#lcstpadawan

the deep night sky was sprinkled with stars and two full moons leaving more than enough light to navigate outside without eye strain. when it had been just her alone here, during stretches of nice weather, they had set up a hammock to enjoy the fresh air. trilla had several of them now for the younglings, but not exclusively for them. after they’d gotten back here, they’d both been preoccupied with tending to the younglings, even catching up with her own exhaustion. she’s not precisely happy with the new prosthetic that she had, but it was functional. plus, it had been funny to see the youngling’s reactions, given that she’d always concealed it from them. 

the younglings had gone to bed already, in a state of ignorant bliss. it was hard for trilla to remember what it was like to not feel things so vividly, to imagine what it was like to not experience such a reckoning in the force. nausea still vaguely lingered in the pit of their stomach, though she had swallowed it and remained stone-faced. it was what she was good at, and despite all of the changes that she had been through, that was one thing that had remained relatively constant. still, it was draining to maintain such an appearance around such positive energy that came with the bout of children now running amuck in their safehaven. 

they had last parted on good terms. as unexpected as it had been, it had brought trilla a great deal of relief to know that he was no longer out there grieving her, or hating her, but something... much more neutral. friendly, maybe, though she suspected that might have been pushing it. it’d stayed in the back of her mind for a couple of weeks until she’d stumbled upon an orphaned rodian toddler who was clearly force-sensitive. a little force imbued persuasion with the caretakers at the orphanage had gotten them to release her into her care. she had contacted cal immediately after, meeting him on randon. the planet was easily accessed on several trade routes, crowded cities and ports. 

as little as she claimed to care for the new republic, it perhaps did not make any sense for trilla to attend a fundraiser like this. she liked art. that was the excuse that she had used for herself, at least. the only thing that she’d actually purchased was food, not exactly able to spend money on the finer things that she enjoyed. but there was a buzz under her skin, a light feeling in her chest that she wasn’t familiar with. she felt uncharacteristically giddy, and that feeling nearly glowed with warmth when she spotted cal.

it had been two long years since the last time that she had seen cal kestis –– two long years since the last time that trilla had spent any real time around anyone other than herself. when she had agreed to leave the empire with him, truthfully, she did not know if she would do it or not. no part of her had wanted to be with the empire and yet it had been safer than standing against it, his own capture had been proof of that. after getting him out, ultimately, she had never showed when they had agreed to meet. she’d told him that she would go back, sell the story of his capture, and she had. she just hadn’t done the rest of it.

it had been easy not to think about it when she wasn’t confronted by it. there were other things in her life that she needed to work on: her connection with the force had been a primary focus. some of it felt healed. some of it didn’t.

until, of course, she saw him.

trilla froze in her path, ignoring the disgruntled rodian who swore at her when he nearly bumped into her. two years had passed but she knew without a doubt that it was him, of course, wearing a damn poncho. guilt plummeted her heart to the pit of her stomach. she should leave him alone, it was the rational and appropriate thing to do, but after this time... how the kriff did they keep finding each other? 

the last time that they had set foot inside of the jedi temple, it had been before order sixty-six was executed. large and wonderful, an air of wholeness and belonging in the place that had been her home. until cere had taken her on personally as a padawan, it had been the only home that she had ever known, the only home that any jedi had known. a different lifetime. there was before order sixty-six and there was after, with no room to go back.

death hung heavy in the air of the temple, sickening, nausea lingering uneasily in her stomach. she could feel the tragedy surrounding her, threatening to choke her with each step deeper that she took inside of the temple. every part of her had felt utterly ripped to shreds lately, no clear direction of where to go, or a pathway for her. trilla was lost. she had thought that coming here might offer some clarity in either direction, but instead, she was only met with the feeling that she might suddenly be crushed alive by the weight of the force signature of such a horrific, brutal event. but for a brief moment, that feeling is interrupted by the presence of another, hair on the back of her neck rising uneasily despite its familiarity.

Location: Kalarba, the ruins of Hosk Station

From orbit, the planet seemed scarred. Every plants’ branches had snapped, and every leaf was coated in a film of ash. Rolling pits littered the surface where life had once teemed in abundance. Grey mist hung in the air, a bitter mixture of smoke and ash from the searing flames of debris. Some fires, still lit, pulsed hungrily around them like a gundark in desperate search of its prey. 

Iden had sent Sabine a brief manifesto detailing everything the Rebellion knew about the crash-- which was, unfortunately, not much. What had piqued their interest, however, was the apparent villain behind this new act of terrorism. Supposedly, those who had witnessed the damage firsthand seemed to have reason to suspect Imperials-- or, at least, their technologies. The simple thought of this was enough to make Sabine’s stomach churn in unease. If it was true, if that broken system of oppression had returned to take the lives of so many people...well, it wouldn’t help them sleep at night.

When she had read the name written on Iden’s message and quickly realized it was unfamiliar to her, the mission seemed suddenly less solemn.They liked to stay relatively connected within the social network of the Rebellion (though it was always possible to miss a few people along the way). Sabine knew next to nothing about this person-- and that’s exactly what compelled her to greet his arrival with a smile and an outstretched hand.

“Cal Kestis, I assume? Nice to meet you. The name’s Sabine Wren.”