2009-03-28 - The life of Akurel

Dantooine: Lake
On a usual sunny day, the brightly glinting waves travel in parallel rows, driven by an ever-present breeze towards the sandy beach opposite the fishing camp. The water of the lake is darker further from shore, but close to the beach it is clear and reveals a luxuriant growth of water plants and swimming fauna. Echoing with the cries of myriad waterfowl is an area of thick reeds and bog at the wider west end of the lake. The way through the bog is difficult by land, but watercraft can be seen drawn up on the shore close to Qixi Camp for fishing and the collection of eggs from nests in the marshland. Sporadically the swirling clouds of insects hovering over the hummocks at the lake's edge, are disturbed by a sleek silver body erupting from the depths and then falling back with a muted splash.
To the East stark chalk cliffs loom above the dense forest. As the sun traverses the sky, the shadows fleeting across the indentations in the cliff face give the illusion of many hollow eyes staring back at the world. Though much traveled in the past, the path to the cliff base is now overgrown and dotted with large craters that fill with water during the brief rainy season and make the journey tricky. Along the verge of the trail intermittent clumps of purple Garj berry bushes meld into the boreal gloom of giant trees crawling with barbed lianas.
The gentle breeze that drifts across the lack causes the numerous small flames of the candles to flutter in response. The night sky is crystal clear, the moon radiant and full, the sound of the trees creaking faintly in the wind can be heard sighing along with the brush of the waves against the stand. A large pile of wood is stacked in the center of the semi circle created by the tall torches set deep into the sand, the flames from the torches illuminating the area just enough to cast back the shadows and allow those that have gathered to stand in the light together. Gathered in the light are those that knew Akurel, knew him, loved him, respected him, gathered to share their grief and the joy of their memories, together.
Marbo slithers into the area from the south. He has a solemn look about him.
Lysette is standing off to the side, the wind blowing as she looks out over the lake with a soft smile on her face. She is holding her hat against the occassional breezes, but otherwise seems reasonably content as she waits for the event to start.
Tyy remains at the back of the group, behind Marcus. He keeps a pristine handkerchief, family-size, at the ready, nervously perturbing it in his right in the wait of the big event to begin. He keeps his gaze hidden behind his dark glasses, so it's hard to say how he feels about all this. The arrival of Marbo catches his attention and his braintails give signs of uneasiness, if for a moment.
Marbo settles in with the rest of the individuals present. His face is peaceful, but there is definite signs of loss in his bulbous eyes. The large Hutt moves closer and when his eyes rest upon Kalira he moves closer remaining silent out of respect for this most hallowed and sad of occasions.
 
Lysette has her own handkerchief, a lace one to go with her outfit. She is trying to maintain a quiet sort of dignity as she moves to, and stands by her friends than knew him... though even though she didn't know him well, the emotion of it is certainly bleeding through.
 
Kitsu'ra Okran did not know Akurel well. In fact, she had only seen him in passing on several occasions, but had followed his career closely enough to know he was one of the few good souls left in a heartless galaxy that shows little love or lattitude between one being and the next. In him, she had seen a greatness of mind, heart and character...and a strong, unshakable will. With deep regret shadowing her teal eyes, the golden twi'lek stands on the outside of the group gathered here in a velvet dress of midnight blue that shows black in the torchlight. The high neckline encircles her slender throat to just under her chin, and though her shoulders are bare, the long sleeves of her gown cling to her arms all the way down to her hands. In honor of the solemnity of the occasion, she has her lekku covered by a veil of the same velvet. Somehow...it only seems right to cover her head as this place has the air of hallowed ground.
Two orbs that might be mistaken for candlelight flicker in the dark and shadows. Golden-orange, they are more alive and feline than the flashing tongues of the torch flames. The black cat that is their owner, a tiny thing, has seated herself a bit ahead of the others. Guppy maintains her vigil near Kalira, her focus steadfast. Vanissa lets the cat be, for the feline perhaps knew the Whipid better than the girl herself did. There is a sadness in her eyes though, despite this fact. She stands quietly close to the others, silent for the time being.
