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A sentiment far easier to preach than to practice, and certainly not one that he of all people needs to hear, but he inclines his head regardless: point taken. As she sizes him up out of the corner of her eye, gaze sharp and brow thoughtful, he maintains a level look in return; but it is frustratingly difficult to glean any real impression of her.

It's simple, with time and training, to get a read on another being. Some Jedi are naturally gifted at such things, but Ben has honed the practice into a fine art throughout his years of watching over Luke from afar. From her, he does not necessarily sense corruption - this is not a mind that has been twisted by darkness, though it exists in some capacity within every living being - but he also does not sense the radiating light of honest good intent.

That's the trouble. He senses... very little. She's simply here, walking a thin line.

It's an unusual thing to find in a place like this. And, in some ways, more suspicious than the alternative ( though Ben will admit that he doesn't have to look far to find suspicion in nearly everything he sees, these days ).

"Searching for an alternative means of distraction, are we?" He replies dryly, but there is a gleam of humor in his eyes. The better to get back to her people-watching, he's sure; admittedly, it's a clever enough tactic to get attention off of oneself. No one wants to second-guess such a gesture, and certainly not enough to wonder at her intent. He concedes this point, too, and leans back with his arms folded.

"How kind of you. Very well, far be it from me to turn down such a generous offer. After all, I'm afraid you've managed to pinpoint my greatest weakness."

( ...This is unfortunately more than simply a half-truth. Sleep does not lend itself easily to him. He spends more than he would care to admit keeping his own supply of caf beans well-stocked. )

She chuckles softly and speaks to him, head tilted only slightly to watch the room but knowing he could still hear. "What's the old saying, you can't take it with you when you go?" She side-eyed him, reading him carefully. "Oh it's no favor, just a way to keep them busy and satiated. Easier to people watch." She took a sip from her drink and contemplated the glass a moment. "Since you don't partake in the usual libations, can I buy you a caffe?"

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qui gon telling obi wan “I was here the entire time” like you know he was watching that entire adventure and narrating like the guy from arrested development

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nickys

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@vanhelsingheiress

Romana has not been in this time for all of one day before the unthinkable happens: her TARDIS is not where she left it.

( In truth, it is not that unthinkable. The same thing had happened to the Doctor many times over, when she was traveling with him; still, Romana has always prided herself on not being the Doctor. It is something she is rather good at. Therefore this is admittedly a blow to her pride. )

"Excuse me— excuse me. You," she is a Time Lady on a mission, hurrying out of the alleyway where she had left the nondescript space-time vehicle ( at present, it is meant to be disguised as nothing more than the back entrance of one of the city's many storefronts ) and tapping the elbow of the first woman she encounters. "There was a door," she points just over her shoulder, back from where she has just emerged, "in the wall, just there." It can't have just up and gone. Surely someone has seen something. "What's happened to it?"

[leftlore]

Rook cringes the instant it comes out of their mouth— Maker, why would you even say that? she works here, stupid —but does well not to show it save for a somewhat sheepish smile as the woman sizes them up. They feel awful about... this. All of it. Intruding upon their home ( and business, though they're absolutely going to keep insisting that they be allowed to wait tables or clean dishes or something to make up for being allowed to stay here ) without a clue of how they got here or, more importantly, how to return.

So they're relieved to see the smile that appears on her face. Thank the Maker. She thinks you're funny. Rook is good at being funny. It may be all Rook is good at. Humor is healing, supposedly. They're not really sure it works for them; they never feel much better no matter how strongly they deflect all the terrible situations they walk into. But it's more important that the folks around them do.

"I've been told I have a talent for keeping things interesting," Rook shrugs a shoulder from where they're leaning against the bar of the inn. "Just trying to maintain my reputation, I guess. I can confidently say that I would remember coming to this place before, though. The inns I usually hang around are nowhere near this nice," they add.

@leftlore sent :

❛ Come here often ? ❜ / from rook to sarah hawkins with apologies in advance to jim

THE COMMENT TAKES HER OFF GUARD , turning her attention away from clearing the Benbow's now empty tables. She rests her tray on her hip , finally allowing herself to get a good look at the stranger. All she even knows about them is that Jim found them wandering the vast rockiness of Montressor , unsure of what planet they were on and in desperate need of rest. That's the thing about Jim : he's moody , restless , and a troublemaker . . but he has a good heart. And who was she to deny someone a place to stay ?

