Saga - PT Under The Gaze of Najahal --OC Monthly Challenge --A Jedi, his sister, and Force angst

Title: Under The Gaze of Najahal
Author: leiamoody
Timeframe: Shortly before ROTS
Genre: OC, Angst, Deathfic, Force stuff
Summary: A Jedi's sister receives a life lesson about the nature of death.
Notes: Written for the June Essential OC Challenge.
____________________________________________________________________________

"It is an evil day coming upon us," he said, hands tightened around the wrought avate railing that shimmered under the delicate gaze of Najahal, seated high upon the clouds. Silvery illumination brought out the subtle gold traces in the metallic railing, and the equally hidden auburn highlights in her brother's hair.

Casana looked up at the crowned moon, full and round like an expectant mother. Then she looked down at Josym. His face appeared much the same as it did on his last visit home two months ago, except for the thin crinkles now etched into the skin around his eyes and mouth. These wars had finally reached to his heart and plucked out something vital. She could feel it so plainly, through the small vestige of Sensitivity she shared with him. Out of eight children, only she and Josym shared an affinity with the Force. But only he was strong enough to leave this wretched world and become a Jedi.

"I can't imagine why you would think tomorrow is such a horrible day. Yes, Mtah is not the most caring man, but I wouldn't say he's evil." It was meant to be a joke, just a small one, just to brighten his mood a bit. She needed him to be strong for her wedding. Because she was not entirely certain that she held any strength within herself for the occasion.

Josym did not smile, or make any other positive acknowledgment of her statement. He only shook his head. "I mean something further away on the horizon than the ceremony, though my soul aches for the tragedy of that affair." He looked at her with a wistful expression. "I fear our pasts will soon become the only joys allowed to us in this lifetime. For our coming days are so filled with darkness."

Casana shivered. The conflicts in this horrid war had been tremendous, and the comms her brother sent home only brushed the surface of what she knew must have been one bloody skirmish after another. The loss of his easy humor was the first sign upon his arrival that alarmed her. Then she noticed how thin he was, how pale and tired his face seemed under the brightness of the morning sun when he arrived yesterday. His hair was dimmed now to the color of barley wine: no longer golden red, but brown interspersed with faint tinges of blond. And his eyes lacked the divine gleam that once animated the blue from transparent to deep, flowing along with the shift in his mood when amused.

It was all taken away by a conflict which neither the Chancellor or the Senate seemed ready to end. Not even the Jedi took a stand against the ongoing bloodshed, even as their numbers grew smaller after each battle. They revoked the Right of Denial, which then forced all conscientious objectors to fight---even Josym, who always viewed peace as a way of practical existence rather than a utopia to be achieved only through violence.

No wonder he felt broken. Since his days as a padawan, the Order had instilled the value of nonviolence. The Jedi were not meant to fight wars. They were keepers of justice, not enforcers of the law. But that teaching was obviously a myth, as recent history had clearly demonstrated.

Perhaps they should go back inside to the gala. The night was winding down, and the guests were due to leave soon. As protocol dictated, she must tell each person good night before they departed.

But she could not abandon Josym.

"At least you're meant to have a future," he said with a noticeable hint of restrained sadness.
So he could still read her thoughts, or at least certain particular fragments that stood above the myriad jumble of images and words that normally occupied her attention. "Perhaps so." Casana shrugged. "It means very little to me most of the time."

"It should mean everything," he replied in a whisper. "To know that you have the ability to step forward every day through life is a blessing."

"Maybe. But that is a concern you would do well to focus on too."

"There are precious few days allotted to me, I'm afraid."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you--"

"No, it shall not happen." Josym turned away from her. Now he was facing the shadow rising up from the hidden corner of the balcony not exposed to the moon's protective embrace.

Casana reached out and touched her brother's shoulder.

It felt...cold. No, frozen...something rose up past the layers of his evening attire, through the thick black cloth of his uniform jacket, into her fingertips. As if his flesh radiated burning cold outward...