Kalira is among the first to arrive, making sure that the arrangements are what she had hoped for. And, weather permitting, had sketched out. Her months on Tatooine had ingrained in her the sense of completion that is found by the burial rites native to Tatooine. While it isn't what would be custom for a Whipid, she knows that honoring his memory is more important that getting all the small details perfect. And perfection is the sort of illusion that she can't abide. Once everyone in in place that can be here, she takes a steadying breath and smooths her hair back from her face and steps forward to stand in front of the pyre upon which rests the cloak draped body of Akurel. "I want to thank you all for coming," she begins, letting the breeze carry her voice so that she need not shout to be heard. "It seems somehow most fitting that we stand together under the stars and the moon, under clear skies beside this lake when - for so many of the months that i was blessed with his presence - we struggled to survive together in the harshest of arid conditions on Tatooine. This world is lush.. and beautiful. It took me months to learn to see the beauty of Tatooine. And it was partly Akurel himself that helped open my eyes too it."
Gionarro stands off a bit from the others, trying to control emotions that aren't his own. He observes to bear witness to that which his twin cannot bear herself, and to remember the friend that might have been. His steel blue eyes tear lightly, the only sign of the turmoil of emotions that roil in his breast.
"I've pondered over these long hours just what precisely I would say once I stood here, like this. I thought of all of the battles we fought together. Or of the way he could make me laugh so hard I had tears in my eyes. Of the .." and Kalira shakes her head slightly, "determinedly cheerful way in which he would appraise the males in the vicinity, sizing them up for the potential of being sufficient breeding stock to join me with so that I could give birth to a dynasty that he would help mold to take on the mantle of continuing to try to save the universe." She pauses, a faint smile on her face, letting the tears trace their way down her face as she speaks. A softly uneven breath is taken before she continues, "We butted heads over the big things as much as the little things. Over the dangers of the alliance that I was in. Of the .. things that were happening that we knew were happening but that I wasn't.. able or willing to step up and try to stop. He was patient with me, and wise and.. I loved him as a daughter loves her father. Blood doesn't make family. Love does."
 
Kit remains still as Kalira steps forward to speak, letting her slender fingers twine around each other in silence as she listens. Eyes downcast, the young twi'lek seems to be struggling already to force down tears. She can't help but smile as Kalira remembers her dear friend, but she keeps her head tilted away to try and control herself. Several hard swallows push the welling emotions back into check for now.
Lysette raises her kerchief to dab at the corners of her eyes after the makings of a family are said. Though she also has a strange look to her face, a weird sort of realization on her face. One that adds a level of confusion soon to follow. She even raises her free hand to look at it for a moment.
Discreetly, Tyy parts a side of his black coveral, left open today to display his efforts at grooming, his way of showing respect to all the mournings gathered. He peers in and a soft light bathes his face, something of digital nature. With his forefinger, he punches some keys, knowing that just out of sight, the droid he build from scratch is moving to get a better sight for its tridi recorder. That done, he shuffles sneakishly to side closer to his sister and hands her his own handkerchief discreetely.
Marbo folds his hands together in front of himself. He watches and nods in Kalira's direction respectfully, as if he is hanging onto every word that she is saying. The words of family...love....all strike home. It is a shame that many people's worth are not completely realized until after they have passed. Akurel lived his life with conviction and honor. Those attributes will remain long after his earthly vessel has passed. It will undoubtedly be part of the legacy he has left behind to his family and friends.
Marcus Tevros stands quietly near Lysette, his whole attitude stoic and still.
Emotion?
A word to be banned from the lexicon.
The shadowy, small figure of Guppy moves an ear in the direction of Kalira as the woman's voice rises. The kitten turns, a tidy ninety degrees until she can gaze up at the doctor with her full attention. Vanissa lowers her head a little as she listens, though gray eyes are focused upward. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Sorrow moves its way across her face, but she doesn't look away.
