Author: Findswoman Title: From a Flimsi Scrap Found on the Crystal Cliffs, Lira San Era: Saga—OT (sometime post-Rebels and post-Endor) Genre: Monologue, found document, angst, unsympathetic protagonist Characters: Established character identified only by initials; mentions of Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios, Chava the Wise Summary: A note of farewell found on the cliffs of Lira San. CONTENT WARNINGS: Suicide, genocide, fairly major character death. Note: Written for the Gothic Literature Quote Roulette challenge hosted by @ViariSkywalker in the Angstmongers Anonymous thread. The quote I received was: “I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also.” —Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Thanks as usual to @Raissa Baiard for beta reading and feedback. <3 With this, I say farewell. To you who greeted me, I say farewell. I place no hand over fist; I am unworthy of that ancient and noble gesture. I should never have been greeted, especially not here. Your greeting was not for me and never was. I accepted it like an arrogant, complacent fool. And ever since, I have suffered. As I should. Even when Garazeb removed his hands from his eyes with his “surprise, heh heh!” I suffered: the view of your world was too bright for me, for I knew what it meant. When Wise Chava and her guards welcomed me with their beaming smiles, I suffered more, for in them I could see only the horrid grimaces of disruptor-induced death. When the bright-eyed multitudes greeted us with songs on the promenade, among the blooming springapple trees, that was the worst: I could only see the heaps of mangled bodies that had piled up at my command. I ran from the city the first chance I could, telling you I wanted to explore. I could not look at another one of you (I dare not say your people’s name) without remembering. I thought, like an arrogant, complacent fool, to escape that remembrance. But I cannot. In your white mountains and moonwashed cliffs I see only the purple-gray peaks that I know are now crumbled to dust. In the fragrant springapple blossoms I smell only the charred bristlecone forests. In the song of the cliffdove I hear only the lone whipkillow mourning before her burnt nest. When I gaze out over your shimmering ocean, I see nothing but the desiccated, salt-grimed crater that the ISDs made of your regal Lake Yabsh. Nowhere, nowhere at all I can go on your beautiful homeworld of homeworlds that will not cast my wrongs in my face: the unspeakable wrongs I perpetrated against (as I know now) such a noble people. This world is not for me and can never be. Here on this cliff I give myself to it in the only way it will (and can) take me. My final plea (not that I have any right to make it): do not go looking for me, and do not bid me farewell. A. K. Spoiler: Notes All of the flora, fauna, and locations mentioned here is fanon, and all of it was created by me except for the bristlecone tree (by @Raissa Baiard) and the whipkillow (by @Fuzzy ambassador , fuzzydemolitionsquad on Tumblr and AO3). If you know Rebels, you probably can identify the author of the note.