Vibrant Eyes | Din Djarin

41: everything

Ecnel was a beautiful planet.

From the moment it first began to support life, it became a symbol of this beauty. The beautiful of the universe flocked to live on its surface, to walk its crystalline fields, and drink its lavender waters. Soon enough, only the elite could afford to live there and prosper off of its resources.

But, as most things were, it was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

It took years of careful cultivation for Ecnel to support life, and so it only made sense that after years of being drained of its resources and its very lifeforce, Ecnel began to fail. The atmosphere grew toxic. The crystalline grasses sharpened into the likeness of glass. The lavender water, affected by all else, became seeped in unknown danger and effects if one were to drink it.

Ira didn't remember much of her home planet, but she could remember how it felt to lose an intrinsic part of her. Sight. She didn't remember what she saw or how she used it, but she could feel its absence more than anything.

After four years of drinking from the lavender waters of Ecnel at her parents' insistence that the news of coming dangers were nothing more than rumors, Ira never had a chance to begin with. Day by day, her vision began to fade. She remembered how her parents grieved, how they only learned to face the fear of change when it affected those they held dear.

She remembered how, to a little girl, it felt like the world was ending and she was lost in endless darkness. 

Alone with no way out.

A week after she saw her last sunset, there came a knocking at her door. A man spoke to her, she remembered that. Even at that age, Ira had the vaguest sense that he kneeled down to speak with her. She remembered seeing wisps of light purple glowing in the darkness and staring at them as if she could will the rest of the world back into the light.

She never could, but after that day when she left home with the strange man, a new world began to craft itself around her.

All throughout her training as an initiate, a youngling, Ira got the sense that she was... unlikable. Distant. She didn't like to talk to anyone because she could no longer see their faces, like she once could. All she knew at the time was the way she knew to act by watching her parents' expressions. She'd relied on her sight so very much.

It was what kept her safe for so long, kept her comfortable. And now that she was without it, she didn't know what to do.

But as her connection to the Force grew, there came another reason for that disconnect.

Her connection proved to be stronger than the rest. Every day she spent submerged in the Force that it became as easy as breathing when others still struggled to sense a shift of intent. When they practiced with the shooter droids, she deflected and destroyed with ease. The others fumbled and cursed their lack of sight.

But that wasn't all.

All of those around her were so consistently, constantly blinded. She would sit, watch the Force manipulate the world around her, and hear them giggling over her clothes. The colors she wore that apparently didn't match. The way she wore her hair, the way a boy looked, the colors of their world, and their opinions on every single thing.

So much they took for granted. 

So much they used to belittle and put down others, to make them seem above the rest of it. It was a waste on them, this sight they were allowed to keep. For a time, she spent every day wishing it back. Wishing to be like them because at least then she'd be normal.

But time changes things. And by the time they entered those caves to search for their kyber crystals, she no longer wanted to be like them. Instead, she wanted to be better.

If all of those spoiled with sight were like that, she never wanted to see a single thing again.

Ira entered those caves with a suffocating rage and a buried thirst for violence and left them with a violet kyber crystal clenched in her fist.

After every requirement was met, Ira was one of the first to be chosen by a Master. Mace Windu, her master, was a formidable Jedi. One of the strongest ones there was. He was also one of the other rare few to wield a purple lightsaber, just as she now did.

For years they trained together. He guided her in taming the anger beneath her skin, in seeing all the good and light their universe had to offer alongside the bad. He taught her the movement of the Force around them, the way she would see it reflected in others, and how she was to go about navigating the universe.

Her master was a wonderful man, if harsh at times. 

Ira loved him like a child loves their father. She adored him as much as she allowed herself to but when he died the universe ended for the second time. He became that pit in her stomach and the hole in her chest as she fled from all the reminders that remained of him.

As she lost hold of all the good in the universe and began to burn with an unyielding rage.

She grew and matured in that rage, burning for the world and for those she let die on the battlefield. Nowhere became home, no one became a loved one, no one ever truly knew who Ira Venusta was before she was gone. Sometimes she would fight for the weak, call another friend for a time, and always she would disappear with the wind. 

But life had no meaning beyond carrying on when it felt like all hope was lost.

Until she stood on a planet of marshes and forests and felt the flame burning within her flicker and die.

~*'*'*~

"I submerged myself in the Force until there was nothing left," she said quietly.

Din stayed silent for a moment, and she could feel the presence of his racing thoughts. The concern. The softer edge to everything that he was with her. With her and only her, in the same way she was with him and only him.

"Why?" he asked.

Ira smiled because the truth hurt too much to acknowledge. And she got the idea that he could understand. Or, maybe, he couldn't. 

But he would try, and that was enough for her.

"I never wanted to feel again."