revivalproject | (open) calibrations

Entry tags:

(open) calibrations

WHO: Merrin and you!
WHERE: Calibrations
WHAT: .....Calibrations...
WHEN: During the event
WARNINGS: No major warnings except for the lightsaber one, which involves war and death. The talisman one involves reanimated dead/zombies, for those who may wish to avoid that.

(Waiting room mingle over here!)

This room isn't really a room at all, but rather one circular-shaped area in a huge underground cavern, dimly lit by lamplight and the green glow of surrounding water. Smooth rocky paths branch off from this central space, leading to jagged buildings of the same stone, as if they were all carved out of the cave itself. They're stark and slightly rough-hewn, but a closer look reveals where the stone is worn, lived-in, shiny from the touch of many generations of hands. These are homes, community spaces, gathering places—a village.

Not many outsiders have ever seen this place: the home of the Nightsisters of Dathomir.

But if villages are supposed to be bustling, this one is eerily quiet and empty. Even the lake is still, the water clear but dark—a deep, bottomless dark that almost obscures the shadow moving in the depths.

Scattered around the area, suspended mid-air in magickal ichor, hang an assortment of seemingly unconnected objects: a small cauldron of bubbling liquid in a sickly purple color. A deactivated lightsaber, but not one that belonged to any of the Jedi who've come to Temba. A palm-sized, planet-shaped object that only one other person here would recognize as a Zeffo astrium.

And finally, Merrin's moon-shaped talisman, so rarely out of her possession. She stands nearby, close to the edge of the water, looking very much like her waking self but with her hood and cowl up, gold tinkling across her brow.

(HIGHLIGHT FOR MOOD SPOILERS, APPLY AS NEEDED: [skip] Lake = eldrich abominations; Cauldron = cute but sad; Lightsaber = very bad, see warnings; Astrium = good! wholesome! Cal cameo!; Talisman = aforementioned zombies, but another Cal cameo)

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This place could have been one of the domains back in the apocalypse. At least that's Jon's initial impression as he finds himself stepping on the path made of rocks and the rather ominous waters surrounding it. But obviously this isn't a hellscape. This is yet another dream of those lured into the tunnels.

Finding the owner of this dream isn't exactly difficult. Which in Jon's opinion is a good thing. And he can't claim to be surprised to see that it's Merrin. He approaches her first, mindful to not accidentally trigger any memories. His greeting is a little slow, almost as if he has to find and carefully place every word of this comparably simple sentence. "Hello, Merrin. I, uh... I apologize. For the intrusion."

This place is not like anything that Reeve has ever known before. Well, no, that isn't true. In ways the green glow reminds him of home, and Reeve feels... uncomfortable for it, so he immediately chooses not to make his way over there. Instead he lets his eyes move around the space, taking in the village. Something about it makes him smile. Probably the fact that it reminds him of Cosmo Canyon. It's familiar, it's closer to home than anything else he's seen. Not his home, but at least part of it.

Reeve moves carefully around it, looking until he finds a young woman present. This must be the He Row whose room this is.

"Is this home to you?"

She's half-turned away, taking in the sight of her home—her once-home, now. She hasn't seen it in well over a year, ever since she left Dathomir with Cal. And even before that... well, it hasn't felt like home in a long time, even though she can still trace every familiar line.

"Hello, Jonathan Sims." She turns towards him, looking not at all surprised to find him there. She's starting to get the hang of this... thing. "There is no need to apologize. Unless you intruded on purpose," she adds, delivered with deadpan ominousness. (It's a joke. Definitely.)

She doesn't interrupt him while he takes in her village—in fact, she just stands and watches him do it, head tipping curiously to the side when she notices his smile. If this is creepy at all (it is), it would never occur to her—Nightsisters have very few qualms about spying on people, as a general rule.

There's a short pause before she answers the question, as if it isn't a simple yes or no. "Yes, this was my home. I was raised here." In the end, she chooses the past tense. This version of her village, silent and still, isn't the one she considers home. Immediately, that curious head-tilt is back, her tone somewhere between statement and question. "It makes you smile?"

"I try not to." He answers rather evenly, with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jon takes a moment to take in their surroundings once more before gesturing with one hand while turning back to Merrin. "This place- It's based on somewhere you're familiar with, I suppose." It's not necessarily a question, but Jon recalls the dreams he has visited before.

"If you prefer to not share any memories, I understand." He doesn't necessarily have to touch anything here.

