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noisynaia · 2 years ago

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Distant Suns - Chapter 3

Among the Stars: Distant Suns

Chapter title: The Departure

summary: You have lived on Tatooine your entire life, never even been off-planet. Your path crosses a mysterious Mandalorian and his even more mysterious child. You end up having to leave your home after getting caught up with the mysterious duo by mistake.

word count: 3.2k

rating: E

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader

note: No use of (y/n). The reader goes by she/her pronouns. I am not super satisfied with how this chapter turned out tbh, but it is what it is, I guess. This has not been beta-read and English isn't my native language

crossposted on my ao3

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Din is blaming himself, there is no one else he can blame. He had been sloppy, had gotten too comfortable, and let his guard down, and now he is paying for the consequences.

The memory of the Dressellian’s words is flashing on repeat in his head, an insidious smile on the thug’s lips as he had looked at the delicate fabric of your handkerchief.

“Huh, what a pretty name. It would sure be a shame if anything happened to her.”

He shouldn’t be lingering on the planet, he should go to the spaceport, get the Crest and fly himself and the kid as far away from danger as possible, but his conscience is holding him back. He doesn’t know how far the Dressellian and his men will go to take revenge, but Din has a feeling that they will go far, and that they have the resources to find out who and where you are.

He had noticed a shadow since he had left the market, feeling that he was being followed. It had turned out to be some associates of one of his old bounties, a high-profile member of a crime syndicate with base on Bakura. Din had taken out many of the mobsters but had been vastly outnumbered, not getting them all, and they probably have even more people on the planet. His first priority was to keep the child safe. He had lost your gift in the fight. The Dresselian had gotten his hands on the bundle, untying the fabric and letting the fruits hit the ground with hollow thuds.

Din knew that they must have shadowed him since the market and saw you talking with him and the kid. He doesn’t even really know you, yet you have shown him and his foundling so much kindness in the few moments he has spent with you. Din can not let them hurt you.

He has to find you before they do.

___

Your heart is racing, you can hear your pulse throbbing in your ears.

“I am not gonna hurt you, but I need you to be quiet.”

Okay, It’s Mando; he is not going to hurt you, and whatever is going on - you need to stay quiet…

You don’t know what’s going on, but even though you barely know Mando you trust him, he told you he is not going to hurt you and you believe that. You stop struggling, but your heart is still beating, at what feels like a thousand miles per second.

You smell the faint scent of blaster gas on his glove, has he been shooting? Is the child with him? Are any of them hurt? Good maker, you hope the child is okay.

You are soon getting an answer to your question, as the satchel bag, from which the child’s little head is sticking up, is shoved into your arms by Mando. The little green kid is looking a little dissatisfied and startled, but otherwise okay.

“Stay here and keep quiet, I’ll come back for you in a little while.”

The cold, stoic tone of his voice is sending a chill through your body. It all feels like a stressful dream where you don’t really know what is going on, you watch silently as the Mandalorien turns around to leave you and the kid alone in the alley. You have so many questions, but you know that you will have to wait to get them answered. First priority now is to keep yourself and the child safe from whatever danger you have found yourself in, so you focus on the little youngling in your arms whose big eyes are looking up at you. You begin to rock him gently in your arms, not sure if it is to comfort him or yourself, but it seems to help you both.

You realise that even through all the turmoil you still have the little metal nut in your hand.

You pull out a decorative string from your suede boots, beading the little hexagonal ring through it and secure it with a knot, pulling the string over your head before tucking it securely away under your tunic and undershirt. The cold metal feels nice against your sternum, you feel like your entire body is on fire from fear and adrenaline and the cool metal is grounding you, even though it’s a short-lived pleasure since it doesn’t take long for the metal to absorb the heat from your skin.

You are not sure for how long you have been sitting with the kid in the dark alley, your sense of time completely gone. It could be 15 minutes or an hour. You are just sitting, rocking the child and staring into the air right in front of you like you’re in a trance. Your head is running at a thousand miles, but you are not able to stop and actually focus on a single thought.

You are suddenly pulled out of your daze by a loud bang, followed by the sound of blaster shots. Pinching your eyes shut, you instinctively shield the child in your arms. A couple more shots are fired and a distressing cry is heard, that you are horrified to realise is coming from a dying person. You try to calm your nerves but have little luck. You want to scream, but know that you have to keep quiet, so you simply hold your breath till the sound stops.

Mando’s shiny armour reappears in your field of vision, blaster tightly clutched in his hand. It is scary how quiet he is when he moves despite how tall and bulky he is built.

“Mando, what’s going on?”

You watch him lower the weapon. Mando sighs, looking down at his boots before turning his black visor directly to you.

“I’m a bounty hunter. The friends of an old bounty of mine are, apparently, here in Mos Eisley. They are some pretty serious guys, part of a big crime syndicate and they are not exactly fond of me and not the forgiving types. And I have reason to believe they will go far for revenge.” He takes a short break, shaking his head in frustration.

“They saw you talking with me at the fruit stand.” The tone of his voice dropping an octave. “They know your name, I lost your handkerchief in the turmoil… I’m really sorry for bringing you into this.”

He is cut off by a sound from the street outside the alley.

“Down.” Mando whispers.

You crouch down again, the child still placed tightly in your arms. There’s a pause, the only sound is your quiet but frantic breath, which you try to control as well as you can considering the circumstances. Mando scans the surroundings but doesn’t seem to find anything. He looks back at you, nodding his helmet for you to get up after he has confirmed the coast is clear.

“We have to go.” He states, his voice low and authoritarian.

“Yeah…” You croak out, letting him lead you out of the alley.

You step over the dead body of the person Mando had shot, clutching the child close to your chest, shielding the view of the corpse from him as much as you can. You feel your stomach turns, and you are afraid you’re going to vomit, but you manage to keep it down.

The journey to the spaceport hangars is a haze, Mando dragging you along, not letting go of you, even once. He leads you through the dark back alleys of Mos Eisley, his glove-covered hand firm around your wrist, but not so tight that it hurts. You no longer hold the canvas bag with the kid in your arms, having crossed the strap over your torso instead, wearing the bag as it is intended to make you move quicker. You try not to think too much, just focusing on following the moving armour in front of you. You clutch your free hand tightly around the strap of the bag with the kid as its precious content.

You are not that familiar with the spaceport, you don’t really have a reason to, you have never left the planet before. You are surprised when the Mandalorian is leading you to the only hangar you are somewhat acquainted with, the one that is housing Peli’s mechanic shop. You know Peli, you actually know her pretty well. She has come to the inn every Sunday to play sabacc with Yina since you were a child. The familiarity is helping to calm you a little as you sneak into the enclosed space with Mando, having four walls and a roof around you is a safe feeling.

You throw your back against one of the metal walls, sliding down against it until you’re sitting on the floor, again clutching the bag with the kid tightly to your chest.

“Are you okay?” Mando asks you, towering over you as he looks down at you in his standing form. You are surprised by the gentleness of his voice after experiencing him in his brute bounty hunter mode.

“I’m okay, just a little startled.” You croak, feeling way more than just a little startled.

The kid, who had been still and quiet since he was left with you in the alley, begins to stir in your arms and let out a small grunt.

“Oh, sorry, baby. Am I squeezing you?” You whisper under your breath, loosening your hold on the little one, without letting completely go of him. You are still on high alert and your instincts tell you to keep the babe safe.

He seems to be satisfied again, getting comfortable in your lab as his head and shoulder are free and the rest of his body is wrapped in the canvas like a tiny sleeping bag.

The three of you are approached by one of Peli’s pit droids. Mando seems weirdly reluctant to talk to it, but asks to see Peli. The Droid tells Mando to follow it to lead him to the mechanic, but Mando turns to you before going with it.

“We are safe in here.” He reassures you before leaving you and the kid on the floor of the hangar.

The child is removing his arms from the bag, stretching his little hands towards Mando as he disappears behind some crates with the droid, uttering a weak,‘Patu’. He is, however, quick to accept being left with you again, seemingly aware that his father figure’s still in the hangar. It was clear that the kid had known that keeping quiet was important before, but now he is looking up at you with his big eyes, softly babbling as he leans more into your embrace. You can’t help but smile down at him despite the tumultuous evening you have had.

“You don’t say.” You tell him, playing along with his incomprehensible baby chatter. The calming presence of the child is a great distraction from your frayed nerves. You don’t know how long you have been sitting with the child when Mando reappears. Peli is hot on his heel, and she doesn’t look pleased.

“Mando’s pulled you into his mess, huh.” She addresses you, standing with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

“Write a packing list, I’ll send a droid to the inn. You might be all grown up, but I’m not letting you leave before you have spoken with Yina.” Peli interjects before scooping up the child from your lap, who greets the woman like an old friend, happily babbling at her.

You look up at her questioningly, but Peli is focusing on the kid so you turn to Mando instead. You form your lips to ask what Peli means, but Mando speaks before you get to it.

“It might not be safe for you in Mos Eisley for a time.” He speaks slowly through the modulator.

You are already beginning to plan on where you can stay, you have an old school friend who moved to Mos Espa a couple of years ago. Maybe you can stay with her for a while? But when Mando adds. “Or on Tatooine in general…”

This knocks the air out of your lungs, what in the worlds are you going to do?! But, yet again, Mando gives you an answer before you get to ask for one.

“I got you involved… I’ll keep you safe till you can return to the planet again.”

You learn that Peli and Mando are acquainted, Mando had apparently let Peli in on the situation you had found yourself in while they were alone. They had seemingly both come to the conclusion that leaving the planet under the cover of night was the best gameplan and that you had to come with. You staying on Tatooine was simply too dangerous.

You get the items Yina will have to pack for you scribbled down on a piece of parchment, which Peli sends to the inn with a droid. You are now sitting on one of the many metal crates in the hangar while Mando and Peli work on getting the Crest ready. The kid is back in your lap on the verge of falling asleep, and you’re mindlessly patting his back while looking straight ahead, eyes not focusing on anything specific. You suspect that you might still be in shock. Some time goes by like this, but you are pulled back to reality when Yina steps into the hangar, distraught painting her gentle features, until she locks eyes with you. She lets go of the two bags, which you later learn are packed with your clothes, toiletries and a few personal belongings, heading straight towards you. You jump down from the crate, gently placing the kid down on the floor to embrace Yina, who is headed towards you with outstretched arms.

“Are you okay?” She whispers into your hair as she hugs you tightly.

“I’m okay.” You confirm, and you feel her body relaxing a little by your words.

“Did Peli tell you what happened in the note?” You ask her.

“Yes, she did…” She sighs, still not letting go of you.

You stand like this for a while, a comforting embrace without saying anything. Yina gently rocking you from side to side, until the child thinks he has been ignored for long enough and begins to tug at the fabric of your pants. You look down at him as Yina lets go of you. You can’t help but chuckle at the little one. His big ears wiggling as you pick him up. He snuggles his little body into your embrace, big sleepy eyes looking from you to Yina. You feel your heart melt a little and it seems that Yinas heart does too, she gently strokes one of his ears as she speaks in a gentle voice still looking at the kid, but talking to you.

“You know, I have been thinking that you should get out and see the galaxy for a long time now. I had hoped that it would be under less drastic circumstances, but still…”

She moves her eyes from the child to you.

“There is much beauty out there, you deserve to see that.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat. Sweet loving Yina, is she going to be okay without you to help her. Will you be okay without her?

“Will you promise me one thing?” She asks you.

You nod, rearranging the kid in your arms so his head can rest against your shoulder.

“Find some water, a lake or maybe even an ocean. I still miss the lakes I grew up around, I want you to see how pretty water can be.”

You smile at this, remembering the tales of green landscapes and forests and lakes she would tell you as a child.

“I will try.” You say, making a weak smile appear on Yina’s face.

You and Yina sit down, gently talking as Mando and Peli finish the last things that needs to be done to the ship before your departure. The kid has fallen asleep on your shoulder. You are finally feeling like the adrenaline is leaving your body, finally making you able to have a coherent thought again. You begin to worry about the prospect of spending what could be weeks, maybe months on a small ship with who is practically a complete stranger. You have always had an easy time getting along with people and you have enjoyed the time you have spent with Mando so far, but that time has been very sparse. You really like the child - his cute face and sweet demeanour already has you wrapped around his finger.

But you don’t get to worry too much before Mando approaches you and Yina. He stands like he is going to say something, but he pauses, looking at the sleeping child in your arms before finally speaking.

“The Crest is ready to take off now, and we have to go soon. We can’t still be here when the sun begins to set.”

Mando holds his arms out to take the child from you, stepping a little away from the two of you again so you can say goodbye to your mother figure in peace.

“Yina I…” You begin, but you don’t know how to continue. You have not been away from her more than a couple of days since she took you in as an infant. You love her so much, and you don’t know any words that can fairly describe how much she means to you. She decides to talk instead.

“I won’t tell you that you were like the daughter I never had.” Her big black eyes are shiny with unshed tears. “You have been my daughter from the moment I first held you in my arms.”

She pulls you into a tight embrace, petting your hair.

