. 𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑪𝒀 ˊˎ˗

#𝙺𝙴𝚉𝚃𝙸𝚂             𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝙺𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚂 .                 ❝  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒  𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄  𝐌𝐄  𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄  𝐀  𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 .  ❞

indie , 21+ writer , private & selective , NOVELLA-PREFERRED / MULTI-PARA ONLY , canon div. / alt. verse / crossover / oc / duplicate friendly , heavily headcanon-developed , EU-canon / legends-lore based , ( fallen order-centric ) canon divergent 𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐒 + 𝐁𝐃-𝟏 from star wars jedi: fallen order & survivor.                  please read rules before following / interacting. 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: do not send asks / memes without the intention of continuing interaction. didn't come here to write by myself; i'm super understanding & busy, too, but do this repeatedly to answered asks / starters, and i will unfollow, full stop.

using rpthreadtracker to keep track: 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂: 12 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙵𝚃𝚂: 3 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝚂: 3

      brought to life by vincent.   est. 2024.   updated 2025-03. navi.  𝙲𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙳  𝚁𝙴𝙶𝚂  𝙳𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙴𝚁  𝙲𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚇 MAIN SW BLOGS: @stillsolo , @skysaunter , @akunaa!

             OPEN STARTER ::. canon/legends/ocs/duplicates/whatever — all are welcome !! if i get more than one reply, i'll move our thread to a new post !! xoxo

              𝙺𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚂  𝙳𝙸𝙳  𝙽𝙾𝚃  𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴𝚁  𝙷𝙸𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵  𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙴  𝚃𝙾  𝙿𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙲. there had been a time during his formative years at the jedi temple, when moments of uncertainty or unexpected challenge could scatter his thoughts like kreetles spooked by daylight.  the other masters had noticed; cal had seen it in their glances, heard it in the silence that followed his more excitable missteps.  even his own master’s stillness had seemed somehow louder in those moments, as though disappointment could broadcast through silence alone.

but that had been before the purge.  order-66 had changed him. bracca changed him.  years of hiding in plain sight taught cal how to school his expressions, to bite down on every twitch and flinch that might blow his cover.  he’d learned to adapt, to breathe through panic instead of give into it.

       well, mostly.                that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still scream mid-freefall or pitch a petulant whine to BD-1 about their impending doom when things got too tight.  growth had its limits.

still, he’d come a long way.  at least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he drifted through the congested marketplace, a melting pot of beings from every corner of the galaxy, their voices a cacophony ricocheting off the durasteel walls of a space station whose name slipped from his memory. he shouldn’t be here. he was overdue for departure—hours past, in fact—after refueling the mantis.

this wasn’t imperial territory, but lingering too long in any port was an open invitation for trouble—and trouble was the last thing cal needed right now.

              ❝hey, excuse me, uh—sorry to interrupt.❞   ducking his head, cal rubbed the back of his neck, playing up the awkward traveler act.  best he didn’t give anyone too much of himself to remember.   ❝you haven’t seen a small droid, have you?  white, bipedal, about this tall—❞   he gave a rough approximation with both hands, avoiding specifics.  if anyone knew the empire also wanted a certain specific explorer droid model with a white paint job, he didn’t want to tip his hand.   ❝if he passed through here, i’d like to know.❞

              𝙷𝙸𝙶𝙷-𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙺,  𝙷𝙸𝙶𝙷-𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚈  𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚂  𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙸𝙼𝙼𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴  𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 and tactical assessment weren’t statistical anomalies.  serving as a companion to not one, but two jedi exhibiting a consistent pattern of behavior categorized as “recklessly curious” had resulted in an extensive, ever-growing emergency response log.  regarding cal kestis specifically, BD-1 had long since initiated a standing internal directive default: prepare for worst-case scenarios.  this wasn’t a negative reflection on his human companion, but a practical adaptation to cal’s behavior profile.  BD-1 understood, perhaps better than most, the impulse to seek answers.  it was a compulsion BD-1, himself, recognized—an algorithmic core function.

the difference, of course, lay in protocol structure.  BD-1 possessed embedded self-preservation subroutines within his directives, whereas cal kestis, by all observable metrics, did not.  no other entity was more acutely aware of this discrepancy than BD-1, who had a front-row seat to the many hazards his companion blundered into without hesitation. . .

today presented a recent anomaly that BD-1 struggled to categorize.  cal’s risk tolerance remained unchanged, as did his propensity for navigating koboh’s rugged terrain with minimal forethought.  all behavioral indicators aligned with baseline.  but something had changed.

