#grayjedi

[dantewayne1]

La moral separa a los heroes de los villanos

[kyberphilosopher]

Prologue: Adamus

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”         

Description: On a small, fiery planet, a Jedi named Adamus must watch his companion go down in flames. 

Prologue

        I put my weight back on my hands, bending my right leg in anticipation to kick. The first time, the glass fractures but doesn’t fully break. The second time, the whole floor to ceiling window cracks even further, letting me know I am one kick away from my goal. With a rather involuntary, hoarse grunt, I stretch my heel out again. The glass completely shatters. For a split second, I raise my arm to cover my head before scrambling out of the escape pod. My palms hit the hot black sand roughly, my knees scuffing against the stuff messily.

          I know I must look deranged. I certainly feel deranged, but all I can think to possibly do is crane my neck to look at the sky above. Sure enough, the Star Destroyer roars in the air above me. The nose is tipped straight down to the ground, all lights fully dark for a moment. The engines are completely silent. My chest heaves as I watch the scene, the great lava rivers and lakes to my left filling my ears.

          Then, a blue cage wraps around the ship. Millions of tiny branches- white, purple, blue, indigo, teal- all surrounding it like a hand. The engines rear to life with orange flame. The Star Destroyer starts forward, slowly due to it’s size. It’s going to hit straight into the ground, into the lava rivers and volcanic rock and deep, dark sands.

          There is nothing I can do to stop it. I cannot reach a hand out to slow or put the ship on pause, like she probably could. I cannot sprint forward, or leap into the air at the necessary height. I can only watch, defeated, as I imagine her there in the bridge.

          Right hand steering the ship to it’s doom, left hand calmly throwing and catching a lightsaber repeatedly. A mischievous, knowing smile dances upon her lips while one of her eyebrows is raised in a sort of pride I would never understand. Brown strands that frame the sides of her face loosely dance in the air. Cool and collected as ever, she stands in her black robes with power.

          It is extraordinarily painful to know that the last time she ever wore her playful smirk was seconds before her death.  

          Keres Vagor. Evasive, sarcastic, intelligent, brooding, nimble- she is power. I would have followed her to the end. I wanted to, but she got the best of me. I knew from the minute I locked eyes with her on Endor, that manipulative streak would get me somehow. It was my own fault, really. Letting her distract me so. She knew exactly how she was leaning in, the right way to softly bite her bottom lip before she brushed them against mine. I couldn’t stop myself. I thought that I was going to be the last one up there on that ship, not her. I should’ve been.

          After all those arguments we had, Keres ends up winning in the shittiest way possible. I would tell her that there is no such thing as a gray area. There is only light and dark, good and evil, Sith and Jedi. The line is clear and definitive. For the longest time, I felt that her alignment was as open as could be. She was clearly a Sith. Keres had a red lightsaber, she oozed an untrustworthy and angry energy, and she could make force lightning shoot out of her fingers like it was nothing. She was exceptionally powerful and sly. I thought I knew exactly who I was dealing with, no matter how unpredictable she was.

          But then she listened to me talk late at night. I would find myself wandering into a small medical room that she took as her own for a while, only to plop down in a chair or the slab she called her bed and begin to tell her things I thought I had pushed deep down. I told Keres about my master, who I missed and respected dearly. I told her about the youngling I killed in my frustration, and the clones that followed. I told her about how one of my good friends, a Clone by the name of Brag, shot at me several times with his blaster. I begged him to stop. When he only responded with a cold “Good soldiers follow orders,” I struck him down and kept my eyes shut tight.

          Keres would never have done that, by the way. She’s the type of person to always look someone in the eyes when she kills them.

          So, I started to think Keres was actually more of an opportunity, than anything. She was the only other alive force user I’d come across in Maker knows how long. At the very least, we could’ve bonded over our experiences. And we did. We bonded over our admiration for Aheka, the kind, Togruta medic Keres spent most of her time with. We bonded over battle strategy- though she was always better than me. Even mushy breakfast we both detested, we bonded over. And, last but certainly not least, we bonded over fruit. Keres had a special love for a fruit called Shuura, though she mostly just referred to it as ‘the thin orange slices’. She thought they tasted sweet with just a hint of sour. While Shuura were never quite up my alley, I enjoyed watching her eyes light up like a child at the sight of them.