“I love you my little star.” Her voice is now shaky. Your own grip is getting tighter.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.” You whisper, with confidence. You have never called her mother before, but there has never been any doubt that that is how your relationship is.She squeezes you before finally letting go, her cheeks now wet. You can only remember a few times, in your entire life, that you have seen her cry and you know that you have to go now to not begin crying yourself. Peli loads your bags onto the ship for you, joining you and Yina after she is done to say her goodbye and holding a comforting arm around Yina when you go to the ramp of the Crest. Mando has put the kid into the pod that Yina also had brought with her from the inn along with Mandos few items he had left in his room. The Mandalorian says goodbye to Peli and Yina before joining you at the ramp.

“Mando!” Peli calls out, making him stop halfway up the ramp, he turns on his heels.

“You better take good care of her.” The short woman’s stern look could cut through metal. He does not answer, at least not with words. He gives her a single strong nod instead, much more powerful than any word could have been. It is a confirmation - a promise, he will keep you safe.

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davidkeane17 · 2 years ago

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New Jedi Order Canon

Luke Skywalker Ahsoka Tano Leia Organa Mara Jade Ezra Bridger Galen Marek Cal Kestis Jacen Syndulla Grogu Ben Solo Rowan Freemaker Kyle Katarn Corran Horn Tionne Solusar Tahiri Veila Mira Wren Bridger Halina Lassar Mikah Coan Kyp Durron Merrin Alaric Pyp Tal Hennix Tai Voe Tenel Ka Djo Zekk Kam Solusar Streen Daeshara'cor Maris Brood X2 Rosh Penin Dass Jennir Raynar Thul Cilghal Vima Da Boda Alema Rar Nuru Kungurama Kirana Ti Keyan Farlander Lowbacca Petro Katooni Ganodi Byph Zatt Gungi Rachi Sitra Ikrit

Zabraks Wookiees Twi'Leks Chiss Mon Calamari Ewoks Droid Togruta Jawas Rodians Trandoshan Porgs Caretakers Bothan Mandalorian Ithorians Mirialans Duros Nautolan Kel Dor Gungan Clone Quarren Karkarodon Lurmen Aleena Abednedo Pantoran Theelin Besallsk Loth Cat Loth Wolf Utapaun Chagrian Talz Dressellians Arcona Dug Gran Klatooinians Devaronin Snivvian Ishi Tib Ortolan Ugnaught Shistavanen Muun Aqualish Kaminoan Toydarians Bith Weequay Gamorrean Sullustan Lasat Tusken Raiders Solonian Kushiban Falleen Togorian Pyke

Jedi Masters Jedi Knights Padawans Younglings

#new jedi order

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joel-millerr · 4 years ago

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It All Makes Sense Now

Chapter Five of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.8K

Summary: The three of you land on Corvus to find a Jedi, but what starts out as a simple job is quickly turned into a truth you definitely weren’t prepared to face

A/N: okay sorry peeps but no smut in this one...I did say slow burn, right? hahahahaha. there's a bit of fluff towards the end, but this chapter focuses more on the reader's relationship with the force and their conflicting feelings, but it's not all bad, we have a special guest in the next two chapters! besides that... this basically a shit ton of angst. also, I split this chapter in two so the next update should be within the next week?

Warnings: ummmm there’s a small mention of torture? (like in the ep the Jedi with the prisoners strung up outside the magistrate’s gate but other than that... I don't think there’s anything but pls tell me if there’s something I missed!)

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Your body jolts awake to the sudden drop out of hyperspace. Panic quickly sets into your blood as you try to get your bearings, but once you see Mando sitting quietly in his chair along with the Child sitting on the control panel just to his right, your heartbeat steadies, and a wave of relief washes over you. Using the heels of your palms to rub at your eyes and clear your vision, you catch sight of the planet Mando had mentioned just before takeoff on Tatooine through the transparisteel.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” He addresses as he hears you stir, still keeping the visor glued to the view in front of him.

“Mmm,” You groan back, still somewhat asleep and unable to use your words to answer him properly.

“Corvus, this is the place,” Mando’s voice cuts through the gentle hum of the ship. “I’ve detected a beacon.” You’re about to answer him when you realize that he wasn’t even talking to you to begin with. He was talking to the kid.

The Child looks up at him, and coos as if they’re having a conversation with each other even though they clearly don’t speak the same language, and don’t understand what the other is saying.

“I’m gonna start the landing cycle. You better get back in your seat.”

He looks up again at Mando, but doesn’t budge from where he’s currently seated. Turning his gaze to one of the levers on the control panel, he stares at the durasteel ball just atop of the handle. You’re not sure why the kid loves that ball so much, but it clearly means a lot to him because you’ve seen the way he gets upset or fussy whenever Mando tries to take it away from him.

“Hey,” He warns—not in an aggressive way, but a stern way like a child being scolded by their parent. “What did I tell you? Back in your seat.”

This time the kid listens, letting out a chuff of air before crawling down the little ledge he was seated on previously and gently scuttling back to the seat to your left.

Maker, your body aches. Sleeping in the chair every night has seriously done a number on your bones and muscles. Twisting your upper body and using the back of the chair to hold yourself in place, a series of smalls cracks echo through the cockpit, and it somewhat releases a bit of the tautness in your back and along your spine. Suddenly becoming aware that you haven’t taken a sanisteam in…well you’re not sure exactly how long it’s been since you left Tatooine, but it’s definitely been long enough; you could seriously benefit from one right now.

Using your palms to push yourself up to your feet by your knees, you inform Mando you’ll be heading down to clean yourself up. “I’ll be ready to go once we land.”

“All right.” He says matter-of-factly.

You wait a couple of seconds before moving, elongating your arms above your head before bringing one of them behind you and stretching out your bicep, holding your elbow with your other arm. You repeat the process with the opposite arm and feel your body slowly coming back to life. A sanisteam is starting to sound better and better with every second. Your feet guide you to the ladder and take two rungs at a time, feet hitting the ground in record time. Not even bothering to wait until you reach the fresher, you strip out of your clothes and gather them together in a small pile atop one of the crates lingering around in the hull.

Once in the fresher, you turn on the water to almost the hottest setting possible. It stings your skin at first, but your body quickly acclimates to the heat, muscles slowly relaxing in response to the gentle massage the showerhead exudes as it hits you, releasing the stiffness from your body. Truthfully, you could stay in this tiny space for hours and just let the water continue to cascade down your skin until your fingertips were wrinkled like a Dressellian prune, but you don’t want to use up all of the hot water since you’re not the only one on this ship who needs to sanisteam. The longer the water pressure falls onto your upper body, you begin to feel a sharp pain on your left shoulder, and you’re forced to recoil from the water in an effort to stop the throbbing ache. Inspecting your naked form to find the source of the discomfort, you notice a large, plump purple bruise nestled between the crook of your neck and the top of your shoulder. It’s a dark shade of purple, with swirls of yellow and forest green surrounding it. When the Kriff—

Oh.

It suddenly comes back to you.

The firm grip on your shoulder.

The feeling of Mando’s cock on your tongue.

His moans.

Fuck, it’s enough to make your own groan echo through the walls of the refresher.

Maker, pull yourself together!

Giving yourself a gentle slap on the cheek in an effort to knock those filthy thoughts out of your mind and knowing the Crest will be landing in the next couple of minutes, you quickly wash the grime off your body while trying to be mindful of your bruise, and rinse yourself off before grabbing your only remaining clean pair of clothes left, dressing hurriedly just as you hear his footsteps reach the top of the ladder. Your clothes stick to your wet skin, and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but you try not to pay too much attention to it; you’ll dry up eventually.

The Mandalorian descends the ladder, the Child burrowed in one arm, then hands him off to you as he heads to the armory to grab his pulse rifle.

“Hey,” He says before calling your name to get your attention. Turning his body towards you, his arm extends out in your direction, a blaster in his hand. Your eyes shift down to the gun, taking notice of it before your brows pull together tightly, shifting your gaze back up to him in confusion.

“You should probably take this back. Just in case,” He gestures the gun at you, holding the barrel of it so you can grab the handle. It’s a small act, giving you back your blaster, but there’s an unspoken message as he hands you your gun. He now trusts you enough not to shoot him and run off, and at the same time, this gives you the reassurance you needed that he no longer views you as just a quarry, but as his partner.

Putting the kid down for a moment to grab your bag and ruffle through it to retrieve your thigh holster, you strap it around your leg and plop the blaster into the pouch. Once you turn around to pick the Kid back up, you notice he’s already by the back ramp with Mando, both waiting for you to catch up with them.

You head down the ramp first, walking a few feet away from the Crest and taking an immediate scan of the area, as you always do whenever you’re in new territory. It comes at almost as a shock to you that Mando doesn’t instantly head down after you. Instead, he stays at the top of the ramp with the kid, waiting for you to give them the ‘okay’. The sun can barely penetrate the dense amount of cloud here, the area is covered in fog as far as the eye can see, making you shift anxiously. The faint cry of the native beasts’ boom in the distance, making your skin crawl.

Mando’s landed the Crest in a small clearing. The trees appear to be snags—lifeless due to its climate and the lack of sunlight, making the whole planet even more eerie. The quicker you meet the Jedi, the quicker you can get off this planet.

“Not much to see here,” You announce, slightly disappointed by the scenery. When you don’t immediately see a threat, you gesture with your hand that it’s safe to come down, and so he does. The fact that Mando now acknowledges the routine you’ve created isn’t lost on you. In truth, it makes your heart swoon because you both know that he doesn’t needto wait for you. Mando’s more than capable of checking for threats himself, and defending you both if someone tries to ambush you, but he knows it puts you at ease to check for yourself, and the fact that he’s indulging you in this small service shows you he’s more of a softy than he lets on.

As Mando walks towards you, he hears the kid huffing behind him and turns his body to face the little baby waddling down the ramp before falling back on his bum. You make out a small sphere in his hands and realize it’s the knob from the lever in the cockpit. When did he snatch that and how did Mando not see him take it?

“What did I say about that?” He disciplines, taking the ball from his hands and holding it out in front of him. “This needs to stay in the ship.” The Child looks up at him fondly, chattering incoherently as he watches Mando place the ball in his utility belt.

“Never had dealings with a Jedi before,” He admits before leaning down to pick up the Child and placing him in the makeshift pouch he designed for the baby that’s strapped across his cuirass. “Let’s head into town. See if we can pick up a lead.”

He walks ahead of you just by a couple feet. Your hand hovers over your blaster the entire time, body on edge as you both make your way through the forest. The air is hot and humid, almost suffocating—you can only imagine how hot Mando must feel under all that armor. Your clothes stick to you like glue, a mix of water from the sanisteam as well as from the damp air. Every now and then, the Child babbles nonsense and Mando answers him like he knows exactly what the kid is saying. “Don’t worry, Kid. We’re okay.”

It’s quite endearing, seeing such a gentle side to the Mandalorian. You know not many people have had the opportunity to see these little moments, making this that much more special. Watching two beings, appearing to have nothing in common, and clearly coming from two very different upbringings, but having such a deep connection you’re not sure you’ll ever fully understand is quite a beautiful sight. It makes you appreciate these moments so much more. Mando’s letting you in on these precious exchanges, and you’ll cherish them for as long as you live.

After walking for what feels like hours, off in the distance you catch sight of a giant wall made of duracrete, and can faintly make out little blobs at the top of the wall; soldiers by the looks of it.

“A fortified city?” You ask him.

“Seems like it.” He answers as you draw closer to the gates. “Let me do the talking, all right?” He says, more of an order than an actual statement, but you choose not to argue. Mando usually knows better than you, and you’ve shown that you have a tendency to lose your temper, therefore he’s definitely the better mediator between you two.

As you both appear from the edge of the forest, the guards atop the parapet flock to the front gate, their rifles pointed at you. Mando stops just a few metres shy of the gate, waiting. A man suddenly appears, studying you both.

“State your business.” He shouts, standoffish.

“Been tracking for a few days,” The Mandalorian begins to say. You continue studying the gunslinger as well as the other soldiers whose rifles are still pointed at you. Hand continuing to hover merely inches above your blaster, your body fighting the urge to turn this into a fight. “Looking for a layover.”

The man shifts his gaze between you and Mando, clearly debating whether or not to shoot you both where you stand.

“Nice armor.” He jests.

Kriff, you don’t like the look of this. You’re both severely outgunned, and despite the beskar amour Mando wears, that doesn’t guarantee that you’ll live through this if a fight ensues.

The man to your left doesn’t answer, opting to gauge the gunslinger’s demeanor, waiting for him to press you again. “You a hunter, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Both of you?” His stare turns to you, so you glare back at him, refusing to back down and cower under his own piercing scowl.

“Yes.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

The helmet turns slightly in your direction as if warning you to watch your tone. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you straighten out your shoulders and let your arm drop to your side, no longer hovering over your blaster.

“Guild?”

“Last I checked.” Mando answers, a glint of annoyance is hidden under the deepness of his baritone.