Gionarro turns his gaze from the gathering, the eyes and mind unable to cease their collection of the silent messages the body conveys. They cry out as if he were the only one to listen, overwhelming him with the sense of loss that exceeds his own. Slowly, the Lorrdian turns his eyes back, watching the gathered friends, drinking in their sorrow and loss, discomfort and astonishment.
Running late, as usual it seems, Chas hurries to the Lake shore. His gate slows as he sees those gathered and in his style, quietly slips in amongst them, trying not to disturb the events that are going on.
With a muffled sniff, Kitsu'ra looks over at Tyy as he comes closer and gives him a little smile, taking the handkerchief from his hand gently. Two crystal tears overflow as she does so. They are quickly caught by the soft cloth and she reaches over with one hand to give her brother's arm a gentle squeeze of appreciation. Why does "goodbye" have to be such a painful word? 
Glancing over as Chas approaches, she nods faintly in greeting - though it is more of a respectful bow of her head than a nod.
"The sum of ones life cannot be told with a mere handful of words. It cannot be tidied up and delivered in a neat packet with a ribbon snugged around it and presented with a flourish. It is said that we never seem to have enough hours in the day, that life is short - but life is the longest thing that we do. No matter how long it lasts by the hour glass. Our friend was older than most of us, wise in ways that we are not quite able to accomplish in our youth. And possessing of a heart that was larger than this universe of ours knew what to do with. He believed. Which, in and of itself, is no small feat. But more than that, he tried to live his belief. It is said that these worlds of ours would be a much better place if more people were willing to live for what they believe in, instead of simply dying for their beliefs. Death is easy," she says. "It's very.. very easy. To fall out of bed and break ones neck. Or to step into the street and be hit by a speeding taxi. To get a simple infection and die from it after it's raged through the body in mere hours. Death. . . is easy. Living is not. Living and believing and trying to inspire belief and to demonstrate it with thought, word, deed, action. By laying ones body and heart on the line. To believe that there is something more, something beyond all of this.. it brave. Beyond measure. He wasn't perfect. No one is. Perfection is an illusion. But he tried. And in the end.. I think having tried and failed along the way is vastly more important than never having tried at all."
Tyy's head lowers with humility. He places his free hand over his sister's, showing her she is welcome to his support and his arm. Not everyday Tyy can play this role for her. He swallows a bit askew, clears his throat quietly.
The petite redhead closes her eyes then, letting her chin drop as she simply listens to the words. She gives a careful, small, single nod in a quiet reply. The orange eyes of Guppy blink once, and her ears swivel backward as the feline lowers her own head in rememberance.
 
Lysette dabs at her eyes again, just shakes her head as she lets her head hang too, the rim of her hat and the mesh on it helping veil her face further in the cool night air, she even sniffles a bit this time.
Chas, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, holds his head firmly as Kalira speaks. He nods to Kit and to the others as the fine words are spoken. After the greetings are done he turns his attention back to Kalira, listening intently to the words. 
Marcus Tevros still stands at attention. Perhaps subconsciously, he has straightened into an odd parody of the Brood of Zergata parade rest.
"I tried to think of something.. something that would.. somehow sum up his life. But there isn't just one thing. or one story. Or one moment. There is never just one small thing that can convey the span of a life time," Kalira continues, lifting one hand now to brush the tears away from her eyes as she speaks. "I was with him, in the end. I held his hand as the life faded from his eyes. As his hand grew heavy in mine. And at first my heart and my mind screamed to me - how am i supposed to live with this as the last image of him? And in these long.. long empty hours, it comes to me that it is not how we die.. but how we lived that matters. Death is but a moment. One moment. From a life time of moments. Big and small. Important and.. and not. Life is made of every breath that we take, every thought that passes through our minds, every touch, every dream, every laugh and every tear. Every life that he touched. Every word that he spoke. Every memory that we carry of him.. those are the moments. Not his death. Why he died.. not how he died.. that.. that is the part that matters." She stops speaking for a moment, the gentle breeze drifting across the lake causing her hair to flutter around her and she lifts her head after a moment, "I know that I am not the only one who will miss him, and I'd like to invite any of you who would say a word in his memory to come forward and do so now."
