meturahs, still plying their trade across the aquamarine and azure waters, heading for ports that no longer existed. The kiturahs, ancient warships set high with billowing white sails and deep blue pennants. The haturahs, with their lone sheets made from royal blue traille stretched across the masts, pushed along by ghostly breezes. Phantom fishing boats, constructed of cesim wood when it still could be found here, returning at night with the sounds of their long dead crews calling out to each other in the darkness.

Gorgeous! What else can I say? Lovely!

 

Part Two deals with Nalieza, my main OC from the legendary you've-never-heard-of-it story Sleeping and Dreaming.
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Another Role


"Shen, I can't do this anymore."

The declaration came in the oddest place, but Nalieza could have cared less about finding a more sensible location to state her feelings. After days of thinking and rethinking, she finally reached a decision. Now it was being announced, right in the middle of an overly energetic square on a media world in the Corporate Sector.

"This business doesn't work the way it should. We're stuck doing tenth-rate garbage on Lacace, yet we can’t avoid the system. And now I know doing it here won't be any different."

"I did warn you about this trip. What possessed you to believe this place would have any integrity?"

A shoulder jabbed into Nalieza's back. This world apparently never slept. Standing out in the open with a crowd of beings moving around her and Shen wasn't the right place to continue this discussion. The feeling of multiple thoughts and images from the strangers jostling around her spilling into her consciousness certainly didn't help either.

"Can we find somewhere more calm?" She had to raise her voice just to ask the question.

"I remember spotting a tucked away corner during my walkabout while you were off launching the liner this afternoon." Shen turned to the left, clearly intending to go across the street.

Nalieza had to allow a line of Rodians and some Twi'leks to pass before she could follow her mentor away from the noisy confusion. They had to wait for three speeders to run the red traffic signal before they could step down into the crosswalk and move from one side of the street to the other. Shen led the way after that, going down a small and narrow alley, until he rounded a right corner, then stopped at a partially enclosed loading area attached to what was most likely a warehouse.

"An appropriate backdrop for the scene. It's odd for one to find an island of tranquility at night in the rear end of a shipping facility." Shen stretched out his left arm to point at a set of steps attached to the building. "Let's take a seat and finish our chat."

"It's not a chat." But Nalieza would only go so far in disagreeing with him. Shen was not only her mentor, but also her birth sponsor, and the man who had introduced her parents to each other long ago in a university drama class, and who had been the catalyst for her entrance into the acting profession.

She went over to the steps and took a seat on the third from the top.

Shen took in a breath, then ascended up the steps to sit next to her. "Ah, you've made an old man climb a small mountain. How utterly vicious of you."

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Neither did I. I should have sought out a more pleasant spot for our talk. Like a park."

"I don't think there are any public parks on Zedra. And probably not on any of the Sector worlds for that matter."

"Which leaves more room for commerce. Such is the way of a place where money controls all."

"It's not any different in the Empire, except you toss out money and substitute power. Same stuff otherwise."

Shen nodded. "And the inability to create art without the interference of corrupting forces has troubled you. I've been bothered by this for years."

"It's not just the corruption. They've used our stupid show as propaganda all these years. It's pathetic."

"So you accepted a rather dodgy invitation from the Millennium Corporation to take some meetings. It did seem tempting, I suppose, considering your contract with Diamante is about to expire."

Nalieza frowned. She had taken the first thing which seemed remotely better than being stuck for another eight years in a contract doing a role on a low-rent show. When Millennium contacted her agent about the possibility of doing some films in the Corporate Sector, it seemed like a small blessing at the time. It would be a new experience, and an opportunity to further her horizons and learning in the acting craft.

It took two weeks to make the decision that ultimately put her on a shuttle to Zedra, one of the Sector planets where the entertainment industry went about its business. She followed her instinct, and stepped into the surreal first-class-all-the-way milieu of the Corporate Sector holofilm industry.

For the past month, she received the "Queen treatment": attending premieres almost every night, watching three smashball tournaments, popping around to the best restaurants for multi-course lunches and dinners, going shopping for hours at the finest stores, getting stuck at industry parties, opening the Nuat Cultural Festival...culminating with the launch of the Lady of Reltooine earlier that afternoon.