The man studies you two for a couple more seconds, then orders the guards to open the gate. Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you start to feel like this will be the beginning of a very tense day. Better to keep quiet and let Mando handle this, since you tend to shoot first then ask questions later. Your partner is much more of the level-headed one—who would have thought that?

The city itself is small, and very quiet—way too quiet for any normal city. Every city and village you’ve visited have been vibrant and loud, with native villagers and visitors mingling together, but here? The residents walk silently, keeping their heads down, and only peeking at you both through the corners of their eyes. The guards walk around, hands planted firmly on their rifles, as if to be looking for trouble. Immediately, your bones tense and that anger you have trouble controlling begins to bubble up inside you. These villagers seem trapped—Maker, even the kids aren’t running around. They’re stuck to their parents like glue, never taking a single step away from them. This is a city under a gruesome Magistrate.

As you make your way down the main road, Mando catches sight of a vendor and heads for their stand. “Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone…” But as he draws closer to the elderly woman behind the table, they quickly turn their back to you and disappear down a quiet alley.

Eyebrows pulling tightly, your jaw clenches, completely astounded at how these people are too afraid to even talk to you. What kind of monster forces its citizens to live in constant fear to the point of being too afraid to speak to travelers?

Before you know it, you’re following the vendor down the alley when you see another elderly man bending down and whispering to some younglings. Your neck cranes to the side, and you walk over to him cautiously, hoping you won’t startle him.

“Excuse me,”

Once he catches you in his peripherals, he ushers the kids away before rising to his feet and turning his body to you.

“We need some information.” You announce, trying to keep your voice as gentle as you can despite the white-hot rage cooking up in your veins. “We’re looking for someone. Could you help—”

“Please,” he pleads as he holds a palm out in front of him to stop you from elaborating, voice quiet as to not draw any attention to himself. “Do not speak to any of us.”

“Look,” Mando interjects, his attitude becoming less patient as time ebbs on. “I just need to know—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re approached by two armed guards. Your hand flies to your holster, and Mando quickly shoots his hand out to stop you.

“The Magistrate wants to see you.” Their voices come out heavily distorted by their voice-box. It’s deep and frightening—no wonder these villagers are terrified. Even you are somewhat taken aback by their aggressive inflection, you can only imagine how these people must feel. Completely helpless and cut off from the anyone else, they don’t have a fighting chance even if they wanted to overthrow their government.

The old man leans over and takes a step back as one of the guards takes a step towards him. Your body cuts the droid off, putting yourself between the both of you. They’re wearing what appears to be a gas mask, but you stare at him, imagining where his eyes would be and continue to burn your own eyes into him, full of poison and anger. Inside, you’re begging him to make a move; to give you an excuse to shoot him right where he stands, but Mando’s visor snaps towards you, shooting you a warning as to not do something stupid. “Let’s go.” He says to you.

You follow Mando and the first guard down the main street, keeping an eye out on that other guard that treads behind you. The soldier leads you to another gate and kriff, you’re completely dumbfounded by what’s in front of you.

Along the cobblestoned street just ahead of the second gate are…prisoners. Prisoners strung up on various poles with a tiny podium to stand on, surrounded by what looks to be some kind of electrical barrier around them. The hostages are disturbingly frail, with many of them scarred with markings of fresh and old burn wounds you assume are from the bars circling around them. One man nearly doubles over and is electrocuted, its power so strong you can see the outline of their bones when the voltage hits their skin. You shudder at the sight of them, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.

They whisper desperately, begging for help but Mando continues walking, only offering one of the prisoners a quick glance. You stop in front of one of the hostages, eyes looking up at him as he cries, pleading over and over again for your help. Your jaw slacks, wanting to say something, but knowing nothing you say will matter. You can’t help them, at least not right now. Making a mental note to tell Mando once you head back to the Crest that you will free these prisoners, your eyes meet with the man’s own droopy, hooded lids, and hope they somehow can understand.

“Hey, girl,” A guard yells out. Looking down at the ground, you hear his heavy footsteps walk towards you, each step getting louder and louder as he nears you. “Keep moving.” He warns.

Biting your tongue and white knuckling your fists at your sides, you catch up with Mando, choosing no longer to wait till you are alone to whisper, “We’re freeing these prisoners before we leave,” through gritted teeth.

Mando’s helmet dips forward just enough for you to see it. The faster you find this Jedi, the sooner these prisoners can be freed. Once the first gate closes behind you, the second one opens and your jaw downright drops.

Firstly, there’s a fucking moat in front of you. When you and Mando were walking through the woodland in search of the village, you hadn’t even come across any body of water, and here the Magistrate is living with a full-on fucking moat. If that wasn’t enough, Maker there are trees here—not just stumps or snag trees, but actual trees flourishing in her small haven. They appear to be some sort of pine tree, but you can’t be sure since you’re too far away from them. Somehow even the air feels different here. Logically, you know that makes no sense, but it must be due to the contrast between how the Magistrate lives compared to how her own people live. There are hostages strung up, and being tortured, citizens who are too scared to even talk to you, living in tiny homes with little to no resources, and this one person is living with such excess and wealth, all the while quite literally separating themselves from the city’s population. It’s disgusting, it’s totalitarian, and the thought of people living in such horrible conditions is making your head spin.

It’s not that you were naïve enough to think there weren’t people living in such awful conditions, it was just that you had never actually seen this firsthand, so it was easy to forget that not everyone was as fortunate as you. Sure, water was a luxury back when you were just a child, but you had never been oppressed or discouraged from being a child. You had the luxury of walking around the city, and not having the stress or fear that any minute now a guard could kill you for doing something as normal as talking to another person. Not knowing how many more planets are under such control, it makes you want to search this entire galaxy and save every single citizen from this kind of barbarity.

The Magistrate is standing by the edge of her moat, appearing to throw something in the water. Maker, if she has fish in this moat, you’ll be… literally fucking speechless.

She addresses Mando to come forward, so he does. You opt to stay by the gate—deciding that it’s would be too difficult to hide the anger on your face and choose to wait for him to return.

“So she wants you to kill the Jedi?”

“Yes.” He says before putting the Child down gingerly on a smooth boulder.

According to the Magistrate, the Jedi is hiding somewhere in the forest, so now you and Mando have been searching aimlessly through the vast amount of woodland for any sign of a Jedi—whatever what means, but after what felt like hours of searching, your feet were throbbing. After ten minutes of begging him to take a small break, he finally gave in.

Plopping yourself down next to the Child, you continue to pester Mando with more questions. “And she’ll give you that beskar staff if you kill them?”

A drawn-out sign emits from the helmet. “Yes.”

“But we’re not doing that, right?” The question coming out rhetorically.

“No.” He answers curtly.

“Okay, good.” The conversation goes silent for a few seconds, and then your lips are moving again. “I really want to head back in there and shoot that woman right between the eyes.”

A noise comes from him that you’ve never heard before. Was…was that a fucking laugh? Is he fucking laughing at you? “You wouldn’t even get that close before one of her droids would shoot you down.”

“Believe it or not, Mando, but I’m a pretty decent fi—”

All of a sudden, Mando turns his body to yours and throws a gloved hand over your mouth. A small yelp escapes you but is muffled by leather. Your own hand flies to his, struggling to remove his kriffing hand from your face, tugging and trying to pull away from him.

“Stop!” He whispers, before raising a finger to his helmet where his mouth would be, ordering you to be quiet. Giving him a nod, he lets go of you, and presses a button on the side of his helmet then pivots around, scanning the area for lifeforms. Off in the distance, a large beast trots along the forest edge and Mando’s body relaxes.

“False alarm,”

“What the hell, Mando?” You force out through jagged breaths.

“Why are you here?”

Both your bodies whip around and catch the sight of a female Togruta standing just a few metres away from you. Her blue stripped lekku are enlarged around her round face and extend all the way to her midthighs, giving an indication that she’s of a mature age, although her face is clean of wrinkles, her features still smooth, suggesting she’s still well within her prime. Thick montrals pointing towards the sky like mountain tops, her orange skin reminds you of Tatooine sunsets—warm, and deep. White pigments outlining her cheeks, forehead, and eyebrows, Maker, she is stunning, and intimidating.

In her hands, she’s holding what appears to be two beaming swords. Not unlike the electrical barrier that the Magistrate had her prisoners surrounded by, although this type of energy looks much more elegant and impressive. Its luminescent white light purrs, you can hear the humming even though you’re a couple metres away from her. You’ve never seen a weapon quite like it. It’s much more of sophisticated weapon than you’ve been privy to seeing, but it’s exceptionally beautiful.

“Ahsoka Tano?” Mando asks, holding his hands out in front of him, taking a very cautious step towards her. She tenses, one of the laser swords comes up and she holds it across her chest, keeping the other steadily by her side. Your hand placed firmly on your blaster strapped to your thigh, heart thumping in your chest, you wait for her to attack.

“Who are you?” She says cautiously, keeping that glowing spear between Mando and herself.

“Bo-Katan sent me.” He says warily.

The Togruta stares at Mando, then to you before straightening out her back, her weapons’ beaming white blades retracting into their handles.

“We need to talk.” Mando clarifies, standing up straight.

“Well, I hope it’s about them,” She answers kindly, shooting you a quick wink before taking a step towards you.

Crossing your arms and lips forming a tight line, your head jerks back when she responds.

“What do you mean, “them?”

Mando retreats to get the Child, and holds him with one arm, choosing to stand almost directly between you and Ahsoka. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Her posture changes from weary to inviting, hooking her weapons back on her hips, her back untensing and taking a step back. “Come.”

You and Mando follow her through the thick, dense woods, nearly tripping and twisting your ankle trying to avoid the roots that are nestled above the dirt, or stumps that have fallen over and are lying on the ground.

She finds a spot not too covered in trees, with a couple of boulders lying around in a circle. In the middle are embers from an old fire that you assume she made for herself. She sits down on one of the rocks, then you and Mando follow suit. He places the Child gently between himself and Ahsoka, and presses a button on his vambrace, causing a flame to shoot out from his wrist, reigniting the ashes. Instead of waiting for either of them to speak, you begin questioning Ahsoka.

“So,” You say, head craning in her direction. “You’re a Jedi?”

Ahsoka lets out a small chuckle, eyes shifting towards the ground. You can vaguely make out the blaze in the reflection of her eyes. “No, I’m not a Jedi, not anymore.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about this little one?” Mando questions her, jerking his neck to the left where the green baby is perched between them. She turns her head towards the Child, and almost instantaneously, his giant ears perk up, big eyes peering up at her, uttering unintelligibly.

“Can I have a moment alone with him?” She asks you and Mando. He doesn’t say anything in response, but stands up straight and walks away, not once looking back. You’re a few seconds late, but finally rise to your own feet before taking one last look at Ahsoka. She smiles at you and nods. You hear her voice and at first believe she’s actually spoken to you, but quickly realize her lips haven’t moved.

It’s okay.

Surely, you’re imagining things. It’s not possible to hear someone’s voice so clearly in your mind unless they actually said something to you…right?

Pushing the thought out of your mind, you turn on your heel, and you walk over to where Mando is pacing back and forth. He’s quiet as usual, but his body language is screaming. He’s tense, boots retracing the same steps over and over, shoulders square and hands fidgeting by his thighs. The apprehension, his nervousness—it’s practically seeping from him. It’s not something you ever thought you’d see—Mando anxious about a situation, given that he’s usually a lot better at keeping his cool under pretty much every single stressful situation.

At first, you think about asking him if he’s okay, or showing him that you notice his tentativeness, but it’s quickly shoved out of your mind when you remember how little he likes to talk about himself or how he’s feeling. You know firsthand that he prefers to stay silent rather than admit what’s going on inside his head.

Choosing to sit on a tree stump that’s fallen over on the ground, you continue to study Ahsoka and the Child. They stare at each other for a couple minutes not saying anything, just offering each other a series of smiles, gazes, and tilts of the head. As you continue to watch them, it’s almost as if you can hear them, which you know logically makes no sense. It’s very faint and muffled, taking all the concentration you can muster but you swear to the Maker you can hear them speaking to each other. The harder you squint, the clearer their voices get. However, it’s when you close your eyes and pull your brows together tightly, giving them your full attention that their voices become almost as clear as day.

His name is Grogu.

He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Order 66.

What’s order 66?

Before you can make out anything else, Ahsoka’s voice pulls you out of your concentration, calling you both over. Jumping to your feet in record time, you reach out and grab hold of Mando’s vambrace. He stills at your touch.

“Come,” You say gently, motioning your head over to the two by the fire.

The deep breath he lets out pulls rough from his vocoder, you can feel the trepidation in his body spilling into his lungs. He trails behind you and when you both reach them; you sit back down on the rock you were seated on before, but Mando chooses to stand instead.

“Has he…said anything? Do you…understand him?” He asks Ahsoka curiously, but with a hint of worry in his baritone.

“In a way. Grogu and I can read each other’s thoughts.”

“Grogu?” Mando’s voice is gentle but still low, and almost immediately, the Child’s ears perk up once again, and his little head jerks to face him, a gentle noise of glee escapes him.