 
Kitsu'ra almost seems to feel a tinge of shame, a glimmer of self-examination going through her as she listens to Kalira speak of Akurel's life and manner of life itself. It smarts a little to view her own way of living ... knowing perhaps she is not all that she could be. Perhaps it is too late for her to learn from the Whiphid in life, but his death seems to have had a profound affect on the young Twi'lek as tears glimmer in her eyes and she clasps Tyy's hand in hers. If she's inclined to speak, she makes no motion yet - perhaps she would rather hang back for now and let others who knew him better speak their peace. 
Marcus Tevros takes a deep breath and sidles to one side, breaking the stiff stance. One hand reaches for Vanissa's.
 
Lysette takes a deep breath, stepping forward. "The.. the day it happened. I remember seeing him come into the Cantina on Bespin, I never really got to speak, but.. he seemed to be having an, mmm, great time talking about politics with some other people." She says, "So... surely he was living his life as he loved. Right to the end." She says. Then steps back, her voice sad, but she manages to say that without choking up. Though the strange, contemplative look of perplexion remains on her face.
Gionarro's glistening eyes continue to travel over the gathered, though he makes no move to speak. At least aloud. Subtle movements of face and body, brow and lash, intone the silent Lorrdian dirge of passing, handed down for generations from when the slavers denied them speech. That none can understand it seems to not matter to the young man.
A single twitch of her tail, and Guppy stands. A small, simple sound rises from her, both bright and sorrowful at the same time, as of a shadow in bright sunlight, though the night is thick around the individuals here. A purr comes next, a steady rumbling that grows louder as looks up at Kalira. Vanissa opens her eyes once more, her own tears, even for someone she only met a handful of times, gleaming there as well. She accepts the hand from her brother without a second thought.
Tyy but sniffles, this one time. Softly, his lekkus jive signs of comfort for his sister, just by his side. Otherwise, he is immobile as white marble and his traits void of any display.
Marcus Tevros steps forward, still holding Vanissa's hand.
"I only knew him a short while," he says distinctly. "But I know this. He cared about justice. Justice for the little guy, not just for the people with guns or lawyers.
His lips tighten.
"I'd like to see a bit of that justice myself. Maybe all our lives would be better if we remembered that everybody is owed justice, even if this Galaxy's debt would stretch halfway to the next."
His mouth shuts with a snap and he steps back, back in that oddly martial at-attention stance, though he still holds Vanissa's hand.
:The holorecording starts after a soft, whirring hum, then the clack as an audio track begins to play. There is no visual, with the body present it is unneeded. Even were the body of the now serene Whiphid not present, there is no need to traumatize the audience with the presence of Akurel alive, speaking as he once was. Because it is a different Akurel, really. A side he could ultimately only keep to himself in life. A self conscious Akurel before he put on his face to the galaxy.
:...A rustle of movement, and there is only the recording, no sign or evidence of who left it for the gathering throng. No miracle, just a religious order, a labor movement that struggles to make sense of itself with the death of their leader.
