#And how interesting and sharp that is in line with one of sw most gripping other themes: the failure of parents to protect their children

[rotzaprachim]

The thing about writing a post apocalyptic sw au (station eleven and TLOU) is that it helps anúnciate the reality that the sequel trilogy is a post apocalyptic narrative. Like, the sequel trilogy is really, really bad, and one of the places it’s so bad it becomes fascinating is in the gap between the Light Action Adventure corporatized media Pew Pew Pew series it Thinks it is with all its product tie ins and Lego sets and the knock em out balls to the walls Hopeless post apocalyptic narrative it actually is. Never is it convinced that anything in the galaxy improved or rebuilt after the return of the Jedi. Because it is not a Series Smart enough to come up with it’s own plot lines it simply regurgitates the original trilogy plot lines without the intelligence to make a nuanced commentary about intergenerational trauma or way survivors of fascism must continue to fight new forms. The sequel trilogy is a hamster wheel. The war never ended. Everything is the same. The Death Star is the same. The rebellion is now the resistance, a far more splintered, shatter shell that can fit into and out the back of a single hangars. The weapon that killed a planet now destroys a planetary system. And what gets me is the individual stories. These are the children of an apocalypse. Finn was taken from his family as a child to become the next round of stormtrooper canon fodder. Rey scrabbled for survival by physically tearing sustenance from the carcasses of a war. Poe was born during the last war and lives to see his adult live suited up into the same conflict his parents fought. Rose is a refugee of a planet destroyed like alderaan and kenari. Every one of them is born on this hamster wheel without a way off. It’s why I have a hard time reconciling rogue one and andor as existing in the same universe as the sequel trilogy, because I think RO and Andor are both so much more cuttingly brutal and so much more hopeful that what the ST provides. Finn and Rey and Rose and Poe are way some substantiation of Andor’s worst nightmares. They’re literally each living the lives Cassian and so many others died to prevent from happening.

[last-minute-hero]

Men Walk Where Gods Play.

I couldn’t keep my balance. The ship was rocking and digging into the shore, bombarded by the angry sea and unyielding land. People were screaming. I was soaked and I felt frozen to the core. Sluggish. The temptation to just … lean against the wall was almost overwhelming. Just a moment of rest. Rest my eyes.

The ship slammed into the ground again, the forward hull digging a trench in the ground as lightning arced across the sky. The reality of screaming, crying, and fighting were suddenly a reality in my head again. Gravity also doing a reality check, as momentum from the impact sent me forward and through a wooden doorway. My body slid across the floor as I rolled out to the deck, having been taking a sad attempt at hiding on the second floor of the galleon.

Hiding. A stowaway. On a slave ship, in this day and age. As a very recently retired young pirate, I was keenly aware of the shipping routes. I knew what happened. I wasn’t innocent. Maybe this was punishment, whatever god had decided to fuck us into the shoreline. Well. Whatever the case was, the Slavers were not interested in who I was. The yelling and screaming were not directed at me. The clashing of steel on steel was not mine. The innocents crying out.. The children.. They were not mine. Not my responsibility.

Rain pelted my skin as I quickly got to my feet, bracing myself against the flagpole as I took in the violence around me. We had definitely been attacked. I saw no Limsan colors. I did, however, see a dark figure darting here and there to Pirates, knocking them overboard or out. Probably both. A mercenary. The ship rocked again, kicking up the screaming again. I finally looked towards one of the sources, and saw a family. Soaked. Pathetic looking. Huddled together and chained to a steel cage that wasn’t big enough for them, but had managed to spit them out during the assaults. They were still attached.

I was no hero. Not my responsibility. I was a damned Pirate a week ago. These people would have been cargo. Teeth gritted again as I trudged through, grabbing an axe off of the deck of the ship as I reared it backwards on approach, the dad going to protect his family. Brave man. Foolish man. But brave. The blade came down on the chain. It took a few more hacks, and they were free. I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore. This certainly wasn’t me risking my life for others. I should have just grabbed a lifeboat, and hoped for the best.

