gunprophet-blog
SFC JERHAL, 7/3RD, 5TH CO.
A poorly maintained, leather-bound, handwritten journal.
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Goodbye, and thanks for all the fish
If nothing else, Ihlrath, you deserve remembrance.
I think I'm the only one whose not surprised you up and died, though - or at least, not surprised you up and died so soon. But you were always the self-sacrificing type, the warrior, the protector, the leader, the therapist - all those things.
And we all know how their stories end up, right buddy? They get killed.
And you know what, in your case it is pretty fucking tragic, I'll admit. But it's not due to any of the circumstances really, or any sort of particular qualities that you had. It's tragic because you, like many Jedi, died before you could ever be Human.
If I were asked to give a Eulogy, being that we were friends for a time (and I still considered you one until your death, though we might've been estranged), then I would say that you were a great Jedi, a great Warrior, and a caring individual.
But you were not a great man.
For as long as I knew you, Ihlrath, you had always tried to play both sides of the fence. You were a Jedi, and a damned good one at that, and I think you loved your job and everything about it. You took comfort in your identified role, and of your efficiency in executing it. Even when things went bad, even when you were cutting a swath through dozens of soldiers who were no more evil than me or mine, just doing their jobs too, you loved it.
But while you loved your chosen roles, you tried to sneak away from them, hide under technicality and half-truths as you courted Alasha, Niatara, Vyen'a, and a host of others as you attempted to work through emotions that you probably had never dealt with before. As a man, you were a child, being exposed to a much larger and more complex galaxy than the order had ever prepared you for. And at once you were curious and afraid, I think. You could never embrace your humanity - not fully - and people like Alasha paid the price for it. Her heart had to subsist on hopes, half-truths, and technicalities, because you couldn't fully embrace the largest part of you - your humanity.
That isn't to say you weren't a good person, or a good Jedi, or a decent individual altogether, but Ihlrath, your sole failing in life is that you were not a good man, and your death is tragic because you no longer have the chance to ever become one. You would've loved it. You would've cast aside everything for it in a heartbeat, had you been less afraid to give it a chance.
But you clung to your role as a Jedi even when your actions directly conflicted with that. You rejected the full embracing of your humanity and true "control" over your emotions out of the typical Jedi arrogance and fear. You thought you were above humanity and ultimately above the Jedi, too. You fought for your convictions as hard as any individual could - if not harder, and you were a caring individual unto your friends and allies. And that is why your death is not a surprise.
So goodbye, Master Ihlrath. You were a warrior, and died a warrior's death. You were a tragic individual, and died a tragic death. Your gravestone will contain your name, your dates of birth and death, and the conflict in which you died. That is all a soldier can expect, and all a soldier will get. I hope it's enough for you.
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Lust
He was shaking again.
Down to the very foundation of his bones he was shaking.
He felt the desire and the need and the want and the horrible, ugly LUST.
The Man felt these things and he shuddered at the thoughts that passed through his head, at how appealing they seemed and how ravenously he was willing to see them through and pursue them at how easily it would be to just let go, to let go of his self-control and let all these things happen and be so, so happy and content and TRUE.
But that was lies. Filthy lies fed to him by the LUST. TRUTH was not what the LUST could offer, only a vague, admittedly appealing version of it. TRUTH knew what he was, but TRUTH could not simply tell him – could not tell anyone, for the sole reason that that was the very nature of TRUTH – to not be simple, or more accurately, to be not simple. And TRUTH knew how LUST had so ruled his life.
LUST was something that existed in his life by necessity; that was so damnably important to his sanity, to his well-being, to his happiness. And yet the last thing he ever wanted was to LUST ever again.
For once in his life, he wanted PURITY. He wanted TRUTH. He wanted to look at something and not feel the sinful, wanton urge to either wrought destruction upon it or mate with it or abuse or extort or hate or rage or any number of foolish, immediate things that had no bearing on the long-term.
But the LUST was still there, regardless, and it called to him as a mother to a petulant child, urging him forward into acts of great artistry and hedonistic extremity. He was, by his nature, by his profession, by his chosen path, LUSTFUL. It was, perhaps, his fate to feel these things and do these things and know these things more intimately than any other who might shirk the responsibilities he so bore.
LUST came in all shapes and in all sizes. It came in all sins, big and small, colorful and strange. It came in all good things, too, big and small, thoughtful and kind. The LUST was there, simple desire, and it colored life in shades of happy white and horrible black and all manner of grey in between. But none were forced to be so intimate with LUST as was he and his kin. LUST was something denied by the fatecrafters, who so denied all other emotion that they might “control” their sinful urges. LUST was something worshipped by the fatedestroyers, who so foolishly fell to it that they might as well be nothing more than tools for the LUST. But for he and his kin, LUST was nothing but a fact of life. It was not what consumed two extremes of the same philosophy for him and his bloodkin. It was just something that was, older than time and history and man and the stars.