She pulled her arm back, with the sting of the icy flame spreading down into her veins.

"You felt it."

Foreboding. A premonition.

"No!"

"The future is always in motion. Many times it cannot be touched. It's like a mirage. Forever on the horizon, but also visible to the inner eye." Josym turned his head just enough for her to see the thin smile carved into his lips. "But sometimes it's tangible. The future can be grasped every so often, though it's tricky and will slip away before you can take hold of the beast."

"No one can ever know the hour of their death." Her hands trembled. Certainly not. Surely not. It was unnatural to have foreknowledge of such a sacred matter. That wasn't permitted by the Deities. Only They were permitted to know what was to come. Prophets, seers, and others of that ilk who claimed to see past the veil were liars.

"Please understand, this is nothing either one of us can prevent."

"This must be wrong. We aren't meant to see the hour of passing."

"We can see important things, whether or not the Gods choose to say from afar that it's immoral."

How could that be true? Surely everyone would have had access to visions of their dying days if this wasn't deemed forbidden. And wouldn't everyone do things differently while they were alive? There would be less poverty, more charity. Less prejudice, more tolerance. Less hate, more love. Awareness. Purity. Balance. Wouldn't the good always overcome the bad in the universe if every living sentient could be blessed with some fragments culled from their death day?

Reality was slipping away. Everything Casana ever supposedly knew and pretended to understand went into the void along with the relatively steady reassurance of the familiar.

Couldn't this be changed? Even prevented? Free will was the first blessing given to humans. Though destiny might flow and twist and churn, the power to choose the course of one's existence never waned.

How could someone's death be stopped before it happened? To know that the passing was going to take place didn't help to know when or where Josym would die. In battle, most likely, but she could not leave Deiu and seek out the worlds he would be sent to in the coming months. There was no way to find out what agenda the Jedi had for their warriors. And it would take five miracles to gain the necessary travel permission for a wife of a Prestat to travel alone, especially out in the wide galaxy.

Nothing could be done. He was meant to die.

So it was vital to remember every detail of this night, for this was the last time they would meet in the flesh. Here, with the orchestra playing a jaunty tune inside the ballroom, and the whispering breeze that tossed petals, yellow and blue, from the trees down to their feet. Her brother was in black, wearing the formal uniform of a son of the nobility. Flashes of gold accented the jacket, from buttons to epaulettes. Fastened under the sash around his waist was an object that defied the tradition of their archaic society.

His lightsaber.

"Handcrafted on Yelsain while I was caught in a trance." Josym's voice broke the silence, though the air was still tense. "One half is the guide, the other is his consort." He unhooked the weapon, with the burnished simula-copper and thilum handle; two contrasting metals representing the importance of the Star and Maiden. Though he had left this world as an infant, the Order was never able to keep him from knowing about his blood culture. Yet many of them, padawans and knights far more often than masters, held awareness of their origins, and kept in touch with customs from their birthworlds.

"It's beautiful." Under the gentle light of Najahal, it was truly wonderful. Almost magical.

"Only until it becomes an agent of destruction." He frowned. "Or rather an extension utilized by the destructive agent." He sighed. "All weapons are merely tools until they are wielded to shed blood and take lives from the Force."

Casana wanted to cast out the looming ghost of the impending sadness. Tomorrow, she would be married. Surely that was a source of joy. To focus on something bound up in optimism for the future might alter his fate...somehow, perhaps.

Could this all be averted by faith?

"It is a fixed mark that cannot be altered."

"Then?"

"My fate has been written into the Book."

Faith. Hope. The future.

No faith. No hope. The bleakness of moving time.

The way of all things. A lesson burned into her psyche for the ages.

Inside the manse, the flourish of a high note signaled the final performance of the orchestra.

The gala was over.

 

The way you wrote this with its increasing tension and the inevitability of Josym to accept his fate was just heartwrenching. It made me want to cry and rage against the Jedi for being so blind, so caught in their own trap.

Loved the way the two of them talked.