"I made a mistake."

"You had to find out what the nature of this place is. My time here could have worked as an object lesson if you were more inclined to listen to an old director ramble about the days of yore just after we switched to the romdram."

"We"...her mother and Shen, the independent holo actress and the writer/director who first discovered the young woman. When the Imperial era began, they chose to leave the holocinema business and retreated into the two-dimensional fiction of New World that contradicted her stated desire to never appear in propaganda pieces. But she did not want to give up profession just because of the new regime.

"I'm sorry. You had to come here after me because Padra asked you to...but in the end, I'm changing my mind."

"Are you certain? Acting is in your blood. Your mother passed that gift to you, and she found it hard to resist staying away from the business after she left to raise you."

"But she found another role. She became a dreamworker. Helping people go through their dreams was very important to her."

"I realize how much that meant to her. She often spoke in glowing terms of the work she performed."

“But she was never happy.”

"Maiena was glad to have you and Paurilis, and analyzing dreams brought her great satisfaction. Yet there was still something she felt was missing from her life."

"What about if I just step away from the profession for a few years instead? Maybe go to university like my father wants. It'd be nice to have a change of pace."

"Is that a calling card from the Force?"

"The Force doesn't exist anymore. It was made illegal a couple of decades ago."

"Only the Jedi were forbidden, my dear. One cannot push the Force out of existence."

"I know, I know. But I could get in trouble if the Great Power is trying to summon me."

"If you are worried about being detected by the Emperor or his minions, I think it's proper to invoke an old saying from your birth world. 'The Force always takes care of its children'."

"If that's true, then when where was it during the Purge?"

"Perhaps it was an unforeseen circumstance which even that venerated field could not anticipate. And if those ancient rumors about the Emperor being a Sith Lord might happen to be true..."

Nalieza shivered. A Force sensitive in a hostile galaxy had to worry every so often they might be detected, and if they were found by a viper from the darker side of the universal power...then the Creatrix only knew what would become of their inner self, if they weren't physically destroyed first.

Yet fortune had been good so far...all fates had protected her from discovery by the bad guys. It was definitely a good thing her presence was minimal. She could feel thoughts and pick up stray images of thoughts from others. At the moment, this was the only manifestation of Force ability she had demonstrated. As of yet, she hadn't received a tshaud. Perhaps it would never come, and she would never have to worry about her sensitivity increasing.

"If the Force is going to take care of me, then it will let me pass the interview portion of the prelims for the Cultural University."

"Do you have a major in mind?"

Nalieza smiled. "Holocinema Studies. You know, to feed the instinct."

 

You've painted two very realistic and yet very different scenes here.

I can't wait to see if Civriel, the naive fisherman from a backwater planet and Nalieza, the galaxy traveled starlet will get together on a path to the Force. It'll be interesting to see what their experiences are once they fully start manifesting their abilities. Will Vader hunt them? Will Palps find them? Will they choose to ignore their gifts to live in obscurity and safety?

I need to know.

Please?

 

Thankee muchly.

Will Vader hunt them? Will Palps find them? Will they choose to ignore their gifts to live in obscurity and safety?

I'll break it to you: No, No, and...no (they go through a lot of ups and downs along the way, same as the other two who will show up at some point).

Thanks for reading and doing the reply thing. It's appreciated.

 

Beneath The Visiting Moon
Two rows of people lined the nave: members of the Di'sallach clan, with his parents at the head of each line. They, and the invited guests, were gathered underneath the flickering light of torches set into sconces perched far above on pillars.

Josym moved down the aisle in the solemn way required by tradition for this ceremony. To be inducted as a Paladin in the ancient order of the Chatos Knighthood was supposed to be the first great honor heaped upon him as heir of the Prestature. But what was unfolding around him wasn't overwhelming. None of this inspired an appropriate sense of awe within his spirit. There was no fluttering in his stomach from reverent nervousness.

He felt ridiculous.