AFTER A MOMENT , HER HEAD TILTS BACK with a light laugh. "You're funny , you know that ?" She asks , before turning on a heel and placing a stack of dirty plates onto the tray that's already piled much too high. "I should be asking you that question. Jim told me he just found you wandering around. It's not often someone just . . appears out of nowhere."

[leftlore]

All things considered, this does not even make it into the list of top thirty ( maybe even fifty? give her a day or two, she'll come back with a new list ) strangest things that's happened on the Normandy.

Sleep - a full night's sleep, at least - is a rare thing for Shepard. Always has been, but these days in particular... she spends a lot of nights pacing on mostly-empty decks where she knows she won't disturb her crew. Sometimes she cracks open the drinks and then goes and throws some punches for a few hours. Other times she tosses and turns restlessly as her fish judge her silently ( and then she goes down to an empty deck to start pacing ). She's not surprised that she's the only crew member on this particular floor at this hour of night.

...But she is surprised that there's company at all. Definitely not a crew member. Actually, kind of intruder-shaped, coming from somebody who spent her teenage years crawling through vents and hopping into ships she has no business catching a ride on. She'll have to talk to somebody about how this happened, later, but for the moment she's begrudgingly impressed.

If sabotage is the goal, here, he's not doing a very good job of it. Honestly? Of all the supplies to steal, Gardner's leftover mystery meat is practically doing them a favor. Shepard has gotten good - very good - at sizing up potential threats over the years, and yeah, sure, she errs on the side of caution ( with something that borders on overzealous paranoia, she's been informed - leave her alone ), but even she doubts that the scrawny little quarian balancing haphazardly on a kitchen stool poses any real danger at all, at least in this particular moment.

Maybe that's why she watches from the far side of the deck for a while, leaning against the wall outside the elevator with her arms folded and eyebrows arched.

"Need some help?"

@leftlore

Everyone is asleep... good. He figured now would be the better time to finally sneak out of the vents he's found himself in. He had to hurry and snag whatever food is on the Normandy. He knows he'd have to scarf down what was left out on the mess hall kitchen table since someone forgot to put it away. Another man's trash is another man's treasure as the humans say. Drake's eyes scan back and forth. No one is on this floor, it would seem. Good. There's some sort of meaty smell pushing through his mask filters. It was a mixture of the clothe of the suit, the metallic of the mask and the food.

Drake as ever so sneakily and quietly as he could pushed himself from under the floor vent. His heart racing a thousand miles a minute. If someone caught him doing this, he's going to be in a FUCK TON of trouble from trespassing. Of course, he doesn't even REALIZE what kind of ship he's on, but he didn't care. The straggler's stomach was dying for some sort of food. He'd risk it for sickness later from being exposed to the bacteria in the air. Medi-Gel could be found anywhere at this point.

"Easy now... Easyyyy..." The child muttered as he would climb onto the chair of the stool unsure WHAT kind of meat it is, but now wasn't the time to be picky. He'd clean the suit gloves later. Digging his hands around the left-out meat (the chef probably went to go take a piss or smoke break or something). He begins to stuff it into an arm bag pocket. Its greasy texture didn't exactly help Drake's case. It's either the arm bag being messy or him starving. It's an obvious choice.

[leftlore]

@mantaspotrayals sent / ❛ can’t sleep? ❜

Pot, meet kettle. The idiom would probably be lost on him, but she gives him a Look that she hopes conveys it all the same, brow arched over the wine she's just cracked open ( she intends to finish the whole thing and therefore does not feel bad about forgoing a glass and instead opting for the bottle itself ). Yes, she's the one camped out in the Normandy's kitchen at a no-doubt ungodly hour, but he's the one slinking out of the main battery at the same damn time.

"Pretty sure that's my line." But she makes no attempts to deny that they are evidently in the same boat. Garrus probably knows her too well by now for any excuse to land anywhere remotely in the realm of believably, anyway. "Unless you mean to tell me you were catching some shuteye at one of the consoles back there?"

