Brother suggested i begin writing, something to channel my passion into without lifting everything in the ship, his men get a bit put off by that..understandable. My meeting of his friends, these spacers and….jedi. I will have to get used to them, though being misunderstood by the former slave is amusing, i might even teach her a thing or two, nothing too damning.. but they must realize with the trauma she has been through the likelihood of her becoming one of their calm and collected jedi is unlikely. No slave i have ever broken free was without hatred, or remorse, or sorrow beyond what these children who support her could imagine. Though i will say..she puts on a convincing tough face, she might even believe it, but if i were to take her as my apprentice, i would have to break her resolve, and rebuild it properly. This can be achieved though words alone, as i even in my darkest times, i could ever bring myself to treating a female of any race like that.

My mother was not the greatest, but in the end she died to protect us, and from what we learned of her, she was more than what we though of her at the time. To commemorate her, me and my brother got symbolic wings tattooed on our backs, mine of wings made of broken swords, his of broken down tech. Seemed a good enough gesture at the time, the guardian angel we never knew we had, until she was gone. 

I have been researching an ability with the force to share my memories with others, an ultimatum for these young jedi, should they accept the offer to see what true suffering is, what the cost of their young actions can be if left all alone. My Brother and i are young enough to turn our lives around, and they are young enough to go a good path from the start, well…good and evil nowadays is blurry. I still dont know what to call myself, Jedi…hardly, Sith…technically, a Warrior…with my own code of honor… I suppose that will do for now.

Author Scond
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