          Keres didn’t believe in a definitive good and evil. She never said it, but the look on her face said it all. She thought she was somewhat more advanced than me for understanding it was all relative. She believed nothing could be labeled as good or bad so easily, and even then everything would depend on perspective. It was an infuriating argument that would leave me wanting to stomp out of the room and let off steam with my lightsaber, which I often did.           And now, Keres has won in the worst way possible. She’s sacrificing herself for something that gives people hope. She’s sacrificing herself to give people hope. She’s fulfilling the Rebellions mission. She’s taking out the mothership. She’s being a good person.

          Shoulders hunched in defeat, I watch as the Star Destroyer crashes against a point in the distance. Orange lava springs into the air like an explosion, flecked with grains of black sand. The lightning surrounding the ship flickers slightly, than promptly disappears. This is the moment that Keres Vagor died.

          As a Jedi, we are taught to not mourn death, but to celebrate life. We are taught to rejoice, for death makes a new journey for us all. But as I kneel on the burning coals like sand, powerless as my tearstained cheeks sting against the dry air, I do not feel any need or want to celebrate. I feel nothing but the weight of loss in my stomach, settling in like emptiness. I can only imagine Keres’s form, burning and melting and slumped over in death. An image comes to mind, quick as a flash but clear enough to haunt me.

          The ships final lurch throws Keres forward. Hitting her head on a panel, she trips out of the broken window and lands on a stray rod attached to the ship. Then she dangles above the lava that begins to swallow the ship, dead or dying. Her hazel eyes are wide. Blood drips from the edge of her lips and out from some injury on her head. Her leather bound lightsaber rolls out of the bridge and before it hits the fires below, the image is gone.

          I have to keep her alive somehow. The idea of doing what she would do pops into my brain, no matter how difficult it was to read her at times. Keres would make a plan, I think. A plan of ‘where to now?’.

          Step One: I need to find a ship and return to my crew. I have a Rebellion to lead.      

[sithchik]

By Anthony Roy #starwars #thedarkside #thelightside #grayjedi #starkiller #theforceunleashed #lucasart #gamer #gaming #fanmade #fanart #MoonsithIG

[reyys]

2018 project list

rules: list all the projects you want to work on this year, then tag 10 people to do the same.

I was tagged by the lovely @cvssian

post the edits I make instead of deleting them

get better at making gifsets

take more photographs

save more money

deal with my anxiety

I tag: @psychoticgirl , @ohsanvers , @grayjedi , @queeniegoldtsein , @jyn-e , @katnisservdeen, @maritzvs, @margaerya, @icarvus & @firewhisks

[expelumos]

[renwan-archive]

He would have disappointed you.

[alistaircousland]

balance.

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Nineteen

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Adamus was a really scrawny kid. He wasn’t the fastest, or strongest, or even the smartest. He wasn’t really an introvert, but he was the quietest. Adamus knew what he was. He knew his limits. But instead of accepting himself as he was, it only motivated him. The boy became ambitious, almost to a fault, and knew he had to prove himself. But Adamus didn’t want to prove that he was just as good as his peers. Adamus wanted to prove that he was better than them. He wanted to prove that he was better than all of them.

Adamus grew into himself over the years. He was a little bit of a late bloomer, but that was made up for and forgotten about very quickly.

The scrawniness melted away, revealing a stocky body. He was naturally muscular under all that skin and bone. He got taller and taller, until he was finally slightly above the average man. His hair reached his neck, curling at the ends with natural waves. Except for his padawan braid, which he hated because it was so long and constantly hitting his shoulder. His eyelashes got longer, jawline sharper, and brain more aware.

Adamus had few friends in his Jedi years. One was a boy, Argos, who was clumsy and far more extroverted than Adamus would ever be. There was also Knox, a boy who was killed during the Clone Wars, and Ethin Edin, who was actually a distant relation of mine that I’d never learn about.

