He inhaled sharply. He was surprised, actually. It wasn't often that someone caught him by surprise. Leave it to one of his sister's children, at least. Khyriel frowned over towards his tiny niece, "Liss, what are you doing here?"
Malissel looked back at him, her dark eyes twinkling with amusement. But there wasn't anything else, not even a smile that broke past the overly quiet contemplation that tended to dominate her personality. He often thought the child was a curious mixture of her parents, as serious as her father even as she thrived in the force connection that the Imperial lacked.
She was exploring at the moment. Khyriel watched her curiously, looking for Lusiel in her, finding her in her daughter's smallish frame, in the deeply rich brown of Malissel's eyes. But that look, there – where Liss turned to study the bent of that one strange tree that leaned out over the purple-colored stream – that careful and methodical examination, like she would determine the tree's species and genome with mere introspection and testing - that was all Quinn.
Khyriel smiled as he settled himself onto the hard surface of a large, flat rock that angled out over the stream. He'd never shared a dreamscape with anyone else aside from his wife. And Raina's presence, here, had always been his, something he had long since grown possessive of, something important and valued. Not that the first time she invaded the space was easy, either. He was too defensive, too wounded then. He'd pushed her away, tried hiding from her even. But she was persistent, and quietly determined. Even then, when she was still so damn young a girl child he still marveled she'd managed to "see" him like that. Raina just followed him, wherever he moved through the dreams. She reached out to him over and over again, until he finally stopped running.
But fate was probably as much a bitch as his mother had ever been, and the first chance he had, to really see Raina, to hold her with his own hands and outside a dream – then, he was reeling. Pained and angry at the entire sum total of the universe. And Raina became an easy enough target for all the angst and ill feelings eating away at him. At the very least, he was clumsy, like a fool clod who could only fumble in front of a pretty lady. "It must be my pretty face, that appeals so strongly to you, Temple. Everything else seems suddenly to be little more than an unattractive mess of words and loss of control that can't possibly prove attractive."
She only laughed, "You really should see the look on your face, agent. I can tell you're not accustomed to such an inelegant approach to a new target."
"Are you a target?"
"Of course. I would think that every person an Imperial agent meets for the first time is a prospective target."
He had leaned closer, his eyes deepening as they slid down her dark, slender frame with telling interest. "But this isn't our first meeting. Even if it's the first time I can actually touch you. I'm only wondering if you'd let me, mind you."
Raina Temple never twittered at him like some tiny bird, as if any man would find such a simpering loon of a female truly worth his time or notice. Not in the dreams they shared together, and not then, either. No, that day on Hoth, she only looked back at him boldly, her neat little chin angled high and real with such fascinating allure he hadn't managed to keep his body from reacting into incredible readiness. It set a lovely pattern for how she most often approached him, too. Gods, she was beautiful. But she didn't let him touch her right then, either.
That would've won him more control over the thing, and she knew it. Somehow knew that to give him such control might have ruined him right then, that what he needed from her was far distant from some minor physical relief. Or maybe it would've broken her in ways he wouldn't have managed to repair, rather. It was difficult enough to soothe the wounds he did make to her, as he flailed through the last of Kothe's mind-breaking use of him.
No, it was Raina who came to him. Rather than leave him, lonely and struggling through the pain pulling at his head and frame. She touched him and helped him and healed something that ached and hurt so deep in his psyche he hadn't even realized it was broken until after she'd done it. And it was his shame to bear forever, that he'd repaid her gift during that first night with accusation and insult. That he'd hurt her when she had given him something … precious. He never wanted to see her watching him like that again, not with such awful pain glistening in her soft brown eyes. Never.
"Your thoughts aren't nice, uncle."
Khyriel blinked slowly as he turned to look at Malissel again. So small, he thought. Liss only barely reached as high as his hip, with petitely drawn wrists at the ends of her thin, spindly arms. Her entire body was spare and lithe, with barely curved hips that barely hinted at some delicately slim figure she would eventually grow into. She would look exactly like her mother eventually, like a mirror image of Lusiel, all beautiful and perfectly female.
And he could see all it right then, when Malissel was still just barely a child past toddlerhood. Khyriel could see it, as easily as he could see how much she'd have to work, how difficult the challenges would be. They'd all expect so much of her, they'd demand she be stronger than her mother ever was, that she'd accomplish even greater feats, defeat even harder enemies, and that she emerge victorious every time, too. The pressure ...
He didn't like thinking of it. Anymore than he'd been glad for what his sister endured through years of studies and practice on Korriban. Not everyone survived that place, he reminded himself so darkly. But he didn't say anything aloud, either. Not to Malissel, here. He just scooted towards the side, patting the rough surface of the red rock next to him, inviting her. Malissel picked her way towards the seat, taking dainty steps very precisely as she moved. Khyriel slowly rubbed his inner lip with his tongue, rather than smile at how much like her father she looked right then as she sat down, smoothing her small, pale hands over the fabric of the skirt she was wearing. It matched the rock, actually.
