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| - On a small farm, several miles from the city, Haquien stands at the base of a large pyre. Near him is a farmer who, earlier in the day, agreed to let Haquien use his land in exchange for buying some of his unused hay. The hay rests under the pyre and serves as kindling. The land around is rough and mostly barren, ensuring that a flame will not overtake the field. The sun has begun to set, casting shades of dark purple over the land. Haquien stands in the shadow of the funeral pyre, a used carbon freezing unit beside him. Bozlo's body has already been removed from it and rests atop the stacked wood. Briseis stands just behind Haquien, her head bowed and her hands clasped loose together in front of her. Her gaze, when it rises on occasion, fixes on the live Padawan rather than the dead one. It is clear that it is respect for Haquien, not Bozlo, that has brought her here. She remains quiet, patient. A familiar, blood-red figure moves in the distance, slowly growing larger and larger. He approaches the pyre, the large Tikar, but something is different about him. He looks sombre, as if great and painful truths have barraged him in the last few hours, but no just that. The Tikars still tail is completely black, from tip to base, covered in black paint, giving him an overly ominous look. A black stripe runs around his right bicep, completing his 'attire' for the 'event'. Bal sighs, stopping a few feet from the pyre, looking down at Haquien, a soft, sad look all about him. He glances to Briseis, but his look does not change. Grimolf is standing in formal wear to the side and slightly back with his hands clasped neatly before him. His eyes are slightly downcast and have only flicked towards the pyre once... headless bodies are difficult to display properly and are somewhat unnerving, even if covered. When the man looks up again, it is instead to gaze at the different people assembled. AM-21 beeps sadly as its head rotates towards Balketh, and then Grimolf. It rolls forward a little, boo'ing its dismay, then falls quiet. Haquien nods solemnly to Balketh, then towards Grimolf. He heaves a deep sigh and turns, looking to all. "We are here to bury Bozlo. Some of us knew him as a friend, others an enemy, and some of us both." He pauses. "I do not find it fitting to speak poorly of Bozlo. I am not here to honor the manner in which he died, or his deeds. I'm here because he was once a Padawan of the Jedi Order, and he deserves a proper funeral. I have more to say, but I think Bozlo would have liked each who attended his funeral to say something, should they wish it." He gestures for Balketh to speak, if he wishes. The Tikar looks up from his bowed, soft stare, and points to himself, as if to say 'Me?'. After a moment, his ears drop, and he steps forward to the pyre. "Bozlo.... I knew little. But, what I did know, was that he was a wise man. He did not have trrrue /potential/, he had trrrue /wisdom/, a rrrarrre t-thing... Rrrrarrre i-i-indeed..." As the feline speaks, he draws closer and closer to tears, taking shaky breaths as he looks over Bozlo gently. In a slow, fluid motion, he draws his Crysblade, standing over the pyre. Raising his right hand, he gently moves the covers from Bozlo's hand, turning it palm up. Placing the blade to his own hand, he pushes in, and drags down, making a long, thin cut. A few drops of blood fall from his hand, and, well aimed, onto Bozlo's. After a few drops, he puts his blade away, and closes Bozlo's hand, and he returns the cover. "M-m-may this p-parrrt of my essence b-be a guide t-to you, and May the F-Forrrce be with you, a-a-always..." He steps back slowly, reducing to tears quickly, gently shutting his eyes to try and silence the soft sobs. Briseis looks up as Haquien steps forward to speak. Her brown-eyed gaze is dark tonight, and it rests light first on Haquien and then on Balketh. There is, through the force of some effort, little change in her expression as the Tikar speaks or acts or sobs. Her hands twist tightly together and she remains a silent presence. "You are a gentle soul, Bal. Your blessing is kind and generous. But have courage, Bozlo has joined the Force, and is now at peace." Haquien looks past Briseis and focuses on Grimolf. He gestures for him to speak, should he wish to. Grimolf nods once but doesn't move as he starts to speak. "Bozlo was... strangely enough... one of the few Jedi I actually liked," the man says. "That's because I remember when we rescued Aure Kaia from Gean and he was the /only/ individual to back me up