This ceremony was peculiar, full of pompous circumstances extracted from old texts that only existed in binary form, and translated into this spectacle. It felt like being in the middle of a modern theatre production using partially translated text from an ancient play. There was a sense of unreality about the affair. Josym had been to many strange gatherings on this world he had to call home. Birthday balls, christening galas, commemoration banquets, cotillions, debuts for the heirs, marriage festivities for the heiresses, all of these events blurred together in his memories to form a melange of endless extravagances and gaudy grandeur that looked more like delusions.

But this ceremony would probably go down in his personal history as the biggest delusion he would ever witness, or participate in for that matter.

All of this fabulous trinketery in honor of reaching the Age of Ascendancy. Tomorrow morning, he would come to his eighteenth year of breathing...the first stage of his transition into adulthood. The second phase would come in three years when he attained the Age of Authority. At twenty-one years old, he would have the full rights and privileges granted to a Prestat Apparent. For any young heir who wanted those rights, it was one of the two great milestones all the sons of the Lordships looked forward to with impatient anticipation. It wasn't enough to use their fathers' keys to the manses when they could possess their own instead.

Neither of these supposedly auspicious benchmarks actually held any meaning for him. The rights granted an heir were incomplete for someone who wanted true freedom outside the closed loop of a dead society. What rights would he get after he passed through the last great nothing gate into the rest of his life? An arranged marriage to a daughter from one of the other Houses...then he would be held responsible for the continuation of the Di'sallach line by producing more than one son and just enough daughters for other arranged marriages to keep the "auld alliances" intact. But in a perverse example of this world he was entrenched within like a nivit caught at the center of a firespider's web, it was expected of him to create offspring with a future wife--but he must never love her. A Prestat had a spouse assigned to him, not granted by the Most Holy Ones, so the divinity of love was not allowed into such a functional arrangement. If the man were inclined to feel love for a woman, then he could give those feelings to a cortigia. A courtesan was a woman he could choose, unlike his wife.

Josym glanced up ahead to the altar where his parents had now gathered, along with his uncles. Just behind the gaudy spectacle of his family stood the more discreetly (by Deiu standards, anyway) attired women that belonged to his father and uncles. Second in line after his father's latest acquisition, was Uncle Reunahn's courtesan. But tomorrow night, she would be in charge of his initiation into the sensual realm. After that, she would be his cortigia.

Palai was standing beside the Apprentice Pillar, glowing soft and golden under the light of the four brilliant torcharims mounted high above her. It was just like the first night he saw her across the ballroom, a few months ago. Yet another party held in honor of something that nobody even knew about, because they never knew why these gatherings took place. It was a genetic compulsion to convene large groups into tiny rooms, apparently. On that night, there was something different in the energy field of the usual assemblage. She was bright and silvery, shimmering like Najahal in her full glory shining down into one of the courtyard fountains in the time when evening and morning blend together. Then, and now, Palai was beautiful. Even dressed in the preposterous confection of indigo shimmersilk, with her ebony hair swept up into the twisted embrace of three gold combs, she was a bright spot of color and life that stood out in the midst of the assembled dark monotones of black, purple, and deeper than deep red.

She was the only reason he decided to go through with this charade rather than stage a protest by absconding off to the city. He had made the suggestion last night, after the rehearsal. Palai thought it might be interesting, certainly better than going through this dumb act. But she was fearful of his father's wrath. This was a legitimate concern, given his father's history of retribution towards those he felt had offended the name of the House.