:"Akurel Durandal was not my real name. It was a fabrication, a cobbling of my own devising when I scribbled my name on the register of my first union meeting. I was embarrased and ashamed that I was a primitive, a shaggy beast that only had fragments of an education. In many ways I was a con man...I had protected shipments of questionable legality after I left Toola, I had endured beatings and I had been told I was a stupid animal over and over again. Before I went to that meeting, I had done something I had never done before: that day, I took a beating for a Bith who had not met his quota of neutronium for the day. The boss laughed at me, said I was nothing better than a meat shield for the other dregs. At that union meeting, organized in secret, I decided to not be a shield, but a sword as well. To not only take the beatings, but deal blows of my own on those that would hurt my people. What was one factory became three, three became seven. Before I knew it, there were only a handful of people that knew I wasn't really this Akurel Durandal they spoke of, but they stood in awe of this personality I had taken. An angel and a prophet in some circles, a champion of the little man and the incarnation of the working mans spirit to others. I have only been Akurel for thirty or so years, but after so much time as him, I can say that he gave me the greatest trials of my existence, but my single greatest pleasures: he gave me children and let me be father and uncle, though I have been celibate all my life. He gave me people who thought I was important and wise, when the majority of the time I was angry and frustrated that no matter how hard I tried, even if the little guy heard me, the princes and the warlords found me an object of contempt and hate. What did I matter, if I could not convince dread Euphemia Bellamy to give up her clone army?! Was I truly of any importance if I cannot not tell Dash L'hnnar that I had lost my family in the single greatest exodus in recent history, and that all I want is my little girl and that if he doesn't give her to me I will crack his skull upon the ground and kill every Corellian I can find until I am dead?"
:"No, of course not. Because that is not what Akurel would do. The greatest mistake I made as a conman, as a huckster, was that I became my role. These workers and believers, they really are my children now. These soldiers and sailors who ask me to absolve their sins and tell them that things are okay, they are the sword and shield of the little man! Akurel became real when I started having a real family and friends who didn't think of me as a messiah but as a wise and gentle creature. Akurel, you strange and impulsive creation, you gave my life purpose, and allowed me to love and to guide in a fashion I never could have imagined."
Stepping a bit foreward, clearing his throat as he does, Chas's was about to speak when the holorecording starts. Instead of speaking he listens. As the recording ends he grins "Just like the Akurel I knew, always wanting the last word." But the words from Chas come with a nod "Well done, Akurel, well done." And with that he falls silent.
 
After the others have spoken, Kitsu'ra gives a shuddering sort of sigh and releases Tyy's hand reluctantly...but then the recording of Akurel comes to life and in stunned silence, with hands folded quietly, the young twi'lek listens completely and utterly astounded...there is nothing she could ever say to add to that.
Tyy's head rise to Akurel's speech from beyond. He back tense up and for once, he stands fully erect, showing pride.
:A click, and then a final recording. "...in the event of my death, I wish this to be my last confession. That Akurel was my best idea, even if it didn't always work right. That I love my family that chose to remain, and those that chose to go without. I only pray that you do not let my work die with me. Do not use my name in the cause of violence, but use it for the aid of the poor and the sick, the hopeless and the lost. That is my last request, to those that remain in this galaxy, and those who go bravely in search of new frontiers. If the God I want so badly to exist does in fact exist, protect my daughters who loved me, the men who stood by me, and yes, even those who scorned and reviled me. Hope and faith are our only tools in this age of terrible heresies and transcendant beauties. Use them well."
Guppy and Vanissa raise their heads at nearly the same moment. The former has ears perking forward, as she reverses her turn from before, turning her focus back to where her friend lies - though the personality and spirit that made him such has departed. The girl lifts her chin a little higher, giving her brother's hand a squeeze at the last words.
Chas then steps back, letting the others speak and do as they would want. He does say at last "I for one will miss him, but may he rest in peace where ever he is."
Even Lysette has to raise a brow and blink a few times at that admission. It's impressive. Really. Any con that long. Even if it led to becoming what you were. She bows her head then, a noble soul gone to rest. And the kerchief goes up to dab at tears again.