“Yes,” Ahsoka says, smiling. “That’s his name, but you already knew that.”

“I—” He begins to say but Ahsoka cuts him off.

“No, not you. Her.”

Both Ahsoka and Mando’s head turn to you. Leg bouncing anxiously off the ground, your jaw slacks to answer, but not entirely sure how to answer. “Uh—Yeah, I mean he didn’t exactly tell me but he…kind of did?”

“What do you mean?” Mando presses you.

One of your hands rub the back of your neck and your eyes trail away from the two people staring you down to look at your feet. Clearing your throat, you answer uncertainly. “I…don’t know how he did it or how I was able to understand it.”

“Are you both still able to wield the Force?” Ahsoka asks curiously.

“The Force?” You repeat in confusion.

“You mean, his powers?” The Mandalorian chimes in.

“The Force is what gives him his powers. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It also allows us to communicate with each other.” She clarifies, somewhat answering your question but simultaneously confusing you even more. What the hell is ‘The Force’?

“You’re saying he used ‘The Force’ to communicate with me?”

“In a way, yes. We can communicate with others who are Force-sensitive, although it takes a great deal of training and discipline to wield it properly.”

Does this mean…?

Is she saying you’re…?

Force-sensitive?

Ahsoka sighs before addressing you again. “I sense a lot of conflict in you,”

“I’m just finding all of this very hard to believe,” You admit.

Ahsoka acknowledges your stunned expression with a gentle nod, before shifting the conversation towards the real issue—Grogu. Turning her eyes away from you, she now speaks to Mando. “Grogu was raised and trained by many Masters at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. At the end of the Clone Wars, when the Jedi were deemed traitors of the Republic, they were hunted down and killed. Grogu was smuggled out of the Temple beforehand, and has been forced to hide his abilities in order to survive over the years.”

Peeking over to observe Grogu, your heart aches. How could anyone want to harm him? He’s just a child, an innocent creature. “Do you know of anyone else like him?”

“I’ve only ever known one other being like this.” Her eyes trail off to gaze into the fire once again. “A wise Jedi Master named Yoda. I didn’t know others like him existed.”

“My task was to bring him to a Jedi. Can you train him?”

Ahsoka lets out a deep breath before answering. “The Jedi Order fell a long time ago.”

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts us.” Your voice comes out more aggressive than you intended, but you’re desperate for answers.

Ahsoka looks down to the Child once again. His eyes flutter shut, exhaustion overcoming his little body until he all but bows his head to fall asleep. “Let him rest for now, I’ll test him in the morning.”

Mando’s helmet dips forward in agreement. He moves around the fire and makes his way over to Grogu and picks him up gingerly, holding him close to his cuirass and motioning his head in the direction of the Crest. Humming in response and rising to your own feet, you make to follow behind Mando back to ship when Ahsoka places a hand on your forearm.

“A moment?”

“Uh, sure,” You answer hesitantly. “I’ll meet you back at the ship.” You call over to Mando.

He huffs in response before walking away, Grogu fast asleep in his arms. Sitting back down, you wait for Ahsoka to speak.

“You’re troubled. I can sense it.”

Jaw dropping, you look for the words to accurately describe just how confused and in disbelief you are. Gesticulating around you, your voice is soft and low. “How—how is this possible?” A laugh escapes your lips. “I’m just a mecha—smuggler.” You catch yourself, the word barely leaving your lips. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her own lips form a tight line, as if she’s seen others react the same way. “It’s unclear how the Force works, and there’s no definitive way of explaining who has the gift and who hasn’t. We’re just…burdened with it.” Her eyes look down at the ground. It’s evident there’s some unresolved regret and sadness she’s been carrying for years, and you can’t help but wonder what could have possibly happened to her for her to feel this way.

“You said ‘I’m not a Jedi, not anymore’. What did you mean by that?”

She takes a deep breath, exhaling through her nose before speaking. “I left the order when I was young. It… wasn’t what I thought it was anymore.” Her voice trails off.

“What was it supposed to be? Who were the Jedi?” You don’t mean to ask so many questions, but there are so many pieces to this puzzle that you don’t understand yet. You’re supposedly predestined to be a Jedi, but you know nothing about them. Stories of the Jedi weren’t told to you when you were a child. It was treated more like a moment in history that no one wanted to speak of—like it was a stain on the galaxy that the majority of folks wanted to forget.

“We were trained to be keepers of the peace, but that all changed when the Clone Wars began. Jedi were suddenly soldiers and thrown into battle, required to fight for the Republic and keep the Separatists from expanding.”

“You fought?”

Ahsoka’s voice is low, like your question that thrown her back into the war, reliving all the pain from her youth. “I was just a Padawan when I joined the war effort. At first it was easy to say we were fighting to maintain the peace, but after a while, it almost felt like we became the ones raging the war. All of a sudden, the Order just didn’t feel like it once was…” She goes quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe her conflicting feelings. “It changed.”

Your hand reaches out to hold hers. Once your skin touches her, immense pain overwhelms you. It’s haunting, a sudden hole fills your body with anger, regret, sadness. There’s a male voice, low and threatening, taunting her as he hisses.

Why did you leave?

You abandoned me!

Do you know what I’ve become?

Hand recoiling away, your left with the same empty feeling as her. It’s unnerving, experiencing something that hasn’t even happened to you yet somehow able to feel it so deeply, as if you know who this man is, but it gives you an insight as to just how tortured she must be feeling, and why she’s alone on this planet.

“Who…who was that?” Your voice is strained, shuddering out little breaths.

“Someone who meant a great deal to me.” Ahsoka’s face softens immediately, a somber smile develops on her lips, losing that hard, stoic demeanor she’s kept up in front of you and Mando. “An incredibly skilled Jedi Knight. He was my Master.”

“What happened to him?”

Ahsoka’s lungs fill with air, and she takes her time exhaling before answering you. “He fell to the Dark Side…” Her voice breaks up at the end, and clears her throat, giving the impression that she feels guilty about it, while also trying to regain control of her emotions.

Despite hearing the term ‘Dark Side’ for the first time, you almost instantaneously know what it is. The voice that creeps into your mind, the one that feeds off your anger and emotions, the one that scratches the inside of your brain, hissing to cause harm and feed the deepest parts of yourself that you despise. It all makes sense now.

“I sense it within you.” Her voice barely above a whisper, but clear enough to make your skin crawl. It’s a truth you didn’t know you had been dreading to hear. A truth you yourself had tried to ignore. The part of you that you hated most, finally being noticed by a complete stranger, it triggers something deep inside you, almost confirming your worst fears. You’re a danger, not only to yourself but to anyone around you. It’s suddenly as clear as day why you’ve tried to keep your distance from those you loved ever since your parents’ death. Why you never allowed yourself the luxury of attachments or love. Somehow, you knew that in order to keep yourself and others safe, you needed to put a barrier up, a wall to stop yourself from hurting others.

“I…don’t know how to control it.” Desperation in your voice, it becomes obvious that you’re both struggling to find solace.

“You should get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?” Attempting to put you somewhat at ease, she offers you a smile, although her eyes show you anything but contentment. There’s a sadness in them, like she already knows your fate but is unsure of the proper way of confessing it to you.

Nodding your head slowly, you push yourself to your feet and make a beeline for the Crest. Ahsoka stands, watching you drag your feet back to the ship, then disappears through the fog, and back into the forest.

When you reach the back ramp of the ship, the lights are dimmed to the lowest setting, your legs almost collapsing once you reach the hull from all the trekking throughout the day. Leaning over to the side of the ramp, you press a button on the board by the door and the ramp creaks shut.

The Crest is deafeningly quiet. As you make your way deeper into the ship, you observe Grogu sleeping soundly in his little hammock inside Mando’s bunk. Making sure not to make too much noise on the ladder, you gently head up to the cockpit and find Mando sitting in the pilot’s chair, unsure if he’s sleeping or simply sitting there like a statue which you’ve noticed he’s does from time to time. Upon entering the cockpit, you sigh a little loudly, testing to see if he’s awake.

Practically falling into your seat, you know you should get some sleep, but the mental exhaustion is almost too intense, you can’t seem to get your mind off everything that’s happened. Continuously mulling over what Ahsoka’s said, noting how it makes perfect sense, but not wanting to accept it.

“Are you…all right?” Mando asks you timidly, the deepness of his tone cutting through the low hum of the dimmed lights.

The question bounces around in your mind.

Are you all right?

Just under a couple of hours ago, you had never even heard of ‘The Force’, let alone supposedly have a connection to this intangible entity. Of course, there are things that you’ve done that you couldn’t logically explain, but does that necessarily mean you suddenly have some greater purpose? That you’re this…peacekeeper with an obligation to protect others?

Did your parents know?

Did they keep this a secret from you in order to protect you or were they just as in the dark as you were about this?

Everything you thought you knew about yourself is once again being challenged.

Mechanic.

Smuggler.

Quarry.

Jedi?

How are you supposed to navigate through this? Ahsoka said herself the Jedi were basically wiped out right as the Empire rose to power. What does that mean for you? Is the Empire hunting you down because you’re ‘force-sensitive’?

Certainly, it would be easier to simply put this all behind you. Help Mando with Grogu and then go your separate ways, ignoring what Ahsoka’s told you about being connected to The Force.

Do what you must in order to stay alive.

Keep to yourself just as you’ve always done, and survive.

But…is that the right thing to do? How does one know if the path they’re on is the correct one? It’s not like there’s someone all knowing that you can ask, or seek help from. The only thing you can do is trust your own instincts, go over each possibility and examine them meticulously, and pray to the Maker that you’ll be drawn to one option more than another.

Remembering that Mando’s just asked you a question but not remembering exactly what it was, you hum in your throat. “Hmm?”

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. “Are you all right?”

“It’s funny how we can here for the kid, and now I’m the one having some kind of existential crisis.” Your tone is wry, the ability to mock yourself never waving.

“Yeah.” He answers coolly, probably just because he doesn’t know what else to say. Mando’s not really one to comfort or coddle, unless it’s Grogu but that doesn’t bother you so much. Mando is the way he is, and you wouldn’t change a thing about him.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re rising to your feet, word vomit expelling from your lips.

“I’ve lived my whole life not knowing where I belong. Navigating through various routes, trying to find my purpose and what I’m supposed to be doing, and I was fine with smuggling. I know it wasn’t honorable or strictly legal, but it made me feel better about my place in the galaxy. It felt better than being a mechanic on some rotten planet because at least I was seeing what the galaxy had to offer me, right? But it still couldn’t fill this empty pit I felt in my stomach.” Your breathing is erratic, chest pumping in and out as your heartbeat races.

“And I dealt with that. I did things I regretted but I never allowed myself to dwell on those things because I knew what I had to do in order to survive. Then out of nowhere I’m being hunted by what I thought was the New Republic but oh no surprise!” Your voice becoming almost hysterical, empty laughs punching out of you through jagged breaths. “It’s actually the Empire! Because I now apparently have some connection to an entity that exists in a form that I don’t even understand and have never heard of.

“All the while, I have this voice inside my head that fucking eats away at me. ‘Do this’ and ‘Make them feel pain’, ‘Hurt them like they hurt you’. It’s fucking gnawing at my brain, and I have no fucking idea how to control it or get it to stop. I feel like a monster, like some evil being that will one day just explode and hurt anyone in my path, and it fucking terrifies me because I can’t control it. I can’t fucking control it, Mando.” Your voice is hoarse, speaking so fast your lungs can’t keep up with you, only allowing yourself quick breaths as you begin to feel yourself hyperventilate.

Mando rises to his feet ever so slowly, visor glued to you as you continue to explode.

“What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to follow down the path of being a Jedi despite not knowing a single fucking thing about them? You heard what Ahsoka said about them. They were almost all wiped out.”

Your hands fly to your face, squeezing your eyes shut so hard, you’re seeing stars, and rubbing the heels of your palms into your skin. Completely overwhelmed by everything, you just want to disappear.

Then, you feel rough, sturdy gloves wrap around your wrists, and gently pulling at them, freeing your hands away from your face. When you finally open your eyes, all you see is Mando’s helmet, the ‘T’ of his visor looking down at you. He doesn’t let go of your wrists, just continues to hold them gingerly, even pulling them towards his chest. You take a step towards him, standing merely inches away from each other. He says nothing, but truthfully, he doesn’t need to. Holding you steady is all he needs to do in order to calm you down. Your breathing is slowly starting to regulate itself, even though your mind is still shouting at you.

Hearing a soft exhale emit through the helmet, Mando speaks quietly and softly. “You’re not a monster.”

“But—”

“We’ve all done things we regret.” He tells you softly. “What matters is that you regret it, which means you’re not a monster, because they don’t regret anything they’ve done.”

Your head dips downward, letting out a deep breath through slightly parted lips, as you begin shaking your head. “What if I hurt you or the kid one day?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know—”

“I do,” He says firmly, leaving you no more room to argue.