[leftlore]

Happy pride month to the tiny cowboy and tiny Trojan man from Night at the Museum

[leftlore]

Obi-Wan knows he could not hope to explain it even if he wanted to. He lacks both the fortitude and the means. The Force does not provide any answer even as he pokes and prods at it, desperate to understand what it is he's seeing - has he been afforded a glimpse into the past, or is Qui-Gon somehow meant to see what to him must be the future? Obi-Wan has imagined all too frequently what his old Master would think of the current state of the Order. Knights turned into Generals, Padawans into weapons of a war without end. He could never be glad for Qui-Gon's absence, but he has - once or twice - been grateful that he was one with the Force rather than one number among many, many troops. He has thought even more frequently than that about how much it would likely tear at the man to see Anakin, the boy he was so fond of, leading an army.

The empathy that he had once extended to Anakin is present in him even now, written out across his much younger face, creased with concern. Obi-Wan must look a sight, faced with a ghost the way he is. He does not need his Master's gift for understanding to sense that he is unsettling and maybe even frightening Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan withdraws abruptly into himself, smothering his own emotions within the Force. Mostly, it is a useful tactic to avoid being picked out by the Sith on a battlefield. Occasionally, it does well to keep your fellow Jedi from discovering just how deeply your wounds run ( and this particular wound runs deeper than most ).

"No," he answers him as quickly as he can manage. "No. I'm... very sorry, I..." all he can offer is a shake of his head, eyes closing. Get ahold of yourself. It is too late to hide his reaction to Dooku's name - as if the word alone had scalded him - but he knows so very little of the man, having never even met him face-to-face until Dooku had already left the Order in favor of becoming a Sith Lord. He cannot believably lie about a near-stranger and he certainly cannot tell the truth, though some rebellious part of him briefly entertains the idea of trying. As though Qui-Gon could possibly do anything to alter his Master's course.

Even fallen to the Dark Side, Dooku had cherished his former Padawan's wisdom so very much. He had confided as much to Obi-Wan, so sincerely that even now he doubts it was simply a fabrication, part of an attempt to sway him to Dooku's side. In fact, Obi-Wan has often wondered what Dooku's path might have looked like if only Qui-Gon had survived ( if only Obi-Wan had been just a little faster; if only Qui-Gon had trusted him enough to slow down and let Obi-Wan rejoin the fight with him; if only, if only, if only ).

He won't put that burden on Qui-Gon's shoulders.

Instead, he latches onto a much easier lie to speak to.

"...I have been known to be particularly afflicted by visions from the Force," he confides at length, as though he has only just gathered his thoughts on the matter. This is not necessarily untrue, though those visions appear as rare and uncertain nightmares without direction, unclear images and impressions, nothing he could ever hope to understand or act on. A manifestation of his anxieties, he has always thought. He chalks them up nowadays to merely bad feelings, the sort of thing he was taught over and over again to ignore.

More prudently in the present moment, he has also been taught how to lie rather effectively. A good tale is never too far removed from reality.

"I did not recognize it at first, but you— that is, Dooku's apprentice, as I understood it— were present in one of them. It caught me off-guard, I'm afraid. I do know you, from a certain point of view. But I hadn't expected you to be so young. You were much older, in my memory of it." He draws his hands into the sleeves of his robe and offers him a slight, apologetic smile. "I should know better than to let these things cloud the reality of the present. I apologize."

" i did, " sense it in his voice, that is. qui-gon smiles softly at him, something that's not quite pride in his grin. to the padawan, pride should be felt at the bettering of a skill, not with a trait ( and he knows it's something of his own because dooku would not have taught him to be so sensitive to others' emotions, as compassion tends to get in the way of rationality ). " you seemed to share the weariness my master does from time to time. it's a simple assumption, that's all. "

and, as truth would reveal, a seemingly incorrect one. the expression the man displays is enough confirmation of it - the transition from grief to familiarity to dread smooth as ill-fitting watercolors on paper, each striking and easily notable. not only is it so different from his previous gentleness, it's drawn out, blues remaining on qui-gon's furrowed brow - one that'd have a wrinkle carved at its center not many years in the future - and unwavering.