They existed in a place between the crafters and destroyers – a blessed place where the LUST was not all-encompassing, or all-deciding. And yet, with lives as short and brutish as they had, those that picked up arms – for whatever reason - were forced to understand the LUST more intimately than either crafter or destroyer. Rather than childishly indulging or virginally denying, The Ungifted slowly prod and explored, in methodical seriousness, the LUST. They saw how it could be harnessed, and used, and the Armsbearers quickly did so in whatever way they could. The Armsbearer was LUST’s greatest champion, as his life, even more brutish and simple and passionate was the epitome of what the LUST so embodied. And the LUST loved its champions as its children. It gave them many a great gift, and empowered them to feats unimaginable to the Crafters or Destroyers – things that were unimaginable for any mere Ungifted to accomplish. Yet even the LUST had its price, and it was perpetuity. An Armsbearer could never leave the LUST once it so took them, once it gave itself so wholly to them, and them to the LUST in turn, the LUST never released one from its hold.
And so the Man shook. His body screamed for action: glorious, immediate action. Something physical, something real, something that he could hold bleeding in his hands as he drained the last of its life, something that he could chase and corner and savor the ending of. Something that he could end casually with 3 muscles in the trigger finger, something that warrants only the feeling of recoil. Something that cared only for the carnal pleasures, something that forced him to rip and claw and pull and thrust and perform feats of sin and debauchery that would cow even the most depraved of souls in fear and awe.
But the promise of TRUTH and PURITY stood forever as a shining light, just out of distance, in the man’s peripheral, constantly alighting out of his vision even as he turned his head to gaze onto it. And so the man shook.
_____
And then the voice – the sweet melodic voice rang through the doorway, and the shaking stopped. Suddenly TRUTH and PURITY were attainable, they were there, they were talking to the man, and he stood, clad in clothes he hadn’t remembered donning, in a room he didn’t remember entering. At another perfect call, he answered, and joined the woman in the other room. TRUTH. PURITY.
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Imperfection
Flames.
Orange and yellow and red mix in an angry combination that knows nothing but consumption. In its single-minded purpose it has become exceedingly good. It devours all that is fed to it ravenously, wasting as little as possible as it food fuels it to grow ever larger, to consume more, to grow brighter, to destroy, to CLEANSE.
Faces. Faces are what is seen in the fire, the holy symbol of protection and intelligence and safety and food and comfort and warmth. Faces of loves past, of loves lost and loves won and loves to be lost and won. Faces of men who will never get to see those loves of their own, whether they spoke fond or ill of them. Faces. Faces are all that is left, and they too are packing up to go. Memory is imperfect, as all things are in the realm of mortal thought, and the details of every man, once so stark and contrasting so hideously against their fellow individuals now blend wantonly in the scope of memory. Names had vacated shortly before the faces, rank and cause of death and time in service and the more trivial details leaving long before that.
How far is it to fall, that cause of death becomes a trivial detail? How far is it to walk, that it seems okay to allow the mistake of remembering one man’s other half as another’s? It must be far indeed, as the legs upon which are stood are weary to the point of collapse.
A lake.
A ripple in the water as brown eyes stare into their reflection, gazing into the depths within the depths within the depths within the depths within the depths within the
Blues and whites coalesce in this tranquil pool, and know placidity only for the lack of any particular place to go. It simply exists, it simply is. It is there not to serve any single purpose or perform anything, truthfully. It is whatever one wants it to be. It NOURISHES.
Yet the lake is not unlike the fire, and in it the faces return as his features morph as the water is eventually disturbed. Light reflects queerly off water, and what once was brown is green, or red, or dead, or all thereof. But where the fire was fierce, the lake is somber. Two halves fulfilling the same purpose: Damned Remembrance.
Imperfection is
____
The eyes close, before opening again to view the much warmer ceiling than the one he expected. The eyes- the man, looks to his side, and the space is found empty. Crushing loneliness comes to rest at the pit of his stomach before his sense of smell returns to him. The comfortable, wonderful aroma of home-cooking finds its way to his synapses.
The man greets the day with imperfect memory of his dreams, and thus with a smile.
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Insanity
A question is posed in simple, nebulous wonder.
What am I?
A voice, harsh and grating, carved from the unyielding stone of pain and blood:
I am the vanguard of death, the harbinger of your destruction, that which the strongest of men and the most stoic of ladies is so shaken to the very core by. I am that which lurks in the dark and that which guards against it, I am the provider of justice and the cause of so much injustice, I am the contradiction that contradicts the contradiction of contradiction. I am the bringer of death, I am a murderer.
