>>6078455I'm actually with Studio ARCHE's Berserk project, which is the one done in the style of the 1997 anime. The pilot's out on YouTube, and the next episode (feat. Snake Baron) is in the works.>>6078276>>6072144In any event, IRL and writer's block got really hectic, but I'm aiming for a thread this month. Hate-watching Acolyte and the recent news of James Earl Jones' death (RIP) have kicked my creative juices into overdrive.
Have a preview...
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>>Captain’s Quarters, Graven Hush>>In-Hyperspace Transit, Outer Rim, 19 BBYMeditation did not come easy for the Revenant.
She sat cross-legged on the floor of her quarters, hands placed gently in her lap. Shadows danced across the room as the dim, flickering lights of candles cast macabre shapes on the surfaces and walls. The air was heavy with the odor of incense – focusing both on its smell and the almost imperceptible sound of its burning would hold the loudest ghosts at bay. Her eyes were closed and her breath was even, but her brow remained furrowed in terse concentration.
The Storyteller had once described the difference of how Force-users across the spectrum of Light and Dark would meditate. In spite of doctrinal differences, self-betterment was the end goal, yet even that meant different things for their respective orders. One preached the detachment of worldly attachments, and the disgusting sublimation of the self into an abstract, universal whole. The other focused inward, on the most intimate and individualistic level to find actualization for goals and dreams.
Yet the passion that had driven that actualization had been blunted. The raging fire within her had nearly burnt itself out, replaced by a cold and hollow emptiness. She was not nearly as given to her emotions as an orthodox Sith might be inclined, but she still relied on her passion to summon the powers of the Dark Side. Yet every time she reached for the Force, it became harder, and gave her less with every demand.
It was not hard to figure out why. The sting of defeat had left a bitter taste in her mouth, and the emptiness within herself became quickly filled with a sense of inadequacy. Her battle against it was just as fierce as any she had fought in the physical world. But that was all the fuel needed for the doubt to fester like a rot, and give voice to the long-since dead.
“Inadequate. Incompetent. Weak.”
“Our blood cries for the Jedi’s head!”
“All you have accomplished has amounted to nothing!”
The villagers of du Lac’s Hollow dogged her steps, flitted at the corner of her vision, and hissed venomous nothings into her ears. Their voices, always lingering at the edge of conscious thought, ensured that true silence would never come to her. In the profane world, there was always something to do, something making noise, something that could keep her mind away from those uncertain desires and unwanted thoughts.
Such was not the case when she slowed or stilled...