" is something the matter? " the question follows immediately, fear rising into the padawan's chest at a breakneck speed. qui-gon can't identify the presence of any danger behind him, and although it is true that some planets possess the rare ability to block out the senses embedded in the force, this seems to fail to be for their current one. he can sense the other's force signature just well enough to know the fog has no effect on it. still, he counts a few seconds within his mind and turns with lightsaber still in hand, searching the surrounding blurriness for something, anything.

when he faces the stranger again, only his eyes spell out his confusion. he may not be qui-gon's master, though that was no reason to begin doubting his instincts. his assumption is that the temporary companion he kept feels a threat he is not able to. this is to be expected - the man has more experience with the force than even the most well-trained padawan could dream of having. still, only when dooku is mentioned again ( not by him, but by the blonde master ), does he realise the problem is not a great beast or a hidden figure, but rather him.

it's no difficult matter to be still, to be composed for qui-gon, but the tone the mutter is carried on hits him at once, like the master just insulted his own to his face. dooku's name is said as if it's been spit out after years of trying to forget how it tastes. he tries not to make a face and largely succeeds ; only the slight line near his mouth gives away the bitterness of his confoundment.

" i know he is .. strict, but he respects his fellow masters, " he speaks matter-of-factly. if the two masters had somehow clashed, qui-gon would've been made aware of it - the jedi is very transparent with his thoughts as they concern others in the order. " he listens when it matters. he teaches me to question things, even when it frustrates him. specially when it frustrates him. "

the man flinches at that - qui-gon feels it more than he sees it. on instinct, his head tilts slightly, the same way he does when trying to listen more precisely. this man, this master, knows something he doesn't. a lot of things actually, as teachers tended to, but he doubts it relates in any shape to jedi teachings.

when he finally, finally, speaks again, qui-gon shares his non-understanding. " so you do know me? "

he's sure whatever he's ever done in the past doesn't warrant this sort of reaction from anyone in the temple. he tries his best to be polite to the other padawans, makes sure the council members can't hear him when he discusses a decision of theirs with dooku, finds somewhere private to share his true thoughts with rael which are not necessarily negative either. besides, he has no idea who this master is, who his padawan could be. why is he so shocked to find him here?

" master, i don't understand. " and it feels like admiting defeat.

[leftlore]

One brow arches in response to that, at once both amused and inquisitive. He doesn't recall calling that into question, though there's something to be said, perhaps, about the fact that the company this man keeps consists almost entirely of Jedi knights at present. Is he drawn to them, he wonders, or they to him? As of yet, he isn't sure; but then there is more than one reason he's invited the man to sit a while with him.

"Not at all. Please," he gestures with a hand for him to enter the room, if he wishes.

"I was meditating. It's not a practice that only benefits the Jedi, you know," he adds. "It provides grounding, focus. Relieves one's anxieties." Not that he would think to accuse their stalwart Captain of being overly anxious, but there is a palpable stress to him. He finds this to be understandable. There are Jedi crammed into every inch of space on this small ship. They ask a lot of Captain Ryder.

"You appear as though you could use it."

TRAVELING WITH SO MANY PEOPLE WAS AN ADJUSTMENT he had yet to get used to. For so long it had just been him alone on the ship , making runs and keeping to himself to keep out of trouble (as much as a smuggler can keep out of trouble , anyways). It's one thing to have your ship be filled with people , it's another thing to have your ship filled with mostly Jedi. The first two he brought along as a temporary thing. Well , it was supposed to be temporary - a favor he was doing for two reasons and two reasons only. One : he would've felt bad leaving the two of them on Coruscant , and two : well , maybe he wanted to stay around Eolas a little longer. Is that really a crime ? The next one came along as sort of a package deal to the first two ―― apparently Eolas had two kids ? He still doesn't know how this whole Jedi thing works.

