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Belief and Purpose

Zane Richards's picture

The hunt done, the meal finished, the Masassi returned to their posts. Laveaus had been trying to participating as much as possible in their daily activities. There was nobility in what many called savagery. She didn't want them to listen just because the Mistress told them to, she wanted their respect as well. It was a different way of thinking to what she was used to, and as the lethan woman gazed out over the green canopy below her mind replayed the events that had brought her here.

Laveaus had grown to rely on almost no one, as ferociously independent as any being in the galaxy. But she had found herself at odds with that independence as her new abilities grew beyond her current understanding. The Mistress, Darth Belatrix had offered to teach her, help her learn control. She had always respected the White Lady's strength.

That respect grew into something even Laveaus could not put to words, as the events of that fateful night transpired everything changed. First there was irritation at the needling by Atrinak, then an anger rose as he destroyed the Lady's work. Rage as weapons were drawn, building to a crescendo as he attacked the Lady.

Something in Laveaus screamed.

How she walked from the room alive, either by Atrinak's inaction or her own, she did not know. How she managed to let it pass and flee she was at a loss to explain. Then as her ship floated in the shadows of a dying world she felt despair, cast out, she was alone, no one but the Lady had understood. For the first time since she was a child in the mines all those years ago, Laveaus felt lost.

When the Lady came to her in that place between this world and the other Laveaus knew, it all becane so clear, the Lady would not abandon her, she would not cast her out. In this she found her focus of belief. Purpose, reason to exist came to the lethan, reason beyond survival.

For her Mistress and Master Darth Belatrix. And her soul sang.

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