The Open Stacks (Ali)

[Professor Mors]

***Yavin IV, Gordian Reach, Grid Coordinates P-6***

***The Temple of Exar Kun, Lower Catacombs***

It had taken several months of careful excavation before Sa’ato and the dig team found a suitable antechamber to house the ancient Sith texts. Within a few weeks thereafter, aged wooden furniture from the other tombs and archaeological sites had been repurposed to fill the refurbished space, a few modern chairs and tables having been flown in to fill any practical gaps. Now, at last, the Neti had a proper space to conduct textual research, as well as aid any curious acolytes that came seeking enrichment. Not that he expected company. Indeed, for the last hour or so, the academic had been deeply engrossed in his work.

The cultists that headed archaeological endeavors on Korriban had recently recovered two manuscripts, each dealing with a founding member of the Sith Order. Sa’ato could not be certain from the tense and voice whether or not these were originals, penned by the lords themselves, or else veneration writings from after their passing. What was clear, however, was the focus on XoXaan, the first marchioness of the Sith legion, and scholar-lord Sorus Syn. The latter’s disdain for the former was well-documented, and the Neti hoped that apparent bias in Syn’s monologues might reveal their original author.

This was the matter that preoccupied Sa’ato’s thoughts, when a whisper in the Force bid him to lift his head. It seemed, against the odds, he had a visitor after all…

[Aliclair Austjor]

Curiosity always did kill the cat.

In attempts to get away from the training, and the darksider walls, the newly appointed acolyte, Aliclair, noticed an uncovered temple. Something to get her mind away. Something she did in the past, with her former Master, was read. With a small sigh as she approached the open stone doors littered with age. The she-acolyte read reports of this place, The Temple of Exar Kun... essentially the birthplace of the Sith, laid dormant for a while. For a moment, it seemed unreal but here it was, in it's large... hm. The feminine couldn't find the words to describe the temple. Shaking her head briefly, Ali stepped forward to escape the rain that just seems to never end and once under shelter, she gave her body a small shake.

Opening her hand to face the palm toward the ceiling, she drew in the Force to circle, and like a kindle lighting a wick, a light blossomed. Using it as such, she continued to walk forward. For a temple untouched for eons, it was kept.. whoever designed it knew what they were doing. Her eyes scanned what she could see, her fingers against the walls. Even if she couldn't see, she could sense the endless souls who traveled to and fro.

[Professor Mors]

A disturbance in the Force. Slight, but unmistakable. Even without expanding the range of his own thoughts and feelings, Sa’ato could detect the spark of life, the spark of- curiosity. While there was no complete map of the temple, the structure’s subterranean nature would become apparent to even the most inept visitor. What’s more, the further an intrepid explorer wandered underground, the more frequent a series of crystalline formations lined the walls and ceilings of the various tunnels. And, for a Force user, the path to the center of the earthen labyrinth would steadily become clearer and clearer.

Though it was largely caved-in and overrun with rubble, the largest cavern, the very heart of the complex, still-pulsed with the nascent whisper of ten thousand souls. It was within that great crevice that the majority of the ancient Massassi sacrificed themselves in a bid to grant Exar Kun near-godhood. The wicked instruments from the ritual were now destroyed or decaying, but the lingering, stagnant embryo of the Dark Side could not be ignored. Sa’ato’s makeshift library lay but a few corridors away from that hallowed ground, seemingly ready to receive a willing student.

Closing his eyes, the Neti allowed his presence in the Force to expand out, and then contract to the size of a thread. The mental string wriggled out from the table at which he sat, and slithered out in search of the visitor. Though he could offer no speech from such a distance, if the mysterious spelunker came in contact with the professor’s probe (Telepathy), they would receive a series of visual and emotional stimuli that outlined one single idea, one single request, “Descend…”

[Aliclair Austjor]

Aliclair started to feel something crawl around her skin, despite having on her antarian armor. A small growl escaped her throat as she rubs her arm, eyebrows knitting in annoyance. The same feeling she had hoped to get away from, these walls just held them. Inhaling deeply, she exhales to calm her nerves before pressing forward. She entered a form of foyer, a room stasised within time. But, something kept her here, unsure of what it is. Taking another look around the foyer, there weren't many options she could go, but where to go next was the issue the she-acolyte found herself.