when I attacked." Having said that, the man pauses for a moment before continueing. "I knew something was wrong then but I never expected it to go this far... Bozlo had a lot of potential. It's a shame for it to end this way." "Bozlo cared for what he loved, and he did love his Master," Haquien offers. "He was quick to join sides and quick to join a fight. He was a good friend, too. Had he completed his training as a Jedi, or been allowed to, he would have fone far. It is unfortunate his Master fell, and that he suffered for it." The Commander pushes back his coat, letting it catch the breeze as the sun sinks into the horizon. Finally he turns to Briseis. "Do you wish to speak, Captain?" he asks. Bri's gaze shifts to Haquien at the question and there is a small silence, brief before she shakes her head minutely and turns her eyes back to the pyre where Bozlo's body lies. Haquien nods simply. Slowly he bends down, taking up a small log wrapped in flammable material. The farmer steps forward and lights the torch, then backs away. Haquien moves to the pyre and uses a small ladder to look down at Bozlo. "Rest in Peace," he announces calmly. He looks upward and raises the torch high with his hand, saluting the sun as its rays lower, and the light is nearly extinguished. After several minutes he lowers the torch, placing it under Bozlo's body. Flames sprout from the hay and leap upward, quickly making the wood crackle and burn. Before long the body is consumed with fire, and is the only source of light. After descending and securing the ladder, Haquien steps away. As the flames jump higher, sending sparks dancing into the sky, Briseis raises her gaze to watch. She remains still and quiet behind Haquien, her attention focused forward. Grimolf's eyes roam towards the pyre as Haquien goes through the ceremony and as the flames rise. Once they are established, he watches them burn for a couple minutes before redirecting his gaze to the people assembled. As the flames roar up, Bal's sobs grow a little. He bows his head, his massive frame shuddering with each breath, his hands laying limp to either side. The black tail that would usually swish about merely hangs, lifeless. Haquien watches the smoke rise. He frowns a little as the flames dance, lighting their faces, as the first stars appear in the sky. Quiet and still, the Commander breathes deeply, looking no where but to the fire. An hour passes, though swiftly, and eventually the pyre falls upon itself and the body is consumed, wreathed in coals. The heat is enough to even cause the onlookers to step back. At long last, however, the fire becomes nothing more than flickering light, and a pile of ash. When the fire begins to dim and the heat from the pyre fades into the cool night air, Briseis stirs. She steps forward to take a place next to Haquien, and she looks toward him in the dim light without speaking. As the hour passes, Bal quietens to a sobless cry, the short, soft fur on his cheeks damp agains this face, watching the ashes for a little while longer. Grimolf is silent as the fire burns low and, once it collapses into ash, the man nods politely to the others gathered and turns towards the shadows. Haquien's attention lingers on the scorched ground a moment longer than Grimolf, but eventually he too turns. He looks to Briseis first, nodding, and then to Balketh. "It is time we left," he explains. "Thank you," he adds to the farmer, and then he turns and sets off for the city. Balketh nods softly, sobbing still as he moves slowly to follow Haquien. "Frrriend... I... Am sorrrry forrr my rrrecent... Abscence... I-I n-needed to be... Alone." His sobls slowly, walking with the man off to the city. Briseis is a bit slower to turn, her gaze narrowing back toward the glowing ashes of the pyre as Haquien moves toward the city. She lingers there for a bit longer. When she turns to follow, it's several meters behind the other two, leaving them privacy to speak. "I have contacted the Order and informed them that you are seeking a Master. It may take time for them to contact you, though, Bal. You must have patience." Haquien walks with his hands behind his back. "It is a trying time, and an uncertain one, but eventually, with patience, you will find rewards." He looks up to the Tikar. "I think you should stay off Coruscant, though, if you are able. Avoiding trouble, at least, is probably best." Grimolf shuffles down the hardpacked dirt road to the north. Grimolf has left. Balketh nods slowly. "Thank you... Forrr yourrr... Everrrything. You have helped me morrre than you could possibly