Adamus was close to his master, which was somewhat of a problem within the order. Attachments are frowned upon. Something I disapprove of. Adamus will deny that he looked up Fir Aro if you ever ask him, but I know the truth.  

Adamus tried saving him. Then he watched him die in a pool of blood, and not all of it was his own. Adamus blames himself.

Today, I wake up free of nightmares. For the past few nights, they haven’t bothered me at all. I guess my thoughts before bed have been so focused on Adamus and analyzing him that my brain hasn’t had time to cook up any new terrors for me. But I’m not so sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  

No matter where the last thing I can remember takes place, I always wake up in my little nook. I usually assume that I either fell asleep at the table with my chin in my hand, or eventually drifted off while leaning against my door frame. Waking up in my nook would mean that Adamus puts me to bed, which honestly makes me feel quite guilty. I’ve already fallen asleep listening to him tell me about his deep rooted anguish, now he’s taking me to bed without even taking credit. I would thank him, but then something would change between us. Something already changed when he began to cry that night in my room, but actually admitting that one of us did the other a service is… different. I’m already pushing my luck by making eye contact with him during the day, why acknowledge the possibility that we’ve seen each other at our most vulnerable?

I rebraid my hair a little sloppily and shrug on a thin black  jacket over my outfit. I have to use the bathroom, so I do. I even flush. But I still refuse to shower.

The door slides open as I exit, and I stalk out in my usual demeanor. No smiles, head down, eyes apathetic as my weapon hits against my hip. People still stop and stare at me as I walk by, but their conversations still flurry through the air. The people don’t trust me. I don’t trust them either.  

I pass the control room, and take one of the hallways. Stretching my arms, rolling my shoulders back as I keep my eyes to the floor. It’s dark silver, and clangs under the weight of my boots. Even as I walk by, civilians of the Harbinger eye me with distaste. I let them. I don’t bother to let myself eye them right back because I know nothing can change the person I am. I’ve accepted that I’ll always be a threat wherever I go. That’s how I know I have to get away from these people.

The cafeteria is the same size as the medbay, I’m told. It’s lined with rows of tables with built in benches and counters. Volunteers serve slops of what’s usually nearly stale portion bread and ration bars. Sometimes there’s caf, but not usually. I wouldn’t take it anyway. Too bitter.

Adamus and Aheka are almost always sitting together in the mornings. At first I wondered about the exact nature of their relationship, though now I see it for what it is. They’re companions, close comrades, friends. Almost sibling like. Nothing close to romantic.

I pull my hood over my head as I walk by them, just missing Adamus’s kaleidoscope eyes of judgment by a single step. To the left side of the room is a long counter that serves as a buffet. Volunteers hand out the food, and today a yellow Twi’Lek gives me a slop of mush gray stuff on a silver tray with a distrustful scowl. I don’t bother saying a word about how I asked for the portion bread instead of whatever he just gave me. I know how to pick my battles, and this is one I won’t win. I don’t have the social skills for it.

When I turn to face the rest of the cafeteria, I gage out the seats I can take. There’s one at the opposite end of where Aheka and Adamus are, so definitely not there.

There’s another table at the very end of the hall, that’s almost completely empty except for one person who has his back to me. That will do.

Having my hood up makes me feel better. It’s not perfect, but it gives me the feeling of having walls around me, so I can feel more alone. I think that’s something I need. The world feels safer, more closed off. Like a room with three walls and then whatever’s in front of me. Like I’m a glitch in the simulation. Yeah… a glitch.

I set my tray down and slide onto the bench. The other person at the table- a man- is at the other end, on the other side. There’s no way we could be affiliated with each other.

With a cheap fork, I poke at the mush. It’s warmer than I expected- not hot, but not cold. I’ve eaten worse. I’ve purified my own piss and swallowed it down. This is not the time to get picky.

But I’m not hungry.

I look back up, glancing around to observe the surroundings of the room. There’s the counters where I got my tray to the right, the rows of tables ahead. Aheka and Adamus are about five tables up. There are some foot soldiers, one man I saw in Adamus’s meeting reading over some papers, a green woman carrying a crate. One of the lights over head is flickering so quickly, you wouldn’t even notice the sputter if you weren’t hardwired to notice everything.