YOU REALLY THINK BY THE TIME FOUR AND FIVE CAME ALONG he would have a better grasp of what kind of things Jedi get up to. Now , he made sure to tell Eolas before he picked them up , we drop these two off , and that's that. We're running out of room on the ship as it is , and I really don't want to turn this place into a home for lost Jedi or whatever. Though , she thought it was a joke (and not even a funny one). He was being dead serious - he doesn't know what he'll do if they need to pick up someone else. He's not putting a cot in the cockpit. When they finally did board the ship , however , he really didn't have time to see where they ran off to. As long as they don't touch his stuff or break anything , it's not like he cared all that much.

ACE WASN'T EXPECTING TO BE CAUGHT STARING. He really wasn't even trying to stare , seeing as this isn't even the first Jedi he's harbored on his ship. But he felt something , a pull , maybe - whatever it was , he couldn't explain it. All he knew is that one second he was trying to get back to the cockpit , the next he was stopped in his tracks , lurking in the doorway like some sort of . . well , not the Force , but a force was keeping him there. He was snapped out of whatever drew him to the room in the first place when the man spoke , letting out an awkward laugh. "Oh , I'm not a Jedi." He says as if it's not obvious enough already. "You seem like you're in the middle of something. I can go."

[leftlore]

Well, that, Obi-Wan's less concerned about. Anakin could track him down from halfway across the planet through the Force alone. But for getting this apprentice back to his own wayward Master, there's no harm in keeping the saber at hand, and he inclines his head in acknowledgment of the decision. Already his attention is back on the planet's surface that surrounds them, his senses extended as far as he can manage. They're in prime position for an ambush: he isn't looking to get caught off-guard.

He's not altogether certain that the temporary company he keeps is putting forth quite the same effort, busy as he is with his long-winded explanations. He must be a senior Padawan, he thinks wryly; claiming responsibility for one's flaws is a long-studied lesson that sometimes even Anakin fails to demonstrate, years into his apprenticeship. "Sensed it in my voice, did you?" Presumptuous and painfully familiar. "You know, you're—"

Surprisingly astute for a Padawan learner, he is going to say. But there is a cold feeling of something crawling up the back of his neck as the young man continues to speak, settling like a rock in his chest even as he is unable to put a name to it. Dread? Not a message from the Force, but an instinctive response to it, something so reactive that Obi-Wan's own mind doesn't comprehend what exactly it is that makes him turn back and stare at him for several long moments; at the profile he had spent what felt like half a lifetime looking up at, recognizable even without the grey around his temples or the lines around his eyes.

It can't be. The Force is capable of much, but surely not this; this is merely a matter of Obi-Wan letting his feelings overpower what is true again. He is seeing things that aren't there. Finding connection where there is none. It happens, from time to time. He holds so many memories within him and sometimes they are powerful enough that the smallest reminder triggers a wave of grief that he should have escaped from well over a decade ago. It is an unfair thing, the way he knows he must be looking with such horror at the other Jedi, but now that he has seen it he can't stop seeing it. He had never seen his old Master as a Padawan, of course, not even in holos to the best of his memory (who would have kept one? Yoda? unlikely), but he can envision it so easily in this moment.

"Dooku?" He doesn't mean to spit that name the way he does. "That's not possible. He—" is a Sith, and yet there is no darkness in what he senses from the Padawan that stands before him. He can't be Dooku's apprentice. But that is the less important detail, in this instance. Perhaps even more than he is a Sith, he is Qui-Gon's old Master, and every trace of the Force signature Obi-Wan is faced with rings with the same notes of the one he had felt fade out of his arms years and years ago on Naboo, the one thing that always remained untouched by time. Real and solid and present, not at all like the voice that chides at him on rare (rarer and rarer, these days, thank the Force) occasions or the phantom impressions that Anakin insists herald the return of a dead man (these, too, have grown more infrequent as Anakin learned that Obi-Wan would only ever snap at him for it). Even the green lightsaber held aloft in the young man's grip is the same that Obi-Wan keeps on his shelf to this very day.

This is a vision, he insists to himself grimly; a terrible one, but still, it must be. But he has never had them so vividly before and there is no uncertainty clouding his mind the way that is so often the case with visions such as these. A trick of the fog, then. The planet distorting what is real. But even if Obi-Wan couldn't trust his own senses, he could always trust in the Force, and the Force leaves little room for question no matter how many alternatives he throws at it.