So precise. So particular. So endearing.
Khyriel murmured, "You followed me here, I suppose. You must take care, where you venture through other people's dreams, Liss."
Malissel turned her brown eyes up to look at him. Deep and dark, her gaze was wholly aware, keenly perceptive. Like she was far older than he knew her to be, even. "You've made this your place, yes. But it's so bright, colorful. Everything here is red and purple and yellow. I wondered." Liss looked down towards her small, bare feet. She rubbed her toes against the slender yellow strands of grass that covered the length of ground they could see. "I asked my mother once. She said it was her very own Da who liked such colors around himself. Is that why you've made it so bright here, do you think?"
"Perhaps. I've never devoted much thought to the question, actually." Khyriel watched her, saw a frown etching against her brow as she slanted him a studied glance. She almost seemed inclined to scold him, for thinking to fool her so simply. He'd seen her do the same with some of her instructors, too. He knew she despised being treated so carefully, like she was too small or weak. She invariably pushed back against such misperceptions. Someday, she'd destroy those who tried doubting her, he thought.
Maybe he shouldn't worry about her. At least not overmuch. For now, it was enough that he focused on her curiosity. Malissel sighed. "I think you've been very careful how you changed any of this – the grass and trees, the purple water, and this comfortable red rock, even. It speaks to the things in your head you don't think I should know about."
Khyriel stilled as he examined her, his brow turned hard into introspective consideration. Even as he maintained his easy smile. Mostly because he understood her, understood she was still exploring, here. Although her attention had shifted from the trees and rocks in his dream, to the twists and turns of his mind, rather. She was likely more adept at that sort of exploration, than determining the nature of anything in this dream place he'd made his own. Force knows, she would hardly be the first of her kind to be particularly keen in using abilities upon and against the minds of those around them. But Malissel could have some ability beyond even his experience. The thought sparked his own curiosity, and he stared at her, wondering over the puzzle she was suddenly.
He'd have to discuss the issue with his sister ...
Liss poked him in the shoulder with one little finger, "You might ask me outright."
Khyriel actually chuckled. "Forgive me, little one. It usually requires more care, navigating through convoluted dealings with the Sith. As I'm accustomed to, really. I sometimes forget you're as direct and succinct as your mother. Lusiel would be glad to know you're so much like her, actually."
Malissel preened at the comparison, straightening her small shoulders until she sat as tall as her small body could possibly become. Right about midway as tall as his upper arm, sitting there next to him, actually. Still so defensive over her size, he thought, amused.
Khyriel considered, thought again that it was well past time Malissel was introduced to her cousins on Keldabe. The argument over security, because transportation was always a serious risk, was becoming less valuable up against the chance Malissel and her siblings would not know the tremendous potential, the strength and sheer potency that lay in the blood they shared within the Clans. Lusiel had actually stomped her foot during the last bout with her husband, "I would like to see someone attempt to interrupt my travels with my children to Mandalore. Even if they managed to get that close, mind you. I'd wager the Mandalorians would eat them alive, first."
Quinn shook his dark head, not wavering. "It only takes a single lucky blow from someone intent on harming you, Lusiel. If the risk is so negligible have them come here, rather."
Lusiel stilled in thoughtful silence. "Kastiel has already refused. Adamantly." She'd glanced over towards Khyriel, then. But he stayed quiet as he continued leaning against one of the nearby walls, his dark eyes watchful and warning. He wouldn't betray one sister's confidence, even for respect of the other. His silence was telling, though, and Lusiel only sighed tiredly as she appreciated the truth. "Quinn, if she brings them to Dromund Kaas, the Sith might discover their potential. Enough."
Potential. Ironic, Khyriel thought, that of all his siblings, the only ones who hadn't yet produced offspring with potential in sheer, incredible spades was Gaibriel. And himself, of course. At least not potential the Sith would take exceptional interest in, mind you. His brother's tiny toddler son had plenty of potential to wreak havoc all over the galaxy, anyway, but that wasn't anything the Sith would concern themselves with, either.
While his own …
"This place was here. You found it, uncle." Malissel spoke softly.
Khyriel blinked, "You say that, like someone actually lost it so that it needed finding. It's a dream, Liss. Only a dream."
Malissel nodded slowly. The motion dragged Khyriel's attention to her face, and he felt suddenly like he was swimming through thick water, as he looked back into her eyes. Like he was drowning, even. "Only a dream, yes." She leaned closer, until her chin actually nudged the curve of his upper arm, and she whispered, "You're waking up. I can feel it. Good morning, uncle."
Khyriel laughed gently. It was a slow sound, almost gravelly with his strong Imperial accent. Not that he wasn't skilled enough to obscure his accent when necessary, either. "That only gives me chance enough, that I can send Raina to you, Liss. Hopping into people's dreams is something she has some knowledge of, anyway."