And as for the man sitting at the table with me… well, it takes me a second to notice him.

I eye him for a few seconds, not for any particular reason, simply because I can. And then he tilts his head up and to the side, catching my orbs, which began to dilate with the beat of my heart.

Sharp jawline, heavily angular features. The slim eyes like a hawk, golden brown. Nose turned down at the bridge, arched brows, thin and chapped lips. And that hairstyle… I know it.

My lips part in realization. I can feel my heart stop.

“So-”

A tray slams down in front of me with a clang, startling me with a jump.

“Were you really going to try eating alone?”

I stare up at Aheka from under my hood. Her pale green eyes are staring into my own with that twinkle of compassion, but the corners of her lips are upturned with charisma.

Before I can respond or think of a response, Aheka slides her tray forward until it bumps against mine and seats herself in the slot ahead of me.

“I hope you slept okay,” she frowns. “You look sick.”

I catch her glance at my missing finger, causing me to jerk my hand back in embarrassment and anger. “Why are you eating alone?”

Under the table, my right hand twitches. “Didn’t want to disturb you and shit for brains,” I lie, watching Adamus’s back tense from behind him.

“You wouldn’t disturb us,” Aheka assures. “Here. This tastes better than that.” She nudges her tray against mine again.

“I can’t take your food,” I swallow. It feels like the inside of my chest is sweating.

“Come on. I’m not going to eat it, and I know how that slush tastes. This is the better option.”

Her plate has steaming golden chunks on it. It does smell better than the warm gray thing in front of me. “Thanks,” I mutter, staring down.

“So,” the Togruta begins. “I’ve got an offer for you.”          

I raise my eyes from under my hood to watch her face, which has a small, excited smile on it. It fits her pretty features.

“Okay.”

“You’re sleeping in the side medbay, right? I know that thing is small and well… I was thinking you could start to bunk with me. We’d have to talk to Adamus probably, but I have the space. I just figured it’s better than that tiny little thing. Warmer too.”

She adds the last part with a smile as if it were a cute little joke. I, on the other hand, can’t stop myself from inwardly cringing. My eyes flicker between her own, searching for the answer to my confusion.

“Why?” I question.  

Aheka crinkles her eyebrows. “Why? Well it’s… it’s the right thing to do isn’t it?”

…The right thing to do?

“Besides,” she continues. “It’s either me or bunking with Blitz, right?” She nudges her thumb at the man at the end of the table, and my heart attack starts all over again.

"Have you met?”

I stand up suddenly, my fists balled so tight my knuckles pale over.

“Keres?”

How could they… how could they let it in here? Don’t they know what it is?

The man at the end of the table turns to look at me slowly. His golden eyes meet mine.

A hand clasps on my right shoulder.

“Keres,” speaks Adamus. His tone is low, though not threatening or dangerous. In my core, it feels understanding. It feels… I don’t know. It feels like something I should listen to. Like the little voice of reason in the very back of my brain I so often try to mute.

It’s enough to snap me out of my daze somewhat. I turn my head over my shoulder to meet his eyes, which are steeled compared to usual. Usually, they’re a flowing billow of blue and green and grey, but now they are like steel, nothing but turquoise. Not even a circle of light appears inside of them to give a sense of security.

"I know,” he says. But no matter what he would’ve told me, I wouldn’t have felt like he knew.          

“Are you okay?” Aheka asks, slowly standing, eyebrows creased with concern.

No.

“Yes,” I decide. “I’m okay.” And then I push myself back into my seat, struggling to tear my eyes away from my newest problem.

“His name is Blitz,” Adamus tells me as he removes his hand. “He’s a soldier.”

“Where did you find him?” I mutter hoarsely.

“A cantina in the outer rim. He’s trustworthy.”        

I want to snap ‘no, he’s not’, but I decide to stay quiet.

“I know what happened to you,” Adamus says lowly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

I turn my head back to face him. “How could you do this?”

“Keres,” Aheka breaks. “What’s going on?”

I don’t get a chance to explain or lie. Adamus answers for me. “I’m ‘gonna take her to the meeting with me today. She can help in the vote.”