Josym pushed that line of thought to the backstage, where it belonged. If he simply treated this spectacle like a masque, it would pass that much more quickly. Then he would be reunited with Palai at the obligatory banquet afterwards, and then they could sneak out into the gardens. Even though he was supposed to wait until after his birthday gala, he wanted to take at least one step along the carnal path. Just an innocent one, certain sure, not a full-blown tumble in the kiloran bushes. He had never plucked courage from the wine and tried it earlier, though the desire was present from the opening minutes of their first meeting alone. But youth can create a timid heart, and Josym unfortunately suffered from an overly frightened one, probably more abnormal than many boys of his age. Given the enforced separation of the sexes, it made sense he would be nervous. But he didn't want to be afraid. He wanted...well, he wanted Palai. There was nothing immoral about that. She was beautiful, whether under the brilliant light of the lunar visitor's sojourn in the sky, or in the smoky light of this odd chamber, even with her hair pinned and pushed up into torturous design that resembled a collapsed pastry. She was a beacon of graceful hope in this place where all was forlorn. Maybe one of these days, they could hop on a ship and leave this world to let the place decay. They could move along into the flow of life, bouncing around from one planet to another like vagabonds in a late-night movie. Maybe he could become an actor...so they would need to head straight for Lacace or Adarlon...but that could take awhile...okay, what would either one of them do for money? Wouldn't they need a plan first before getting off this rock? And why did he think she would agree to run away just because he wanted to?

Palai smiled at him.

Now his stomach began to flutter. But he had to push the feeling aside, down into a corner of himself so his walk down the processional way could proceed. The urge to run out of the hall was still in his mind, but it was now tempered by the urge to press forward. The knighting itself would only take thirty minutes, with a babble of words extracted and simplified from the more intricate archaic ceremony, along with the touching of his shoulders with the Sword of Destiny. Although it was made dull for the occasion, Josym still wondered what kind of reaction he might get by jumping up afterwards and screaming, "Help, I'm bleeding!" It did provide the potential for an amusing diversion from the monotony. But it would be an immature action, and he wanted to let everyone know he wasn't a kid anymore. Especially Palai...the best way to do that was staying the course. Even through the benediction and prayers for the continued grace and good fortune of his present and future. If they really wanted to bless him, they could restore the Force aspect back into the knighting ceremony script. It was a terrible injustice to every young man that ever participated in this ritual. Even those sons of the Houses deficient in the necessary midichlorians still could partake of the grace bestowed by the Universal Power to all willing to walk under the benevolent gaze of the Light.

But the Purge took that chance from him. Now it was a figment of the aristos' sad daydreams enacted with shadows and clouds under the fuzzy torch illuminations. None of this was real, even as it surrounded him in this antique chapel. Though this ceremony was taking place in three dimensions, its meaning was a ghost. So it could only be treated as one of the old-fashioned masques once so beloved in the Old Society.

Fine, so he was wearing a funny costume, walking towards the altar. And he was participating in a ritual so archaic it was wearing cobwebs. But it was all part of a long jumble of inanity that had one redeeming quality at the end. Palai would look upon him with pride. Which meant he could prove himself to her as a man who always kept his word, no matter the circumstances that might be insurmountable or absurd. That was how the Jedi used to act, when they were allowed to exist. Just like his uncle used to be, or so his mother had told him about the nature of her brother.

Some of that man's nature must exist within himself, especially since he also held his long departed ancestor's first name. If there was any truth to the legends of namesakes, then fragments of personal characteristics and physical traits were incorporated fiber by fiber into his soul. He definitely possessed a strong Force inclination, with a certain aptitude for using the ability in mock combat sessions when he was deep in Kishenua practice. Uncle Josym (Huranz, his brain added) was renowned for his prowess in real-world battles.

It was there, and it was his. Contained for life in every cell of his body. One day, the galaxy might shift on its axis, and switch the balance back in favor of justice, and the Jedi might rise again. Then he could travel far away from Deiu to study the ancient mysteries, and he would never have to return to this world he only called home as a formality.

Of course Palai would also come along on the journey.

He was almost near the altar. It was time to take the stage, in the lead role. If he could remember his lines, plus the stage directions that told the pre-Paladin when to move, then he could pull this ceremony off like a professional. Then it would be over with...and then he could maneuver Palai outside, to stand underneath the visiting moon. They could make wishes to Najahal, silent prayers of mutual deliverance from this stagnant society, out into the galaxy, where they could start over, together.