Lifeboat. I barked out orders, screaming over the fighting and other screams. “ Over there! Go! Wait until more people come before you lower it! I will send more! GO! “ That didn’t even sound like my voice. Gods I sounded desperate. Of course I was. I was going to die. Run through by the crazy attacker, or a slaver. The next family was saved, and the next. Slavers became fewer and fewer. But gun shots had started to join in with the thundering of the storm. The slavers were scared. Then I heard a scream. An order. Stop the white haired man. Well. I had white hair. My body didn’t listen, though, as much as I tried to coax it. Gotta get the next slaves. Still life boats. More shots. It felt like time decided to fill me in on the actual amount of trouble I was in. I looked to my side. Like time slowed down just to fuck me patiently. Four Slavers running towards me, one had fired a rifle at me. Did the bullet hit me? Did I just not feel it? Did he miss? Time relented, and a figure landed in front of me, wielding the very essence of Light in his right hand. The ship practically glowed in the thunderstorm with its radiance. A Miqo’te. Dark haired. He was shouting something. It didn’t work. They all stopped and fired at us at the same time. He never left his spot in front of me. Protecting me, or the family. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

He made a slicing motion in the air in front of him, and the bullets.. The slavers were just.. Gone. An arc of light .. I’d never seen anything like it. The flagpoles had all been sliced in half from the width of the attack. They fell over as I blinked, staring at him. Crying. The family. I snapped out of it, and went back to freeing the family. “ Lifeboat. Run. Go. “ It felt robotic. Something about witnessing that made me question reality. I looked back to the miqo’te. He was covered in blood. Why hadn’t he just used such a weapon right off the bat? Why was he trying to knock people out instead of just killing them? Why be so strong if you’re not going to go all the way? I had so many questions.

Then I felt a two children run into my leg. Crying. I picked them both up, the miqo’te giving me a look, but not saying anything as I questioned them both. Parents? Sleeping and not waking up. Dead. I was opening my mouth to finally thank this guy for saving my life. Then an impact on my shoulder as I staggered forward, and the cry of a child. The miqo’te caught me from falling as he lowered me down. Shot. I knew the feeling. I coughed as I looked down, and saw entirely too much crimson. It wasn’t all mine. The child. The bullet had gone straight through my shoulder and hit the child's head. The other child was all alone in this world now. The miqo’te looked down in horror at the child, he didn’t have to ask. Me, or the child. It was obvious who would be fine.

My right shoulder was slowly going limp, as I let the child drop to the ground, trying to stand with the surviving sister. A small miqo’te girl. She wasn’t crying. She already looked mentally gone. But I wouldn't let her die. Not today. “ You have… to get.. off of this ship. GO! “ I blinked, clearly he intended to leave as well? The slavers were regrouping. Hell, I was surprise the one that had shot me wasn’t taking another pot shot. But the look he gave me.. Those eerie white hues.. They were just as bright as that sword. His teeth were bared. Gods, he was growling. It was terrifying.

I held the girl to my chest with one good arm, and ran towards the lifeboat. I heard shots, but I didn’t turn around. One last boat. Save the girl. Last boat. Save one more life. I climbed on, and set the girl down.. Who still hadn’t spoken another word. I was fighting for my breath before I looked back towards the Miqo’te. Dead bodies of slavers surrounded him, but they still came. I started lowering the boat down into the water, only to be greeted with the sight of the man leaping high above the ship, his sword drawn. A roar. A swing. A long arc of energy erupted from the great katana. Lightning flashed. As if the elements fought over who was more dangerous. I would have put money on him. Then nothing. I came to with my back on the sand, the ocean lapping at my soaked feet as I sputtered. Girl. Girl! I looked down, she was at my side. Still wordless. Ok. She was still alive. I heard hissing. What sounded like two waterfalls, and water hitting something extremely hot. I slowly sat up. Dozens of survivors littered the shore, any slavers that lived were tied up, or being beaten. Whatever justice the mob had decided to unleash upon them. But the Galleon had been sliced clean in half. A straight lined hole had been dug into the ground beneath the waves, which water was still cascading into. God. Had his sword done that? What the hell was he? Was HE a God? Crying. The girl wasn’t at my side anymore, I was so dumb founded by the scene before me, I hadn’t even noticed her sudden absence.