“Adamus…”

"It’ll be fine. She’ll see Blitz and we can use her.”

Now I’m the one out of the loop. How did it change from Aheka to me so quickly?

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she says with knitted brows.

Adamus looks between her light green eyes with a still face. After a moment, he pushes himself up out of his seat. “Come on, Keres.”

I watch him, not moving for a second. Then Aheka looks at me and nudges her head after the boy. “You should go with him.”

I breathe out through my nose before standing up myself. Aheka shrinks away behind me, sitting alone at the table with only the monster and a gray tray.

I push my hood off my head, keeping Adamus’s back in front of me. I think about killing him- sinking my blade through his flesh and muscles until he’s crumpled on the ground. I could. There’s no one down our current hallway but us. The lights are down low, if Circe is on the security camera’s, he’s not going to tell anyone what I did.

Murder. The very thought makes the blood rush through my veins faster and tighter, coursing and getting hotter and hotter. I wonder, if I kill him, will I get some of his power? He can do things that I can’t do. I don’t know what those things are exactly yet, but I know he can.

But if I kill him, then I’ll always remember the way that he cried in my room.

Do it.

Don’t.

My hand creeps down to my waist, trailing down my belt and to cool metal of the saber. Around us, the world closes in. The lights grow even dimmer. Adamus is directly ahead of me, walking straight with his fists at his sides. I can see the muscles in his back tensing under his shirt.

Kill him. Kill him, and then kill the Clone.

“Before we go in,” Adamus turns around to face me. For a second, I’m completely blown away. I lean back to avoid the flash of gold that overtakes his hair, and the shadows over his face that make him look just like Garreth. My eyes widen, but the boy in front of me doesn’t say a word about it.

“I need something from you.”

I blink, folding my arms over each other. “The General needs something from me? I’m honored.”

Adamus inhales. “I proposed something and I need you to vote it down.”

“What did you propose?” I question.

“I just didn’t… I didn’t think the whole thing through.”

I furrow my eyebrows in seriousness. “What was the original plan?”

“I-”

“General Adamus, Vagor,” a drawl voice takes me from my thoughts. One of the Admirals- a Chiss named Sirsal- walks toward us from the other side of the hallway. He’s been distrustful of me from the beginning- not that I blame him- and he’s been more than open about it. I’ve never talked to him one on one, but he doesn’t actually seem so bad. He’s just doing his job. It’s nothing personal, and if it was, I’m in no position to tell him off. “How lovely to see you. Are you ready to vote on the proposal?”

“Of course,” Adamus replies coolly. Always a talent of his, I’ve noticed. “I was just going over the plan with our lieutenant.”

Sirsal’s eyes look at me up and down in distaste. His top lip curls in disgust when he seems the mud on top of my black boots, the rip of my leggings on my right thigh, the beaten gauze acting as gloves around my arms. “Yes, of course,” he says slowly. He changes his gaze back to Adamus, his expression softening as he sees the boy is far more cleaned up than myself. “I wasn’t aware you had appointed her as Lieutenant.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

I can feel the annoyance radiating off the Chiss man. His mind burns with a single question: Why not me?

“I see,” he says instead. “Well, let us hope this newcomer is capable of leading us to victory.” His eyes linger on me once more to get his distaste across.

Sirsal disappears through the metal door with a hiss.

"I like him,” I say.

“That was your take away from that interaction?” Adamus questions, amusement shadowing his tone.

“He’s funny.”

Adamus’s face returns to stone. “Voting down my plan is the right thing to do. Do I have your word on this?”

I stare into his eyes for a moment. For just a split second, I think they’re blue. Then they return to a swirl of pale greens and greys and teals and I know I’m far off. Adamus hasn’t really… asked me for anything before. But this, this is a favor. A personal favor at that.

“Alright,” I shrug.

The door opens up. “I’ll owe you one,” he whispers in my ear as the uniformed men turn to greet us. His words send shivers down my spine, but not in a bad way. In a way that I only feel when something excites me- like a prank or some cruel joke I’ve thought of. It makes my stomach explode with butterflies and my… no. Never mind.