Kalira weeps silently as the recording plays through, her head lowered again, buffeted slightly by the breeze and by the sound of Akurel's voice as much as by her memories of him. Once everyone has said what they can say she straightens slightly and steps forward into the torch light once more. "I know.. not the funeral rites of Akurel's people. But he was one of us, and I will not send him into the night without these traces of .. ceremony." She nods to one of the crew of her ship that has helped with the arrangements and he moves around the semi circle to snuff out the torch lights until only the candle that Kalira is now holding remains lit. From beside the pyre of wood she draws a small box and from within it she takes a handful of raw sea salt and sprinkles it in a circle around the wood and dusts it across the cloak. She lifts the edge of the cloak and places the softest of kisses on Akurel's forehead, her tears falling on his face before she straightens again. She whispers the words, "I love you, father," before stepping back. She takes a slender blade from where it's rested and gathers her hair in one hand and slices calmly through the heavy mass until it's sliced off just above her shoulders. "The breath of our words, the salt of the seas, the tears from our eyes and the fire of life we give you," and she lays the shorn length of her hair across his chest and uses the candle to light this 'tinder' and steps back. The breeze helps fan the flames as they spread along the edges of the fragrant oil soaked cloak and catches the edges of the funeral pyre alight with the first tongues of flame.
Marbo watches and listens silently. he is at a loss for words, though he realizes that there is wisdom in silence.
Gionarro says softly, "May you find the peace that your life so long denied you, and live on in the hearts, memories and actions of those whose lives you touched."
Lysette continues to sniffle and sob softly as the final, parting words are said and the pyre is lit. She looks to Kalira with the utmost sympathy. Then then looks up to the sky, looking at the stars for some reason.
 
Kit turns away as the flames begin to lick at the pyre. A choked sob escapes her as the shudder goes through her lithe body. Even though she only murmurs it to herself, the young twi'lek bites her lip and seems to vow: "I'll...do better with my life because of you." More audibly, she sniffs: "He'll never be forgotten."
The flames spread steadily outward, the oils and the scent of fresh cut wood catching fire and for a moment time seems to stop, the breeze fanning the flames gently outward until the pyre catches flame with a cough of sound and the semi circle of sand and people is illuminated by the leaping flames.
Tyy searches the depths of his coverall a moment - a black one, brand new for the occasion. A rather large and thick nerf skin wallet is dug out. Tyy goes through the several flaps, scrolling fast, only to take out a single ID card and secure it, his true one. He steps forth, just enough to be in reach to toss his crime novel of forgery in the fire, then he steps back to be with Kit again.
"Forever, in heart," comes a whisper. Though from whom, male or female, cat or water or wind, is unknown.
"For always..." another whisper seems to rise from the fire as the flames rise ever higher and consume the wood.
With the flames blazing skyward, drifting embers dancing in the smoke, the torches that lead the way back to the path through the clearing are re-lit to make it easier to find the way back to the city. Kalira stands silently now, watching the fire burn, the shadows wavering and the sky above.
Marbo bows his head and closes his eyes. The huge hutt remains still as if silently whispering a prayer or omage. He remains so....respectful and mindful...a salute to the fallen.
If there are angels, they have long since carried the spirit of a Whiphid neutronium miner and smuggler who tried to become something more. Once, he had said to a girl he had made his daughter that the reason he shouted and fought so much was that the Whiphid was so far away from the cold and the mountains. The Whiphid never quite became the mountain, but maybe there was a lesson in the fact that he tried at all. That he struggled and pushed until he found no more strength. Until he realized that to go down the path he was, with soldiers and fleets and secret plans was to become that which he had hated so much in life.
Akurel was not Force Sensitive, he had no magic that would allow him to cheat death. Only his faith would allow his spirit to endure, to live in the hearts of his children, whether or not he formally embraced them as such or not. The Whiphid believed in Heaven until the end, but if he were alive in spite of what happened, he would not need one.
Almost quietly, Tyy begins humming, leading his sister away from the mourning site slowly. Soon, his voice shyly sings that one funeral song in Ryl, in the best tradition of Ryloth, a song long ago his mother sang to him, in memory of a grandmother he never knew. Stading out the foreign speech arise the names of Kalira and Akurel, in memory of their family tie. As he sings, he does not stutters.
A little stunned at first, but none the less, Kitsu'ra joins Tyy softly as they move away from the pyre and sings in harmony with her brother, the ancient funeral song of their people. Somehow it seems fitting as they fade away into the darkness.
Category:March 2009 RP Logs