I slowly got to my feet in what I imagined in my head to be in a hurry, still feeling like I was in some sort of foggy dream, and I’d wake up from this land of Gods and swords that scared the shit out of me. But my dream took me to a miqo’te male, who’d been placed on wooden wreckage, crimson from his wounds mixing with sweat and sea salt. God, his whole upper body was covered with scars. Was he dead? I fell to my knees beside him, putting my head to his chest to listen for a heart beat. Still there. He was still breathing. The sword was in the scabbard beside him, almost in a death grip.

The more I stared, the more questions I had. I could almost make out blue pulsing lines under his skin. Who was this man? WHAT, was this man? The small girl had found a canteen, and was pouring water on his face. Not the first thing I would have done, but it worked. The man coughed, and shot straight up, breathing quickly as those creepy white hues looked at us, then around. “ Everyone… is safe? “ He said it between breaths, this was a very sharp contrast from his tone earlier. Almost light hearted, filled with concern. Caring. Earlier, that growl.. I shivered at the memory, but nodded. “ Aye. Everyone.. Well,  most  everyone made it to shore.. I can’t say for sure.. If.. “

He looked at me, as if to stop my words in front of the girl. I looked at her, complying with the visual request. The three of us surveyed the damage before he slowly stood up, me and the girl doing so as well. “ Who.. the hell are you? “ The miqo’te was standing there. He was wounded. He should have been seeking medical attention. But he was speaking into something. .  “ Medical Assistance will be here soon for you, and the others. Try and keep them calm, until they arrive.. also.. make sure none of the slavers get away. “ My teeth gritted, feeling abit ignored. “ I said who the HELL are you man?! Ya just exploded a ship! Yer shootin’ .. GODS knows what from your damned sw* “ His voice was light as he spoke, and the asshole had the balls to smile at me. “ Ruke. Yours? “ Mine?! If I had the balls to deck him right there after all he’d done, I would have.  

But I answered. “ Hutch. “ I said it simply, but I tried to inch in some audible annoyance. He didn’t seem to notice. He was definitely injured. He was not one of the Gods. That, or Gods could be put through galleon planks, and take damage. “ Hutch.. Were you a slaver? “ I froze. Of course I wasn’t. I was a stowaway ON a slaver ship, a pirate stowaway. I thought of how to explain this before he continued. “ It doesn’t matter. You.. risked your life to save those people. I saw what you did. The will to put others above yourself.. Is a rare trait. “ He said it simply, his voice quiet again. “ We need more of that in this world, Hutch. We also need forgiveness.  Second Chances.  "

I stared at him, trying to absorb all of this.  Second chances. Hell, in my head, what I’d done was stupid. Reckless. I felt the little girl hug my leg. I was all she had left. I was going to protect her. The feeling came so freely, it was scary. A daughter all of a sudden. Ruke smiled at me, a sad smile. A guilty look in those white hues. He blamed himself for those deaths. I knew it. I felt the same. Was this supposed to be a good feeling? She squeezed my leg again, but still said nothing. “ Alright. “ I answered softly, I knew why his voice had lowered. I didn’t like this feeling at all.

“ I’ll find you.. We’ll find you.. A better path. For you.  “ His words got more hoarse as he spoke, almost wavering on his feet. Then I saw a group of others running down the beach. A small miqo’te woman, what a commanding presence she had, for one so small. I could feel it from here. Any pretense of business disappeared from her yellowed gaze when she saw the shape of Ruke, however. She called out to him, her voice hitching as she ran to us. To him. Right on time, he fell over, and into her arms. She cried out for someone named Jaxx. The others that had come with them were passing out medical supplies, and a red headed miqo’te male ran over, checking on her and Ruke.

I left them. I took the girl. I didn’t know her name, and she didn’t talk. I couldn't feel. Great combination. I headed to Ul'dah with the girl the next morning. I wonder if I'd ever meet him again.