Anything was possible, after all.
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A/N: This particular installment was meant to be read in conjunction with a chapter from a longer fic I wrote called Moonwater Perfume, which detailed the relationship between Josym and Palai. The corresponding chapter can be read here: Written after the Knighting Ceremony

 

That was great. Loved his thoughts as he was going toward his destiny. Although I would have liked to see what his relatives would have done had he screamed that he was hurt.

Wonderful.

 

What an excellent treat for a Sunday morning!

I had totally missed this one, but I love it! Add me to the PM list if you have one for this story too.

To describe the knighting ceremony from boththe cortigia's and Josym's point of view in different stories is simply brilliant.

 

Well now I have to hop over the diary and read the other version of this. Very wonderful. His thoughts of her were.. intriguing. Almost protective.

 

I unlocked this ancient thread and solved the truncation issues associated with the original posts because I would like to add these characters to my post for the OC Character Index that I am currently working on. There is one more story that needs to be added, but for now I wanted to reintroduce some more of my OC's to the latest version of this fic forum.

 

I love these characters: they are so three-dimensional and artfully detailed. As I was reading I could see them clearly, not just from your descriptions but also the pictures you gave in the OC thread.

Each of them yearning for more, ready to slough off the bindings of their old home worlds and traditions. Lovely!

 

Thanks for reading. I tried to write my OC's as clearly as possible (given they are my characters, they obviously need more description than canon characters).

 

Part 1 -- The presence of the ocean as a reassuring symbol of home is really powerful here. Civriel's struggle between wanting to stay and needing to leave for reasons the Force keeps nudging him with but won't outright explain -- something that I think is relatable if different from many decisions in life. That's kind of how the ocean is, though; it draws you in and speaks so reassuringly, but then it also contains an irresistible need to go outward. Not sure if that was an intentional thing or just my personal association with the element, but it definitely added something special to my experience of the story. The vividness of the descriptions brings up the memory of sea air. I'm glad to see this and the other thread are here and in-progress seeing as I've enjoyed reading your other snippets and shorts in the past.

 

Thank you for reading. I really wanted to focus on the ocean because it's always held an appeal for me on some weird mystical level. Plus I also wanted to throw in an element from Horatio Hornblower, which inspired a fair amount of Civriel's character.

 

Breathtaking! Civriel's beautiful world and his thoughts about leaving and returning! Nalieza's choice. And Josym and Palai ... Each place and context you present has a richness and vibrancy that makes the reader feel satisfied while also longing for more. You feel like you're right there, observing the events unfold.

 

Thanks for reading. I always hope that I'm able to write characters and situations that are rich not only in depth but reality. I really like coming as close to "you are there" as is technically possible, considering that I'm writing about a fictional galaxy inhabited by fictional characters.

 

Mother Ocean:

Civriel's backstory got me interested in what Vouroso used to be like. I can see that it's sparsely populated and whatnot and that it has very, very interesting moons. From what I understand, it's some gorgeous worldbuilding on your behalf. Nice way to use it in the chapter title, too.


He could see the ghosts of vessels from those times. The meturahs, still plying their trade across the aquamarine and azure waters, heading for ports that no longer existed. The kiturahs, ancient warships set high with billowing white sails and deep blue pennants. The haturahs, with their lone sheets made from royal blue traille stretched across the masts, pushed along by ghostly breezes. Phantom fishing boats, constructed of cesim wood when it still could be found here, returning at night with the sounds of their long dead crews calling out to each other in the darkness.

These were not mirages. He had always been able to see and hear them through inner sight. This was the primary manifestation of some power carried within his blood. What the Vouro called mfan, the power of clear light. Or what the Triniteos, those three legendary Jedi Masters from this world, would have known as the Force.

Intrigued, intrigued!

Civriel is obviously weighing the pros and cons throughout and making a choice like this. His family appears to need him and he appears to be connected to Ena (girlfriend, right?) I assume a lot will be lost and even more will be gained, so I hope that this continues!

Also, for whatever reason, Civriel reminded me of Hornblower. And then I realise that, technically, he *is* Hornblower. Well, helloooooooooo there.


Another Role:

I love Nalieza and I am glad that she's a part of this very special group of Force users.

