Aria could only shake her head meekly as Yerbol’s arms drew her in close to his chest. As heroic as Voldon’s death had been, it did not make the loss of his presence, and by extension his wisdom, any easier to bear.
“You don't know that.” she muttered under her breath. “ANYTHING could happen now...hell, what if this is IT?” She glanced up at him, finding her eyes oddly devoid of tears to cry, rather that the loss left an oppressive emptiness where certainty might once have been. “What's to say the Faceless haven't killed the others too and we're all that's left, AGAIN?” the Champions mouth twisted into a reluctant smirk as her husband made a remark about what Voldon would have wanted, and she quickly banished the unlikely scenario from her thoughts.
They would be fine. The Qyaari were stronger than that now. Somehow, they would work this out.
She managed to nod her head as Yerbol stepped back, squeezing her shoulders gently and suggesting that they help to relocating the surviving wounded from the Temple and surrounding areas to medbays. Aria could think of no better use of their time, throwing her attention into the task with hyperfocused enthusiasm that reached far beyond simple dedication to her duties and passed into the realm of “occupying her mind in any way possible as a way to ignore the grief”. At some point during the kerfuffle of carrying wounded or dying persons to and fro, she lost sight of her partner and Cheriss both, though from the remaining Alliance soldiers she had been working with the Champion heard the news that an officer had gotten a message through to the other Qyaari members and they had agreed to rendezvous here on Voss. Aria confessed to dawdling further on her remaining tasks, in the hopes of avoiding the conversation altogether. She didn't really want to be present when Kira was informed of her husband's parting. Cowardly or not, she did not relish the thoughts of Kira’s reaction....Force knows she would feel the same way should she have been told similar news about Yerbol. However, as the Alliance squadron she had been tailing completed their task of helping the surviving Voss clear some of the rubble blocking the temples entrance (in record time, thanks to the aid of the Force-weilding Champion who could lift whole chunks of the debris with one hand and move it around), she found herself approached by one of the Mystics who insisted:
“It is of import that you return to your companions now that they have all arrived. There is much to discuss, my brethren will be expecting you...all of you.”
Aria found his insistence somewhat mystifying, but if there was one thing she had learnt over the years it was to not question such things. The fact that she could feel her husband's confusion at her absence only further enforced the point for her. Heaving a sigh, the Champion thanked the Mystic and made her way post-haste to the impromptu landing pad where Yerbol and Cheriss were already waiting as the other Qyaari disembarked.
Aria rejoined the group a short moment after Cheriss, in time to hear the other Elders recount the tales of their exploits, deducing from Ailel’s dishevelled appearance that she was not exaggerating. The Dathomirian remained silent as she listened to the other Elders recount their tales, arms folded neatly behind her back and betraying no notion of the heart breaking news she was about to deliver. Aria couldn't conceal the grimace that crinkled her features as Kira’s attention turned to the absence of her partner. She had hoped Kira wouldn't notice, unfortunately finding that not to be the case as the red headed Knight frowned warily back at her.
“....What? What did he do?”
“Kira…” the Champion swallowed, trailing off as she slipped her hand into Yerbol’s and squeezed gently. He was likely as thankful as Aria was when Cheriss interjected to give the explanation needed. Kira visibly paled as the news sank in, her jaw set into a hard line as she forced out the words:
“...If this is some sort of joke that the two of you have come up with Cheriss, it's NOT funny.”
The Dathomirian shook her head solemnly, breath huffing out in a heavy sigh.
“Kira, I'm sorry. The amount of energy it would have taken to release those spirits...they do not give without taking something in return.”
“No...no, no.” the Knight shook her head in denial, taking a few steps back. “He promised.”
“He made a very brave choice.” Cheriss muttered. “I can't pretend that will make this any better, but if it wasn't for Voldon, Manus would have killed us all.”
“Makes little difference to me.” Kira sniffed, her shoulders stiff.
“I know.” despite some conflicted glances exchanged between Ailel and Cheriss, none of the Elders made any move to stop Kira as she moved further away from them, seemingly in agreement to leave the Knight to come to terms with the grief herself while they discussed their next step. Ailel ran a hand through her tangled fringe, teeth sinking into her lower lip with enough force that it might have drawn blood, her voice a muffled murmur when she spoke next.
“So if Voldon’s gone, what do we do now…?”
______________________
An hour or so later, the assembled Qyaari (sans Kira, who had yet to reappear since the altercation) found themselves across from the remaining Voss Mystics, in an annex of the Tower that had coincidentally (or perhaps purposefully, Aria wondered) suffered very little artillery damage. Great shelves stretched up towards the ceiling, jammed to overflowing with scrolls, datacrons and other such banks of knowledge.
“What use would someone like Manus have for an old archive?” Aria frowned, craning her neck back as she attempted to peer up at the contents of the topmost shelves and finding she got nothing but severe muscle cramps for her efforts. “He was a strategist right, not a historian…?”
“Indeed.” the Voss nodded, tapping his fingers together in a gesture oddly reminiscent of the supervillains in those cheesy movies on the HoloNet. “However, what Manus Vo searched for holds great strategic value should he have found it. Or rather...should I say, ‘whom’.” a nod to his comrade brought a second Mystic striding closer to the table which the Force users had arranged themselves around.
In the centre of the table sat a projection device, which had been dormant until now, when activation by the Voss prompted it to produce a holographic image of a man in classic old-school Jedi garb, his pale skin accented by the mop of dark hair on his head and the facial hair that complimented it by framing most of his jawline. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest in a posture that may have come across as impatient had it not been for the serenely thoughtful cast to his expression. Aria had never seen a representation of his face before in all her twenty one years, but she had seen enough mention of him in the plethora of texts that populated Roan’s study on Dromund Kaas to know who he was as soon as she laid eyes on him.
“...Revan? But isn't he long dead?” the diminutive Champion's gaze moved from the Elders either side of her, to the Voss on the other side of the blue hologram.
“That was never confirmed.” Ailel protested, fingers drumming against the table's surface. “The Jedi merely lost contact with him when he disappeared, but no signs of life, or otherwise lack thereof, were ever received for either Revan OR Bastila...until Satele arrived, of course.”
But the late Grandmaster of the Jedi Order had claimed to have no knowledge of her Great-grandparents’ whereabouts either. NO ONE did. Many Force users from both sides had attempted to search for the revolutionary in the years following, none had succeeded and eventually everyone had assumed the reason for this to be that they had both passed back into the Force.
“He can't POSSIBLY still be alive. Nobody lives that long.” Aria protested, feeling a surge of wary uncertainty from her partner through their link.
“Your father followed several leads garnered from the Revanites, for a time, when you first came to Korriban.” Cheriss reminded her, catching Aria's eye briefly.
“And that turned out a dead end just like every other claim to Revan’s location, he came back angrier than a Bantha with a sore head and never spoke of it again!” Aria huffed, but obediently fell silent as the Dathomirian raised a hand to quiet her and turned back to the Mystics.
“What is it that you have seen, that would prompt Manus Vo to destroy half your homeworld in order to acquire it?”
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