#jakkuforce

Snowmelt darkens the carpet beneath his boots, and the city cold still clings to him, sharp and metallic, but his heartbeat stirs in his chest like an animal waking from brumation. 

Second-hand embarrassment? Reciprocal anxiety? Now he has seventeen questions. 

His ears burn under his hat. Ben’s reputation doesn’t have a clean bill of health—maybe this is someone’s idea of a joke. He turns the note over in his hands, pink on pink, flashing red-ink scrawls: ‘alone,’ ‘fool,’ ‘nervous.’

Right. Rey. Rey from the editor’s department. He can live with how easily he missed a face he sees almost every day. He lives with shortcomings of all shapes and sizes. His coat-arms, for instance, were nearly too short, compressing his biceps like BP cuffs. His fault, not the coat’s.

“But…” Ben’s hesitation hangs in the air, a weak puff of verbal condensation. “You came here.”

His look is long, but not admonishing. Slippery, maybe. Made of black ice. And if her face is pink, it’s the cold. It’s a thought he quickly files away

“I live here. Well, I lived here. I don’t anymore. Never mind.”

Finally, he offers the note to Rey. It buckles in his hand. 

I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of you because I admire you. 

Couldn’t be for him. 

“Did you follow me?” he asks anyway. 

His fault, not Rey’s. 

Normally he wasn't a fan of the beach; five minutes under the sun and he began turning a shade of red that promised at least a week's worth of pain.

But, as always, Rey was the exception to everything. And maybe it wasn't so bad when he got to watch her in the waves, soaking up the sunlight like one of her plants. He just stayed under the beach umbrella, even paler thanks to a thick layer of sunscreen, and halfheartedly attempted to read until she came back to their towels.

　Valiant was hardly a word ever used to describe him. There was much ambition but was it courageous as much as it was stubborn fearlessness? He could not imagine a world in which Rey would compliment him and mean it. Granted, he did not blame @jakkuforce as well. He found himself at times impossibly insufferable just as much as she.

Nonetheless, he takes the flower. Weak stem, destined to wilt, and just a pretty thing. He smiles despite there being no warmth between them. She also has a sense of humor.

　　❝ I was actually searching for you. Are you free to join me for a little walk? ❞ ╱ continued.

“I see. Have you considered  —”

@jakkuforce​​ sent 🗣️for an incorrect quote

THREE CLICKS TO THE SOUTH — those had been the directions given to them. Rumours festered through cities parable to a plague. Here, there, and everywhere; its point of origin grew muddled. To reattach the puzzle pieces out of contradicting hearsays and lies had been no easy feat. Obi-Wan and his master had spent a better part of yesterday and today questioning tight-lipped locals. Pale faces, cautious glances; both master and apprentice mutually agreed to conceal their status as Jedi. Shielding the most incriminating evidence underneath layers of thick robes and through creative usage of liquor ( his master’s idea; the padawan had been reluctant ) to lubricate social ties — tight-lips quickly unfurled and the pair received a better picture of the story pervading through this part of the galaxy. 

A rogue Jedi. Such news sent waves of shock through the council. Whilst it was not uncommon to hear of a person who has left the order; however — one of their own slaughtering townspeople by the dozens? Impossible. 

The very idea was heinous, absurd, an affront to the order’s hallowed grounds. Such claims could usually be dismissed but not this time around. Villages, emptied of life; Corpses dotted along the planet’s barren grounds, struck remorselessly with a wound only a lightsaber could inflict. The evidence was as clear as day itself. 

Footsteps sunk into the deep sand as they stepped away from their speeder bikes. Gentle winds whispered in the air. Wintery blue eyes glanced around to the sight of a ravaged town. Barren, dilapidated — could such a place harbour life still?