imagine." Finally, the sobs end. "But... Is Corrruscant not the home of the Rrretrrreat? Is that not a safe place anymore?" He asks, clasping his hands behind him gently. "Coruscant is.." Haquien pauses. "It is not safe for Padawans who are on their own. The Dark Side lingers there, creating an impenetrable shadow." He continues walking. "If you have not felt it, then you will soon. It shrouds all." "I... Could not feel it. There is so much.... Noise therrre..." Balketh admits. "I cannot seem to hearrr the Forrrce therrre as I do herrre... Herrre, everrrything is quiet, and clearrrr. Therrre..." He fades off, walking slowly with Haquien. "Who... Did you have in mind to guide me?" "Then you felt it, though on a.. subtler level. That noise is the Dark Side." Haquien looks to the Tikar. "Me? Oh no, I do not choose Masters. At the moment we have two Padawans without masters at all," he informs Balketh. "The Jedi are slow, often, an spread thin. But do not worry: concentrate on peace, meditate and clear your mind as often as you can. That way you will impress your Master, when he or she comes to you." "Knight Tan is interesting. You could benefit from his strict guidelines." Haquien pauses. "Beyond him, I am not sure. Perhaps, if you are fortunate, one of the other Padawans will be knighted and they will seek you out." He sighs. "Too few Jedi, it appears." "Then I may strrrive to learrrn the wisdom and judgement to become a Knight and rrrectify such a problem. "Then I may strrrive to learrrn the wisdom and judgement to become a Knight and rrrectify such a prrroblem." He purrs, gently brushing his cheeks, sniffing once too. "Knight Tan... Would it be wise that I seek him out, or should I let him find me, if he sees potential in me?" He sighs too, "Perrrhaps I should wait, I may not be rrready forrr the trrrials of the Padawan..." "The Force will guide your decisions and steps," Haquien offers. "It did mine. I saved a party-full of people who were attacked by clones on the CCS Grandeur, then flew to Merr Sonn and saved hundreds of refugees. Down there's where I met the Captain," he gestures towards Briseis, "and it's what led me to Mina Vairde, my first Master." He smiles. "Trust in the Force." At the gesture, Briseis moves forward, strides lengthening enough to catch pace with the two men. She glances briefly between the two and then falls into step next to Balketh. "I do trrrust the Forrrce, but it's like walking in the darrrkness acrrross a brrridge. I can't see anything. I'm not afrrraid of what lay arrround me, orrr of the brrridge falling frrrom underrrneath me, but what lay ahead. Uncerrrtainty..." His gaze shifts around from Haquein, very slowly to Briseis. "Hello... I am Balketh... A frrriend of Haquien..." He bows his head gently. "Do not fear what is ahead," Haquien replies. "Concentrate on the moment, focus on the now, and everything else will fall into place." He looks to Briseis. "This is Captain Karakas. You've met, but under unfortunate circumstances." He pauses. "Yes," Briseis replies simply, speaking with a brief nod, a bare tilt of her head toward Balketh. Balketh nods to Briseis. "I'm rrreally sorrrry forrr that... I did not know you werrre a Captain... I thought... You werrre..." He pauses, looking to his footsteps, a troubled frown upon his face. "It does not matterrr now. What matterrrs is that, that is the past, and that is not now." He looks to Haquien with a smile, as if to say 'I did good just then.' Haquien gives the Tikar an approving nod, then says, "Let's get going. I feel like training, then meditating for awhile. I feel relieved, now that Bozlo has had his funeral, but something else is on the horizon. I can feel it." He pats the Tikar gently on his back and smiles to Briseis, then picks up his pace. "Quite all right," Briseis replies to Balketh, her voice a murmur before she looks across to Haquien, meeting smile with slow frown, and then turns forward again. Her pace quickens to match. Ears perk, and tail swishes, causing most of the black paint to crack and fall from the fur in a large shell. "Trrraining? Could... I join you?" He asks, finally smiling. He has /no/ trouble matching the pace of the others, merely taking steps a little more to his own pace. "Of course," Haquien replies, his tone calm. Eventually they arrive back at the landing field, and from there Haquien flies to Bothawui, taking Balketh with him, should he still wish to come. There, Briseis parts ways with the two, leaving the system in the direction of Coruscant and home.
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