And Qui-Gon has the gall to call Obi-Wan Master. He's not yet made up his mind whether that is more worth laughing or crying over. He makes no attempt to school his expression, but does take some steps back, folding his hands very tightly together and willing them to stop shaking. "Qui-Gon. I— I don't understand. How?"

it seems their confusion is mutual, unfamiliar with eachother's visages. qui-gon is merely a padawan but he's strong in the force and can identify signatures within it known to him. the stranger's is distant, a first-meeting, but the sole fact he's a jedi earns him qui-gon's trust.

he thinks to mirror the master's action, though his thoughts circle back to his own, worried for his whereabouts. " i'll keep my lightsaber at hand. my master and i were separated as well, but the kyber's light will guide us to one another. " hopefully.

the padawan seems to sense the weariness in the master's voice. quick to defend his own master - even when the situation doesn't call for it - qui-gon adds: " but it was my fault, i believe. i shouldn't have strayed so far ahead. i sense it in your voice - your padawan did the same, didn't they? "

in dooku's absence, qui-gon looks to the stranger for what to do next. they landed here for the distress call too, and if being jedi is not testament enough for their kindness, their presence here is. even the most steelhearted jedi can be - and is - a good person. " what should we do next, master? master dooku and your padawan are undoubtedly investigating as well. if we do the same, we'll find them soon enough. "

[leftlore]

They're passing through the system, nothing more. There is certainly no intention to stop at any of its backwater planets, but Anakin has scarcely ever met a cry for help he was able to turn away from, no matter how suspicious it may seem (they're in the middle of nowhere. there is hardly even a noteworthy population on the planet below; for all Obi-Wan knows, the message was planted to attract unsuspected would-be rescuers just like them). He cautions as much, even if he does acquiesce to briefly - briefly - land and investigate: Careful, Anakin. We could be rushing into a trap.

Obviously that had gone unheeded. Obi-Wan had expected nothing less. They've scarcely landed before Anakin leaps out of the ship's cockpit and hits the ground running headfirst into the fog. Obi-Wan is not - has never been - quite fast enough to catch him, and instead can only yell after his apprentice. "Anakin! Wait!"

But he's gone, vanished into a mist so thick that he can scarcely see his feet below him. Obi-Wan ignites his lightsaber, not to serve as a weapon, but rather a source of light. It does little to help, but admittedly it makes him feel just a bit more secure as he intermittently calls out for his missing Padawan. Eventually, he hears a returning shout echo back to him.

It is not Anakin's voice. Nor is it his saber that shimmers at Obi-Wan through the fog, some distance away, green rather than blue. But the young man that runs to meet him does remind him of Anakin at first glance, even if they don't look much alike in terms of facial features - the boy is gangly with an unfortunate haircut (Anakin is still in the middle of growing out his old Padawan cut) and what he can only assume is a tendency to forgo traditional Jedi attire (where is his undertunic). Obi-Wan can't be sure if this is an apprentice or just a very young Knight, but his face is familiar in a way that is difficult to place, like a memory pulled from long, long ago. One of the younglings he'd seen around the crèche? He hadn't even been informed that there were other Jedi anywhere near this system.

Still, he's relieved to see anyone else at all, and lowers his blade with a droll smile. "I'm afraid not. But I'd wager that my Padawan and I heard the same distress call that you must have been following." He glances over his shoulder in the event that Anakin has slunk back in his direction, but alas. Obi-Wan turns back to the young man wearily. "...We got separated."

it's not that qui-gon has never been left alone on a mission. sometimes, need calls for it - either his master has business to attend to or a battle's strategy brings sense to it, but it was something usually brief and sometimes planned.

they'd landed on a remote planet following a distress call that appeared genuine. any distress call seems genuine to qui-gon, but dooku had decreased difficulty sifting through the panic-fueled ones and the ones with the intent of gain. all to say, if his master chooses to land to investigate, it's because he can recognise the value in doing so and not because qui-gon insisted they should.

it turns out the planet, one out of the way, has a surface mostly clouded by fog so thick they had begun tracking eachother by the light of their sabers. strikes of green and blue made their way through the gray blurriness, dooku's voice beside him as they searched - then, gone, along with the blue that had bled into the air around them before.