Another, softer :
I am the bringer of joy, empathetic to the fault I notice all around me, and I learn their mannerisms quickly. I see those around me and I know their faces and their names and their very beings at their core. I see them and I wish only to leave them happier than I met them. I am the friend, my attention and ministrations intended only to guide those around me on a path that can lead to sustained joy. I am a lover.
Still again:
I am the spirit of persistence, that which never quits and that which never rests. I am as eternal as the night and as relentless as the coming dawn, I shall always rise and I shall always fall, waxing here and there as my mood so suits, and so to follows my body and my mind, my spirit existing in a place between and outside of these, existing only to link the two and represent myself in the physical world. I have no purpose and never will, I am that which shall watch those around me wither and die, and remember them in the world born of their ashes. I am a survivor.
More voices. Each growing louder than the last in an attempt to assert that no, they are the answer to the most base of questions. That they are the final, simple, clean response that has been so sought after so many minds, and found so wanting by endless hordes of voices that came both before and after. And as they stumble over each other, their volume rising to an unbearable roar as all understanding is lost in a cacophonous symphony of inanity, all is suddenly quiet. A final voice rings out, soft and timid and sure:
I am the contradiction. I have no explanation and I need no explanation, I have no purpose and yet I pursue imagined purpose in a clumsy flailing of sin and foolishness. As a newborn babe, I am unknowing, grasping desperately at straws in the dark, attempting to make sense of the world around me with as much success as a madman attempting to convince passers-by that the voices in his head are indeed real. I am doomed to repeat this forevermore as no explanation exists, yet my existence is defined by my attempt to understand, for I can imagine no other purpose than explaining what and why. I am insane.
The voices recede. All is quiet again, but not for long. Slowly, a whisper pierces the darkness, almost imperceptibly at first, slowly building and building and building in intensity until they become a murmur, then a chant, then a drone, and then a roar.
iaminsane… I am insane… I am insane. I am insane! I AM INSANE. I AM INSANE! I! AM! INSANE! WE ARE INSANE! WE ARE ALL INSANE!
______
Brown eyes awaken in a cold sweat as a body yet again shoots upright. It lies in a meager bed, thin sheets falling from its body, the grip of moisture not enough to cling them to the body as it heaves in heavy draws of breath, attempting to grasp and banish and understand and fear and hate and deny the darkness with which it was just faced. The eyes look down, as they so often do when the body is alone.
But the body is not alone, streaks of glorious, beautiful red strands lay haphazard across the other half of the small bed, undisturbed sheets veiling the only argument the body – no, The Man – has to deny the voices from which his slumber was disturbed. The woman. The sum of all his strife and woes and pain and why he chooses to suffer still. She is all and is forever and is necessary and kind and good and great and amazing and- and she is why he is not insane.
She is the only reason he is not insane. Insanity could never produce something so perfect.
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Shoot, Move, Communicate, Survive?
Left, right-on-left, right-on-left, right left, yo left.
Left.
R-ight on-left.
Left.
1. 2. 3. 4.
1 2 3 4 - Shoot, Move, Communicate, Kill!
1 2 3 4!
SHOOT
the e-313 heavy repeating blaster is an air-cooled, shoulder-fired magazine-fed, semi and fully automatic capable handheld blaster weapon. Assume a proper prone-supported firing position. the 4 fundamentals of marksmanship. Flip your selector switch from Safe to Semi. immediate actions, remedial actions, fix your malfunction any way you can. And Watch. clear every weapon you pick up, you never know who fucked with it. Your Lane.
MOVE
keep a low-silhouette when moving over walls. Cover me while I move! violence of action. I got you covered! do not cross lanes. Moving! you should be eating dirt while you low-crawl. Set!
COMMUNICATE
comms are key. Hey you. you have fired shots, be loud, communicate with your team, they already know you're here. This is me. status, 1 up, 2 enemy down, door. This is what I'm saying. move move move. I'm done speaking.
KILL
shoot him in the chest. If you see a red lightsaber. the enemy will spare no effort to kill you, return the favor. The bad guy is probably a Sith. he is in your sector, so what if 3-man just shot him, shoot him again. You should probably shoot the fuck out of him.
SHOOT, MOVE, COMMUNICATE, KILL.
SHOOT, MOVE, COMMUNICATE, KILL.
KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL!
------
Brown eyes open slowly, staring at the same dusty broken fan in the same dusty room. With a groan brought on by aches and pains and discomfort, a dusty body rises from a dusty bed enveloped in dusty covers, bringing the eyes up to look over a dusty desk littered with dusty items.
One item however, stands out from the rest. Free of dust, it shines in the light filtering into the room from the open window. The eyes recognize the item, it's the item that has the image of the woman. The beautiful, beautiful red-headed woman, so amazing and kind and nice and tender and
The eyes look down.