When you finally look up into the black eye slit of his helmet, you wish you were looking into his eyes. To see him looking back at you would be a blessing right now, but you know better than to ask him to take it off. You don’t know much about Mandalorians, but from the one you do know, he never takes his helmet off, and you wouldn’t dare ask him to break his creed just for you. So, this will have to do.

“Get some sleep.” He says then releases your wrists, letting them fall to your sides.

“I’m not tired,” You mumble.

“Yes, you are.” He argues. “Use the cot downstairs.”

“But that’s where you sleep.”

He turns away from you, sitting back in the pilot’s chair and swiveling it around so you’re facing the back of the seat. “I’ll sleep here. Now, go.”

He leaves no room for argument, and honestly? Finally being able to sleep lying down and not sitting upright in a chair does sound amazing. You head down the ladder without another word, feeling the sudden exhaustion hit you hard. Grogu’s still sound asleep in his hammock, and you wiggle into the tiny sleeping space, being mindful not to touch the hammock or make too much noise that might wake him up, gently pressing on the button on the panel near the door and hearing it woosh shut. Your nostrils fill up instantly with Mando’s smell. Notes of beskar, musk, and his soap fill your sinuses and you take a deep, burning breath, trying to inhale as much Mando as you can in one breath. The voices in your head are still chattering away, but being bundled up in Mando’s blanket and his smell is enough for you to push those noises away and fall asleep to the sound of the Child’s gentle snores.

Grogu’s training begins in the early morning. You’re all gathered around the same place you were last night, but there’s definitely more tension than there was the night before. For starters, you basically had a mental breakdown in front of Mando last night, and you’re feeling pretty guilty and embarrassed about it. You should have been able to keep your emotions in check and under control, but instead you blew up in front of the one person you didn’t want to blow up in front of.

Secondly, today you’ll all be seeing Grogu’s abilities firsthand, and find out just how much training he’s had and what he’s fully capable of doing, and it’s pretty easy to tell that Mando is nervous. The way he carries himself; back tense and his hands balled into fists at his sides, shifting uncomfortably as he watches Grogu stand on a rock just a few feet away from Ahsoka. You’re standing to his right, nerves and curiosity radiating off your skin.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking in that little mind of yours, shall we?” She says to Grogu before turning her head to you both. Clearing your throat, you nod in acknowledgement while Mando stays stiff as a board.

She reaches down and picks up a small stone off the ground and holds it out in front of her chest. Looking down at the rock and watching her eyes squint, it suddenly lifts out of her palm and stays in limbo for a moment before she uses her hand to push it towards Grogu. It flows over so slowly in his direction, his little arms reaching out and grabbing it with both hands. You stand there, completely stunned, eyes wide-shot and jaw practically hanging. It’s something you’ve been able to do as well, but only during bouts of anger or in the middle of a fight.

“Now, return the stone to me, Grogu,” She instructs, her voice gentle but commanding all the same.

His head tilts to the side, continuing to hold it firmly with his claws.

“He doesn’t understand what you’re saying,” Mando blurts out.

“He does.” She reassures him, holding her hand out and gently coaxing Grogu once again to hand her the rock. “The stone, Grogu.”

The Child gurgles, then drops the stone in a chuff of defeat. A drawn-out sigh releases from Mando’s helmet, somewhat irritable, but not fully angry.

Ahsoka approaches Grogu, leaning down to pick up the stone he’s dropped and taking his tiny hand in hers. Her head dips forward and whispers, “I sense much fear in you, little one.”

Grogu coos in response, his big eyes blinking slowly. She flashes him a kind smile and takes a couple steps back, cocking her head to one side as she ponders her next move. Ahsoka’s eyes meet yours for a second and just when they meet, it’s almost like you both come up with the same idea. Grogu needs a different kind of enticement, a more personal incentive.

“Let’s try something else,” She says. “Come here.”

Mando looks over to the Child and motions with his head for him walk over to meet Ahsoka. When he looks over to the Mandalorian with a puzzled look, Mando sighs again. “He’s stubborn.”

Unable to hide the smile on your face, you shake your head just as Ahsoka lips curl upwards. “Not him, you.” She says, looking at him.

Mando hesitates at first, so you grab hold of his forearm and almost usher him in Ahsoka’s direction. “I want to see if he’ll listen to you,” She says curiously.

Mando scoffs, and the sound comes out scratchy and low through the vocoder. “That would be a first.”

Handing Mando the stone, she instructs him to hold it in his palm, open faced and tell Grogu to lift and take the rock. He stands there awkwardly, shifting a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but in an endearing way. You smile from ear to ear, watching Mando be so confused but approaching this in a gentle way that you know almost no one has been privy to witnessing. It tugs at your heartstrings, observing father and son.

He lets out a deep breath before following Ahsoka’s direction. “Okay, kid. Lift the stone.”

“Grogu,” You clarify, still smiling.

He whips his head to face you then back to the Child.

“Grogu,”

The Child’s ears perk up instantly hearing Mando’s voice call him, cooing excitedly. “Take the stone.”

Looking at the rock, Grogu babbles and then looks at the ground defeatedly.

“See?” Throwing the stone on the ground in annoyance, Mando looks over to where you and Ahsoka are standing. “I told you, he’s stubborn.”

You and Ahsoka turn heads to look at each other, knowing damn well it’s not because the kid is stubborn, but because Mando is stubborn. Keeping an emotional type of distance between him and every person in the galaxy, never allowing himself to make a meaningful connection.

“Try to connect with him,” Ahsoka chimes.

Mando studies Grogu, possibly trying to gauge a reaction or an insight as to what he wants. His gloved hands come up to grasp onto his utility belt and then you notice him fiddle with his belt and flesh out the metal knob from the lever of the Crest. Both you and Mando know just how much that durasteel ball means to Grogu, and if there’s one thing in this galaxy that the kid absolutely loves and wants at all times, it’s that ball.

Sure enough, as soon as he sees Mando with the ball in his hand, his ears perk up immediately and giggles of joy rush out of him. Mando bends his knees, crouching down so that he’s at eye level with him, holding the ball between his fingers, enticing the downright giddy baby just a few feet away from him.

“Grogu,” His tone is playful, and it shocks you. He’s never spoken that way around you. Mando has a monotone way of speaking, maintaining a level tone, or an annoyed tone. Never speaking in a playful or humorous manner. To see him show this kind of vulnerability must be hard for him, especially in front of Ahsoka who he’s known for half a day, but Mando knows this isn’t about him, this is for Grogu, and he’ll do whatever it takes for the kid.

“Do you want this?”

The Child fixates on the ball, arms reaching out in front of him, almost begging for it, but Mando continues to tempt him, speaking low but tender, as he urges Grogu to take it. “Well, go ahead. Go on, take it. You can do it.”

Maker, it takes everything in you not to scream. The way Mando continues to coax him, the way Grogu coos and looks at him so lovingly, it’s enough to break hearts. A relationship borne of hunter and quarry turned father and son. Something so rare, so genuine. To think that these two beings don’t even speak the same language yet have an attachment so fierce and pure.

Eyes squinting in concentration, Grogu’s hand reaches out just a little further and then the ball flies from Mando’s hand right into the Child’s little grip.

“Good job!” Mando exclaims, pure joy and full of proudness. Your mouth falls into a toothy grin as you watch him approach the Child and continue to affirm how proud he is. Looking over at Ahsoka and expecting to see her smiling, your face quickly changes when you take notice of her expression. She’s looking down at the ground, not a speck of joy on her face. In fact, she looks defeated, like she’s just witnessed something awful. Eyebrows pulling together, you give her a nudge with your elbow, asking what’s wrong without actually asking what’s wrong.

“I knew you could do it. Very good,” Mando continues to praise.

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” She says before her lips press into a thin line.

“Is that a bad thing?” You question. Taking a step towards Mando and away from Ahsoka, and crossing your arms against your chest, your head cocks to one side waiting for her to explain.

“I cannot train him.”

“What?” Mando straightens out immediately and turns his body to face her. “You’ve seen what he can do, right?” He asks curtly, a hint of underlying anger in his vibrato.

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears—his anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

“No,” She grits out through her teeth. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a person. What it can do to even the best of the Jedi Knights. I will not start this child on that path. Better to let his abilities fade.”

You take a step back; a sneer escapes your lips as you try to understand what the hell she’s saying. “Let his abilities fade? Look at him. You can’t just give up on him.”

She looks down at Grogu who’s too busy examining the ball in his hands to notice the three of you arguing. Giving you both a quick glance, Ahsoka shakes her head. “I’ve delayed too long. I must head back to the village.” She turns on her heel and begins walking away from you two when Mando gets her attention.

“The Magistrate’s asked me to kill you.”

Ahsoka freezes, turning her body slowly towards you, hands making their way to the weapons strapped around her waist.

“I didn’t agree to anything.” Mando clarifies.

Uncrossing your arms, you take a tentative step towards her. “We’ll help you free the village, but at the very least, Grogu,” You point a finger in Grogu’s general direction, “needs training.”

She clamps down on her jaw, eyebrows knitting together as she mulls over the proposition.

“Fine, but we hit the city tonight.”

-------

I hope y'all liked the way I wrote ahsoka...I completely ignored how she looked in the mandalorian and based her appearance off the “Overlords” ep of tcw and changed the way her character was because I wasn't really a fan of how she was written.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #angst #reader insert #we are one when together #fics

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galacticidiots · 5 years ago

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Twitter is so toxic!! People are actually saying that Tai is a pity vessel used to help people feel bad for Ben. They also think that Tai could be minded wipe or Ben is mind tricking him to be his friend. They are also calling him racist and a show off in front of Voe. I am so tempted to delete my twitter. The last tweet I seen was that Tai is part Dressellian and had no sense of what is bad and what is not.

What circle of Twitter hell have you been hanging out in?

#ask #absolutely cursed #meanwhile my dash is full of ben solo superman memes and twitfic

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reyloforcebalance · 6 years ago

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Bonded Chapter 30: Coming Together

The newest chapter to my Reylo fanfic (rated T). If you want to check out the previous chapters, here’s the link to AO3!

The crolute sits at the bar, swaying to the music and slapping a fat hand against his thigh. He barely fits in the chair, folds of flesh pouring over the sides of the seat, contained only by threadbare pants.

Every so often, he glances at Rey sitting beside him, a long, lingering glance.

But she just keeps her eyes forward, fixed on the disordered rows of bottles lining the back of bar. He’s tried to talk to her a couple of times, but she just pretends not to understand him.

So now he’s staring.

Rey grips her half empty drink, cursing whatever cruel twist of fate has made her a magnet for the leering eyes of crolutes.

And she thought those days were behind her…

She shifts away from him, turning to observe the rest of the scene.

The cantina is vibrant, like a living thing unto itself. The air is filled with the swinging beat of the band, three massive Kitonaks huddled together on a small platform, clumsily swaying from side to side, bumping bellies as they play their instruments.

It seems like everyone’s in motion, swept up by the beat of the music.

There’s a towering Yarkora standing in front of the platform, arms in the air, waving wildly, his tail swishing as he yells nonsensical words of praise for the band. A group of hooded Dressellians sit close by, each of them bobbing and tapping their feet, almost in exact unison. Even a service droid rocks its snout-shaped head as it rolls by with a trey full of drinks.

Rey smiles to herself as she turns to face the bar.

She should enjoy this while she can. It’s not often that she gets to hear live music, and these fellows aren’t half bad. The atmosphere is warm, full of laughter and chit chat. There hasn’t been a single fight since she arrived, something of a miracle given the roughneck crowd.

Yes, she should just sit back and soak it all in— the music, the gaiety, the peace.

But even as she thinks this, she’s reaching into her pouch, pulling out a chrono to check the time. She casts a downward glance, then slips the device back into her pouch.

Daja’s late.

But not terribly late. It could be a good thing, really… After all, Rey’s meeting was quite short and look how that turned out.

Not that she blames Yana for her decision. The woman has a business to run, thousands in her employ, people with mouths to feed. If she were to volunteer her warehouses to hide runaway slaves, she could become a target, especially given the kinds of slaves she’d be hiding.

Rey’s going after the big fish now, slavers who operate across multiple systems, the kind who will chase down missing property for no other reason than to make an example of them. They’ve got vast resources— veritable armies at their beck and call, spies feeding them all manner of intel, and a network of businesses under their thumb.

But Rey’s building her own network.

She and Daja are one of a dozen pairs going from system to system, seeking out powerful locals who might be willing to volunteer a haven for runaway slaves. The goal is to create a secret path of safe houses to usher new escapees to permanent freedom, a place for them to lay low while the slavers are hot in pursuit.

The only problem is that so many are utterly terrified of what might happen if they get caught. These big-name crime lords could make life hell for them if they wanted to— cut off their access to trade routes, squeeze their businesses dry, even destroy their homes. It’s quite a risk, what Rey’s asking. She can hardly begrudge those who turn her down.

But Daja should have more luck.

If the Daughters of Q’anah are half of what people say they are, then they fear no one. They’re pirates, after all. They already steal property from the galaxy’s most vicious crime lords. Surely, they’d be open to smuggling a different kind of property, the kind that lives and breathes, that shouldn’t be considered property at all.

