SWTOR Bedisa: Desert II

Fire. Heat.

The first day was the worst. The journey through the deep sands, in no particular direction but…deeper, and deeper, into the whispering dune sea. She walked and followed the Force, but the walking took her mind away from her centre, and the heat began to seep into her very bones. She used her water sparingly. 

This place…

She found a spot, finally, a long outcropping of rock perched mysteriously in the midst of all the sand. Sat down. Breathed. But the heat was too much, that first day, her thoughts still in turmoil, and after only a few minutes she had to escape to the relative protection of the rock’s shade. 

Then…breathe. 

Brembal. Fire. Passion. Violence. Heat. She breathed again, trying to let go. Let the Force move. But the heat. The turmoil. Brembal. Jackie. Vanessa. Vie. Lives being tossed and torn asunder. Death. Where was the path in this? What plan could there possibly be? Could she still serve the Light, as her steps took her closer into shadow? Heat. Burning. Sun. The waves of it poured over her, and the tears began to dry up. No water to waste. Focus. The Force was all. The Force was life itself. There was an answer. There was…something. Not an answer. Understanding?

She struggled. As the suns began to set on the first day, she fell against the rock, weak, trembling in her emotion. She couldn’t think. Her heart ached. She kept coming back to him. Words and pain. She had given up *everything*. Everything. She had given him her heart. She had changed. But he didn’t seem to give anything back. Always his way. His path. His pain and his glory. 

She wiped dry eyes, out of reflex. That stung. She knew he cared. There was that much, at least. He did love her. She couldn’t expect him to change. That was…his own path. 

She breathed as the stars rose, and finally, a calm came over her. The emotion had found an outlet, in a cry, the burning heat. His own path. Her own path. The others. She settled down into a sitting position again, after climbing up onto the rock to face the sky. The Force was guiding them all. Neither good, nor ill, but they each had to walk where they had to walk. You could influence, but…

Breathe. Heat. Warmth. The Force. It was not meant to be fair. It was. Connecting, perfect, flowing. She breathed. Giving. The exhaustion was fading as her trance deepened. Something on the edges of her understanding…she could feel…this great thing, moving, and she gladly let herself go into the stream. 

The Jedi were wrong about so much.