The feeling of multiple thoughts and images from the strangers jostling around her spilling into her consciousness certainly didn't help either.

Is this her Force sensitivity or a way to describe annoying fans?

"An appropriate backdrop for the scene. It's odd for one to find an island of tranquility at night in the rear end of a shipping facility." Shen stretched out his left arm to point at a set of steps attached to the building. "Let's take a seat and finish our chat."

Cool parallel with the actual tranquility in the chapter dealing with Civriel.

I can see that Nalieza may have been motivated to explore the world and try to live as a snob, but that it did not appeal much to her. This makes her sacrifice a bit more drastic than Civriel's, but it's wonderful that a young woman realised that there is so much more to life than the strobe lights and flashes, or whatever their equivalents in the GFFA are.


This bit is very, very powerful.

"What about if I just step away from the profession for a few years instead? Maybe go to university like my father wants. It'd be nice to have a change of pace."

"Is that a calling card from the Force?"

"The Force doesn't exist anymore. It was made illegal a couple of decades ago."

"Only the Jedi were forbidden, my dear. One cannot push the Force out of existence."

"I know, I know. But I could get in trouble if the Great Power is trying to summon me."

"If you are worried about being detected by the Emperor or his minions, I think it's proper to invoke an old saying from your birth world. 'The Force always takes care of its children'."

"If that's true, then when where was it during the Purge?"

"Perhaps it was an unforeseen circumstance which even that venerated field could not anticipate. And if those ancient rumors about the Emperor being a Sith Lord might happen to be true..."


The Force will - hopefully - take care of this particular child.


Beneath The Visiting Moon

Josym is a Paladin? Talking about different origins, one goal and one mission.

A courtesan was a woman he could choose, unlike his wife.

We all want what we cannot have, don't we?

And I just realised that he is the one who eventually ends up with the protagonist of Moonwater Perfume. I like the idea of your universe so, so, so much: while everything is grim and bleak and possesses so many dangers in terms of morality, decisions and such, it eventually turns out to be cool in an unorthodox way and very, very contemporary in terms of how things are handled. The amount of tropes you turn on their heads and/or upside-down amazes me. It takes a very, very special writer to come up with all of this.

The above is the reason my response to the third story is brief. I want to explore the whole connection.

...


The only thing that seemed off in this collection was the word "christening". Everything else is top-notch.

I tried to identify these people by colours, too. Sky/sea blue, green, indigo. Am I right?

Looking forward to Meaithe Akam's story and, when it's done, I hope it's appropriate to reply to the story where they meet - of course, after you've made any possible changes, whether it's formatting or something else. Would not want to resurrect an eight-year-old thread just like that.

 

Thanks for reading, EP. Responses follow...

Vouroso had a lot more people (like 50 million or so) before the Republic, which caused a lot of people to go offworld in search of more opportunities, more excitement, etc, discovered it. By the time of the Galactic Empire, there’s about 10 million people scattered around the planet…maybe not sparsely populated, but enough room to have some room for yourself.

He’s on the horizon of something new, and of course he’s going to be nervous about what lies ahead and would certainly feel compelled to cling to the familiar in some ways. But he sent off the application materials for the university and off he goes, so…

(Yes, Ena is the girlfriend, at least until he’s been gone about a year and she gets lonesome and decides to end their relationship by not calling him anymore…that’s another story).

Nalieza goes back and forth on the whole matter of returning to acting, even though she also realizes there is something shallow about the process as it exists on the Hollywood planet. There is a bit of a creative rennaisance in the post-Imperial period, and she does go back into the industry for a couple of years, but eventually walks away from it entirely when other matters of a Jedi nature become really important.

He’s a paladin in a fancy knighthood that once stood for something on the old homeworld of Ysonesse, but hasn’t meant anything more than a glorified aristocratic social club for over ten thousand years (boys only, of course).

Freakin’ sweet high praise. Thank you muchly.

The only conscious color theme was definitely the use of indigo in cooperation with Palai. The sky blue connection with Civriel would be obvious to some extent given where he comes from and the lure of the sea upon his soul.