#˒*:･ﾟ･ ( answered ) *･ﾟ⨯ ⎸ 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚃𝙷 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂𝙽’𝚃 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙴𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳.

[keztis]

@kniightsiister 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: “cal, we should speak.”

                𝙺𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚂  𝙹𝙾𝙻𝚃𝙴𝙳  𝙰𝚆𝙰𝙺𝙴  𝚃𝙾  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳  𝙾𝙵  𝙼𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙽’𝚂  𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴 and the instantaneous relief of tension draining from his face.  for a moment, he stared blankly at the underside of his bunk, stunned by disjointed images cavorting through his mind, the fragmented emotions still clinging to him like smoke. not a dream. it had happened.  a 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄 made real by someone he thought he could trust with his life. blood thundered in his ears.

bode had betrayed him—everyone.  and the mere thought propelled him straight back to tanalorr, to the face of the man he’d called brother, the furious desperation rippling in the force, the violence that cracked between them like lightning.

cal squeezed his eyes shut for all the seconds it took for the horrible ache in his hands to subside, then dragged himself upright on the cot, his fingers brushing across his swollen face, mottled with cuts and bruises.  his mental timeline was a blurred mess: one last check on the bacta tank, a few more necessary adjustments to the wiring, greez’s eternal grumbling at the bar. then. . . nothing. he couldn’t even remember making it back to the basement, let alone throwing himself into bed.

whatever.  it didn’t matter. merrin was now here, waiting, and cal had slept far too long.  he should’ve started on BD-1’s repairs hours ago.  bode’s punch had left its mark, damaging the droid’s chassis more than he’d care to admit.

feeling both curious and uneasy by the bout of silence, cal chanced a furtive glance and met merrin’s steady gaze.  in that instant, every instinct in his gut screamed for him to say no, to shut down the conversation before it could veer into territory he damned well knew he couldn’t articulate.

                yet, despite the abrupt panic fluttering in his chest, he tendered a quick nod, then turned away, eyes averted.  ❝yeah, okay.  sure.❞

[keztis]

@hoovedrcyal 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: ❛ if i can still breathe , i’m fine . ❜

                ❝𝚈𝙴𝙰𝙷,  𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙻,  ‘𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙴’  𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂𝙽’𝚃  𝚄𝚂𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈  𝙸𝙽𝚅𝙾𝙻𝚅𝙴  𝙱𝙻𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙰𝙻𝙻  𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴,❞ kestis muttered, dropping to one knee as his gaze swept over the man’s bloodied apparel, the dark stains spreading fast across the fabric.   ❝let me take a look before you pass out on me.❞

with twilight casting long shadows over them, swallowing details in murky darkness, cal picked at the torn clothing with careful hands, his grimace deepening as he strained to see anything—too much gloom, not enough light.   useless.   he could barely make out the wound, let alone assess the damage.

             BD-1 chirped from his shoulder, his little mechanisms whirring in preparation to light the way, but cal’s hand shot up, and the little droid hesitated, letting out a confused boop before nudging into the open palm, cooing with quiet concern. ❝sorry, buddy. not here.❞

the reality was simple: injured or not, this man was a total stranger, and lighting up the area would be no different from placing a fat beacon on their location.  besides, cal had no idea who had done this, or why.  was this the work of some bored stormtroopers on patrol, passing the time by harassing and beating up innocent civilians again?  or was this guy tangled in something far darker—something that had finally caught up to him?

there was no way to know who he was or what kind of trouble he might bring, and cal had no interest in finding out, especially now that the mantis was a one-man crew.

                 ❝breathing’s a good start,❞ cal said, his voice steady, despite the tension in his posture as he watched the young man struggle for breath.  ❝but that doesn’t mean you’re okay.  can you stand?❞  

[keztis]

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 :: on an average day, what can be found in cal's pockets?

              𝙰  𝚆𝚁𝚈  𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴  𝚃𝚄𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙳  𝙰𝚃  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚁  𝙾𝙵  𝙺𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚂’𝚂  𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷 as he began searching through his pockets. ❝i try to travel light, but there are a few essentials i always keep on me.❞

first, he pulled out a few credits, glanced at them briefly, then discarded them onto the table.  too obvious, not worth the explanation.  next, he presented a small handheld repair torch, its casing scuffed and worn from years of use.