" master? " he'd echoed, hoping to simply have not heard dooku shifting directions - and surely enough, a couple of minutes later, the blue streak returned to the horizon. there he is! " master! "

running in his direction, holding his lightsaber up, qui-gon squints to find dooku's silhouette as he grows closer - but that's not who he finds at all.

a jedi?

" oh. " he says softly, catching his breath from the run. " hello. are you the one who called for help? "

@leftlore :: for obi-wan!

[leftlore]

Right. Yeah. The controls. They should probably be watching out the viewport, too, now that they think about it. Force, there's so many things to keep track of! "Sorry, sorry. You're right. I'll focus. I'm focusing."

They'd gotten to drive - fly, pilot, whatever - plenty of vehicles on plenty of their other missions, sure, but never for very long, and finesse was never exactly a factor. It was more of a 'Padawan, grab the controls so I can stand on the back of our speeder and deflect blaster shots' situation, usually. It never mattered if Rook crashed the ship at the end of the ride. And she usually did. She's pretty sure Captain Ryder wouldn't be half as forgiving if she crashed this one, though.

"Not really sure what came over meesa. Me. Uh, wait, which lever was it?"

@leftlore sent :

when yousa get your learner's permit ROOK AND ACE

ACE STANDS NEXT TO WHERE ROOK'S SEATED in the pilot's seat , face screwing up into a mixture of confusion and fear. Maybe this wasn't the best idea to start them off on his ship of all things. Is it too late to switch to speeder lessons ? Judging by that expectant look on their face , the answer most certainly is yes. And because he doesn't know the extent of what weird ass Jedi mind - exploding powers they may have , he's not going to suggest they switch gears now , either.

"I DON'T THINK TALKING LIKE THAT IS NECESSARY , KID." He says instead , gesturing towards the controls. "You should focus on hitting the right buttons , not . . doing that . . weird thing with your voice."

[leftlore]

The days of keeping his head down, pulling away from the Force, are past him, for better or worse. Obi-Wan - Ben - can no longer pretend to be no one at all— as a very clever girl told him, the less one says, the more they give away. Perhaps it is better that he is discovering he's gained a bit of a reputation around these parts; crazy Ben, who lives out in the dunes and speaks to ghosts (well, one ghost). The locals know of him, though they don't much care for him, and that suits him just fine. No one expects a Jedi to cultivate any sort of reputation.

And there are additional advantages to this, of course. It allows him to rather effectively scope out the local populace, and the visitors who pass through the small spaceport. If any of them pose a threat to Luke, he will be aware of it.

So goes his routine. He gives a stilted nod in return to the woman who brushes past him as he enters the cantina late that afternoon, casting only the briefest of passing glances to the duo over his shoulder as they depart. Neither one of them are particularly noteworthy. What is noteworthy is the fact that she returns so swiftly; alone.

As for what happened to the man, he can only imagine. It places her decisively onto a lengthy list: individuals to keep an eye on. She is frivolously unbothered as she goes about her business. If it is an act, it is a very effective one. Here, people cling to their credits with a grip strong enough to draw blood. Ben lifts a hand to silently decline the swill that is offered to him by the bartender, pitching his voice instead to be heard over the clamor of the other patrons by the woman and her wine.

"An awful lot of money to be spending so frivolously, don't you think? I very much doubt this bunch will ever return the favor."

The woman had an air about her, something wasn't quite "right" about her but she didn't see wholly evil either. She just simply....was. She had left the cantina moments ago with a man on her arm and breezed past Obi-Wan with a nod of recognition on her way out. She returned now, alone, no sign of the man as she walked to the bar and returned to her seat, waving over the bartender and spreading out some credits casually. "A Chandrilan Blue '439..." She paused and made a gesture that seemed to gain the attention of the room. "And a round for the house on me." She sipped her glass of wine as everyone scrambled to order drinks, sliding a few more credits across the bar as she enjoyed the chaos with a serene smile. @leftlore

[leftlore]

@sungtales sent / ❛ We're big enough to take a few insults.❜ - octavius to jed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He hates when Octavius says crap like that. It's on purpose and Jed knows it. What's he supposed to do, disagree? No! He's big enough for plenty, thank you very much.