They see a dusty communicator that's run out of batteries from a night of talking with the woman, for once after so long, and for the last time for a long time.
The eyes brighten. The body leaves the bed, stretching, groaning, and staring out of the window into the sandy, dusty desert filled with so much pain and death and hate. And yet the body dresses, and retrieves a weapon, and opens the door.
A smile.
Another day.
And the most amazing woman in the galaxy to come home to.
Shoot, move, communicate, kill.
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Herp derp OSUT
((As Nea mentioned on her own tamblr, I am to be going to OSUT (One-Station-Unit-Training) for the US Army at Ft. Benning for the next 14 weeks or so. I head out tomorrow and will ship out the morning of the 8th.
It's been fun as hell guys, and it will be when I get back. Keep it chill. Last post for a while.))
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Haha, wow.
Okay. So. This has been the best week of my goddamn life.
Me and Nea went on that vacation. It was fucking great.
We went down to Nar Shaddaa. Not the place I usually see, but the place where she grew up after the whole crash dealie and I got to meet some of the people she worked with, who knew her from her street-fighting days.
Goddamn there are some good people there. I'm happy they found her. They took good care of her.
Anyway then Nea took me to a very- private place for her, she said she hadn't really gone back in a long time and it meant a lot- it meant more than a lot that she brought me there and why am I using dashes and shit like I'm talking I am writing this is dumb I should just erase that crap. Oh I'm using a pen fuck.
Anywya Anyway so we had our moment. I don't really wanna record it all here cause it was private but we had our moment, and then we went and Nea got us a room at those big-as-fuck floating casinos. The real high-class ones. Someone on the inside owed her a favor and it was great.
We did a lot of stuff in that room, but not a lot of gambling. I'm not sure that's good for business.
So we spent a few days just with each other, we went and saw the sites but mostly we just talked and held one another and joked and laughed and smiled and kissed and ate and drank and had a lot of fun.
I gave her my dogtags. I'll get new ones.
We spent a lot of time sad too, cause we both know the shitstorm we're both about to step into once I go. We can face anything together, we both know that, but apart? Well that's gonna be the real test of our commitment to one another. And I know commitment. I can handle it, I think she can handle it too, but we won't know until it happens, and that's the scary part.
On to better memories though, Zentoyo decided to be way too fucking nice to me and organized a going-away party for my redeployment. That was way too kind of her. Like legit, I almost teared up when I got the e-mail. She's such a good friend, and always has been one. I didn't even mention her in this thing. That makes me feel bad for some reason.
But anyway she threw me a party, and a lotta guys I knew and plenty I didn't or only sorta knew were there and everyone had a real good time and it was all super buenotasticbonne. And of course Z being Z went the extra mile and somehow got into contact with Nea and convinced her to dance for me. That alone would've made my jaw drop, but then she got Nea a slave outfit.
Holy FUCK I have the most beautiful girl in the world galaxy.
And hoenstyl honestly the fact she'd even wear that for me - hell the fact she'd just dance in public for me - hell the fact she did either of those things alone would floor me, but she did BOTH. My god.
We are way too in love here, it is not good for our health.
But the rest of the party was good. Even some 7th made it to Nar Shaddaa to see me off. That was real nice of 'em.
I love those guys, really I do. I'm proud of them. I think they can handle it on their own. They'll still be here when I get back.
That leaves me a lot more comfortable than I've ever been.
God I normally don't misspell anything but I misspelled three things already wow.
Anyway I'm really tired because Nea and I have been waking up and going back to sleep and waking up and going back to sleep and absolutely nothing else in between for the past several hours on the much-longer-than-necessary-because-fuck-you trip back to Voss.
I'm gonna say my goodbyes to Vy, then leave Nea with my tags, some holos, and anything else she wants.
And when I get back I'm gonna live up to every single promise I made her.
I love this woman so much.
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((Derp Yep))
Romeo. Echo. Bravo. Lima. Oscar. Golf. India. Foxtrot. Yankee. Oscar. Uniform. Charlie. Alpha. November. Romeo. Echo. Alpha. Delta. Tango. Hotel. India. Sierra.
Sadly.
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DUDAL
Warmup sketch. 2 buddies from Lardass.
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Chillin' 'n' illin'
So I've been real tired and have been preparing for my redeployment to my old unit lately, so I've been letting SSG Morgan, and SGT Astor and SGT Greysen sorta take over. They're all capable, they've learned well. Astor and Greysen need to learn a bit more about squad tactics, but that'll all come with experience. I feel comfortable leaving these guys.
I don't get to say that often.
I'm proud of my men, all of them, especially those who've been with us for a long time such as CPL Jayl, SGT Astor, SGT Greysen, 1LT Teral (who, while he may now outrank me, I saw grow from a freakin' CPL), Advisor Johv, and Contractor Vyen'a.