cal had become distracted over the past several weeks, exhibiting an increase in dissociative behaviors: visual fixations on distant or non-existent focal points, delayed responses, and prolonged periods of silence.  BD-1 cross-referenced this behavioral shift with existing health records.  hormonal fluctuations: unlikely.  sleep cycle irregularities: persistent but stable.  non-invasive psychological scans revealed emotional metrics had elevated, but weren’t anomalous.  nutritional levels remained below optimal, but unchanged from standard.

results: inconclusive. before BD-1 could conduct further analysis to isolate the cause, the chain of events that followed their descent into koboh’s forest proceeded with unprecedented volatility.

initial contact: stormtrooper patrol.  secondary threat: reinforcement squad.  tertiary complication: two nesting mogu. 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝙻𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙻: 𝙴𝚇𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝙷𝙸𝙶𝙷. escape route intersected with a bilemaw den. 𝙷𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈: 𝙸𝙼𝙼𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴. parental defense response triggered.  cal’s actions: evasive maneuvers, sustained combat. final phase: raider ambush.  heavy resistance.  extended combat duration.  environmental traversal attempt—cliff ascent.  cal’s grip failed. 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙰𝙲𝚃 𝚅𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙴𝚇𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙰𝙵𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙳𝚂. result: unconscious state.

while waiting, BD-1 secured the perimeter, initiated a low-priority camouflage protocol ( sticks and leaf debris placed over cal’s prone form — insufficient, but better than nothing ), then departed to seek help. . . . \\ @d4gangera

he hadn’t stopped running calculations since. what if cal woke up to find BD-1 absent?  would he attempt to locate BD-1 despite injury?  would he perceive BD-1’s absence as abandonment?  anger and fear were frequent emotional responses in human trauma scenarios.  BD-1’s processors cycled faster, extrapolating scenarios: cal going after the raiders, wounded and alone; cal succumbing to internal and external injuries; cal dying in the interval between BD-1’s departure and return.

that possibility—destabilized his processing loop.

the little droid burst into pyloon’s saloon, his high-pitched beeps shrill with alarm, but with the din of shouting patrons, clinking glasses, and music thundering from the stage swallowed his cries whole, no one even looked up. undeterred, BD-1 launched himself onto the bar with a metallic clink, tiny legs knocking against a glass before he steadied himself.  bode: absent.  greez: absent.  monk: swamped behind the counter, arms full of steaming plates.

       BD-1’s head swiveled. there—dagan, settled on the couch against the back wall, partially obscured by a cluster of patrons.  BD-1’s optics flared. dagan gera could help cal kestis. he bounded off the bar, over heads, drinks, and one very confused twi’lek, landing with a thunk on the small round table in front of dagan.

<<BD=𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙! cal=𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎!>> the droid trilled, hopping frantically in place.  <<cal=𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞!>>  when dagan didn’t react quickly enough, BD-1 let out an impatient squeak, spinning in a tight, frustrated circle on the table before leaping directly into the jedi’s lap.

<<BD=𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙! cal=𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜!>> this time, his binary cracked at the edges, distorting almost into reedy whistles as he began butting his head into dagan’s chest.  <<cal=𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍!>>

              𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽  𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴  𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃  𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙶𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳  𝙰  𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿  𝙰𝚃  𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙸𝙸𝚂𝙸  𝙾𝙽  𝚂𝚄𝙻𝙻𝚄𝚂𝚃 , kestis wasn’t sure what to think.  the name meant nothing to him, but the planet itself did—imperial-controlled space was hardly the ideal route for a casual detour.  and with merrin’s injury still demanding fresh bandages each day, the idea of venturing into hostile territory felt less like a necessity and more like a gamble.  she wasn’t in any condition to face the risks they might encounter, and cal wasn’t about to put her in more danger.

but cere had an answer for everything: a safe house in the city, a chance to resupply, the simple fact they were long overdue for a break, and the safe house was under partisan control.  that, more than anything, silenced his objections.  if the partisans had a presence here, then this was more than a pit stop; it was an opportunity.  maybe saw gerrera had new assignments, new ways he could contribute beyond waiting in silence for the next call to action.

it’s worth it, cal had told himself, gripping onto the thought like a lifeline, though he couldn’t quite shake the restlessness settling into his bones.

