The Jedi Master offered a smile. Something vibrant in her, as if regardless the dire state she had found herself in, even besides the very predicament faced, there was yet a spark that strangelly dominated her gaze. Something the Dark Crusade had been stripped from to their very core, leaving only shells of whoever entered its grim circles.
Hope.
"Good to meet you, Euphorbia. Do not be afraid. All will be well, eventually."
Her words like a spell. Her touch warm in manner foreign and alien, after the dark blizzard of the Dark Crusade's whip. There was no real intent in Aola's eyes. Only hope. And urge, to hold on, as if she needed such so that she could as well.
The planet was under siege in all but name. Blockades and corsairs had collapsed the supply lines, while the occasional raids drastically bled the local garrisons for years. And yet, they held. Clinging on to nothing but that strange sentiment so lost in the eyes of their foes.
Hope....
The war had ravaged the land. Once, Omwat was covered, for the most part, by forests. After the three consequtive sieges by the Dark Crusade, the environment had finally paid the toll, with most of the surface suffering under orbital bombardments and proton mass destruction weaponry used against it, in an effort by the Sith to break the defenders sustainability and morale. Apparently, though it plagued them, it did not bring them to heel.
Years later, now, Omwat had started to heal. Surrounding the large bastion, underneath the burned trunks and black ash, flowers bloomed, as the planetary shift brought what once was spring.
"The Force prevails. She always does." Aola kept saying.
The situation was not yet as desperate, for few smugglers, on occasion, managed to break through the Sith blockade and bring most needed supplies to Omwat. But regardless how many came, very few, if any, chose to leave.
And so, days became weeks, and weeks became months, and the stalemate gradually became a life of struggle and endurance. In other parts of the planet, especially those in which Sith forces had been trapped, sickness was rampant, with few of the Jedi claiming they had seen evidence of "Rakghul Plague".
During days, those able-bodied assisted the work of rebuilding fortifications, or working the makeshift fields the Jedi established in an attempt to produce food locally, regardless how little, to combat the scarsity of supplies. It was hard work, with little technology to assist. The Jedi did not mind. They used to say this way one could connect with the Force. Where else, would one find life seeded beneath the cinder's dark?
A strange symbolism, for some. A good excuse, for others...
In the evening, more and more of the Republic Navy's casualties made it to Omwat. Torn, some even amputated, carried to the medbays where those strong gutted enough volunteered to assist the strange doctor's work, with whatever materials they were left with...
And in the night...?
oh....
The nights always came, eventually...
As the eyes grew heavy, and darkness consumed the light, pain grew still. Chains dragged in a field of flesh, yet every time she looked back, over her bloodied limbs, whatever fiend caused the dream banished her awake yet again, drenched in sweat and pulsing heartbeat.
@Valia Muqai
