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25-04-2023, 07:59 PM
Chapter 3: A New World
Sheros looked to the other Acolytes sat around the camp, peering through the deep greens and shadows of the undergrowth. He saw Purebloods and humans sat around the campfire. Their tents sheltering them from the pounding rain and the fire illuminating their gloom whilst providing warmth with even an alien or two clinging on to the edges of the group, surviving on scraps. He saw laughter, warmth and even... joy, but also saw the mask that it was, the peril hidden beneath.
He watched for a few more moments before deciding this was not his place, not his comfort to share, he turned his back on the Acolyte camp and vanished into the gloom of the Kaasian undergrowth. Eventually he found a small clearing near the shallows of the lake and set himself down, staring into his reflection in the shadows. He sighed.
"I.. what should I do? I can't escape, they want me dead..."
Sheros looked up to the sky at the sudden crack of thunder and flinched as a large rain drop hit his face, looking back to his reflection in the water. The scarred face was already something, someone, that he struggled to recognise but the relentless raindrops distorted the shape in the water further until it was a faceless green blur. He stared for a while before swallowing dryly.
"Is survival even worth it.. I've failed the Jedi, I've failed myself. Maybe I am better off dead, I don't know what I will become if I survive here..."
Let his head fall back so that the weight caused him to fall back until he laid flat on the mud with his legs still crossed, staring up at the rainfall and droplets that battered against his scarred and bruised face. He laid there for some time, long enough for his robes to become saturated with mud and water. Eventually he uttered a single sentence...
"I don't want to die..."
His voice croaked and his emotions, sorrow, sadness and grief, flared up at the confession. He pushed himself to his feet, refusing to simply die in the woods from exposure, and returned to the large tree that he found. Climbing up into it for shelter and wringing as much water from his robes as he could. He curled himself into a ball and wrapped himself in branches of leaves for warmth...
Sheros looked to the other Acolytes sat around the camp, peering through the deep greens and shadows of the undergrowth. He saw Purebloods and humans sat around the campfire. Their tents sheltering them from the pounding rain and the fire illuminating their gloom whilst providing warmth with even an alien or two clinging on to the edges of the group, surviving on scraps. He saw laughter, warmth and even... joy, but also saw the mask that it was, the peril hidden beneath.
He watched for a few more moments before deciding this was not his place, not his comfort to share, he turned his back on the Acolyte camp and vanished into the gloom of the Kaasian undergrowth. Eventually he found a small clearing near the shallows of the lake and set himself down, staring into his reflection in the shadows. He sighed.
"I.. what should I do? I can't escape, they want me dead..."
Sheros looked up to the sky at the sudden crack of thunder and flinched as a large rain drop hit his face, looking back to his reflection in the water. The scarred face was already something, someone, that he struggled to recognise but the relentless raindrops distorted the shape in the water further until it was a faceless green blur. He stared for a while before swallowing dryly.
"Is survival even worth it.. I've failed the Jedi, I've failed myself. Maybe I am better off dead, I don't know what I will become if I survive here..."
Let his head fall back so that the weight caused him to fall back until he laid flat on the mud with his legs still crossed, staring up at the rainfall and droplets that battered against his scarred and bruised face. He laid there for some time, long enough for his robes to become saturated with mud and water. Eventually he uttered a single sentence...
"I don't want to die..."
His voice croaked and his emotions, sorrow, sadness and grief, flared up at the confession. He pushed himself to his feet, refusing to simply die in the woods from exposure, and returned to the large tree that he found. Climbing up into it for shelter and wringing as much water from his robes as he could. He curled himself into a ball and wrapped himself in branches of leaves for warmth...