Surely…

Rey drums her fingers on the bar, trying to quell a nervous feeling in her gut.

The Daughters aren’t exactly saints, though. They don’t hesitate to kill, and if rumors are to be believed, they relish the opportunity to show they can be just as vicious as the people they steal from.

It’s enough to make Rey worry.

Just a little.

But Daja can handle herself. She’s the perfect one for the job, really. She’s got the swagger of a pirate, a smart mouth and a rebel spirit. She’s fearless. She’s capable. In a different life, she could be a Daughter of Q’anah.

Yes, there’s no reason to worry. No reason at all…

Rey continues drumming her fingers but soon stops, flattening her hand on the surface. She sits up, squaring her shoulders and taking another look around. She accidentally catches the eye of the crolute and he flashes a gap-toothed grin.

She immediately looks away.

She resists the urge to check the time again, trying to relax instead, enjoy the atmosphere. She takes a deep breath and without quite realizing it, closes her eyes, melting into the environment.

The cantina is abuzz with conversation, dozens of exchanges blending together into a low roar. If she concentrates, she can pick out individuals from the mass…

There’s a couple speaking in Bocce, gossiping about a local merchant named Shah Kin. Apparently, he’s been fooling around with his competitor’s wife…

A man is arguing with a service droid about his tab, claiming it overcharged him for the last three orders.

There’s a group speaking in what Rey can only describe as honks and clicks. It’s not a language she understands. She’s not even sure how many are talking… three maybe? No four.

A couple next to them discuss a First Order sighting, a dreadnaught near Asmaru. They wonder what it could mean. The leading theory is that Kylo Ren is looking to run a new a trade route through the system…

Rey’s eyes snap open.

She shakes her head briskly, struggling to regain her focus. She takes a deep inhale and reaches into her pouch, pulling out the chrono. She glances down, then shoves it back in.

Five more minutes.

She’ll wait for five more minutes, and if Daja doesn’t show up, then she’ll go after her.

Rey rests forearms on the bar, shoulders hunched, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

It’s stupid.

There’s no reason to worry. She’s only late because she was successful.

Probably.

Lots of questions to answer, concerns to address—

Suddenly, Rey snaps up. She leaps to her feet and turns to face the cantina, eagerly searching the crowd.

Daja’s pushing her way past a couple of horned Davorians. As she gets closer, Rey senses her emotions, a kind of adrenaline-charged frenzy mixed with anger.

Rey’s shoulders drop.

Things did not go well.

Daja charges straight up to Rey, flushed and out of breath.

“I don’t know,” Daja halts just in front of her, “what I did to piss those bitches off but—” She takes a giant gulp of air. “Whatever it was, they nearly killed me for it.” She exhales, widening her eyes.

Rey opens her mouth to speak but suddenly stops, turning her head.

There’s a young man standing next to Daja. She’d seen him trailing behind her when she came in but just assumed he was another patron.

“Who’s this?” Rey points to their unidentified guest.

“No one.” Daja practically yells this, shoving him away. “Just some jackass.”

The young man staggers back.

“Some way to refer to the guy who just saved your life.” He knits his eyebrows.

“You did not save my life.” Daja whips around, pointing a finger in his face. “I had things under control. I didn’t need your help.”

“Uh… yeah, you did.” He crosses his arms. “And I didn’t have to. Just like I didn’t have to see you back safely to your friend.” He nods to Rey. “But I did it anyway. Even though you’ve called me a jackass three times now.” He lifts three fingers as he mouths the number for emphasis.

Daja glares at him.

“Fine,” she deadpans. “You saved my life. I’m eternally grateful. Now, go away, jackass.” She turns back to Rey, twitching.

“You Resistance people are rude, you know that?” He grumbles.

“And you First Order people are slimy,” Daja retorts.

Rey jerks back.

“You’re with the First Order?” She demands, examining him.

He doesn’t look like a member of the First Order at all— no uniform, no insignia, no indication of rank or position. And he’s so young, barely a man…

“Yep.” He perks up, beaming with pride. For the first time, he directs his full attention to Rey. His gaze drifts down then back up, a glint of appreciation in his eyes.

“I gotta say…” His lips turn up slyly. “You’re pretty cute for a Resistance fighter.” He winks at her.

Daja immediately scoffs.

“Ok, time for you to—”

“What’s your name?” Rey studies the young man closely.

“Sylas Bonden.” He offers his hand with a smile.

Rey eyes him warily for a moment. Then she lifts a hand, meeting his with a gentle grip.

“Thanks for taking care of my friend, Sylas.” She nods at him.

“You’re welcome.” Sylas leans towards Rey, but shoots Daja a pointed look.

Daja growls under her breath.

“And what do you do for the First Order?” Rey tilts her head.

“I…” He gestures to himself with a little flair. “Am in charge of a very…” His eyes drift upward. “Special subset of negotiations.”

“Special?” She raises eyebrow.

“Yeah…” He draws out the word. “Not your standard resource exchanges, ones that require a little… finesse.” He wiggles his eyebrows. Then he steps to the side, sliding onto the seat once inhabited by the crolute. “Let me buy you a drink.” He pats the bar. “I’ll tell you all about it. Or what I’m allowed to tell, anyways.” He winks again.

Daja laughs, incredulous.

“Kid, you’ve got some nerve. You think—”

“Sure.” Rey shrugs.

Daja’s jaw drops.

Read the rest on Ao3!

#reylo fanfic #reylo #kylo ren #kylo x rey #ben solo #ben x rey #starwars #star wars fanfiction #starwarsfanfiction #rey star wars #romance #romance fanfic

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thechaoticfanartist · 2 years ago

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Alright you asked for it have Leela volunteering at a soup kitchen

“Miss?” A little Twi’lek girl held up a bowl. “Are you alright?”

“Yes!” Leela shook herself. “Yes, sorry.” She ladled a serving of Dressellian romato soup into the girl’s bowl.

The girl’s mother thanked Leela. Leela smiled and served the mother her soup. A lump came to her throat as she watched them sit together at one of the tables.

😭

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retrocognizantrecreant · 2 years ago

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Which of your friends is prettiest?

Me.

On a more serious note, you have all seen Tachi though, yes? And Reeft? There is no finer Dressellian in this galaxy, and I have met my share.

#you asked meme and i answered

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first-order-general · 7 years ago

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@rebelspark ♡ ‘d to meet hux in civilian clothes

He’d had maybe half his drink, but he could feel it already. He’d never been a particularly competent drinker, which was precisely why he regularly avoided it. Unless he was looking for trouble. And tonight, he was. Lifting his drink from the bar, he turned to speak to a Dressellian he’d seen giving him a look that told him maybe he’d been recognised-- evven with the rebel jacket and the messy hair--

And slammed directly into a man who must have been approaching the bar from behind him. “Watch where you’re going,” he snarled, noticing that he’d spilled his drink all over the man. An annoyed sigh, and he could see that the Dressellian had lost interest. Well. He turned back to the bar, indicating his empty glass to the bartender to say “another of these.” Some people.

#// I hope this is ok lmao he's in such a pissy mood #feel free to decide whether or not poe recognises him #I can promise you right now that hux has no idea who he is

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rxbxlcaptain · 7 years ago

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For @skitzofreak:

“How did you even get up there?”

Jyn shook her head, eyes trained to the sky, as she laughed her response: “Aren’t there bigger worries in the galaxy tonight?”

Yes, a few hours ago when a battle station the size of a moon loomed over Yavin IV and the members of Rogue One thought of the crust of Jedha, of Scarif crumbling beneath their feet. But now, after Luke Skywalker’s miraculous shot. Now, with the sounds of joyous rebels echoing across the planet and Jyn, far above him, perched several levels up on one of the ziggurats, a bottle of Dressellian Beer beside her.

“Not if I want to join you.”

Send me the first sentence and I’ll write the next five!

#seee I can write cute things too!#jk thats most of what I write lol #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #kat writes #six sentence fics #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #rogue one #rebelcaptain fanfiction #skitzofreak #thank you for sending this in!

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mortallyclearwonderland · 4 years ago

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Star Wars Alien Species - Bothan

The industrial world of Bothawui is the birthplace of the Bothans, along with various colony worlds throughout The Mid Rim territories.

Their race evolved on the world of Bothawui which was located in the Mid Rim and were known to have developed the technology to travel through the stars millennia ago whereupon they became long standing members of the galactic community. The Bothans were noted for being long time members of the Galactic Republic. In the millennia prior to the Great Sith War, the rapid expansion of hyperspace lanes led to a period of exploration. This saw the Bothans found their first colony of Kothlis along with a growing influence in the Galactic Senate. This era also saw the rapid growth of the Bothan Spynet where their agents were sent to newly discovered worlds that saw Bothawui becoming a hub for information. They were noted for being ever loyal allies to the Galactic Republic. However, Republic support was withdrawn from the long-standing allies as a result of the Treaty of Coruscant. The Bothans were said to have mastered the art of intelligence gathering as far back as 300 BBY, and began exploiting it for personal gain. A hundred years later, they made contact with the Dressellians; they recognized that species' potential and departed in order to allow them to evolve without interference.

Whilst a longtime member and supporter of the Republic, the Bothans remained neutral during the period known as the Clone Wars. In this time, the Bothan Senator Polo Se'lab abstained from politically charged votes leading up to the conflict. Though not playing one side against the other, the Bothans served each one in a professional but not exclusive manner. Their reasoning for helping both the Separatists and Republic was the belief that furnishing each side with intelligence would hasten the end of the war. This stance on neutrality did not stop both the Confederacy and Republic from courting Bothan aid to their respective side, though this only increased their stance of supporting neither faction in the Clone Wars.

Although Bothawui remained neutral during the Galactic Civil War, the Bothans maintained a small defense force to protect the planet, along with Bothan colonies and economic interests. Aside from a figurehead governor and a small garrison of stormtroopers, there was little Imperial presence. Both Imperial and Rebel Alliance intelligence, by a mutual, unspoken agreement, decided to let the planet serve as neutral ground, where they could engage in their clandestine activities without risking open conflict. Bothan soldiers and officers were trained at the oft-mocked Bothan Martial Academy.

During the search for the new Death Star, two dozen Bothans sacrificed their lives in order to attain the technical specifications for the space station. Furthermore, they learnt that the Emperor himself intended to inspect the Death Star II, which paved the way for a Rebel attack at the unfinished weapon around Endor.

Despite official neutrality, the Bothan Spynet played a significant role in military operations throughout the war. Bothan spies acquired top secret codes for the first Death Star and delivered them to rogue Imperial Moff Kalast, who in turn handed them over to the Rebellion. Hundreds of Bothans would be personally slaughtered by Emperor Palpatine for their treachery, most notably during the 501st Legion's retaliatory attack on the Rebel base on the surface of Yavin 4, killing 3 Bothan Rebel leaders. Later, under the leadership of Koth Melan, spies provided information to the Rebel Alliance, and were crucial in securing the plans to the second Death Star.

After the Empire subjugated the Bothan worlds, Alliance General Bob Hudsol organized many Bothans into a resistance movement that eventually overthrew the Imperial garrison. As Bothan involvement in the New Republic increased, so did Bothan military advancement. From 4.5 ABY to 8 ABY, the New Republic Defense Fleet maintained a Bothan-only Bothan Combat Response Element as a quick response force, giving early experience to many future Bothan officers of the New Republic. By 25 ABY, Bothans such as Traest Kre'fey held high ranking posts in the New Republic military, and Bothan engineers had developed several warships, such as the Bothan Assault Cruiser.

When the Second Galactic Civil War began in 40 ABY, the Bothan government joined the Corellians. The Bothans began to build small, fast but durable frigates to aid the war effort and transport. Mon Calamari Admiral and Chief of Staff Cha Niathal stated that the Bothans had theorized a new fleet tactic: smaller, faster ships instead of heavily armed but inherently slow Star Destroyers.

Bothan culture was guided by the philosophy and principles set forth in the ancient text known as The Way, written by Golm Fervse'dra. In this "Bothan Way", the pursuit of power and influence was paramount. Thus, individual Bothans put their own political and economic success above all other concerns, and as a species, Bothans put their own advancement ahead of other intergalactic interests, though many did side with the Rebel Alliance during the Galactic Civil war. The volume of backstabbing, subtle character assassination and political maneuvering in Bothan society was dizzying, and resulted in many species stereotyping Bothans as untrustworthy. In fact, most Bothans are habitually paranoid, believing that anyone who's not working with them, is working against them.

In times of crisis, the focus of Bothan society shifted to a survivalist state known as "ar'krai". When engaged in ar'krai, all fit Bothans volunteered to defend their species from impending annihilation. The last calling of ar'krai was during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion after the death of Borsk Fey'lya and the practical defeat of the New Republic.

Immediate Bothan families were organized into large clans, which were the most important social unit in Bothan society; family and clan loyalty were equally important as power accumulation. Clan association was denoted as the last component in a Bothan name. For example, the name Girov Dza'tey would mean that Girov was his given name, Dza his family name, and that he was of the Atey clan.

