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| - Coruscant: Ylaasin Parkway Tall trees with narrow trunks and pale bark line the southern side of this parkway as well as the bridges to the southwest and southeast. They open in well-trimmed ovals of dark green foliage, spotted here and there with tiny yellow flowers in the shape of stars. The traffic all about in slow and easy, and the towrs here are less densely packed than in other Sectors of the City. On the northern side of the parkway several slim towers present their facades. To the west, a modest silver structure, bulbous and set about with many balconies thrusts forth several sliding doors and to the east a taller spire stands with fewer balconies, but these are overflowing with lush green growth. A slender bridge passes between the two, joining in a covered landing pad. The slower traffic here tends to appeal to pedestrians, and Briseis is no exception. The Guard Captain has claimed a small bench for her own, tucked along the parkway just next to one of the large planted areas that overflows with tiny yellow star-shaped flowers. She's not in uniform. Instead, she wears civilian clothing of the most plain sort, brown trousers and a neatly-pressed shirt of pale green. For the moment, she simply appears to be sitting, and watching. The smaller crowds provide little cover for a man who typically stalks through them -- a habit, really. Instead, he walks casually through the streets, moving swiftly past the bench upon which Bris sits. The green-robed man takes a seat at the adjacent bench and draws his outer garments closer to his body, obscuring both his healing arm and his already scarred hand. He stares off into the distance for seemingly an eternity before he takes notice of Bris. "Hello, Captain," he says softly, looking over slowly. Briseis looks up and over at Lazlo's greeting, and she blinks at him for a moment before she tips her head to the bench seat next to her in silent invitation. "Lazlo," she says. "Hi." Lazlo considers his position on his own bench for a moment before he stands slowly and moves to the offered seat. "How are you?" he asks softly. His voice suggests that it's a question beyond formalities -- he's genuinely interested. His gaze remains, however, on the houses and passing denizens. "Mmm," Briseis responds, and for a moment her voice fades into silence as she watches him, sideways, and then she breathes out. "The leg's healed. Mostly. Hurts a little when I push it. I would have thought it'd have been worse." Her hands spread, pressing flat against the unfamiliar fabric of her pants. "That's not what I meant," he replies quietly, clearing his throat softly. He wasn't trying to draw attentions to himself, however, but merely found something in his throat -- at an unfortunately insensitive time. Lazlo's eyes remain fixated on those passing. He doesn't look over at Bris. Briseis shrugs silently and turns her own gaze forward, unresponding for a long time. She settles back slightly and draws her arms up to fold them over her chest, tucking in around herself. Eventually she replies quietly, "Lonely. Angry. I don't know." Lazlo shrugs his shoulders slightly. "Yeah," he says quietly. "That's normal. Just know that he'll be remembered through the military in stories of heroism -- perhaps even some award later named after him. He may be remembered forever, but with the Order -- he'll live forever." Lazlo looks to his boots suddenly, almost ashamed that he said all of that. Rather presumptuous, really. Lazlo looks up slowly. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm around," he mumbles. Lazlo clears his throat and sighs softly. "You won't be lonely for long. Pretty soon you'll be able to see the joy in life again." "Really?" Bri's head turns sharply toward Lazlo, and her expression turns to slow annoyance. "You think it's as easy as all that? Just wait a little while, it'll all feel better?" Lazlo frowns slightly. "It will," he says back, serious as ever. "You're not going to feel this way forever, no matter how much it seems like you will." He sighs quietly, reclining a little and sliding somewhat down the bench. "Take your time. This time is special," he says quietly. "/Special/," Briseis spits toward Lazlo, and then she finds herself without words, anger brimming into fury as her fingers curl painfully into her arms and she snaps her head forward again, staring hard at nothing. Bri's fury is contrasted starkly by Lazlo's calm. He stares at the passing denizens for what seems like an eternity. "It is, you know," he says softly. "A special time to mourn those dear to us. This time will naturally pass. It should be respected while it's here." Lazlo sighs quietly. "I wish you wouldn't be angry with me. I'm just trying to help." "And I wish fraking Jedi wouldn't keep feeding me bullshit about special times and how I shouldn't grieve," Briseis bites in return. Her gaze remains steadfastly forward, angry tears springing to her eyes. "Have you never lost someone you loved? None of you?" A sharp blow. An insensitive one, probably, considering Lazlo's reaction. He frowns. And stands. "I think we're done here," he says quietly, brushing his robes off. He doesn't raise his voice or anything, displaying the same calm as before. He nods slightly to Bris, indicating an imminent departure. Briseis' sensitivity is rather lacking at the moment, and she turns her gaze up at him, eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. "Oh, you're leaving now? You're only around for me to talk to as long as I say things you like, is that it, Lazlo?" "I didn't tell you not to grieve," he says firmly. "In fact, I suggested the opposite. Grieve now, when it's most special." He brushes his robes off once more. "I'll stick around for as long as you need me. But your tones suggest that you don't." He turns slightly before looking back to the seated woman. "Though, I must say, that if you think I've never lost someone, you're pretty wrong. I mean, do you /ever/ see me with...I don't know.../anyone/?" he asks sharply. Briseis stares at Lazlo for a moment, silence stretching between