I'm gonna miss 'em.
However I did meet with Nea's employer the other day. It was not particularly pleasant. He's the typical "Oh look at what you made me do to you" type of sith, and it was not enjoyable how Nea completely fell for every single angle of deception he used.
She's afraid of him, very afraid. This concerns me.
I had an entire 9 man squad ready to file in as needed if he tried anything, so we didn't have to worry - at all - about him overpowering us, there was no need to fear. We had all the advantages, political, positioning, firepower, etc. But Nea's scared of him- damn scared, so she played by his rules.
And now all those advantages are lost.
She said she wanted to buy time - for us, and I told her it was time we could've taken. She didn't need to make a deal with the devil to get it, but she did anyway.
Again, because she's scared.
I'm scared too.
I got frustrated, and that on top of my fear boiled over when Nea used MY NAME in front of the sith. I- that caught me off guard, and I snapped at her. Got too angry, too fast. I saw the fear in her eyes directed at me and-
And she thought I was leaving her.
No. Never. Never ever ever ever ever. I took her back to the base, and we went up to the ship after I introduced her to my superiors and some of my brothers in arms and we talked. And- we had our little spat, our little disagreement, but now we're stronger for it. We both get each other more, we both trust each other more. And I got past the name thing.
The name won't mean anything if it's spoken by anyone other than her, or someone I tell it to. It won't mean anything. They don't get it. I only tell it to people who get it. Maybe that'll help the Psych-assholes who're gonna read this at the end of the year.
Anyway, I promised her we're gonna go on a vacation for a few days - just the two of us. And it sounds damn good to me. Gives the new NCOs a chance to grow and I get some time with the woman of my dreams, and everything will be safe and perfect like it was before the Sith decided to be an asshole.
Not even 10 more days. Damn.
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I AM A GOD, THOU ART UNWORTHY
I am way happier than I should be.
This time for legit.
I should probably be dreading every moment of my continued existence but I just can't fucking bring myself to care.
So anyway, the past few days have been really fuckin' stupid, so to speak. There's this one Colonel and his Battalion that have come down to Voss, and are apparently there to reinforce us and aid us in our mission there.
Yeah bullshit. You don't send a full Battalion to "reinforce" a company-sized unit. Command is up to something, and it smells like sithshit.
What makes it worse is that they are apparently Special Fucking Forces, and you know what that means! A whole lotta bullshit is gonna get slung our way, and no one's gonna give three shits because these Special Farces kids can get away with a lot.
It doesn't help their Colonel isn't the most charismatic Officer I've ever met. The guy doesn't have a really good Command Presence at all, hell he started justifying himself to me when I started questioning his actions.
What happened was two of my privates were getting into a little argument, and Colonel Highspeed totally blew it out of proportion and thought they were trying to kill each other, so he discharged his weapon into the air in the middle of the base. When I went up to ask him about just why he skipped three of the five glorious S's for handling situations like these (Shout, Shove, Show, Shoot to Warn, Shoot to Kill), he told me he felt it was the only way to breakup the fight.
I told him he was a moron. You don't DO that in front of enlisted soldiers! You're an Officer, your job is to be ABOVE that! You set the example, and if your example is that of someone who whips out a blaster at every confrontation, your men will FOLLOW that example, and then we'll be up to our gills in trigger-happy morons who don't know the meaning of the word "Diplomacy" if it bit them on the ass!
So anyway, for his sake, I also called my men over and started smoking them, then and there, for the private's stupidity, all the while lecturing this Colonel on how to discipline an enlisted soldier and just why his way was a pile of shit. I also told him that if he was half the man he wanted to be, he would've gotten on the dirt and pushed with them, to own up to his mistakes and prove he was there to get shit done just like they were.
He didn't.
I am disappointed in Special Forces.
So anyway, then Nea called me later that evening, and she was scared out her bejeezus-ass mind. And I can understand now. Turns out, her sith employer learned about us, and is trying to leverage this relationship to provide information. The Ultimatum is this: A) Leave me and prove her loyalty to the Sith and specifcally him (even though she owes loyalty to no one), B) Get information out of me that can be used against the Republic or he'll kill me, or C) Don't do either of those and be killed, along with me.
Aint Sith just great fellas?
Anyway he's basically proving my point that while the Sith Empire can be respectable, the Sith themselves are morons who take shit waaaaay too far. You do not jump to threats of death in a situation you don't like, which that guy did.
He also may've wanted to get some intel on me first, I'm a more important guy than I realize now that I think about it - or rather, I have important friends. Not to mention all the other ways we can keep the deception up. He made his attack, but he forgot to have any sort of insurance, save Nea's fear. Fear is very fragile security.
