One of our older RPer's who is sadly on a very long (hopefully not permanent) hiatus did this thread idea. It was amazing to read back in the day, and it has now inspired me to do some exploratory writing for s'Il that has certain themes attached to the letters of the alphabet. It's a fun way to really get into the meat and potatoes of a character, and offers glimpses into their lives that might not otherwise be seen. So, here it is. My best attempt at Liz's 'Life in Themes from A to Z'.
ALONE
She sat in her quarters.
For now, safely ensconced aboard her ship. Her ship. Her people's ship. Khera'Va'ss'io. A name that most would never understand. The word itself was meaningless to so many in the galaxy, but to her it was... familiar. Khera'Va'ss'io, the name from her books. The name of a soul bathed in light, yet doomed to solitary existence. It was no one individual's given name, but rather a descriptor. Like some sort of title.
Or burden.
Loklorien s'Ilancy sat at the edge of her bed, back straight. Eyes blinked as she stared at the far wall. Her gaze shifted then, sweeping through a doorway to the small main living area and the desk that was barely visible. She knew that unseen was a small sofa, a low table, and a sad assortment of personal affects. It was nothing like what she had kept aboard Dauntless. In the quarters that she had shared with Dan, there had been a plethora of history. Tokens and mementos. Trophies and remembrances.
Now? There was almost nothing. Now there was a bare whisper of the woman she had once been. Cast out from all she had once clung to, and then raged against. But still there was the need for identity. For connection. For hope.
There was a nightstand beside her bed, and sitting atop the glossed surface were two pictures. One of her daughter, and one of her son. Both children were on Ossus, and if the Force willed, that was where they would be raised. Life spent on a warship was no existence for a child.
Slowly, she leaned over, her hand pulling open the drawer. Inside, a flimsi rested. A picture of a man met her eyes, and she looked at the image for only a moment before closing the drawer once more.
It was not the will of the Force; or at least, the Force had given her no insight into her future.
A soft click as the drawer drew flush with the rest of the nightstand, and the Lupine lifted her gaze up to rest once more on the pictures of her children. Her wonderful children. Perhaps in the future she would be able to hold them close, but for now such a luxury was outside of her grasp.
She bowed her head then, eyes closing as fingers flexed, then gripped her knees in some useless show of strength.
She was still in her uniform, caught up in the maelstrom of feeling so bitterly alone.
According to the chrono on her wall, it was 0200.
Bookmarks