Her expression softens slightly, though it might be difficult to tell in the low light, when she catches his smile. It's likely what prompts her to be more forthcoming with an answer when he didn't actually ask a question, though there's a short, weighted pause in between.

"Very familiar. It was my home, the village where I was raised." It might not look very homey, this dark cave, but there's a note of wistfulness in her voice regardless. She has many happy memories here, as well as sad. And everything in between.

"That is possible?" Her head tips curiously—she hasn't gotten that much of a hang on this.

Jon shrugs, but he also nods. "I have spent time with some visitors merely talking until the room deemed us finished." He replies, his words still slow and picked deliberately. "Not everyone was keen on witnessing... The apocalypse. The one I brought to my home world." There weren't really any pleasant memories from that time.

"If you aren't comfortable with sharing any of these memories-" Jon adds, looking around lightly, not knowing which item around this place might even trigger a memory to begin with. He can spot the lightsaber, which implies a connection to the galaxy Cal and the other Jedi come from, and yet this place is very different from Coruscant. "-I would be happy to just learn about your home. It obviously has a history to it."

In his own room, she guesses, nodding. Yes, she can see why people wouldn't be so keen. "You have mentioned it before. Your apocalypse," she says, almost off-handedly, not expecting any further explanation.

Then she falls quiet for a moment, weighing her options now that she has a new one. It's true that she's not... entirely comfortable sharing her memories, especially since she doesn't actually know all of the ones contained here, though she can make educated guesses. That lightsaber, for one... well, that's probably not unlike his apocalypse, to her. Her talisman? Could be anything, really, considering she's possessed it half her life. The astrium? Maybe...

She also isn't entirely comfortable talking about her home, either, considering her complicated feelings around it. Not to mention how conditioned she is to keep her clan's secrets, especially from outsiders.

But she is, in all likelihood, the last Nightsister. It's kind of nice to think that she wouldn't be the only one keeping this knowledge. "Then we will try it," she decides aloud, moving closer to the center of the circle and into the light. "Though I'm not certain where to begin."

Past tense, yes that makes sense, given they weren't there. Still, he keeps smiling, even though the gets the question.

"In a way, it reminds me of something from my world. A place called Cosmo Canyon. But also it reminds me of Mideel, and the Lifestream itself, the lifeblood of my planet."

Even with being a little slower to grasp his thoughts, Jon has taken plenty of statements from initially reluctant people to recognize Merrin's uncertainty on how to proceed. And while he won't be able to compel her, he may still offer a simple question for her to pick up on. This is, after all, where she grew up with her family.

"Were you happy here?" He prompts. Childhood memories often are happy memories. Though of course there are different cases as well. Even Jon isn't entirely sure if his childhood had been a happy one. He grew up okay, all things considered. Manipulated and guided by a scheming entity, but... Okay.

Echo didn't like it.

Everything is too quiet. The emptiness keeps him wary as he studies the aged walls, posture bent on the defensive and arms nearly level out of habit like he's out on an assignment. But the change is gradual the longer he walks about the cavern, the tension in his shoulders loosening after a time as his attention shifts to look at the items suspended in midair. A few of them are taken into consideration, questions arising as his hand hovers near the lightsaber.

He barely catches the shape of Merrin standing by the water's edge out of the corner of his eye, turning slightly to make sure he isn't seeing things. In doing so, the angle of his arm changes; in doing so, his fingers brush against the hilt without warning.

Something about his phrasing piques her interest—it sounds similar enough to how she would describe her home planet, or at least her connection to it through her magick. Her gaze becomes a little more intent, curious.

"How so?"

It's a simple question, maybe, but it somehow still catches her a little off guard. Maybe she was expecting something a bit more... bland? The history of this place, for example. She has a lot of that, passed down from the Old Mothers.

But, in the end, it does end up being a simple answer too. Without realizing it, some of the tension releases from her shoulders. "Yes." Then she lapses into silence for a beat, since it isn't in her nature to be particularly forthcoming... at least until she remembers the point of this exercise and starts to elaborate, albeit haltingly at first.

"I was surrounded by my mothers and sisters, studying magick, so I was happy. I never had to worry about the galaxy outside this place." How carefree she was as a child. How simple her world was. "I understand that many people see Nightsisters as frightening. But I was never frightened. My mothers could be harsh, but I always knew they loved me."

"Cosmo Canyon is built into canyon walls. Not quite the same as here, but the style is reminiscent. And the green glow, it's like the Lifestream, which is only truly exposed in Mideel."