I'll cover that shit later though. Moving on for now, I held her and calmed her down and we talked, and she was afraid she'd have to leave me and I told her she wouldn't and it kinda went on like that for a while. She started saying she hated him for doing that to her, and I explained how she held no loyalty to him.
And then I told her I loved her again, and she said she loved me back.
And we kissed and we hugged and we sorta celebrated that moment before the emotional fatigue hit us both and we collapsed on my bed.
It was still a perfect moment. God I love this woman.
It's- I've never really been in-love before, now that I think about it. I was always ready and willing to love someone, but was never really in-love. The words were exchanged and the motions gone through, but nothing- ever- has made me feel the way I feel with Nea.
And that's why this Sith can go suck a huge gigantic dick.
I have friends, good friends. Master Ihlrath of the Marran Order and Master Nyomi of the same would certainly help in a mission against the Sith, and I'm sure my men wouldn't be upset over a Sith threatening their PSG disappearing. The Lieutenant'd be a bit concerned, as is his job, but moreso about the idea of taking on the Sith, rather than the political repercussions.
He's declared war on us, and I'll be damned if I don't bring everything onto his head - if I'm forced to.
Time to start planning and making some calls.
I fucking love my job.
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I'm feelin' pretty good, thanks, how about you?
Haha hooooo shit.
\/|2()()/\/\
____________________-O/#/O - BEEP BEEP
FUCK! I LOVE life!
(;_;)7 ~~ GOD BLESS THE REPUBLIC
~~~^^~~^^~~~
SO! I am far happier than I should be, but why shouldn't I be? Everything is fucking perfect. I've got a beautiful, beautiful woman cradled in my arms, I'm writing just above her back- which is on top of me, and we've got some nice as shit blankets covering the both of us.
I love this woman so much.
So anyway, the past few days Nea and I've been talking some more, after the love incident, and I asked her a few times if she wanted me to stop, in case it scared her or she didn't want it. She said it did scare her, but she didn't want me to stop and- Holy shit. I think she loves me back.
I mean it's a bit premature to say but- the thing she did-
Okay I'll start from the beginning.
So every now and again Nea and I'll get into a little passionate fit, we'll start draping our arms over each other, kissing each other, tongue, etceterino, but we've never had sex, or anything like that. She wasn't ready for it and I wasn't about to push her into something she didn't wanna do.
WELL.
I invited her up as per usual this past day and, well. She asked to use my "facilities." So I just kinda lied back and relaxed, kinda got a bit of snoozing done. I heard her come out, and when I opened my eyes she was in this tiny little black nightie.
She was fucking gorgeous is what she was.
And you can guess what happened from there journal, not like I'm gonna write that shit out for you. The doctors'd probably freak out too given this was SUPPOSED to be for those damn hallucinations, but they've been letting up recently.
God she's beautiful. I wish I could draw as well as she can so I can just capture this image forever. The blankets are just underneath her shoulderblades, we're both in the nude still, her hair's in a big ol' clump covering most of her back, her head's on my chest, her arms are around me.
I could stay here forever like this. She's got this tiny little smile on her face too, that's just the most adorable thing I've ever seen. I love this woman.
I love this woman so much.
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Erryday I'm Derpanin'
Hm, god alive. How should I write this one?
===/\/\/
Well from the beginning I guess.
I told Nea I loved her.
-----//\==///^&sfcholdenjerhal, SFC Holden Jerhal, SFC Holden Jerhal, SFC HOLDEN JERHAL derpsignatures ----/\^^^~~~^\
She took it well.
I was expecting her to completely freak out and run away or something, but I guess the circumstances dictated otherwise.
So we've been seeing each other a lot and talking at least once every day, and it's been nice as fuck. Anyway, I go up to her ship once, and we decide we'll have some dinner. She goes to grab something, and I start to whip up something decent for us to eat when I realize she hasn't left her room. I go and check and she's looking over a journal of hers.
I back out cause I don't wanna interfere, but later on somehow the subject comes up again, and she hands me the same journal. Turns out it's a sketchbook she uses to sketch these... Traumatic as shit memories. There were 4 of em, and... Hotdamn what's she even doing with the Sith? They're fucking monsters, and she's the sweetest woman you'll ever meet.
Fuck it, I don't even know. What I do know is that- well we started talking and things got intense, so to speak. I kinda had a breakdown and so did she and- and I ended up telling her I loved her.
We sorta just held each other after that, and just laid down and comforted one another. It felt good. I've got someone to lean against, and so does she, and we'll both be able to keep our balance.
Fuck why is that metaphor so accurate?
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HONOR. GLORY.
So, Nea's back! And safe! Thank God for little victories.