piringiisi was not what kestis expected. the city sprawled beneath the surface, a subterranean resort famed for its geothermal springs and mineral-rich mud baths.  according to cere’s experience, and the natives of sullust, these springs held remarkable restorative powers.  they could speed up the healing of merrin’s injuries, and possibly even ease some lingering pain cal himself carried from his own old wounds.  nerve damage, muscle soreness, the scars of past conflicts—perhaps this place could undo some of it. . . . \\ @kniightsiister

it was enough prospect to make the trip worthwhile, and with the possibility of connecting with saw again, it could even be the opportunity cal had been waiting for.  it should have felt like an unambiguous victory. and yet. . .

cal liked to believe he was open-minded.  it was a point of importance to him, the ability to accept the unfamiliar, to respect the myriad ways sentient beings across the galaxy structured their lives.  so long as there was no harm done, he had no quarrel with custom or tradition.  however, for the first time in years, cal found himself reconsidering that conviction.

the sullustans were a gracious people, warm and accommodating, and those who operated the underground resort—along with the secret partisan safe house hidden within it—were no exception.  the problem. . . lay in their bathing customs: the sullustans divided their hot springs by age.  the result was that merrin would have only him for assistance.

  ❝uh—so, this whole bath situation.❞   cal stood in one corner of their room, fumbling with the buckles of his shirt as he darted a sideways glance toward merrin, who remained kneeling on the floor behind him, inspecting the fabric of her robes with apparent disinterest. ❝you’re okay with this, right?  i know you lived with your sisters, and you’re probably used to things like this, but, um. . .❞   well, the jedi temple had communal baths as well, but the jedi had segregated by gender.  this. . . this was entirely different.   ❝are you sure this doesn’t bother you?  i mean, sharing a, uh, bath, together.❞ he grimaced at his own phrasing. ❝it’s just. . . we’ve never done this before, and i want to make sure you’re—y’know, comfortable.❞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              𝙳𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾  𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃  𝙷𝙴  𝙰𝚂𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙴𝙳  𝚆𝙰𝚂  𝙰𝙽  𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚈  𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙴 , kestis pressed himself against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest, its rhythm erratic as it reverberated in his ears.  desperate to regain some semblance of control, he concentrated on his breathing, forcing air through his nose in shallow, measured attempts to slow the frantic pace of his pulse.  bright green eyes darted around, scanning the stark, clinical office before him.  white walls.  a sleek black desk, starkly illuminated by evenly spaced lighting panels overhead.  the kind of harsh, perpetual brightness that imperial architects seemed to favor—a glaring rejection of natural light, of repose, of humanity itself.

yeah, that checks out, cal thought, a grim smile twitching at his lips before he glanced down at his hands and pulled up his sleeves to inspect his wrists under the unforgiving lighting.  no marks.  no indentations of chains or signs of captivity. he rolled his shoulders, testing his range of motion.  his body felt intact, his thoughts clear.  nothing suggested the kind of torture that could explain the jagged gaps in his memory.

             but the blanks were there. \\ @tapalslegacy

cal let out a breath, glancing around again, his mind struggling to bridge the incongruity of his surroundings with what he knew—or rather, what he didn’t know.  it wasn’t every day he woke up in someone else’s massive bed — the lavish bedroom of a high-ranking official, now that he thought about it, with BD-1 hibernating on the pillow beside him. so, how did he get there?  who brought him there?

with a shake of the head, cal scrubbed a fist over his brow, knuckles white with pressure.  he was an intruder here; that much was obvious.  and this was an imperial base, wasn’t it?  at first, he hadn’t realized, distracted by the greenery and vibrant artwork that adorned the walls as he crept through the unfamiliar hallways in search of an exit.  it wasn’t until he saw the unmistakable presence of stormtroopers that the reality of his situation shifted from uncomfortable to downright nightmarish. . .

BD-1, whose squirming against cal’s back had grown more insistent, jabbed his mechanical toes into the young knight’s shoulder with quiet, determined force.  cal, however, barely registered it, his attention torn between rampant thoughts and the need to listen if someone had followed.  when BD-1’s internal mechanisms emitted a faint, rising whir—an unmistakable precursor to his thrusters powering on—cal snapped upright and cast a look that combined apology and confusion into a slight pout.

attuned to the unspoken, BD-1’s audio receptors tilted downward, and he nudged his head against cal’s forehead, a small but meaningful gesture of understanding.  cal allowed himself a light pat on the droid’s head, though the moment lasted only seconds before the sharp clatter of boots against the polished floor echoed in the corridor beyond.  both froze.   from his vantage point near the doorway, cal caught the vague flashes of white helmets rushing past.  their pace was brisk, their formation tight—far too many to confront.  three dozen soldiers at a time was more than he could handle.  why the heightened security?  did they know there was an intruder?