The Bothan Council, a representative body of selective Bothan clans, was the primary governmental body of the Bothan people. Renamed the "Combined Clans" during the New Republic era, the body was still commonly referred to as the Council. At the height of the Galactic Civil War, the council comprised representatives from 608 registered clans. A constant flow of new clans petitioned for membership with the numbers soaring during crises like the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. At the head of the Council was the First Secretary, who led the council from their headquarters in Merchant's Square in the capital of Drev'starn.

Beginning with the Clone Wars and continuing after the fall of the Galactic Republic, the Council absorbed many of the Bothan political bodies, such as the Bothan Independent Treasury, seeing them as wasteful, corrupt and inefficient. Highly centralized, the Bothan Council governed all social, political, economic and security issues of Bothan life.

The Bothan Diplomatic Corps was one of the few government organizations to survive the culling, and was in fact expanded. The Diplomatic Corp operated as a branch of the Bothan government, and held the responsibility of furthering Bothan ideals through diplomacy. Its agents met with the leaders of other worlds, forged treaties, and represented Bothawui in the New Republic, to ensure that Bothan ends were served in any alliance.

Although Bothan Space have been prominent members of the New Republic and the Galactic Alliance that replaced it, Bothawui joined the Confederation in 40 ABY after the assassination of several Bothan citizens on Coruscant by the order of Jacen Solo, and the revelation of a Galactic Alliance plot to invade Bothan Space.

Pers'lya was a Bothan Supreme Chancellor circa 12,000 BBY.

Bothans are covered with fur that ripples in response to their emotional state. They have tapered ears, and both male and female Bothans sport beards.

The Bothans were able to interbreed with the other species, as exemplified by the Jedi Lord Valenthyne Farfalla. Such hybrids somewhat resembled baseline humans with haunches, hooves, fur, pointed ears and a long tail.

They average about 1.6 meters or 5.2 feet tall and averages at 55 kilograms or 121.2 pounds in weight.

Bothans age at the following stages:

1 - 11 Child

12 - 16 Young Adult

17 - 45 Adult

46 - 65 Middle Age

66 - 84 Old

Examples of Names: Borsk Fey'lya, Karka Kre'fey, Koth Melan, Tav Breil'lya, Tereb Ab'lon.

Languages: Bothese was the spoken language of the Bothans. The language was also known as Bothan. Botha was the written form of the Bothan language. The alphabet was also adopted by the Dressellians for their language. Wrendui was a subtle body language of the Bothans. Their fur shifted in response to their emotional state by way of gentle ripplings. Bothan spies used many secretive forms to communicate.

#star wars #star wars aliens #star wars species #bothan #Bothan #star wars Bothan #Valenthyne Farfalla

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patmosboy · 5 years ago

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Paploo: was a male Ewok of the Bright Tree tribe on the forest moon of Endor. During the Battle of Endor, Paploo aided the Rebel strike team that was led by Han Solo in destroying the generator powering the Death Star II's deflector shield. Prune Face: Orrimaarko was the Dressellian governor of Sreeharlo and eventually a resistance fighter and key figure in the liberation of his homeworld, Dressel. He was xenophobic, particularly toward Humans, and when the Empire subjugated Dressel around 10 BBY, he and his fellows took up arms and fought back, becoming masters of guerrilla tactics. Aided by their allies, the more technologically sophisticated Bothans, who provided them with advanced weaponry and mercenary training, a Dressellian rebellion was formed with Orrimaarko at its helm, effectively fending off the Empire. They became embroiled in a war lasting over a decade, which mostly occurred at small engagements in the planet's dense forests. AT-ST Driver: also called AT-ST pilots, were Imperial Army combat drivers specialized in operating the All Terrain Scout Transport. Rancor Keeper: Malakili was a human male from the planet Corellia who spent much of his childhood living in the slums of the moon Nar Shaddaa. Having an affinity for animals, Malakili was hired as a beastmaster for Hutt circuses, but he was sold into slavery after a creature got loose and killed audience members. Purchased by Jabba the Hutt, Malakili served as a caretaker to the creatures in Jabba's Palace on the desert planet Tatooine. During that time, Malakili became fond of Jabba's rancor, Pateesa, and the creature saved his life during a Tusken Raider attack. Sympathizing with Pateesa, Malakili planned to one day escape with the beast. #StarWars #ReturnoftheJedi #Kenner #Paploo #PruneFace #ATSTDriver #RancorKeeper #Tatooine #Endor #RebelAlliance #Empire https://www.instagram.com/p/B7mxSyDB5TT/?igshid=1miyp3lggja7r

#starwars #returnofthejedi #kenner #paploo #pruneface #atstdriver #rancorkeeper #tatooine #endor #rebelalliance #empire

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greyias · 7 years ago

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Do any of the fictional kiss prompts for theron because I need the fluff but I also crave the angst ahhhh going to drown in feels on the 22nd

You and me both, Nonny. So much angst and feels incoming I’m not sure if I can take it! In the meantime, I agree, fluff is probably the best cure! I started this with #19 in mind, but I think a few more worked their way in. Mostly fluff as the doctor ordered, but a hint of some future angst may have slipped in. Whoops!

(I blame Theron. As per usual. Thank you for the prompt!)

It was a two fingers of whiskey kind of night. Theron had spent nearly ten hours bent over a data terminal without a break, trying to backtrace a signal he’d picked up from the latest uprising that the Alliance had gotten tangled up in. The new command center for the Fleet wasn’t even complete, and the bottom feeders were already starting to come out of the woodwork. It made sense, there was bound to be skirmishes in a power vacuum, but there was a small portion of him that had wanted more than just a day or two of rest. After everything the Alliance had just gone through, after everything that it’s Commander had been through, a small break from the constant, never-ending battle would have been nice. She of all people deserved a vacation from the unending grind, and he could have tagged along. Maybe.

But the work never stopped, which was good for his boredom — less so for his stress levels. He’d never really been one to take a break, and he’d always used his vacation time at the SIS for other things (usually keeping a certain disreputable Twi’lek alive when she got in too deep, despite her best efforts to make him mind his own business). He frowned and took another sip. It had been a while since he had looked in on Teff’ith. Over eight years had passed since they had struck up their, well, friendship seemed to be a little generous of a term but he had nothing else – and she hadn’t changed much. Maybe she threatened to stick a vibroblade between his ribs a bit less these days, but that was probably because he hadn’t been able to keep as close tabs on her since the start of the Alliance. Who knew what mess she was involved in these days. Not much of a big brother figure, was he?

He’d have to try and make more of an effort to check in. People that he still considered family were in short supply, and it was bad form to not keep in touch. Yeah, he’d do that. Just as soon as he caught a break.

The stream of intelligence on his datapad scrolled on endlessly. A pocket of unrest near Tatooine. The White Maw were getting bolder, spreading from Hoth to more sectors in the Outer Rim. Disturbed murmurings from Port Nowhere about a new criminal organization he’d never heard of. Pockets of violence spread across the Galaxy at random. And yet something about it all didn’t seem completely random. Maybe he’d been staring at a screen too long today, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was missing something. Something much larger.

The cushions of the couch dipped as someone sat next to him, and the scent of Velanie flowers and juna berries tickled his nose. Hylo had recently swapped out the shampoo they were bringing in, complaining that she was tired of the Trillium soap stinking up her cargo bay. He didn’t mind the change for one. Out of a reflex built on routine, Theron wrapped an arm around the Jedi as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. His eyes never left the screen of the datapad, even as her still-slightly dampened hair soaked into his shirt. Absently he took another sip of whiskey, balancing the datapad at an odd angle as his eyes continued to take in the never ending stream of text. He felt her hand briefly brush against the fingers he had wrapped around his glass.

“Long day?” she asked quietly.

He nodded absently, pulling up a separate intelligence briefing on Tatooine. They had personnel in that area. They probably could handle it — but it wouldn’t hurt to check in. Get a report from someone with eyes on the situation directly. It was late there, though. Probably could wait until morning.

“When was the last time you took a break?”

“This is a break. I don’t drink on the chrono.”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“I’m a good liar,” he corrected absently. “It’s part of the job description.”

“Not with me.”

“Which is why I’m not lying. If I were working I’d still be at a data terminal.”

She let out a small noise of frustration, but fell quiet again. Most nights she’d have a data pad of her own, them both juggling for a comfortable reading position while still keeping physical contact. Neither of them were very demonstrative by nature, but they’d fallen into a comfortable routine since the formation of the Alliance. Share a cup of caf after meditation most mornings and settle into intelligence reports into the long hours of the night. Her lack of one right now was the closest he could give her to an actual break. Which was starting to seem like a mistake as she squirmed on the couch, unable to get comfortable. He did his best to ignore it, pulling up a different report.

The situation on Hoth looked like a powder keg ready to blow. He’d need to talk to Aygo, see if they could spare some troops from the relief efforts. As he pored over the details, that nagging feeling cropped up again. He stopped, went back and re-read it again, but nothing jumped off the screen at him. Just a vague sense of unease. He washed it away with another swig of whiskey.

“What are you worried about?”

“What?” he asked absently. “I’m not worried about anything. Just reading.”

The huff she let out this time was much louder and the weight resting against his shoulder disappeared as she sat up. He backed out of the report, pulling up the HoloNet so he could make a quick cross-reference to see if there was anything about this Crimson Fang organization. He was in the midst of typing out his search when he felt a soft kiss press to his cheek. He blinked, pausing as he forgot the next word in his query. The lips pressing against his cheek quirked up into a ghost of a smile, and he felt another soft peck.

His fingers hovered over the keys, trying to regain his train of thought. The cursor blinked up at him, waiting far more patiently than the blonde woman who planted a series of feather soft kisses that traced his jawline. He let the datapad drop to the table and carefully set his glass of whiskey down next to it before turning to face her as gracefully and poised as he could.

“Fine, datapad down. Happy now?”

“I’d be happier if you’d tell me what was bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me.” He heaved a sigh that was most definitely not on the dramatic side. “I just got a little sidetracked today and let the reports pile up.”

Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a sad smile, her thumb absently brushing across the deep crease in his brow. “You have twice as much whiskey in that glass as you normally do and are on the way to making this frown permanent.”

“I thought you said wrinkles looked distinguished.”

“You said that. I said I didn’t care if you looked like a shriveled Dressellian prune.”

“You know just what to say to a guy to make him feel sexy.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Her cheeks flushed pink, lips briefly pressing together in consternation. “Theron, you’ve fallen asleep on this couch for the last two nights surrounded by a pile of datapads.”

“So I’m more than just a little behind on reports.”

“Is that all it is?”

He frowned, eyes briefly straying to the discarded datapad on the table, the search field still empty and waiting. The ghost of a notion that he was missing something still lingered in the back of his mind. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

“What is?”

“I just can’t help but feel I’m not seeing something,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He stopped mid-motion, seeing that she’d adopted his perturbed expression from earlier. “Forget about it, I’m probably jumping at shadows. Gotten too used to chasing after the next mission.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Isn’t there? I’m sitting here lost in the HoloNet instead of taking advantage of us being alone, truly alone, for the first time since before we ever even heard the name Zakuul.”

A flicker of a shadow crossed her face at the memory of the unwanted interloper in her head, who had been trying to hollow her out from the inside. Without even thinking about it he reached out, laying a hand on hers and giving it a small squeeze. A small smile chased the shadow away as she dropped her gaze, absently running the fingers of her other hand over his knuckles. He’d forgotten how nice that felt.

“After so long, the quiet in my mind is a little odd. Not unwelcome, but I sometimes don’t know what to do with it.”

“We both kind of got used to working around him,” he admitted quietly. “Do something long enough, you get accustomed to it. Can get too comfortable in a routine, even if it’s not the best one for you.”

“And if you do?”

“Hm?”

“Get too comfortable. Get stuck. What do you do then?”

“Something unexpected.”

“Like what—”

He gave a quick tug to their clasped hands, yanking her off balance so that she was sprawled across his lap and captured her mouth in a breathless kiss. She was still for a brief moment, before she responded in kind, surging forward and pressing her body into him. He wasted no time, scooping her up as he stood, shuffling them both in the direction of the bed.

“Stairs,” she murmured against his lips, moments before they would trip.

“Sorry,” he replied, slowing just enough so they didn’t wind up a tangled mess of limbs on the floor. “Hard to see.”

“You could always stop,” she let out a small gasp as he began to nibble on her ear, “and watch where you’re going.”

“Not a chance,” he muttered. “You use the Force. That’s what it’s for.”

“That’s not an appropriate use of—”

“Live a little,” he said, “we’re being unexpected. Remember?”

“I am not using the Force as a homing beacon for the bed.”

“Fine,” he sighed melodramatically, “you give me no choice then.”

Without warning he scooped her off her feet, eliciting a tiny gasp before she let out a quiet giggle. He flashed her a smirk, quickly crossing the rest of the expanse before unceremoniously tossing her smaller form on the bed. The sound she let out then was far less delighted, and bordered on indignant.

