The icy winds of a Telosian winter whipped across the ground, stirring the flakes of snow into little tornadoes. HurJell shivered lightly and pulled his outer robe closer to his body. The weather seemed fitting somehow, a cold world to match his cold heart. So many years without human interaction . . . without feeling a woman's soft caress . . . life without any others . . . . You can survive like that for a while, but after ten years your heart begins to weaken, to close itself off all to emotion. It leaves you with nothing, your heart a barren wasteland.
He stopped the train of thought.
Nothing was ever accomplished with regrets. Mourning couldn't change the past. You couldn't bring a soul back by seeing old errors. Not someone else's, and definitely not your own. Once something was gone, it was gone.
He squinted out into the vast plains, bordered on three sides by white-capped mountains, and on the fourth by the frozen sea. It might have made some depressed, others angry, still others unbearably sorrowful, but not him. Through the blinding white of the snow he could make out a hint of green, a tree growing where life had been abolished. It signified so many things to him; hope, rebirth, and, most meaningful to him, possibilities. The world had been brutally attacked with the desire to remove life, cause pain, but the scarred land didn't care. It continued on, oblivious to human desires. It had bore new life when the old had been destroyed, had made a beginning from an end.
Looking at the sole tree filled him with a peace he had never before felt. It was unlike anything he had experienced since the Mandalorian War, and stronger than everything before it. He relished it because, like him, it had different paths lying before it. Choices hadn't been made yet, things could still change. Telos could recover. And the tree was the start of the healing process.
He couldn't find the right words to describe it. They were there in his head, but out of reach of his mouth. He wouldn't be able to repeat this, not even to himself. Once he left there was no guarantee that the tree would still be there when he returned. The only moment he had was now. And now was quickly leaving.
"Peace comes from here more than anywhere else. You can think of what this land has experienced, and yet you cannot be dismayed. Here lies the hope for all."
HurJell smiled as he turned. Visas didn't say much, but her few words were always laced with importance. She didn't make you listen to her, to hear the knowledge she possessed, but she always had it. She could find words for the indescribable, make you remember it forever because she knew how to describe it when no description existed.
She stood next to him, leaving the words in the air, waiting to see if he would talk. She didn't let any emotion show. Not on her face or in the Force. She just stood there, facing the tree. HurJell felt a pang of sympathy. It must be hard for her to see a land that was ravaged just like her own. Even harder still, watching as that world was being desperately restored while your's was forgotten by all but you.
That was what they shared, what bound them together. She had been helpless during Katarr's demise, then she was helpless as she became enslaved by the very one who had done it. He had heard the rumors during his exile, had known that the Council was being assassinated. But he hadn't been able to do anything. He had know what Revan would do, she'd revealed her plans after Dxun, but he didn't try to stop her. It had to be her or the Mandalorians. He made his choice, and he stuck by it.
He half turned toward Visas, not sure what he was going to say but feeling the need to anyways. She must have sensed what he intended because she turned herself to face him as well. HurJell felt his heart skip a beat as he stared at her face. She didn't have overt beauty, not the kind that made people stop as they walked past. Just like her words, she didn't force you to acknowledge her, she was just there. But when you saw her, actually saw her, she took your breath away.
HurJell forgot everything. He was no longer aware of his own need to speak, of the tree that still stood proud, or even of the Ebon Hawk just a few yards away. There was just him and her. That was all that mattered. Ever.
A/N: A really short one from when I was younger. A bit cliche, but I was proud of it then so I won't apologize. Thanks for reading!