Which had basically meant people mostly couldn't live there safely anymore.

The response earns the Nightsister a smile from the Archivist and Jon nods. "I'm glad to hear that. We all come from- From different worlds. Different backgrounds and cultures. And yet- There tend to be certain similarities regardless." He pauses for a shrug. "I was raised by my grandmother and- She was very much the same." A common trait among many parental figures.

"I noticed you only mentioned your sisters and mothers." Jon inclines his head slightly at that observation. "Any brothers or fathers?"

The memory begins with the chaos of a battlefield: blasterfire, shouting, the whir of energy bows and crack of magick. It's dark, the sky a deep red, smoke and misty green ichor carpeting the earth. The Nightsisters move with it, releasing energy arrow after energy arrow, spell after spell, their magick thick in the air. Their opponents are waves and waves of Separatist battle droids—ones Echo would recognize as B1- and B2-series.

Merrin does not recognize them at all. She's young here, barely old enough to have just faced the Sleeper and earned her place in the coven, and despite her best efforts, she's afraid. Desperate and bewildered. She does not know this enemy or why they've laid siege on her home. Her family. All around her, her sisters fall, shot down by blasters, and don't get up again.

Unlike some of her sisters, she doesn't carry an energy bow—instead, she slings powerful bursts of ichor at the droids, burning holes clean through them. The Nightsisters behind her cry out, and she turns to see her fallen sisters, reanimated with magick that blazes green in their lifeless eyes, rush forward in droves to attack the enemy. They swarm the battle droids, moving jerkily, ripping them to pieces one by one.

So they're losing. They must be if Old Daka has used the Chant of Resurrection.

Why? Why is this happening? Her resurrected sisters stream forward, disrupting the lines of droids. Ahead, an armored warrior marches out of the mist, led by the glow of many lightsabers in many hands, spider-like. The lightsabers slash and hum as the warrior cuts down her sisters with ruthless efficiency, one after another, easily deflecting energy arrows and ichor. Again, Echo might recognize him, though Merrin doesn't at the time: General Grievous.

She doesn't stop loosing ichor, even as more and more of her sisters fall around her.

These are familiar sounds. Familiar sights. The never-ending waves of Battle droids is still fresh in Echo's own memories, but their opponents are less recognizable. Their crimson clothing, pale skin instantly connect their image with Merrin's, but this is the first time he's ever seen the Nightsisters. Their planet. Their means of attacking an invading enemy with energy bow and magick alike.

Their deaths by many mechanical hands and blasters.

He's not even sure if he's imagining it, but he knows how she feels. She's disoriented. Frightened. The shock of seeing the Nightsisters fall where they stand reminds him too much of the brothers he's lost in battle, their bodies lifeless the moment they gracelessly hit the ground.

To see the dead rise again to continue fighting is disturbing, and he wonders if the conjuring is a last resort.

There is no mistaking the multi-armed lightsaber wielder in this scenario. No Jedi would be on the same side as the droids. He knows who Grievous is, and he remembers what he has done in the past. But to see and experience everything from Merrin's perspective is overwhelming. Painful.

He tries, however. He continues to watch.

Her expression turns thoughtful as she considers that information. It doesn't really come naturally to her, being forthcoming about herself and her people—for many reasons—so she's quiet for a moment before finally mustering a reply.

"It glows green because it is the Water of Life," she explains, gesturing to lake. "It's why my people built their home here, many generations ago. The Water has many magickal properties, and we use it in many of our spells and rituals. I do not know if your Lifestream is similar," she adds, prompting.

It's slight, but she smiles in return, her thoughts treading similar paths about the universality of most... sentient experiences (she's not human). To her, it's almost strange—wondrous, really. She'd never left her home planet even once before Cal arrived, and she'd had very little idea of what to expect out in the galaxy when she did. The one thing she didn't expect was for a lone Nightsister to find so much commonality with... well, anyone. Strict grandmothers and all.

"The Nightbrothers live separately. They aren't allowed to enter this place." She says it matter-of-factly, her head angling slightly as she considers him, feline-like. "You are likely the first man to set foot here in many years," she adds, completely deadpan.

“The Lifestream is the soul of our world itself. All life comes from it, and all life returns to it,” he answered. So perhaps it was like the water. “My materia, that lets me do some of my magic, is crystallized mako from the Lifestream, memories of magic. And my own magic comes from my connection to it. So I suppose the same is true of us.”