But as those thoughts crossed her mind, she sensed another, followed by a clairvoyance, Ali shook her head again but didn't fight it's instructions. In auto-mode, footsteps treaded lightly as to not disturb any remaining loss debree.

Down a small spiral of stairs and into a makeshift area, Aliclair spotted a familiar body. "Master Sa'ato.." She addressed softly, putting out her Created Light by closing her hand into a fist. "Forgive my intrusion. I think The Force led me here for whatever reason." she continued, unsure if her words would have any effect on the Neti before her.

[Professor Mors]

“Do not apologize for obeying your instincts, Young One”, the Neti admonished quietly, his eyes still firmly shut, “The Force alerted me to your coming, so I have every reason to believe this is where you are meant to be”. That said, Sa’ato’s golden irises steadily emerged from their lidded confinement, and began to scan the humanoid. “And please”, the retired academic continued, “Reserve the title of ‘master’ for the one that holds your allegiance. I have no use for such an honorific”. Lacing his long fingers together, the wandering lecturer offered a rare, slight smile, and concluded, “If you must indulge yourself, I will answer to ‘professor’, or ‘teacher’- please, be seated”.

Gingerly, Sa’ato organized and stacked his reading material from before, ultimately exiling it to the far corner of the long table. At the same time, the Neti nodded with emphasis at the gnarled chair across from where he sat, trusting that Aliclair might be more physically comfortable if the two equalized their disparate heights. “Now, as to why you’re here”, the professor carried on after a suitable period of adjustment, “I can only guess for my part”. The yellow of the academic’s eyes grew thin as he narrowed his gaze at Silas’s unwitting pupil, “I sense your fear, it wreathes your spirit like a vapor- you feel intimidated by this place”.

Sa’ato exhaled calmly and leaned back some in his seat, adding, “And yet, you’ve fought your anxieties thus far. This is a good thing indeed”. The Neti paused, locking a knuckle beneath his chin and resting a single digit against his scarred left cheek, “And why go to the trouble? I propose the following. Desire, be it for knowledge, or for power. This place is rich with both”. The professor straightened up in his chair, stared at the humanoid’s complexion with the full weight of his countenance, as if he were looking past her. “I ask you this much, Young One”, the itinerant scholar moved to conclude, “What breeds such fear in you? Can you outwit it? Or, do you hope to defeat it outright?”.

[Aliclair Austjor]

She gave a small smile as he corrected her, nodding before saying, ”Apologies, Professor Sa’ato.” . The smile faded as fast as it appeared. Not because of the Neti before her, but she saw no reason to hold it. She stood in place for a while, then moved once invited to sit. Taking a few steps, she made her way over and sat down in the rugged chair, giving a small nod toward Sa’ato. Fearful… was Aliclair fearful? Perhaps. She had a few of them; her main one being of her former master, Jedi Master Ben Kenobi. She missed him, and the faction he stayed with… her imprisonment with the Sith turned into becoming one. From there on, Ali had been struggling acceptance that she could possibly be Sith, and always had been, at heart.

”Ah, fear… the wound Sith use to manipulate one’s being faster. I.. have my fears but time as a blueblood taught me I can’t let fear drive me. This place.. it goes against what I originally believed. The darkness just, seeping out every crack. I know only stories, the birthplace of the Sith. Perhaps The Force knows since I am here, allied with Master Silas, it led me here to learn more. Luckily, I don’t mind reading. As to why I feel fear… I fear… when the time may come, I’ve had two masters. Of The Light and Dark. When it comes time for me to choose, will I choose the one who saved me from becoming a soldier of war, gave me freedom as a Padawan to thwart evil. Or, the one who freed me from chains and gave me a second chance to control this untamed connection to The Force. I know my connection is… dangerous. Its why I sought the Jedi at a young age. And my mother accommodated it; sent me off. Now, the next question; can I outwit this fear. It’s not about outwitting it, it’s…” she paused as she felt a choke in her throat, turning her gaze down so Sa’ato didn’t see the tears wielding in her eyes. She loved Ben Kenobi, and appreciated Silas Karn. They both freed her from another fate. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled before leaning back straight. ”I suppose it’s about which one assisted me more. My heart, and feelings, are a weakness being exploited. Or even doing the ’right thing’ , but not even I know which is which right at the moment. I’m going off survival, and my instincts… Perhaps too much knowledge is overpowering.” She concluded, looking the Professor in the eyes before looking down at her folded hands. Aliclair had nothing to hide; she was an open book and her emotions were a dead giveaway, which was always a weakness she had and couldn’t break through.

