No announcement yet.

Echoes in Eternity [Caim]

  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • Echoes in Eternity [Caim]

    Pelagon. It had been years since he'd last set foot on the man made platforms jutting from the sun warmed oceans of his home world. The sound of waves crashing against the sturdy alloy beams supporting the massive seascape was a bittersweet sound to hear. The scent of the salty air teased his nose and the sun, unhindered by the cottony curtain of clouds lingering on the horizon, heated his face pleasantly. In the distance, the remains of another platform very like this one, marred the view with its dormant imperfection. A memory haunted him, time seemed to relapse to an era when suffering and terror filled the faces of every Pelagian citizen. The sound of screams outweighed the gentle wash of waves below, the scent of smoke was cloying, and from his vantage; he could see the burning wreckage, that had once been the home of thousands, slip with horrifying slowness beneath the surface of the sea. Sweat beaded upon his brow and a tightness seized his chest, one he recognized to be the symptom of guilt.

    "Sir, are you all right?"

    The vise grip he had on the balustrade before him loosened and Averan turned a reassuring smile upon one of the noblemen sharing the mezzanine with him. Turning away from the view, the crimson, fur lined cloak he wore wavering in the delicate breeze, he headed back inside the alabaster palazzo where the aftermath of a Pelagian funeral procession was well underway. The Alexandros family was familiar to him, painfully so, and when news had reached his ears about the death of the heir presumptive, he'd arranged to be planetside when the sepulture was to take place. The faces of those loitering in the throne room, where the closed casket of the deceased formerly rested, were familiar and yet different. Time changed much, it seemed. All but him.

    Stepping up behind one column, in a very long line of them leading all the way to the archaic cathedra, Averan set his vivid eyes, which seemed not unlike malachite in hue, upon a massive portrait of the current Alexandros generations; particularly the visage of the young man who looked very much like the boy he had saved all those years ago. The large, crimson stone dangling from a thick chain against his ornate cuirass glowed faintly as memories threatened to take him back to that time, once more. Brow furrowing, he reached up to clasp the sizable stone firmly.

    It was a mistake coming back here. He should have stayed away.

  • #2
    Caim couldn't remember the name of the individual he'd last attended a funeral for. It wasn't family. The planetary leaders often interacted when it came to such tragedies, and the only funeral he hadn't attended by another notable house was Vyletta's mother. This one though was particularly close to home, and he took a certain sense of comfort from seeing Arikos, Sasha, and being home. He only wished it could have been on different terms.

    Without his brother, he admitted he had less desire to remain on Pelagon however. He was the direct heir now, but that was a burden he need not worry about for the time being. His father was still alive and kicking, and he wasn't prepared to lose another family member. The facts were assassination, the rumor was Mecetti. Their was no proof, but it made enough sense. The lack of proof was all that stopped him from having it out with Vyletta, letting her have it as an exercise for his emotions.

    She was behind him now, though. Left to Ruusan, while he returned to the world they had originally left. "Sentimental value?" He questioned of Averan, a man he did not know, but obviously in pain by something. The way he clutched at the stone was a conversation opener. He stood nearby, not looking to the man, but watching the events of the day unfold themselves before him. He left it at that for now, not pressing into the all too obvious question Averan likely expected: 'How did you know the deceased?' Though he wouldn't put it that way.


    • #3
      At the young man's question, verdant eyes darted toward him and then dipped down to the red stone hidden in his grasp. One corner of his mouth lifted and then he relinquished the polished gem, by now used to the light scrapping sound it emitted when shifting against his chest plate. The amulet had been given to him by a powerful Sith many, many years ago and was said to harbor ancient Sith Sorcery that allowed his essence to find its way into whatever host it was placed on should he ever perish. This would be his third body. His mistress, Darcia, had taken advantage of her own amulet countless times.

      "You could say that." He finally answered, reflecting on the resemblance this young man shared with one slightly younger in the portrait. Clearly, the same person. So, he had the honor of addressing one of the Alexandros children. The new heir presumptive, to be exact. "It was a gift." Sometimes, more of a curse. "My condolences for your loss. I know my words are of little consolation but know that my heart goes out to your family." A family that I both saved and destroyed in one fell swoop. "It's Caim, correct?" He asked, his eyes wandering back to the painting briefly.


      • #4
        Even having been away to Ruusan, their were ways to recognize him quickly. His eyes went up to the painting on the wall, a portrait of his family. His brother's was wreathed in flowers, in commemoration. It would inevitably moved to a location for honoring the dead, rather than displaying the ruling body of the living. "Thank you." He said simply at first, staring at the brushed image of his brother on the wall. "Words mean more than people give them credit, because for me it conveys he is thought of. Everyone wonders what their funeral will be like, who will be there, what will be said. So it means something to me."

        He glanced over at his temporary companion, smiling. "What's your name, you have me at a disadvantage." He turned and began to step outside, assuming Averan would accompany him for the sheer fact they were both involved in a conversation with a question queried. Caim in fact missed the smell of the ocean, and being inside felt a tad too stuffy for the time being. He moved to the rail Averan had formerly been at, staring out over the ocean.


        • #5
          The authenticity of his thanks caused Averan's eyebrows to raise in subtle surprise, his mouth curving into an attentive smile as Caim continued to explain. When his words concluded, the young man returned his smile and inquired after his name. Strange, his customary compulsion would have been to lie without hesitation. In this case, he did not feel the need; even though it could very well lead to complications in the future. "Averan." He answered, leaving the convoluted nature of his last name out, for now. The infamous surname he had inherited from his mistress would certainly make him an unwelcome guest among these Pelagians.

          Sensing that their conversation was not concluded, Averan steadily moved after the young man as he stepped out onto the mezzanine he had formerly lingered upon. Rather than joining him at the railing, the armored noble leaned against the wall just opposite of Caim, studying him from that distance. Eventually, the subject of how he knew his brother would come into question. Instead of waiting for that to happen, he headed it off. "I've not been back to Pelagar for some time. Your father is an acquaintance of mine but now that I am here, I think it probably best that I not interrupt his grieving." He mused aloud, his arms coming to cross over his broad, plated chest while his green eyes searched the horizon beyond. "I heard whispers that you have not been on Pelagon for some time, yourself."


          • #6
            He had no reserved feelings of suspicion at the lack of a last name mentioned. Some cultures valued the last name greatly, and at times his did as well, but he found it was an unnecessary element to things. He likely would not have recognized the last name if it was given in the first place. Their conversation continued as a normal one would be expected. “I see.” No surprise, since the man looked somewhere in the gap of age between his deceased brother and his father. “I am sure he would welcome the friendly support, but I also understand it sometimes feels difficult to express such sentiments.”

            His father was likely receiving the statement repeatedly that evening, and it might wear on him over time. The line of conversation went another direction, and he was mildly glad for the distraction. Turning, he rested his back upon the banister behind him. “Yes. I’ve been on Ruusan. It’s…an experiment, I assume. Myself and a Mecetti, an effort to bury grudges.” Their was no reason to be secretive. It was a worthwhile endeavor, if it could be made to work.

            Beyond that, their were other reasons he chose not to go into. The Penumbra would no doubt not look well on his spilling the beans so easily. “I do wonder who’s been whispering.” He joked. Of course their would be rumor, and he was in a high enough position of status that it was inevitable his absence would be noticed. “And what is your grand role in the galaxy?”