cal bit his lip.  staying here was a bad idea.  this office likely belonged to an imperial officer, and cal would much prefer avoiding an encounter with any imperial if he could help it. ❝guess we should follow them,❞ he murmured.  ❝maybe they’ll lead us to an exit.❞ BD-1 only booped. after chancing a look out the doorway, cal snatched a quick breath before darting out into the open corridor and — slamming straight into a hard chest.

the impact left him reeling, stumbling backward with a wince, the sharp squeal of his teeth still tickling in his jaw as he instinctively reached for his saber, prepared to fight for his life.  but as his gaze lifted, his breath caught in his throat.  there was a pause, a moment stretched thin by disbelief.  verdant green eyes—familiar, impossibly familiar—stared down at him.   then, recognition struck like a thunderbolt.

before cal could form a coherent sentence, BD-1 emitted an inquisitive toot. the other droid—roosting comfortably on the taller man’s shoulder—answered with a similar, almost playful toot, a sound that nearly sent cal booking it in the opposite direction.

                ❝wh-what is this?❞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@d4gangera | continued from [ x ]

                𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝚆𝙰𝚂𝙽’𝚃  𝙷𝙾𝚆  𝙺𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚂  𝙴𝙽𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙾𝚄𝚃.    he’d imagined approaching dagan with the same unassuming charm that so often invited conversation, presenting a broad opening—casual yet inquisitive, interwoven with just enough intrigue.  a deliberate balance, intended to reach beneath the surface without giving the impression of an interloper prying into the life of a jedi long removed from his time.

instead, cal had stumbled over his own question, lost his footing in the exchange, and continued to trip over words as though he hadn’t thought about this moment countless times before. because he had. days of idle thought, devoted to precisely this scenario. granted, most of that thinking happened while bored out of his mind in hyperspace, trapped in the monotony of a supply run from jedha to koboh to tanalorr, so maybe the absence of more pressing concerns had left him too much time to contemplate.  to envision.  to script, again and again, the way it should have gone.

and yet, despite it all, cal’s face brightened with sudden enthusiasm.

             ❝you do?  that’s great!  that’s. . . that’s really great.  because i—uh. . .❞   the young knight hesitated, glancing over his shoulder just as BD-1 whistled excitedly and launched from his perch. the droid’s thrusters sputtered in bursts, then stabilized, guiding him down to tanalorr’s pale soil in a controlled descent.  cal murmured his usual thanks—an absent, familiar habit—and shrugged off his old, well-worn rucksack, dropping it to the ground.

inside, an assortment of seed jars and flowers spilled into view—fresh and dried, vivid and fragile—along with neatly bundled roots, gently cleaned and preserved for planting.

it had taken years to gather. a slow accumulation from distant worlds, collected in moments of reverence amid surrounding chaos, each discovery carefully tucked into the rucksack’s ever-filling pockets.  cal never considered it a possession in the conventional sense, and certainly not something valuable.  yet as he looked down at the years of travel laid out before him, a wave of quiet contentment settled in his chest.  every one of these plants, found by chance—sometimes in wild, untouched places, though more often in the charred remains left behind by the empire—would one day have a new home.   somewhere better.  somewhere safer.

                ❝i guess it’s just. . . i like plants.❞  his voice, softer now, carried no less sincerity as he cradled a clump of damp roots in his hands, his thumb tracing over yellow hairs as if memorizing their delicate form.  ❝i know that probably sounds kind of dumb, but. . .  i’ve seen whole worlds lost.  people, cultures, entire histories—just. . . gone.  it’s easy to feel like nothing good lasts.  but plants. . . they’re stubborn. they grow in the ruins, in the cracks, in the ash.  it’s proof that life doesn’t give up.  and that keeps me grounded.  gives me hope.❞

for a moment, only the hush of tanalorr filled the space between them. BD-1, evidently less patient, hopped in place, then whistled in confusion. cal only rubbed the back of his neck, apprehensive—uncertain. no, he hadn’t decided which one to give dagan. would dagan favor the inisa, an elegant flower with soft, delicate colors?  or would he gravitate toward something wilder, something untamed and defiant, like the sficca with its riotous colors and thorn-laced stems?

❝i thought. . . maybe you’d appreciate that too.❞   the words came quietly, but with less hesitation.  cal exhaled, then extended a cluster of firethorn blossoms—freshly picked from the garden on koboh—toward dagan.  ❝i wanted you to have these.  if you want.  if not, BD-1 and i can always find a nice spot to plant them instead.  i don’t know.  or maybe we could. . . plant some together?❞