Anyway, we met back up at the "Vossbar" a day or so after the explosion. She was very upset. I took her back out to that nice little secluded area and she told me everything that happened, how she finally broke up with the Sith, and I just held her and listened to her. I was beyond happy she was okay, but she still blamed herself even for the explosion, which confused me as it was in no way her fault.
Goddamnit Nea is too good of a woman to constantly be beating herself up. Anyway we decided to get drunk and stuff, and we made up a drinking game, so we started that. Private Dhen-Zaka and Norredi of the Ninth came along and got in on the action, too. THEN that one Sith came along and-ugh.
MOVING ON! So afterwards me and Nea got a little upset with one another and I walked off in a drunken huff. We met up shortly afterwards though, and I apologized to her and she apologized too for some reason. And I asked her out to dinner and she said yes.
The dinner was great, the conversation better.
I took her out to this place on Nar Shaddaa, and it was pretty damn good. Turns out we both speak this ancient, dead language, too!
Goddamn the way she spoke it though. Her voice is so beautiful.
So we ate, and we talked, and we shared some of our pasts again and then we went for a walk. We talked about so many things and it was just so easy. It's always easy with her. It was probably one of the best nights I've had.
And then we went outside and she showed me some things the locals knew. She showed me where her first apartment was after the accident, about this hidden hangar, and some other stuff and... I just kissed her there, again, with all that passion I had before. God, maybe I am falling for her.
Scratch that I probably am falling for her.
Soon after that we had to go, much as we both hated to. So I called her a morning or so later just to hear her voice, and we ended up talking for a while. Then she invited me up for some coffee. We spent a small amount of time together, she showed me her ship, and- and I kissed her again and it was great. Until I had to leave moments afterwards of course. That sucked.
I called her again that night, and we spoke some more and I told her how much I'd been missing her lately. And she invited me up again, and we just cuddled up underneath a huge blanket and counted the stars. God I'm so happy to have her.
I'm speaking in that Dead Language way too often.
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Quelle Heure Est?
So my writing's been kind of shitty lately and I can't really bring myself to care. I'm so tired lately - especially after today.
So I spoke with Vy again. She and I had spoken earlier about various shit that was going on and she's all concerned about the shit with Nea. She thinks I'm all freaked out due to the Dear John and I'm just grabbing for any sort of straw there is but. It's not like that. I told her I'd be okay if she went back to her boyfriend, I kind of expect it. I shared something with her though that was extremely special to me and I'm happy to have simply had that moment. Whatever happens, I'll be there for her, at the least.
Goddamn I sound like a hippy.
Anyway, so she told me I was in love with her and- I dunno about that, that's a bit fucking much for having only known someone for a few days but- Jeez man, it was some pretty heavy shit.
So anyway a few days after that she and Jerax both decided to talk about me and just fucking tried to talk me out of it. Apparently they both think I'm a moron and are completely overreacting to the unloaded-weapon-under-my-chin thing. They thought that was some serious shit or something and I call BS and just god.
I'm so fucking tired.
Then I get a call from Nea, a short one, just thanking me for everything before she hung up. I hope she'll be okay.
THEN I get a comm from Vy. Apparently there was an explosion in a hangar on the Imp Fleet. I dunno how she get access to this intel, but it was a live feed or something, and she was listening in. Two Males, One Female, one DOA, One Heavily wounded, and one got off with a broken finger and not much else. I'm hoping Nea is the final one and she'll be okay.
Worst breakup ever, though, if that's how it came about.
God I need sleep.
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Haha, Holy Shit.
Haha holy shit. These past few days have been crazy, and in both good and bad ways.
So. Anyway. I met with Ty'nea the other day. I came upon her when she was drinking and she was pretty fucked up. She was trying to hide it from me but shit man, I'm an NCO and a former gambling champ. I can fucking tell when people are hiding shit from me or when they're upset. And she was trying to drown herself in booze.
So I told her to come with me, and she was so fucked up she didn't give a damn, and we went and we sat in this beautiful, nice secluded area in Voss'ka, near some cliffs, and we just started talking and she told me everything. Apparently her Sith boyfriend decided to fuck her Rattataki best friend, and then decide that they needed a 3-way relationship. As if that wasn't bad enough, it was the Rattataki who called her to ask if it was okay if they did anything. That's 3 different flavors of fucked up.
Suffice to say I was disgusted. I know exactly how I'd feel in that situation, and to do that is not only a fucking betrayal of whatever relationship you claimed to have, but it's also pissing on the rotting corpse of her obvious devotion, care, and dependence on her boyfriend. And then to try to leverage that into forcing her into a 3-way relationship she neither expected to happen nor was comfortable with is just... Ugh, fucking sith.
She was literally so dependent on this guy, she was considering staying with him in the most emotionally abusive relationship I've ever heard of.