And yet disagree he must. It's a matter of principle.

"Oh, yeah?" He already rolling up his sleeves. "Lemme give you a little somethin'— a golden nugget of wisdom we carry around out west, Octavius: it takes an even bigger man to not take no fightin' words lying down! Hooah!" He's launching. He's going. He's brawling.

[leftlore]

His hum is both affirmative and deeply thoughtful, brows creased pensively. His mind is hundreds of lightyears away, back on Coruscant. It's the exact opposite of what he was looking for, really: he comes here to find solace. Removal from the thoughts of what's to come. There is no better place to simply exist in the now, in the cradle of the Living Force... and yet his mind is only troubled.

"Yoda tells me I'm to take on a Padawan learner," he answers at length, hand rubbing at his chin absently. "It's not something I've adequately prepared for. I rather thought it would never happen." Not after this long. And surely not when the opinion of most of the other Masters seemed to be that he would only serve as a terrible influence on any potential apprentice. After some time, he smiles at her wryly.

"I told him I would need more time to consider the matter, and here I am. Cowardly, isn't it? To run away from the responsibility."

@leftlore said: " Time I should be thinking of other things, so they tell me. " From Qui-gon.

" Is that so ? " Nymh tilted her head to the side, pushing a now very empty cup to the side from where she sat, a few feet away from the pensive jedi. This has become somewhat of a habit, hosting the man, sometimes just long enough to watch the age old stress leave his brow as nature surrounded him.

He was one of the very few people that seemed to get close to the old tree in the middle of this place without being beaten or bitten ! She's still convinced he paid off Éamon somehow for safe passage..

" And what are these, other things you should be occupying your mind with then, dear Jinn ? "

[leftlore]

"Oh, yes! Plenty. Crows and sparrows and chickadees," and she could go on, there are few things Birdie loves talking about more than her feathered companions, but they truly would be here all day. Not that she thinks present company would mind, much - he certainly seems interested enough in Quothe, who peers down at him with his feathered head cocking to one side and then the other. Thankfully, Birdie has taught him above all to be nice. Now he only goes for people's eyes when she tells him to, mostly. (It's that 'mostly' that keeps her from calling the bird down to rest upon her arm; she lets him remain in his high-up perch instead). There had been a lot of bribery involved in the training process, but he is a good bird, really.

"Flying... landwalkers, though," she is slow as she says the word, uncertain even if the meaning of it seems clear enough, "there are less of. I've only met one or two. And a wizard," she adds, "who lets us fly sometimes. Not usually for fun." Which she understands. Spellcasting seems like such a tiring ordeal... still, though, she wishes it were a spell she knew for casual use. "He's very smart, you know. I wonder if he couldn't puzzle out a way to let a Merfolk fly?" She flicks a bit of water at him with a laugh. "There are fish that walk on land. Well, some of them. Not many. Magic is a very strange thing, isn't it?"

@leftlore

"Woah... there's being that can fly?" Drake was quite astounded that Birdie's Raven was perched on a tree, seeming to watch for danger as if. His head tilted lightly as the young Merfolk placed his webbed fingers onto the bark on the base of the tree. Drake had only SOME stories of fairytales when he was read to bed back home under the sea. Mainly about dragons. But this? This was all the more interesting so small and simple could soar the skies. In a way, Drake wished he could fly. Wouldn't it be so odd for a being from depths under could soar the winds?

He turns to Birdie who he had met along his travels on the nature's roads. He shouldn't be so open with himself when there were people who would've KILLED to poach his scales. His small fangs gleam in excitement. "Wait, wait! So, is it possible for landwalkers to fly too?" Drake had to know! He wanted to see them flap their arms or something just like her raven! "I wanna fly one day too! But Merfolk can't. Cause they can't breathe air." Drake chuckled sheepishly. Maybe a magic spell one day could help him achieve his dream.