#If Caibos was less polite. He would remind Tharan that his girlfriend is a hologram. But he's a nice kid

[relevant-url-incoming]

Greying

once again doing some outside perspectives of when people realise caibos is actually Baby, this time with Tharan (can you tell this is matching up to my playthrough) (also realising that they did imply that he can stop shielding and therefore no longer be weakened once vivicar's done sending out the plague signals or whatever the fuck but that's dumb i like my consequences long-lasting and heartwrenching. i handwaved it for some of my consulars but not for Caibos i am making this boy suffer)

The first time Tharan realised how deceptive the Jedi’s looks must be was when he returned with Qyzen from the Carida. Tharan had seen how haggard Caibos had looked after shielding Master Fain, but it was the greying at his temples as he returned from saving Fain’s daughter that clinched it.

“I see shielding this victim has done a number on you,” he said, eyeing Caibos as he trudged up the steps into the ship. He couldn’t help but feel concerned. He’d thought the wrinkles and occasional winces of pain were due to a life lived well and long. The rapidity of his degeneration today made that significantly less likely. Not that Tharan was any less excited to be travelling the galaxy with him, as the Jedi had certainly proved himself, but this rendered the Jedi an unknown quantity once more. Tharan only liked that in a new piece of tech, and when he knew the unknown could be made known through his genius.

“I’m fine,” Caibos said. Tharan looked at Qyzen. He couldn’t be sure, having not had the opportunity to learn Trandoshan facial expressions, but he thought Qyzen looked upset or frustrated. Certainly, it was an unusual expression for the hunter.

“Rest, Herald,” Qyzen said. “Cannot hunt on shaking legs.”

“I am fine,” Caibos said again. There was a strange note to his voice – higher-pitched and plaintive, like a boy whose voice was still dropping. Tharan’s sense of foreboding grew. “I must call Master Syo.”

Tharan trailed after Caibos and Qyzen, intending to keep an eye on the Jedi. There was something strange in Syo Bakarn’s eyes as he spoke to Caibos, Tharan saw now – and he apologised to Caibos.

“I did what I must do,” Caibos said, as though these were words he said so often he didn’t have to plan them. From Syo and Qyzen’s reactions, they had heard them before, too.

“I appreciate your commitment, young Jedi,” Syo said. “But the Council does not take your sacrifices lightly.”

“Master Syo, we should discuss Lord Vivicar,” Caibos said too quickly.

When the call was done, Tharan did not return to the lower deck right away. Instead, he followed Caibos to the cockpit.

“Is something wrong?” Caibos asked.

“It’s difficult to say,” Tharan said, unsure how to start the conversation. “It has occurred to me there are a few things I neglected to ask you when this partnership began, not being on my mind at the time –“

“Tharan, it’s quite all right. You can ask me anything.” Caibos’ voice was so soothing and solemn that Tharan felt incredibly silly for a moment. He would only insult and confuse the Jedi if he was wrong – but then again, he was a genius. Perhaps not always in matters of picking up on lies and half-truths, but Tharan had never been a fool.

“How old are you?” he asked.

He knew immediately that he had guessed right. Caibos stiffened, seeming to search for an answer.

“Fifteen,” he muttered at last, sounding for all the galaxy like a sullen teenager. Tharan supposed, to his mounting horror, that he was. “How did you know?”

“I wasn’t certain,” Tharan said. He needed now to recategorize each of their interactions. The way Caibos’ eyes skittered over Holiday’s midriff – not just a Jedi with an overdeveloped sense of propriety, but a boy unsure of how to interact. The insistence on handling everything himself – knowledge of his own competence, or a desire to prove himself?

“Then why did you ask?”

“It occurred to me after your most recent foray into shielding your fellow Jedi,” Tharan said. “That perhaps your wizened appearance is not due solely to time lived.”

“I’m not wizened,” Caibos said, sounding disgruntled.

“My dear boy,” Tharan said with no small amount of amusement. “You are now going grey.”

He reached up to touch his hair, positively pouting.

“You look very distinguished, never fear,” Tharan said. “Though I should say if anyone expresses interest in such things, you may want to disclose your age sooner rather than later.”

“Why would – Oh. That’s – I am a Jedi!”

“Of course,” Tharan said. “But if you ever desire advice –“

“Tharan, you don’t need to treat me differently,” Caibos said. “You didn’t treat me like a child before.”

“That would be my mistake, and not yours,” Tharan said more sombrely. “I don’t doubt your skill, Jedi. But it doesn’t take a genius to know a child should not shoulder these burdens alone.”

“I’m not a child.”

That sentence alone was enough to confirm his age. Tharan smiled, reminded all too well of his own teenage years. What a hellion he had been.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “I thank you for your time.”

He was no expert on biology, but he resolved to see what he could find to diminish Caibos' symptoms. Especially if this plague continued, the boy would need all the support he could get. He may not welcome it, but Tharan was quite good at making his efforts so indispensable that even the most recalcitrant of people had to accept them.