I told her that was fucking bullshit and that she deserved infinitely better, and we talked for a while about more and more crap and I finally started to cheer her up. She's such a good woman, she deserves so much more, she just needs to realize it.
Heh, she's real fun when she gets happy. We started trading insults and joking with one another, and eventually it came about that we challenged each other to a spar. She's not bad at all, especially for a contractor and not a trained soldier, I guess she wasn't kidding about that street-fighting past of hers. But, I wasn't thinking and I just, took her in my arms. She grinned and jabbed me in the gut with her fingers, claiming she won and- she just looked so happy. So happy.
God I would kill to see her smile like that forever.
And then shit fell apart.
So she pushed away because she still loved the Sith and we started talking and it got emotional and just- I can't- I dunno how to describe it or how I felt, but I do know I think I saw her for what she was.
She was extremely afraid, and she needed to have someone to love her. God I sympathized. So I told her she was lying to herself, that even though she said she was tired of running away she was running from so many things she couldn't possibly know what she was doing. It was... I think everything I'd ever done had prepared me to deliver that speech honestly.
And then I tried to figure out how to prove to her other people could love her, and I did that the only way I knew how. I asked her permission, and then I kissed her. Goddamn though... It was just- I wanted to show her everything that she could have, and I gave her everything I could. I poured so much into that one kiss.
And then she kissed BACK.
I had never been so happy in my entire life. Whatever I intended it to be was bowled over and- I don't really know what happened, but I do know that right then she really DID have everything I could give, and she could do whatever she wanted with it and I'd still have been wearing a dumb smile.
And then I had to pull away, and I had to let her go and that was probably the hardest thing I'd ever done in my entire life. And then she told me to wait.
And then she asked me to kiss her again.
And then I did.
And
..
//--|p##==
____/\/\____
I hope she'll be okay.
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MUCHO BUENO TOTALMENTE AMIGO
FUCK ME, MYNOCK MAN.
God these past few days have been worse than the fucking fuckidy fuck. The shit's starting to come on again and I'm freaking the tits out.
HNNNNNGH~\/\/\/\/\__;^~~---^\&~7
So anyway PV2 Ozakif is apparently a fucking force sensitive. MUCHO BUENO, TOTALMENTE. And he decided to fuck with Nea again, almost got into a fight with her. Had to fucking pull the two apart, seperate em, cuff both of em, and I almost kicked Oz out of my goddamn military.
HOWEVER.
He promised to get help though, from the Marran.
WELL. HE GOT THAT HELP ONE WAY OR THE OTHER. More on that later.
Anyway so I was talking with Vy the other day. The visions are getting bad again. I told her about them and stuff, and I told her I loved her like a sister for the first time. That felt nice to get off my chest, and the hug was too. But ju ALL AROUND. SO DARK. THEIR BODIES SO NUMEROUS THEY'VE BLOCKED THE SUN. YOU ARE ALL THAT REMAINS, YOU ARE ALONE, YOU ARE AFRAID. THEY COME FOR YOU. TAKING THEIR TIME, TAUNTING AS THEY SAVOR THE FEELING OF AN ASSURED KILL. THERE'S NOTHING TO BE DONE, NO ESCAPE FROM THE FINAL JUDGEMENT AND THE PAIN. CLOSER. CLOSER. CLOSER. CLOSER. CLOSER, CLOSER, CLOSER CLOSERCLOSERCLOSERCLOSERClosercloserclosercloserlcloserclsrlsclscslrlc~~_\/\/\-/9\/-][]]\';'./';
~~~^\_
But it was okay. She told me she'd always be there, and I held her, and I knew that I'd have my sister and it was all going to be okay and maybe I needed to get some more help. It was claustrophobic though. I can smell it now, whether there's a vision or not. It's coming. I'm going to die.
But anyway, after Oz picked his fight and revealed his force-sensitivity I told him to get into contact with Master Ihlrath. He was unable to, and when he came into the bar the next day we spoke and shit. But there was a Sith there. And Ozakif was listening to the fucking Sith. He wanted to learn Sith things and was abusing his gift of the force for personal fucking gain and just... GOD!
It deteriorated relatively quickly. The Sith was using the most simple and flawed goddamn arguments and Ozakif was listening to her stupid ass. Goddamn. He wasn't even arguing, he bought totally into the free power idea and just... I had to send him away, and unloaded my shotgun, and pumped nonexistant rounds into my chin. That stupidity brought every single piece of stress I'd felt over the past few days to a head, and it was either kill someone else, myself, or do something equally stupid. So I unloaded the weapon and just fucking fuck dick schutta fuck me myock man low speed cuntwaffledolphincockasspenispen0rlololderpderpderpwritingwhatthefuckisthatcaptain ahabdurkadurkaairbornedurkadurkahooahkillmenowpleasegod.
and the whore sent me a dear john.
Kill me now.
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