“Oh no, what a tragedy.” He shook his head gravely as she flashed him a look. “If only I had had a map to know where I was going—”

“Oh, shut up,” she said with a roll of her eyes, grabbing him by the belt and pulling him down next to her.

Theron happily complied with her request, as there was far more creative ways to tease her and bring a blush to those cheeks than with sarcasm alone. He nibbled at her throat gently, deciding he liked her tiny gasps to the indignant huff anyway. As he got lost in her arms, whatever had been bothering him was completely forgotten. Along with the datapad, the reports, and the half-drunk glass of whiskey.

#swtor fanfiction #fanfic #Theron Shan #Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #theron shan x jedi knight #prompts #otp: adorkable #Anonymous #oc: greyias highwind #swtor #greyfic

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mesdea · 8 years ago

Text

The Philosophy of Lost Chances Chapter 3

It had seemed an eon since he had graced the massive refectory inside the temple walls. It was a great room in which all Jedi took their meals while assigned at the temple, but it was also so much more. It was an avenue where masters, padawans, and initiates mixed, there were no boundaries within these walls, and rank was just a word. He had almost forgotten how much he had missed interacting with his fellow Jedi, but it was still painful to observe those around him. They appeared to move with life, without effort, they were able to enjoy their meals, their friendships and their padawans.

Qui-Gon sat and viewed a small table, filled with senior padawans, their carefree banter interrupted by a passing master that offered them greetings. There was a Mon Calamari girl, a Dressellian whom seem to be inhaling food from everyone and a young man whom reminded him much of young Kenobi from earlier. They seemed the same age and were probably crechemates with the young man that was too cemented in his thoughts, even now. Regarding his plate once more, Qui-Gon begun to pick at the cold bland food, he felt he was intruding on their lives from the shadows as he watched their bi-play.

After his encounter with Padawan Kenobi he had made it to the meditation gardens, but had no success in finding his center. If he was honest with himself, it had been years since he had achieved that peace within the force. He was now sitting with a half-eaten meal, alone in his misery as everyone seemed to shun his presence. Even his old friend, Mace, had looked on him with something close to disgust just moments ago. How could he blame him? It’s not like he had returned any of the letters he had received over the years. Why should he show interest now that he was back at the temple?

Just as the master was about to forgo what was left of his dinner, he heard a small cough across the table. “I do hope you planned on eating more than that, Master Jinn?” He looked up to see the sparking eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi once again. Eyes that seemed to be full of care and understanding, even though they did not know each other in the least, it was something that set his nerves on edge and urged him to feel once more.

“I was not very hungry, but I appreciate your concern, Padawan Kenobi.” It was a curt response, but he wanted this padawan to just leave him be. Was it wrong for a master of his age to just stand and disappear? No, it would not do for him to shun the young man in front of the entire hall; he would at least act like he deserved the title of master.

“Please call me Obi-Wan.” The soft voice seemed to speak to him as if he was a frightened animal. It was a soothing voice, which was low and even in hopes of not scaring away its prey.

Qui-Gon paused for a moment looking up from his discarded food and gazed at the young man before him. His bronzed, reddish hair was spiked in the ridiculous cut of a padawan and his braid rested over the left shoulder. The braid, a symbol of his time with a master, Master Windu not him, not his padawan, the words seemed to burn into his mind. There were many beads wound into the braid, marks of honor and accomplishments, finished off with a bright purple glass bead. It was a symbol of his devotion to his master, the color of Mace Windu’s lightsaber.

Obi-Wan seemed to let the moment continue on, the silence between the two a bit awkward as he stood before the master’s table, hoping for an invitation. He remembered his master’s words when they entered the hall and was eager to befriend such a lost soul, but he also knew that there was a reason his master was adamant about guarding his heart. The man before him was utterly broken and drowning in the past. He looked around for a moment and watched all the padawans and Masters around the room continue on with their conversations, but none seemed to pay attention to the man before him. How could they not feel the force around him, how could they not see the lifeline that reached out to them for a safe harbor?

Qui-Gon saw the young man looking about and figured he was desperately looking for a way out of the situation before him. “It was good to see you again, Obi-Wan, but I must go.”

“You didn’t finish your meal!” Obi-Wan was pulled from his thoughts.

Qui-Gon stood up and pushed his chair in, gathering the food try into his large hands. “I am old enough to take care of myself, Padawan.” The words were a bit icy, but Qui-Gon didn’t need to be coddled.

Obi-Wan bowed his head, chastised at the response. “I’m sorry Master Jinn, it wasn’t my place. I just…”

Qui-Gon quickly cut him off, the sullen face breaking his icy demeanor once more, “It’s ok Obi-Wan, I’m just tired. I’ve been gone from the temple a long while and I am just not used to interacting much.” The confession startled him, but he just nodded. It was time to back off, the force prodded him.

“It will get better, even if it feels foreign to you now.” Obi-Wan bowed slightly to the roughened master and headed over to the table with the Dressellian and company. They immediately started screaming the young man’s name, standing to give him gentle hugs. He seemed to be a welcome addition to their jovial banter as he handed over half his plate to the Dressellian. “Reeft, I will just give this to now and save us both the trouble.”

“Obi-Wan, we missed you so much.” Bant Eerin, the young Mon Calamari smiled.

“I missed you too, my old friend. I trust you’ve kept Reeft and Garen out of trouble while I was gone?”

“Hey, we don’t need a babysitter Obi-Wan!” They both spoke in tandem.

Qui-Gon watched them interact with each other so easily and stood silent for a moment. He longed for that same feeling of belonging and he once had it with Mace, Tahl and Micha. He could have it again if he just simply reached out, but he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to have that happiness. Qui-Gon pulled himself from those emotions and emptied his tray. “You didn’t eat, Mastah.” The small boy before him looked up showing off a brilliant smile.

“My young Quint, I promise I am quite full.”

“I ate all mah food, Master Antma say that if we don’t eat we won’t get big and strong.” Quint’s tiny hands were trying to push his empty tray on the counter to be washed. Qui-Gon reached out to help him, raising the young boy just a bit off the ground.

“Well that is very true, but I don’t think I need to get any bigger, do you?” The master set the youngling back down and gently ran his hands through the mop of hair. “It was good to see you again, Quint, make sure you tell Master Antma that you finished all your food, perhaps you will get frozen pallies for dessert.”

His cerulean eyes sparkled with delight as he ran off towards the creche master, speaking of frozen desserts.

“Well I will be damned; Master Jinn’s heart isn’t the frozen mass that we believed it to be. There is still a sliver of the man we once called friend.” Qui-Gon turned at the voice, the even steady melodic voice of his old friend, Tahl. She looked just as she had years before, beautiful and stoic. She stared at him, as if determining her course of action.

Years before she had been on a mission to Melida/Daan and was almost blinded, but the assignment of both Windu and Kenobi had seen her transported back to the temple quickly, saving both her life and her eye sight. As they stood before each other, she looked almost the same. The frown on her face lifting to a smile. “It is about time you returned, Qui.” Her voice softened just a bit.

“I’m not a monster; I can still manage to not scare small children and animals.” Qui-Gon started to step forward to leave.

“You’ve never been a monster, Qui, except to yourself.” She tried to pull his arm to hers, but he stiffened at the touch and pulled away.

“I’m sorry Tahl, I was just returning to my quarters. I’m still exhausted from my last mission.” He looked one last time to the table of laughing padawans and took a deep breath.

“That’s ok Qui, You can continue to hide for now, but sooner or later you will have to let us in. Tea, tomorrow?” Tahl once again moved forward and wrapped her arms around the stiff body. Her embrace was warm and comforting as it had been since they were little ones. He found his body contouring slightly around her as he heard someone clearing their throat behind him.

“Jinn.” Tahl let go and shook her head. ‘Don’t scare him away, Mace’ went through her head as she let go of her old friend.

“Windu.” Qui-Gon bit back, wondering when they had switched to such formal greetings, but how could he blame him. Mace had often sent communications after Xan…no, he would not think of that name now, he wouldn’t bring that darkness into his life right now. Mace had sent many letters, only to receive silence in return, especially after he had taken a padawan, THE padawan that Yoda declared meant for him.

“I can assume you aren’t here because you wish to be. How long did the troll say you would be in temple?” Mace tried his best to not scream at the man before him.

“I honestly don’t know, Mace. I’m here until I get another assignment, which could be in an hour or a month. It’s in the hands of the force and the council.” The need to run from the hall was tugging at his emotions. He felt his breath starting to quicken, along with his heart. He wouldn’t do this here; he wouldn’t do this in front of the masses and his old friends.

“I...I’m sorry but there is somewhere I must be. It was good to see you both.” He offered, wanting to escape the situation before it overwhelmed him. Tahl and Mace watched the slouched master flee from the room, as if the sith themselves had descended on the temple.

“You could have been more welcoming.” She spoke softly.

“Why should I? He is the one that chose to be alone. He is the one that never wrote, never visited all in the name of some penance. I took Obi-Wan as my padawan and I was suddenly a pariah that was off limits.” Windu started to burn with anger as the words raged on. “We loved him as if a brother, Tahl! He turned on us, when he should have turned to us.”

She allowed him to continue on, knowing that it was not anger but sorrow that made her friend’s words burn. “He’s here now. Perhaps he just needs a shoulder to lean on; perhaps he just needs someone to kick his ass?” No one really knew how to help Qui-Gon, but she ached to see the man he used to be.

“He might, but he isn’t going to hurt my Padawan!” His voice raised and flinched as he saw Obi-Wan look up from his friends and give him a puzzled look.

“I see.”

“No you don’t, Obi-Wan is determined to befriend him.” Mace whispered.

“I do see. You love Obi-Wan. You want to protect him, even though he’s almost a Knight. I look at Bant the same way, but you can’t control what is to come, Mace. You were right to claim him when he was younger, Qui-Gon might have grown to love him, but at what cost to that young man’s spirit?”

“I saw it all, Tahl. I saw a broken old man, alone and still agonizing over acceptance by the one man that meant the most to him, his master. I won’t see him that lonely old man, Tahl. I can’t.” Mace hung his head and rubbed his temples once more, the headache he had earlier exploding behind his eyes.

“One ripple, one decision made can forever alter the universe around us, Mace. Your taking of Obi-Wan may have already altered any future that brings about that sad old man. Would it really hurt to allow Obi-Wan to try, someone needs to get through to Qui before it’s too late. Would you have our friend fall to the darkside?” Her voice was lower as she said out loud what they all thought.

“Who’s to say he hasn’t already? I don’t want to risk his open heart, Tahl.”

“That is not your place any more, Mace. He’s of age, no longer a child and let’s face it, will do what the force wills of him, even if that means ignoring your great wisdom.” Laying her hand gently on his shoulder, she started to walk away, turning just slightly to offer one last word. “We all need a life line, perhaps Obi-Wan can be his. If he fails, he will always have you to mend his broken heart. Who does Qui-Gon have Mace?”

Tahl turned back to the doors and walked out, leaving the question unanswered. She knew that Mace would do the right thing, if he hated the outcome. He was a good man, a good master and a better friend, even if he had to be reminded of the latter.

As the walls started to narrow, his heart started to beat faster. Not now, not here. He had to make it back to his quarters; he had to keep his composure just a bit longer. Qui-Gon stalked down the hall, his hood around his features, hoping it would keep those around him from speaking. He was almost there, his door just within reach as his veins seem to turn to ice. Run, his body spoke, run and get away. Run away from the fear that only seemed to follow faster as the minutes continued on. His shaky hand ran over the reader as the doors opened.

Qui-Gon collapsed on his knees as the door closed behind him. His body was shaking with the effort to breathe as his heart seemed to thump from his very chest. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe and be still. Placing his hand on his chest, he tried to pull from the force to calm him soul. He had been having panic attacks for the last year, usually in times of great stress, but times he was alone. He had never felt so helpless and alone than he did at this moment.

His breath hitched as he seemed to be over the worse of the attack. “Reach out for help you should.” He heard the words of his master as he lowered himself to the floor into a fetal position. What happened to the strong man he had become, what happened to the master that he should be. He was now just a puddle of nerves and anxiousness that couldn’t be trusted around people he once called friends.

“Sleep.” He heard the words whispered, but from where he had no idea. It sounded like the best advice ever. When was the last time he had truly slept? Last week, last month…Last year, no, it had been the night before he had left for Telos and his entire life had changed in an instant.

“Sleep.” Yes, he thought, sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up, the thoughts jostled him and he lurched back to his feet. Where had that thought come from, he had never actively sought death. He had never wanted to leave his life.

“What life?” The darkness of the room seemed to speak to him. Perhaps the shadows were right, no. No, he was just tired, he just needed rest. He just needed to make it to his bed. Discarding his robe, Qui-Gon struggled to the bedroom, where he crawled into the bed, clothes and all, wrapping his body around the large pillow. Sleep, just sleep. The last vision in his head before the darkness enclosed was sparking blue-grey eyes, those eyes that would haunt him even in sleep.

#Qui Gon Jinn #obi wan kenobi #tahl #mace windu #QuiObi

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