Malissel carefully pulled at one of the threads which had come loose along the lining of her skirt. Khyriel frowned, as he reached for the thin, red line of fabric. But she poked his hand, "Leave it. My mother insists that I 'make especially childish use' of all my clothes. She once had me dance outside in the rain in what was perhaps my nicest dress. She said it was because she was never allowed, when she was still small. I sensed it was very important to her." Malissel methodically pulled at the thread, practicing how to get curved, squirrely lines in the fabrics. "I do it, because it pleases her."
Khyriel grimaced. But he playfully tugged the end of one of her inky dark braids, too. "I'll play with you, then. The next time it rains."
She smiled wide, "Good. I'll tell mother you're coming for a meal sometime today. It rains every day, here."
Khyriel didn't laugh outright, but his eyes were warmly brown with amusement. He reached out to gently tuck a loose tendril of her black hair back behind her ear, before he started dissipating slowly from her view. Malissel smiled softly, watching his image fade into a ghostly murmur. Until it was finally gone. She leaned her head back, looking up towards the stars over her head. It was the only thing in the dreamscape that looked even remotely normal – with its long curtain of ebony blackness broken by dots of far distant stars and worlds.
Malissel bent over, so that she could look down to watch as her bare toe slid easily through the moist soil under the bright yellow grass. She sighed, trying to push down the intense emotions implicit in every bit of the substance to the dream, here. Every rock and tree, every drop of water, every clump of earth – all of it was composed of the most incredible sense of feeling, that it had been nearly painfully intense just to step close enough she finally became a part of it.
It was important enough, though. Dreamings were always important. Being able to trek through them, find them. Hide in them. The ability was valuable, in the way it preserved a sense of emotional safety. That when things were most frightening, or damaging, the dream could become a shield. In the dream, you healed, soothing your emotional wounds so you could continue going.
Malissel had looked hard to find her uncle's dream place. Partly to surprise him. Because he hadn't anticipated she had such an ability. Even in their family, walking through dreams was a rare chance of an ability. Her uncle used his ability to find bits and pieces, of people, of who they were and where they might be found. He was a consummate assassin, deadly, precise. Scary, even. Unless you belonged to the select group he considered important. "Mine. My sisters, my brother, Raina …gods, and especially Lucan. But the rest? They can rot, if need be," he told her father once, not knowing she was close enough nearby to listen.
Khyriel saw her mother when he looked at her. It's why she fit so neatly into his affections. It's the way he regarded her father, too. Malavai Quinn's health and safety was important to Lusiel Phyre, so those things were important to Khyriel Phyre, as well. In his mind, it really was that simple. Family over everything, he would say.
Malissel sighed, looking over towards the tree that bent out over the splashing purple water in the stream below. It was all twisted and awry, like it had been played with and shaped by some small youngster holding a bit of clay and angry enough, that when he was told to make a tree, he made it as ugly as he could manage. But its misshapen form didn't make it any less beautiful, either. Its bark was a series of mottled reds and oranges, until it almost looked like the thing was flaming there against the backdrop of black, starry sky, and every one of its leaves was shimmering gold.
The thing fascinated Malissel. Especially with its two hulking branches that stretched up into the air and made up a uniquely shimmering blanket of sparkling leaves that glinted golden in the low light, intertwining so high up overhead. The branches were uneven, too. One of them was actually higher up along the trunk of the tree. Like it sprouted from the tree so much later even than the other one. Like it was distinctly separate, even if it was attached to the same tree, too. She liked it, actually.
"You found him, then," the man's voice came from behind her, suddenly.
Malissel smiled slowly. She turned her head, until she caught sight of him where he was standing with such strict military discipline. Like the officer he was, of course. The way he'd lived his life. Even if he retained a keen sense of droll humor she was comfortably familiar with, probably even enjoyed herself. As it was, she responded well to his overtures when she first came upon him, here in these Force-driven dreamscapes.
He held up his hand, his head held straight and neat above the high collar of a colorful tunic that still managed to look, somehow, like a uniform. And Malissel reached out to put her smaller palm against his, smiling at him as she leaped lightly from her seat on top of Khyriel's rock. She looked up at him, her dark eyes so much like his own, and she greeted him.
"Hello, grandda."
I've truly debated with myself as I was writing this one. Mostly because, while I appreciate some of the subtle Force abilities in my Legacy characters, there's a point where I think they can become too much and then the character is more of a Force-user than not. And that's not the way I truly picture them, either. Only two of my Legacy characters are true Force-users, in my opinion, and they find themselves on opposite ends of the spectrum, too.
So let me stress, as I'm sharing this here, that my Agent tends to think of his dreams as more of an analystical process, than a real Force ability. Here, in fact, its one of his nieces who understands the real nature of his ability, rather than him. Khyriel imagines that Raina's presence in his dreamscapes has more to do with her Force ability, than anything of him, even.
That's the way I keep it all neat in my head, mind you. So while he does have some limited capacity towards the Force, and a really strong amount of will power, Khyriel is not a Force user as Lore would suggest them.
And before you ask, yes, Lusiel's second child is a Sorcerer, rather than a Warrior of any kind.