them, and then just as abruptly as it flared, her anger dissipates, leaving only weariness in its wake. Bri turns at lifts her hand to wipe at her eyes. "Not you," she allows quietly. "Jana did. Please-- don't leave, Lazlo. Okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Lazlo sighs slightly. Rarely does he raise his voice. "No, no, I'm sorry," he says softly, frowning at himself. "I should be more patient with you." He moves to sit down again. "You should grieve, really. I just wanted to paint a happy future. It can be overwhelming to believe you'll feel this way forever." Lazlo adds. "Dawnrunner is an ice queen," he says suddenly. "You might think that I resent missing out on a normal life, but she's so much worse.' Lazlo seems to be showing a completely different side of himself. He's not as reserved and subtle as he usually is. "I can't even stand the sight of her these days," Briseis admits with sudden candor, her voice tight in her throat. There's a pause, and then she turns to look over at him as he sits again. Hesitation stretches out and then finally breaks into a question: "Who-- I mean. If you want to tell me. Who did you lose?" "Well, no one specific, in the traditional way. I don't know if my parents are still alive. We don't stay in contact. But have I lost a love? No, not as you have. I've lost many opportunities -- you know, to have a family. Many friends have been silenced. Frrash was killed. Master Vairde. And Haquien. You're not the only one who lost him." Lazlo sighs heavily. "At least you had the opportunity to spend some happy moments with him. Take comfort in that. But also take comfort in knowing that I understand precisely how unhappy you are right now, if not for different reasons." "I know," Briseis answers quietly, dropping her head. "I know I'm not. I'm sorry. I know-- a great many people cared for him." She glances over at Lazlo and ventures carefully, "I'm trying to decide-- what to do. What sort of memorial. I think-- um. From his will. I think he would rather be remembered as a Jedi. Do you know what customs--?" "We burn," he says quietly, interrupting her before she has to go any further with an uncomfortable question. Lazlo shudders, considering it. "If he wishes to be a remembered as a Jedi, then he should be dressed in proper Jedi attire and laid to rest in front of those attended...and burned." Lazlo nods to her. "And then we watch." "There is no body." Bri state the fact evenly, cleanly, but she has to take a moment to press her eyes closed after, drawing in a quiet breath as she adds, "I think he's already burned." Lazlo stares for a moment. "Oh," he says quietly. After a long pause, he furrows his brow. "I'll have to check, then." He pauses a long while. "Are you sure he already burned or there was simply no body?" He pauses a moment. "Because, er, I've read scriptures..." "The planet is consumed by lava," Briseis explains slowly. "I don't know. I wasn't-- I didn't see him die. But they haven't recovered--" She breaks off and blinks once, then steadfastly changes the subject to ask, "Scriptures?" "I've read scribblings describing an ancient Jedi technique to achieve life after death, if you view it as such," he says quietly. "There would be no body. It would just be gone. He would live on in the Force." Lazlo shrugs. "But I don't think he would've done that. Any time I've read about it, it's been done because the Jedi had unfinished, important business he must see to," he says softly. Briseis turns her gaze toward him with sudden sharpness. "Live on in--" She stares at him for a moment. "What does that mean, Lazlo? How-- how would you know?" Lazlo shrugs. "I don't suppose I would unless he came to me. Master Vaird practiced this technique as she died," he says quietly, suddenly looking quite ashamed about something for a silent reason. "I don't think he would've done that. I might, but that's just because I'd be sad if no one came to my funeral," he says softly. The ends of his mouth curl ever so slightly, indicating a bit of humor in his words. "Don't, Lazlo," Briseis says with sudden sharpness in her tone. "Don't joke. Not about that." She falls into silence, uneasy as she rubs her hands along her arms. Lazlo frowns slightly. "It would be my funeral," he says gently. "Anyone who knows me well enough would know I'd prefer a joke." He sighs with a shrug. "I'll speak to the Council and see what we might be able to do in leu of cremation and I'll get back to you." He nods his head and stands up, brushing his robes once more. Briseis dips her head and nods quietly. After a moment, as he stands, she wonders, "If-- it were true. Would he only appear to Jedi?" There's something a bit wistful in her voice, a touch hopeful. Lazlo sighs softly. "I don't think he would've done that....Or even knew how," he says gently. "I never should've brought it up...but when you said that he didn't leave a body, my mind began to wander." Lazlo looks down at Bris for a moment. "But if he has, I don't know if he would come to you. There's still much I don't know about the Force." Briseis nods, drawing her hands down to her lap. "Of course," she says, and then quickly begins, "It's just--" before she cuts off abruptly and nods again. "You're right, I'm sure. He hadn't been a Knight but a few months." Lazlo shrugs. "A padawan could learn that if he or she wanted to and somehow understood the technique," he says quietly. "But they wouldn't. It's just too...mysterious. Typically it's done only when the Jedi knows of his or her impending death. It's a fate instead of traditional death." Lazlo shrugs and smiles slightly down at Bris. "I'll be off now. Take care...And try not to let Dawnrunner get to you. What she doesn't know about people could full a warehouse," he says with a nod. And with that, he walks off. That answer flashes a fast flicker of something, some deep, unreadable emotion, across Bri's face that ends, finally, in a fearful hope. Lazlo is already gone and Bri left alone once more, a solitary, silent figure on her bench by the time she murmurs simply, "He knew."
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