Which intrigues him. Is the essence, the soul of people always this shade of green?

"Oh?" Jon raises his brows at those information. That's an interesting cultural aspect. Nightsisters and Nightbrothers, with the Nightsisters obviously being the ones making the rules their brothers have to adhere to.

He bows his head slightly. "I will treat your home with respect. Even given these- Rather unique circumstances." Since obviously this isn't Merrin's actual home, but a dream reflecting it, but that doesn't mean Jon can't be respectful. "Your brothers... Did they study magick the way you and your sisters did? Just- Elsewhere?" Those powers obviously are an important part of Merrin's culture.

She's about to say that her magick is similar—the magick connecting them all, binding her to Dathomir and her sisters, in life and in death. But she's suddenly much more interested in his magick—that doesn't happen in her culture. The Jedi have their Force, but where she comes from, magick is the realm of women, not men.

"You use magick." The tone is somewhere between statement and question. She eyes him inquisitively—a reexamination—not really bothering to be subtle about it. "This is something you were taught?"

She's kind of touched by the respect, actually. After she left, it's become a lot more apparent to her that the way they did things on Dathomir were... not common, dividing men and women just one of many. Most outsiders demonstrated fear or disdain rather than respect.

But at the same time... she was also being a little bit cheeky. "Do not worry. We allowed some exceptions." Her eyes shine with humor. Jon, you can be an exception. She'll permit the male intrusion this time.

"No, they did not," she continues, falling back into that matter-of-fact tone. Unthinkingly, she looks away, towards the direction of the Nightbrother's village, outside this cave—or where it would be, if this was real. "That wasn't allowed either, though there were no exceptions." Honestly... thinking about it now... she's not sure why.

She seems shocked. Was that all that odd?

"Yes and no. Some of it was taught, materia magic which everyone can potentially do. But my own soul magic, well... That I had to learn on my own. A lot of magic has had to be hidden from those who would use us."

It's not Jon's place to judge Merrin's culture just because it's different. He much rather finds himself intrigued to learn more about the Nightsisters and their brothers. Her humor, subtle as it may be, at least is one Jon can understand well enough and he reacts to her comment about exceptions with an accepting little smile of his own.

"I see." Is his more verbal response to her answer to his question and his own eyes follow the way she is looking. "So you have separate settlements, yet- Nearby?" He assumes and looks back to the Nightsister. "And it's the same everywhere on this planet?" Two separate living arrangements for men and women, yet one of each always sort of making a pair. At least that's how he's starting to see it. At least for this specific- Country?

Odd to her, yes. Very odd. But he said everyone, so it must be common for people of all genders to learn magick. Interesting...

"I see." There's understanding in her tone—because she does understand, personally. Power... there would always be people who craved it, would do anything to obtain it. "That is why we remained here for so long, and closed ourselves off from outsiders." She gestures to the village surrounding them, expansive. "We governed ourselves. Protected each other."

"I wish it was so simple for people like me in our world. Well, not simple. Governance is hard, and you said closed off, which implies to me concerns of safety. But I could be wrong."

He sighs. He wished he'd had community like that, but it had never seemed likely.

The first assumption is correct, which she confirms with a nod—there were other Nightsister villages spread across Dathomir, home to different covens, but always paired with a nearby Nightbrother one. As for the second...

"There are other clans on Dathomir. I cannot speak for them." In other words, she doesn't really know. She does know that they share many of the same traditions, given their shared history, but they all tend (or tended) to be self-sufficient—or, less generously, isolationist. For better or worse.

"But for us it was the same," she continues. "There were many such villages... many covens and their brothers."

Something about simple doesn't sit right with her either, a loose thread she pulls. He's right that it wasn't so simple—not really. It had seemed that way to her, as a child, but don't all things seem uncomplicated and easy from the perspective of children?

"Yes," she says slowly, her brow creasing thoughtfully. "Magick is rare in this galaxy. My people were the only ones to practice it. That power, that strength, was ours. So we remained here, on Dathomir, and didn't involve ourselves in the galaxy's affairs. Their wars, their politics."

She pauses, exhaling. "But we were still not safe. And our power alone was not enough."

"Many in my world can practice with materia, but I understand what you mean. Would you..."

He has to consider this, but to be connected even for a moment to other magic, to the culture of it, he has to ask it.

"Would you mind if I saw a memory? Do you know if any show your people? The community? I find myself longing for it."

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(open) calibrations

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cw: war, death, zombies

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