The Life Day

[Meatslopper]

The Life Day

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Should I celebrate today? Life Day has all but been stamped out by Imperial decree. While the snows are tread upon by the righteous boots of Sith and Imperial alike, as the dawn comes. The snows lie flat and thick, across city streets and rooftops in a blinding white sheet only broken by where we stand, looking over the city of Orsus, watching and ensuring order is upheld. It was quiet. She almost preferred it. So it is today that I stand atop a building, with a body that moves without thought, each motion snapping into place, a kick, a fist, a grab, lock, chop. It is as if a shadow pantomimed on the wall, more powerful than ever people have claimed, I have claimed, moving forward, making change. But I just don’t, maybe can’t really see it that way. In truth, I’m back where I started, as purposeless as ever but I have kicked, so I guess I am kicking.

That’s commitment. You can never be a Sith part-time. Not when facing death before beasts that hunger for your being. Never cowardice. Not when facing traitors. Never dishonour. Not when facing treacherous students or soldiers. Never weakness.

To stand before death and to strike without hesitation. To rise again. Like a phoenix as if that is instinct, it is the very essence of the Sith. The very essence of a Sith is to be beaten, again and again, to suffer wounds beyond counting and to remember them as scars, scars that do not go away, scars that fuel you, yes, but wounds they still are, to die a little again and again, to lose what you were and to be willing to lose it, all in an ever upwards pursuit of power and progress, that just, just never ends. To see a day such as today, such as Life Day and no longer see its meaning or the value it might have held to you. To walk the streets with the brother of the man you served, loved to serve and to find nothing, nothing but the shattered husk of a city and the potential you could make it into, a city that bristled with life and cheer, happiness and sorrow flowing freely, now regimented into purpose and purpose that they needed but they did not know that. That was always the most frustrating part of it all, knowing that ungratefulness that permeates so, so, so, many people.

They didn’t see my wounds, my sacrifices to be strong, the dedication I bring.

They don’t care. Nobody does. Often I remember as I close my cybernetic hand, not even me. Not even me, there’s something more, something more I care for above all. 

My holocom plays a gentle tune, a sweet hum, that carries through the air. Finally I sit, my legs dangle from the edge, as a strong breeze flutters past. The holocom framed a figure and for just a moment I was a shadow who saw the person I belonged to but then I remembered, I remembered who he was, who he really was, he was the future of the Sith. And I would pass along everything I could but my scars, those I’m pretty sure he could get on his own just fine. I suppose Master, I’m paying off your childhood debts this Life Day. Maybe, despite it all, I will be giving gifts and celebrating such a terrible tradition. Maybe tomorrow is worth suffering for, even at a limp, it’s a commitment afterall you know. 

You’ll rise again. You always have. Keeping that alive. That’s why I’m alive. 

I’m waiting. 

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