       ❝this,❞ cal said, holding it up, ❝has been with me since my scrapping days on bracca.  old, sure, but it’s never let me down.  you never know when something’s going to break, need patching up, or just require a little fine-tuning.❞  he gave the torch a quick spin before setting it down.  ❝there’s a compartment in the grip for connectors and spare components.  doesn’t take up much space.❞

he reached into his pockets again, this time producing a few pieces of scrap metal, holding them up between his fingers.  ❝oh—right, these.❞   BD-1 perked up beside him, his audio receptors flicking toward the pile.   ❝BD has this habit of sneaking junk into my pockets when i’m not looking,❞ he explained with rather fond exasperation.  ❝says they ‘might be useful.’  and, yeah, okay—sometimes he’s right.  but most of the time, i sound like i’m smuggling half a droid in my jacket.❞

       BD-1 honked indignantly, jumping around to face cal as though prepared to argue the point.  snorting back a laugh, the young jedi knight dug into his jacket pocket, pulling out a communicator.  ❝and, of course, this.  greez is constantly on my case about answering it more.  i keep telling him it’s hard to pick up when i’m in the middle of fighting for my life.❞  he dropped it onto the table with a casual shrug.   ❝it’s an ongoing debate.❞

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 :: what seemingly insignificant memories have stuck with you?

              ❝𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙽𝚃?❞  𝙺𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚂  𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 , his brows furrowing in slight confusion.  the phrasing didn’t sit quite right; it struck him as wrong, like a circuit forced into the incorrect port.  if a memory wasn’t significant, why would it linger?  his thoughts drifted, unmoored, until an old face surfaced.

❝prauf,❞ he murmured, a rare softness invading his gaze, ❝my old friend.  he. . . had this terrible sense of humor.  one of the worst jokes he ever told me—something about a sullustan, a wookiee, and an imperial officer walking into a cantina.  i can’t even remember the punchline, but i remember how he laughed.  he couldn’t get through the joke without cracking up halfway through.  that’s what stuck with me.  just him—alive, laughing over nothing.❞

verdant green eyes grew remote as the memory drew him into a time when life had been simpler, even if no less painful.  it wasn’t just prauf’s laughter he remembered, but the sound of it cutting through the monotony, the endless despair.  but nostalgia, cal had learned, was a double-edged blade, and he quickly shouldered it aside.

        ❝sorry.❞ cal brought up a hand to cup the back of his neck, grounding himself in the action.   ❝didn’t mean to make it heavy.❞

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 :: are there any types of weather that you’re afraid of/dislike?

              ❝𝙸  𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃  𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆  𝙸𝙵  ‘𝙰𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙳’  𝙸𝚂  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃  𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳,❞ kestis began slowly, ❝but. . . i don’t like fog. it messes with your senses—makes you question what you see, what you hear. makes you doubt what’s real.❞

the memory of dathomir crept back, unbidden and vivid.  he could still picture the endless shroud of mist, so thick it clung to his body like a living thing.  he’d wandered through it with BD-1 perched on his shoulder, his senses stretched to the limit, driven outward by unchecked unease.  indistinct shapes—phantom silhouettes—seemed to move in the distance, always flickering just out of reach.  BD-1 hadn’t sounded an alarm, but that small comfort had done little to settle the erratic drumbeat of his heart in his chest.

❝i’ve seen strange things in foggy places.❞ denial encompassed the memory, enkindled by a bizarre sense of finality.  ❝shadows, tricks of the light.  but some. . .❞ he trailed off, testing the thought.  ❝weren’t tricks.  some were ghosts.  things i’d rather not talk about.❞

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 :: how loosely or strictly does cal use the word ‘friend’?

              ❝𝙳𝙴𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂  𝙾𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚄𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽.❞ it wasn’t the most satisfying answer, but it was certainly closest to the truth.

❝i use ‘friend’ pretty loosely,❞ the young knight admitted after a moment.  ❝sometimes, it’s just a word.  a way to smooth things over.  if i cross paths with a sleemo who doesn’t immediately shoot first, or if a local decides to give me directions instead of trouble, calling them a ‘friend’ gets the job done.  keeps things simple.❞ he leaned back slightly, arms crossed, fingers drumming a quiet rhythm against his sleeve as he mulled for longer.

❝but the meaning of that word—it’s changed a lot since i was a youngling.❞  cal carded a hand through thick, unruly locks, faltering midway between regret and sudden annoyance.  ❝it’s. . . complicated.❞

[keztis]

@buddydroids 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: <<i’m going to count to three. there will not be a four.>>

                ❝𝙾𝙷,  𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴  𝙾𝙽,  𝙱𝙳.❞  kestis held the rock up to the sky, rotating it between his fingers as sunlight glinted off its slick surface.  ❝zero nutritional value?  i’m pretty sure there’s at least a mineral in there somewhere.❞

his boots crunched over the uneven terrain, the harshness of the barren landscape pressing in on him as he examined the vibrant green-red growth clinging to the stone.  moss?  algae?  some other questionable growth?  rocks half-submerged in water weren’t exactly his area of expertise, but it had been more than twenty-four hours since he’d last eaten, and at this point, anything remotely edible felt like a viable option.

considering the nearby brook, it was likely organic.  and if it was organic, that meant it likely had some nutritional value. . .

heaving out a sigh, cal chucked the rock over his shoulder, smiling halfheartedly when it plopped into the water with an anticlimactic splash  ❝fine, fine.  no rock dinner tonight.  guess i’ll just starve instead.❞

a strange disappointment welled up inside him—keen, intense—much worse than what he’d felt earlier, listening to his stomach’s gurgling screeches while weighing the pros and cons of eating a few colorful bugs he’d found sunbathing on a wide leaf. . .  his mind kept circling back to it, a nauseating realization: starvation was no longer a hypothetical concern.  it was real.  immediate.

