#fic: journeyman protector Jaster/jon
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feelinkeeli · 4 years ago
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Work In Progress Wednesday - June 16th
Sorry for missing last week and sunday. Back on schedule now.
"Hey," Jaster called out and felt a little guilty as the figure ahead of him flinched at his sharp tone. 
It didn't stop him from marching towards the person. This was definitely the wandering vagabond he'd been receiving complaints about all day. The humanoid looking being wore a cloak with enough tears and poorly done repairs to be mistaken as a sentient rag. 
Concord Dawn was said to have been settled not long after Mandalore was, but it was settled primarily by farmers. There wasn't a centimeter of farmable land - and then some - that wasn't owned by someone and carefully monitored to ensure neighbors weren't trying to move fences around to claim more. This person had been trapiezing around various people's lands, setting off all kinds of alarms, and putting people in a mild uproar.
Concord Dawn didn't have any laws against homelessness but they had a stack of datapad's worth when it came to trespassing. The only reason why this stranger wasn't already locked up was because their obvious circumstances gave them leniency. People wanted them warned off before the Journeyman Protectors took more serious action. At least Jaster caught up to them before they hopped another fence like property markers were something for other people to worry about.
"Can I help you?" The stranger asked and now that Jaster was closer it was easier to tell the stranger was definitely Human or a race that could be mistaken for Human. Jaster was just grateful they could speak Basic. He was far more literate in multiple languages than he was capable of speaking them as Clan Wurfyyys could attest. 
"Yes. Stop trespassing all over the kriffing fields," Jaster said bluntly, crossing his arms as he tried to stare down the other. The vagabond might be taller than him but height never stopped a Mando'ade from throwing their presence around to get their point across.
Abashed, the Human ducked their head and maybe that would normally hide their face but the height difference made it easier for Jaster to see their face past the hood of their cloak. Jaster felt his throat go tight in surprise at the scars on the other's face. Some were clearly that of an animal's claws, another the too thin and precise to be anything other than a blade of some kind. The one scar that truly captured Jaster's attention was the scar that wrapped over their nose. The only kind of weapon that could leave a trailing burn scar like that was an electro whip on its highest setting.
This stranger was a Freed or a runaway slave. There was no other explanation for a scar like that. 
"Sorry," they said, ducking their head further and hunching their shoulders when they caught on to Jaster's staring. "I thought as long as I left the crops and herds alone no one would mind."
"We appreciate the consideration but we have strict laws against trespassing here on Concord Dawn. You get a warning cause you're clearly new here but if you keep going we're going to have more than a talk. Understand?" Jaster asked, trying to balance his tone between gentle but firm. 
"Sorry," the stranger said again, curling in further on themself while also tensing, as if preparing for an attack. "But I'm looking for something. Or someone. It's important."
Wayii. Just Jaster's luck this stranger was either crazy or Force Sensitive; it was same thing really. At least they weren't a Jedi. Jaster sighed and resisted the urge to rub his face. What a pain in the shebs attached to a pretty face this was turning out to be. 
"You got a name, stranger?" Jaster asked.
The vagabond hestitated, body twitching like they thought they could flee from the question. "Jon Antilles," they said like they were naming someone other than themselves. 
There was no telling if it was an alias, a name 'gifted' to Jon, or a name Jon was so unused to hearing it didn't really feel like his. Jaster wasn't ignorant enough to question it. 
"I'm Journeyman Protector Jaster Mereel. Why don't you follow me to the cantina? It's approaching midmeal time, we'll talk this out after we see to our stomachs," Jaster suggested.
Jon was visibly hesitating again. "I don't have many credits on me."
You don't say, Jaster thought loudly and bit his tongue to keep from speaking. 
"It's on me. Consider it a gesture of welcome," Jaster said carefully. He knew how Freed could shy away from acts of kindness, too wary of hidden costs to accept not everything had a price to it. 
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