[Professor Mors]

Sa’ato remained silent for a time. The Neti derived no pleasure from Aliclair’s emotional turmoil, and afforded her a few moments of privacy as he cast his eyes toward the ceiling, his mind digesting all that had been said. What a strange trend, these acolytes so prone juvenile romance and excessive emotion: it was a small wonder, the academic thought, that the Order remained intact at all. “Some truths are heavier to bear than others”, the professor spoke at last, rapping his sinuous fingers across the worn table, “But an excess of knowledge is definitely not the source of your ills Young One”.

Sa’ato returned a luminous eye to his guest, “Still, your story is not dissimilar to many of the great Sith of old, and I find the ambiguous nature of your destiny most intriguing”. “Such circumstances are worthy of my empathy”, the retired teacher continued, lifting his right arm and willing it to stretch and grow to double its length, “You see your connection to the Force as dangerous, but your predecessors would label that ‘danger’ as raw potential”. Like wriggling vines, the academic’s tendril-like fingers alighted on the leather-bound tome he was seeking, and he carefully drew it to the table and flipped it open before the young acolyte.

“Caught between two callings, you must feel quite alone”, the Neti carried on as he smoothed over the faded pages that lay before him, “But you are tied to this brotherhood, and its history is your history as well. Bane, Zannah, these great masters of the Dark Side, they came from nothing, and obtained everything”. Sa’ato gently gripped the binding of the tome and gently slide it closer to Aliclair, commenting further, “Their stories- their struggles are recorded here, in the Chronicles of Darth Gean. Consider this a loan, study it closely in those moments where you feel you’ve lost your way”.

“Now”, the professor exhaled quietly, strumming both sets of knuckles meditatively across the table, “With regards to the decision you must make, surely you realize, the Sovereign will see you dead if you attempt to return to the Jedi”. “But”, the Neti contradicted, raising an emphatic finger, “If you were to return, your killings and conquests among the Sith would surely land you in an Alliance prison cell for the rest of your days”. Silence curtained the room once more. And then, a smile: wider, bemused, almost overflowing with a twisted enthusiasm. “Perhaps”, Sa’ato explained in a barely audible whisper, “There is a third option”.

As soon as the mirth had appeared on the professor’s face, it melted back into his usual stony countenance. “If you left the Sith but remained apart from the Jedi”, Sa’ato qualified with a scholarly tone, “And maintained your agency, your ability to thwart or aid either mentor from the shadows”. “That”, the professor added with emphasis, “Could prove to be a solution, but only if you acquire the necessary strength to see it through”. Narrowing his eyes quizzically, the Neti reclined yet again, and brought the bulk of his chin to rest on a balled fist, “So then Young One, will you fight to charter your own destiny? Or will you lie down and let these twin desires tear you asunder?”.

[Aliclair Austjor]

The crossbred acolyte listened, as she was good at that. Tears were another thing she couldn't control, but once they were lessened, she ran her thumb underneath her eye to dry the moistened area. She also watched his arm stretch, an eyebrow arching with curiosity. Her eyes followed as he grabbed an ancient text, from when he grabbed it until he placed it down infront down infront of her, scanning the words as they come into view. Once he surrendered the tome under her, Aliclair gently touched the aged pages with her tender fingers, ensuring her sharp nails wouldn't cut the pages. Many before her. Possibly sworn to good, turned to the dark side... She skimmed the words, of course, starting from the beginning, still lending her ears to the larger professor.

Aliclair's body, and grip, stiffened at the mention of ever thinking of leaving the Sith. During her imprisonments, she'd try a few times. To no avail. And more scars checkered her body, faded now, because of it. A thought of endangering those she loved pulsed an unsettled sensation throughout her sternum... Ali exhaled shakily before turning her gaze to Professor Sa'ato. "From chains to chains... story of my life." she said softly, rubbing her thumb on the gifted biography. "Considering the circumstances, I'll... probably stay at Master Silas' side. Even if I wanted to return to the Jedi, even if I was Kenobi's apprentice. No considerations would be put in my favor. I haven't killed yet. But I don't know what the future may hold. I served the Sith... I am Sith, whether I like it or not." she admitted bitterly, her eyebrows knitting. This was not the life she expected. Her mother was a former Jedi Master, a survivor of the purge. She expected to follow her footsteps. But Aliclair had done the complete opposite. During her survival, she found herself in a hole she couldn't dig out of. Better to not struggle within quick sand, her father would say to her. "I haven't been anyone's play thing thus far, just someone's right hand. And, I've fought this far. I won't go belly up unless my life's taken." she said boldly. If Ali was good at one thing, it was fighting. Learning. Adapting.