            ❝you think i can forage anything edible around here?❞ cal muttered, glancing at BD-1 with the faintest glimmer of hope.  maybe BD had useful information stored in his databanks. ❝wild vegetables?  fruit?❞

he’d always been curious about plants—what was safe, what was deadly, what could keep him alive when rations ran out.  that curiosity had only grown after escaping bracca, a junkyard planet where nothing grew, where every aspect of survival meant scavenging and improvising.  but being a wanted fugitive left little room for such pursuits.  next time, cal thought wryly, he would look into the native ecosystem of a planet before setting foot on it.

[keztis]

@d4gangera 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: without the splendid nature of robes he recognized as a second skin, there is a nagging sensation of vulnerability. sleeve once neatly tucked is crudely tied, the ball of fabric swings uncomfortably, but he says little in regards to it. the nature of trying to remain tucked into the ebb and flow of midday traffic. the sheer number of bodies makes his skin crawl to some regard, and while dagan can sense the bristle of cal's existence like leering sunshine overhead, the (former ? reformed ? the white-crystal'd saber tucked under layers subtracts a certain level of clarity there) jedi opts to lay gloveless hand against the small of cal's back before fingers wrap loose in the fabric of jacket, icy stare set before them as jaw remains clenched. " i do not like this, " dagan's tone is low, his fingers tighten only slightly in fabric, " there are far too many bodies here, too much risk. "

                𝙲𝙾𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙲𝙰𝙽𝚃  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙳  𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴  𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴  𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙻��𝚂𝚃  𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝚃—𝙸𝙵  𝙸𝚃  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙳  𝙰𝚃  𝙰𝙻𝙻. the ecumenopolis remained a layered maze of industry and excess, its lower levels smothered beneath the weight of those towering above.  the air was thick with sweat and exhaust, a dense haze of pollution settling into restless streets.  pedestrians hurried along, a faceless tide of movement, while speeders wove through the ordered chaos of the skylanes.  every few moments, a floating holoprojector paddled past, spewing imperial propaganda in stark, impersonal tones—warnings of law and order, of swift consequences for those who defied them.  

a burst of artificial light flared ahead, the garish glow of an oversized holoscreen drowning the street in neon colors.  kestis narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the aurebesh text when a sudden warmth pressed against his lower back.  the touch was firm, unexpected—and not BD-1, who knew to stay tucked inside the knapsack slung over his shoulder.  for a split second, his shoulders tensed, hand already hovering near his saber.

" i do not like this, " dagan's tone is low, his fingers tighten only slightly in fabric, " there are far too many bodies here, too much risk. "

the young knight exhaled, easing the reflexive coil in his limbs as recognition settled in.  turning slightly, he caught the older man’s expression—taut, wary.  there was something unreadable in his eyes, a glint of distress he had yet to voice.  was it the crowd?  the sheer press of bodies in every direction? the subsequent thought almost made cal scoff at himself.  of course, it was the crowd.

dagan gera had spent two centuries in isolation, trapped in bacta, lost to time.  even if coruscant’s skyline had remained unchanged, the experience of civilization—of sound, movement, and overwhelming presence—couldn’t be anything less than unnerving. for a man who had spent entire lifetimes in silence, the noise of the present was no doubt deafening at this point.

cal bit his lip and didn’t stop to analyze the moment.  he acted, guided by an instinct that was as familiar as breath and blood, and slowed his pace enough to ensure dagan wouldn’t have to grip him so tightly, and yield space without leaving the man adrift in the shifting currents of the street.  bodies surged around them, a chaotic undulation, and cal adjusted his position without a word, placing himself between dagan and the densest part of the swarm.  subtle but deliberate.

he cast a glance at the older jedi, tendering a heartening smile.  ❝just focus on me, alright?  we’ll get through this together.❞  an unexpected flutter tugged in his gut—an odd sensation—or a stupid one, really; he wasn’t the one struggling under the mental weight of two centuries of isolation.