“General Adamus,” one of the men greets. “Hello.”

“The topic of today’s meeting is to vote on the proposed offensive plan,” Adamus says, ignoring him in his leader voice. He crosses to the center of the room, pushes a button on the holotable and watches as the men gather to look at the blue hologram. Three Imperial Star Destroyers, and a planet that seems strangely familiar but unrecognizable. I cross my arms and lean against the wall to stay out of their way. I can still see alright, and they don’t have to worry I’m close enough to stab them in the backs.

“There are three Imperial Ships around the planet Mustafar. I believe this one, Maker’s Thrall, is in control of the Imperial shield generator on Endor, and possibly another on Ryloth. I proposed that we engage the other two Destroyers in battle as a distraction, while a smaller force infiltrates and takes out the Thrall.”

A hum of approval and nods fall over the men. Honestly, it’s not such a bad plan. It might need some refining, more detailing, but it’s a good start. Decent.  

“However, I have obtained some new information.”

“Information from her?” one of the men jabs his thumb in my direction while the one next to him tries not to roll his eyes.

“No, Admiral Raincork, and I advise you keep your thumb to yourself. I came to this realization through my own conscious.” Adamus takes a pause. I can feel his heart beat in nervousness from across the room. “If the Thrall is to be destroyed, someone will have to stay behind and…”

A roar explodes through the men now. Adamus’s voice is drowned out in the gasps. “I know, I know. This would mean suicide for whomever does this, and we can’t ask that of our people. Nor should we.”

“Why don’t we just destroy it from the outside? Or plant bombs? O-or take out the shields?” a pink skinned man asks.

Adamus shakes his head slowly. “Destroying it from the outside is impossible. A mother ship like that has more shield power than you would imagine. Taking it out would give little to no time for the group to escape and bombs would be the same.”

A few of the men nod in understanding. I try to analyze each of them. The Chiss is unswayed by Adamus’s admittance and feels that loss of life is necessary. The Twi-lek thinks it would be wrong to ask anyone onboard to do such a thing. Aheka would more than likely agree, Circe would take the side of the Chiss.

And… honestly… I would too.

“What about the people acting as distractions? Won’t they be at risk of death too?”

“No,” Adamus says. “I won’t allow that. The mission will be kept short enough that no lives can be lost. They will not be at risk.”

Adamus… it was a good plan. You knew what had to be done. You always have. That’s what being a good person means.

“So, I call for a vote,” Adamus says lowly. “Those against the original proposed plan?”

Adamus raises his hand, more slowly following. The Twi-lek raises his and so does the one next to him. I count exactly half of the men calling for this to be stopped.

“Those in favor?”

Adamus drops his hand and Sirsal raises his. Admiral Raincork follows his lead, along with the other half of the men. Adamus counts them silently, eyes widening as they drop to mine. He sees what I’m about to do. His heart is pumping, mouth dry. Don’t, he begs me. Please don’t. You said you wouldn’t.

I raise my right hand in the air, earning some of the men whipping around and gasping. Sirsal raises his eyebrow as if he’s impressed I was capable of making such a decision.

Adamus’s eyes narrow. I watch his jaw clench in anger, his hand curling into a tight fist. His eyes are darkening like a cloudy sky. He’s pissed. He’s so pissed.

“That settles it,” he says, eyes not daring to leave mine. His enraged gaze goes straight to my heart and to the pit of my stomach, swirling up emotions I couldn’t name at blaster point.     “The plan will continue on at a later date. If you have any further questions, I will answer them tomorrow at the next meeting. Any more topics? Alright, meeting concluded.”  

The men begin to shuffle out of the room, talking to each other. Half of them gives me looks of respect and the other half is anger mixed with disappointment. I don’t care about any of them. I find that the only face I really care about right now is Adamus’s. He follows the men closely, not even looking at me as he passes.

I watch his back muscles contort through his outfit as he leaves me alone in the room. The door slides shut much louder than usual, even though it’s not possible to slam it. I want so badly to talk to him. I want so badly to reach out to him.

I find that the second thing Acer Adamus gave me is guilt about other people- guilt over the living.