The feminine found destiny nothing more than a fairytale... She thought her destiny was within the Jedi, but now she resides in the hands of their number one enemy.

[Professor Mors]

In spite of himself, Sa’ato could not suppress a light chuckle in response to Aliclair’s first remark. “Thankfully Child”, he doted in a more-or-less generous tone, “The Sith are rather well-regarded for breaking chains of many kinds”. The Neti grimaced inwardly for a moment, recognizing that, in fairness, they spent a good amount of time clasping others in irons all the while. “In any case”, the professor moved on, “That you have accepted this part of your circumstances, that you declare, and recognize yourself as Sith, is surely a step in the right direction”. Having tensed at certain points during the discussion, the academic paused once more and rolled his shoulder joints about.

“Certainly, if you returned to the Jedi, in the short term, I would not be of use to you”, Sa’ato reflected amidst the sickening, punctuated popping of his various limbs and ligaments, “And in the long term, you would be of no use to me”. The Neti’s eyes flashed at the youth once more, a mix of curiosity and intensity lining his scarred features, “I will be honest with you, Young One, as you have shown me equal courtesy. I am not a social creature. I don’t presume to call any of those within our order ‘friend’. I have my own business, my own plans”. Sighing yet again, the professor gave the table a fresh tap with his extended fingers, his expression softening some.

“That said, I am not in the business of brewing anarchy”, the Neti continued after another moment’s reprieve, “And I have no interest in torturing or subjugating my fellow acolytes on a whim”. Organizing his thoughts, Sa’ato curled his index fingers into a tight diamond, and pressed it to his lips before adding, “I would not be so bold as to seek out allies, but I am willing to entertain several, shall we say, ‘working colleagues’. A mutual give-and-take if you will”. To emphasize the seriousness of what he was suggesting, the retired teacher slowly rose to his feet, his eyes locked on the hybrid’s in turn, “I offer you what knowledge I possess- five of your lifetime’s worth. I will help you hone your skills, your unique talents. And in return, there may come a time when I require said talents, and will come to collect”.

“But until then”, the Neti moved to conclude, “I ask you this in all seriousness, all transparency: what are your weaknesses? What must I polish to cultivate you further?”...

[Aliclair Austjor]

[ooc: small psa, but Ali n Ben's relationship is strictly platonic. Nothin' romantic]

Somehow, the step in the "right direction" felt wrong to her. But, conversion didn't happen overnight; Aliclair knew it was only a matter of time before she considered the dark side second nature. Seems the Lord of Torment got his wish. Another bitter thought crossing her mind was that he was actually right, and should he return, she'd get the fattest, "I told you so" in his twisted way. Letting out a small exhale through her nose, she wondered if any Siths really had friends. If they would be considered 'weak', or if friendship didn't exist within Darksiders. A thought for another time. "I suppose allies are too much a risk, hm?" Our arrangement will be the typical gander. An 'eye for an eye', as my father says. I have no issues sparing what skills I posses, if any of my skills are of use. Though, I don't carry alot of them so, find out what you will about me then we can inquire when the time comes." she said, taking the gifted biography.

"Knowledge for knowledge..."

Fear...

A small shiver went up Ali's spine as she began considering what fears she may have. Can't be heights; she's a pilot. Losing? Done that. The only thing that really struck a cord was one such word. Possibly everyone's fear, deep down somewhere. She said with brows knitted and furrowed, her eyes to the tome's coverpage.

"Abandonment. To be alone in the long run. I know the Sith isn't the place for companionship but it's what I would like. So.. to be alone forever. It puts me at unease."

A simple but powerful fear to her. She'd been left in the dark, in cold chains. "Of course, I don't expect you to make adjustments, FYI." she quickly said, sitting up so be seated properly. "I am merely answering your question. I don't have many fears. Hell, I fought Lord Tormentous... and lived to tell the tale. So nothing phases me physically. Most have a fear of spiders, the dark. All my fears reside in my head." she concluded, her eyes watching the larger Professor as she spoke.