                 ❝yeah, i’m not a fan of crowds, either.  too many people, too many chances for something to go wrong. . . ❞  a pause, long enough for the statement to settle.  then, with a teasing lilt, softer now: ❝didn’t think you’d be the one clinging to me, though.❞

[keztis]

@techniiciian 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: he’s falling.  down, down, down.  fast at first till it suddenly feels like he’s not moving at all, stagnant and flailing in emptiness.  the rush of air in his ears the only sign he has that he’s still carrying downward toward something unknown. the panic that seized him, claws raking through his gut and chest in a fiery claim, has faded to the buzz of ants skittering through his veins.  he can grasp nothing but his own thoughts as he falls endlessly through void and vicious light. he’d just been in on his way home.  just entered hyperspace.  everything had been exceeding normal, the calculations correct in his systems.  so why, why did the alarms go off?  what happened to the jump? to his ship?  he’d been ripped from it violently.  watched as his ship fell to pieces around him, sparking.  exploding.  he didn’t understand — the change from near pitch to color is disorienting, his fall beginning anew as he’s assaulted by colors and sounds he’s been numb to in his free fall.  he falls faster now, eyes squinting to adjust to the light, as if to right himself, to figure out where he is.  but that too isn’t to be. because no sooner does matt finally make out the clear blue of the sky is he landing with a fleshy thud on what he can only assume is another person.  at least, probably, if the groans of shocked pain are anything to go off of. ❝ow. . .❞

                𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰 ,  𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷  𝙸𝚃𝚂  𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙸𝙽𝙳𝚄𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙻  𝚂𝙿𝚁𝙰𝚆𝙻  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝙸𝚃𝚂  𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  𝙳𝙴𝙴𝙿  𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃  𝙾𝙵  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳𝚂 ,  was not the kind of world one visited without consequence.   as one of the first planets absorbed by the imperial machine, it now lay fully entrenched within the empire’s grasp, and its proximity to coruscant rendered any attempt at entry a matter of inevitable imperial scrutiny.   controlled checkpoints.  random identification sweeps.   mandatory cargo inspections.   a nightmare for anyone trying to slip through unnoticed.

for a fugitive like cal kestis—jedi traitor, terrorist, wanted across the galaxy—corellia was a death trap.  but that didn’t stop him.  it never did.

with BD-1 perched on his shoulder, cal punched in the coordinates for corellia’s second moon, gus talon.  if he could get close enough, he might catch a glimpse of gus treta, its third moon, and more importantly, the inner-system market station supposedly orbiting it.  the station was real, that much he knew.  the black market rumor mill churned with the possibility of anonymity and outrageously cheap prices.  whether its vendors turned a blind eye to a jedi—or an imperial bounty—was the kind of speculation worth pursuing.

the trip did not go as planned. apart from his forged identification raising literal alarms, one of the imperials noticed the cosmetics he’d used to stain his eyes and hair had rubbed off on his cheeks and neck.  unfortunate.

from there, it was the usual game of survival: alarms blaring.  blaster fire screaming past his ears.  hauling jets in a hurry, evasive maneuvers, all while dodging blaster fire.  another reckless maneuver—one more that might haunt him later—sent him punching through atmo before gravity could reclaim him. when the dust settled, cal found himself grounded behind a dense forest on the outskirts of a rural settlement, not far from what looked like a sprawling metropolis. coronet, maybe.

it didn’t matter. chatter on the comms would undoubtedly pick up again, and word would spread.  for now, he would need to stay hidden.  without a crew at his back, lying low wasn’t just a good idea—it was his only option.

                𝙺𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚂  𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙻𝚈  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴  𝚃𝙾  𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳—an electrical hiss coming from above—before something crashed into him with the force of a collapsing wall.  the impact drove him straight into the deck, his chin bouncing off durasteel with a sharp crack.  light burst behind his eyes as pain shot through his jaw, snatching the breath from his lungs.  BD-1 shrieked from the holoprojector, his shrill, frantic whistle echoing in spades throughout the main cabin.  dazed, cal blinked hard, forcing his surroundings into focus.

the dead weight pressing down on him wasn’t debris. it was a body.

gritting his teeth, cal shoved them aside and rolled to his feet in one fluid motion.  lightsaber flaring to life in his grip, plunging the dim lounge in magenta light, cal leveled his blade at the intruder, half-blinded by the sight of blood splattered across the floor, stark against steel panels. BD-1 caught his shoulder with a thoroughly displeased-sounding bwee boop.

               ❝who are you, and how did you get in here?❞ the man on the floor hardly stirred, a low groan slipping past his lips.  blood seeped from somewhere, pooling beneath him.  human.  tall. wounded.  his clothing—what little remained of it—was nondescript but expensive. silk?  no other identifying marks.  no recognizable insignia, nothing to indicate allegiance. . . no. chatter on imperial comms had yet to die down. he couldn't take the risk, not while on his own.

❝BD, scan them—now.❞  the droid whirred, extending his scanner with a quick chirp.  after a beat, cal took a slow, measured step forward, eyes narrowing. ❝you’ve got three seconds to explain before i start making assumptions.❞