#dume wolf

Oln had seen the birth and death of many Force Entities. They had been there when the Mortis Trio had at long last outlived their purpose, seen the blemished arts of the Night Sisters at work, spoken to the Bendu after his tempestuous rampage, witnessed the transcendence of both Tano and Dume, and kept watch of many individuals that held within them the worth of minor gods.

It was not their place to decide who got to become more after they passed on into the Force. They were merely the ferryman that took them on the journey to the great beyond, repaid not in credits but in the honour of holding one's face and identity so that it never got lost to time. Even so, there were many sentient beings they wished they could bless themselves.

"Many a Loth-wolves were not always Loth-wolves." They whisper to the twin moons of Lothal. Black eyes shiny with emotion. "They do not remember who they were, but their essence is the same."

"It is the nature of such things." The tremendous wolf with wise eyes and impatient demeanour huffs back in his native tongue. Much easier to speak than Galactic Basic, for one with such powerful vocal chords and long snout as he. "We are not meant to look back, only to move forward and hope for a brighter future ahead of us."

"And yet we yearn for things we do not remember." The ferryman mourns. "Want what we can never have."

"Even so we remain selfless in the end, preferring to not interfere when we know it is in the best interests of others that we not show them what we are truly capable of." The Bendu muses, slumber interrupted by the musings of the reaper in disguise. "Lessons hard learned for some, to think they can govern how things are meant to go. That sides must be picked."

"Have I not picked my allegiances? Have I not blinded myself with the desire to preserve those I have endeared myself to, to provide them with unwanted blessings? Terrible curses?" Oln glances back, uncertain if they should give the monster in the furthest reaches any mind. They shouldn't dare think they was as bad as the False Mother. The aberration she had become.

"If you truly had fallen from grace and abused your abilities, you wouldn't be asking yourself these questions." Morai hooted from up above on her perch. "You could indeed do such a thing as curse those who are still living with powers beyond their control... Force them to become more than they are ready to be... But you have not."

Oln glances up at the spiritual guide. The convor with kind eyes comforting them with her calming presence.

"You have not yet made another Abeloth." She promises them. "You have not overstepped."

They want to believe her.

But they couldn't ignore the fact that there wasn't anything more they wished than to give the clones the power needed to fight all the strife that life so cruelly threw their way.