Aurek Base, Hoth
Salute, Tishujen
The Force continues to direct us along the same path. I have made careful inquiries about your whereabouts. The shuttle pilot remembered Akaavi and you distinctively. However, I have lost your trail on the planet surface. I assume a need for secrecy based on your last letter. If it is safe, please contact me for a meeting.
You have mistaken a simple curiosity for a woman's desire, Tishujen. I understand your concern, for you have heard much the same talk on Balmorra that I did. I do not call the accounts in doubt. I simply believe that Zenith' nature is not corrupt, but blindsided. He lived for many months in anticipation of a brutal end, swift if he was fortunate. And a protracted, unimaginably painful one if Empire took him alive. He adapted himself to doing a maximum damage at any cost. Even under such extreme circumstances, there was enough strength and purity to choose honorable goals, if not means.
I extend love to Zenith insofar as it is my duty and calling to love and to heal. I was able to make him eat and sleep as someone who might yet live for years, not like someone who will die before the morrow. I do what I can to make sure he relies on the natural ability rather than stims under fire (with Hiboco's growing power it is simpler now. But even with his great terrifying form leaping at the enemies, Zenith draws fire). May the Force let it be enough to cure his weariness, and make him see the forking of the roads, not just the shortcuts.
For I am much less successful in conversing with Zenith than in feeding him well. He has shared some of his past, and I welcome his trust. Yet, when we walked through the snows of Hoth, he told me the strangest thing. He said my white dress makes a perfect camouflage, and doesn't stain. And that he wished there was at least a smidgen of dirt or blood to stick to it. I seized on the opportunity, and told him that the fabrics can be made to repel dirt; that metal grows purer in the fires. He scoffed, told me Okay, and he's ready to move on if I'm done with poetry. I suppose next time I should try to compliment him more directly.
Again, my dearest sister, I hope we can meet face to face, and that will alleviate your worry. In turn, I wish you to calm your emotions enough to glean the difference between an infatuation and love, both your own and the others'.
May the Force be with you and yours,
Quinly Dur
/Coded Message 1:
To Zenith: What illusions you ask? The sort that makes her take you for a man of basic decency, strength of character and (blazes!) purity. Can't credit that myself, she must be digging awful deep. You dare hurt her, no matter what Force-cursed cause you signed up for, you answer to me. Tishujen
/Coded Message 2:
To Tishujen: Fool of a woman, you'll destroy her first. That dye you sent her. Orange-gold makes her eyes look like flamegems, no argument. Makes her every Imp's target too. Shoot you next time, too busy keeping snipes off her. Zenith
/Coded Message 3:
To Zenith: Her eyes, Tat flamegems, really?! That maudlin?! Tishujen
/Coded Message 4:
To Tishujen: Happen to know plenty about gems. Got same color, light and spark to them, your sister's eyes. Very pretty, so deal. Zenith