How could someone?s death be stopped before it happened? To know that the passing was going to take place didn?t help to know when or where Josym would die. In battle, most likely, but she could not leave Deiu and seek out the worlds he would be sent to in the coming months. There was no way to find out what agenda the Jedi had for their warriors. And it would take five miracles to gain the necessary travel permission for a wife of a Prestat to travel alone, especially out in the wide galaxy.

Nothing could be done. He was meant to die.

Very sad. Loved it!

 

Gorgeous, but that's no surprise.

Casana looked up at the crowned moon, full and round like an expectant mother. Then she looked down at Josym. His face appeared much the same as it did on his last visit home five years ago, except for the thin crinkles now etched into the skin around his eyes and mouth. These wars had finally reached to his heart and plucked out something vital. She could feel it so plainly, through the small vestige of Sensitivity she shared with him. Out of eight children, only she and Josym shared an affinity with the Force. But only he was strong enough to leave this wretched world and become a Jedi.

I loved the imagery in this, and the pace of it.

 

Beautifully written.

I loved your imagery and the depth that you breathed into these two characters.

 

That was very poignant and sad.

How frustrating for Casana and Josym to know his death is imminent and not be able to do anything about it.



Great response to the challenge

 

It was beautiful, as always Leiamoody.

This is a wonderful corner of the GFFA you have been creating. Congratulations!

 

That was tragic yet wonderful. I loved it. And I think I'll have to check out more of your work when I get a minute. It's very interesting.

 

Thanks to everybody who read this, and commented.

EDIT: Reopened thread in case anyone wanted to comment...which is not usually the case after the sugar high has worn off.

But hey, fine, it gives the author a chance to ramble about the origins of the story a bit...It was a rather out-of-the-blue story, I have to admit. I read the challenge options, and neither one really jumped out at first. But since I've been working on Moonwater Perfume, the image of Casana and Josym (Huranz) standing on a balcony came to mind fairly quickly after I mulled over which of the two choices to work on. I wanted to go for a hybrid (describing Josym's first war experiences AND have him teach his sister a lesson)...but the lesson angle comes out more strongly.

And I used two OC's that I haven't written before (except for Casana in a 100 word challenge on another web site). That probably gives me partial credit towards Ale's part about using newly created OC's.

 

A nice response, Leiamoody. The two OCs being faced with the certain death of another and being powerless. Good descriptions, I really liked it.

 

These wars had finally reached to his heart and plucked out something vital.

His aorta? His left ventricle? I must know!


"I fear our pasts will soon become the only joys allowed to us in this lifetime. For our coming days are so filled with darkness."

Sounds like something I could say for both of us in real life.


And his eyes lacked the divine gleam that once animated the blue from transparent to deep, flowing along with the shift in his mood when amused.

Beautiful description!


Such as Josym, who always viewed peace as a way of practical existence rather than a utopia to be achieved only through violence.

Hehe, but how are you going to convince everyone else to act like that? Free will means a certain percentage of people will always choose violence if they think they can gain something from it. Nonviolence doesn't work because of that.


"No one can ever know the hour of their death." Her hands trembled. Certainly not. Surely not.

Not totally unheard of. Oh, and don't call me "Shirley".


And wouldn't everyone do things differently while they were alive? There would be less poverty, more charity. Less prejudice, more tolerance. Less hate...more love.

Nah. As long as someone gets what s/he wants, they'll do whatever they want. Knowing when they're going to die would only make them more eager to setp over everyone else to grab that brass ring before anyone else. Oh, and that's not pessimism, that's a healthy appreciation for the darkness of the human soul.


Wouldn't the good always overcome the bad in the universe if every living sentient could be blessed with some fragments culled from their death day?

Not at all - that's what denial is for.


"All weapons are merely tools until they are wielded to shed blood and take lives from the Force."

Tsk, tsk. Killing someone sends them to the Force, it doesn't deprive the Force of anything. Silly man.



Awesome, awesome viggie, leiamoody. Of course, I knew it would be before I started reading.