#horansi

[jilldraws90]

Disillusioned: Found

Kit Fisto, a Nautolan Jedi Knight, sat in the pilot seat of the Jedi T-6 Shuttle as he plugged the coordinates into the navigation system. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at his 11-year-old Mon Calamari Padawan. “You did very well on this mission, Nahdar.” he said cheerfully.

The tween’s eyes lit up. “Really, Master?” Nahdar asked. Kit flashed his famous smile and nodded.

“Yes, now let’s go-” 

The Nautolan cut himself off as he felt a disturbance in the Force. He looked off to the distance; something was calling him beyond the stars. He quickly changed their coordinates, much to his Padawan’s confusion.

“Master, is something wrong?” Nahdar asked.

“No, Nahdar, we’re simply going to Mutanda," his Jedi Master answered. However, this reply only made Nahdar more confused.

“Why?”

“It’s the will of the Force.”

……………

After getting permission to land, Kit and Nahdar stood in the mountainside village, waiting for the tribe’s Nkosi. The Mon Calamari tween milled around his master. The staring Horansis made him nervous.

“Calm yourself, Nahdar. Treka Horansis are perfectly harmless unless provoked," the Nautolan assured his Padawan.

“Then why do they keep staring at us, Master?” Nahdar questioned.

“It’s giving me the creeps.”

Kit chuckled. “They are curious by nature. I doubt they see many amphibious sentients.” Nahdar seemed to calm a bit. He looked at a small group of cubs who appeared to be 5 or 6 standard years younger than him. Nahdar smiled and the Horansi cubs ran away giggling. The Mon Calamari huffed out a laugh and then looked back at his Master.

“Master, do you really think there’s a Force-sensitive here?”

Kit nodded. “I can sense a strong Force signature.”

“Master Jedi.” The blue chinchilla Treka Horansi, Kofi called, making Kit turn to him and flash his winning smile. “May I introduce Ekundayo, our Nkosi.”

Kit looked at Ekundayo. He was another Treka Horansi with a charcoal pelt, wearing a light blue robe and green pants. He had a baby sling around him, supported with one paw-like hand. Kit was surprised, as usually the Nkosi were Gorvan Horansi.

He quickly moved past it. As his eyes gravitated to the baby sling, he could feel the Force radiating off of it. So the leader’s child was Force-sensitive.

Kit bowed respectfully. “It's an honor, sir. I am Kit Fisto, Jedi Knight. And this is my Padawan, Nahdar Vebb.” Nahdar followed his Master’s lead and bowed. "Hello, sir." 

Ekundayo nodded but kept a stoic look. He studied the Jedi. They seemed to mean no harm, but he knew what they wanted: his precious daughter.

As if on cue, the bundle in the baby sling began to move about. A little Treka Horansi girl popped her tiny head out to look at the amphibians. She had red fur and was just starting to get her spots. There was a strip of blonde, downy fur from her head going down to her tail. All Treka Horansi cubs had this at birth: the fur would be replaced with thicker, darker hair. She still had baby blue eyes (which were subject to change over time) and a small black nose like her father. Kit’s smile grew when he saw the baby.

“Well, hello there, little one," the Nautolan greeted.  The baby giggled at him. Ekundayo, however, gripped his daughter closer. “Perhaps we should talk somewhere more private,” Ekundayo said dryly. He turned and headed towards his home.

As he walked away, he was gently bouncing his baby daughter, smiling lovingly at her. “Hello, Thabisa. Did you sleep well, my precious?” The baby giggled at the bouncing as she reached up to her father. Nahdar looked at the Horansi's back.

“He seems distrustful of us, Master,” the Mon Calamari said. Kit sighed.

“Well, we're here to convince him to give up his child, Padawan.”

……………….

Kit and Ekundayo sat at the dining table in the hut's humble main room. Thabisa was in her baby basket, nestled in a warm, colorful blanket. She watched in wonder as Nahdar levitated a cup in front of her.

“See?” Nahdar said gently. “As Jedi, we can stretch out our feelings and physically take hold of objects through the Force,” he explained to the baby. Kit and Ekundayo smiled and then returned to their conversation.

“Mirage killed our Nkosi and claimed the fief and tribe for herself. The Kasa warriors tried to stop her but she also killed many of them. The survivors were forced to flee. After word got out to the other tribes, they refused to step in. They were afraid of the enchantress.”

Ekundayo glared up at Kit. “Why did you all force her on us after her expulsion? Why didn’t you just deal with her at the Temple?”

The Jedi’s head dropped slightly, filled with sympathy for the people forced to live under a tyrant for so long. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you all had to deal with her for so long. I was very young when she was exiled. I think the Jedi Council at the time thought it would be best to send her to her home planet and let her people punish her as they saw fit.”

Ekundayo simply nodded, “I suppose we should talk about why you're really here.”

Kit shifted in his seat. This wasn’t going to be easy.  “I can sense your daughter’s force sensitivity. I can also sense who her mother was. Was she…planned?” Kit asked, cringing at his own words.

Ekundayo sighed. “Yes and no. Mirage wanted an apprentice, not a child. She chose me to be the father because she wanted the best genes," he explained. “However, she was too old for pregnancy and child bearing. The birth killed her.”

“A minute old and already defeating the dark side,” Kit tried to joke. Ekundayo did not laugh. He just looked into Kit’s eyes.

“You want to take her to the Temple, don’t you?”

Kit sighed, “She has the potential to become a great Jedi, but we would need to take her now to prevent her from developing attachments," the Jedi explained. “However, if you do not want to part with her, we’ll leave and never bother you again.”

The Horansi was silent for a while before finally standing. He walked up to Nahdar and picked up the basket containing his daughter. “I would like to sleep on this. You both are more than welcome to stay in my home tonight. Do you need anything?”

“We’ll be fine,” Kit assured him. “Thank you Ekundayo.” The Horansi father nodded and disappeared into his room. The Jedi retrieved their sleeping mats from their ship and laid them down in the hut’s den. 

“Do you think he’ll let us take her to the temple, Master?” Nahdar asked as he settled under his blanket.

“I’m not sure, Padawan. Ekundayo may or may not agree. Whatever he decides, we need to accept it.” 

In his room, Ekundayo paced most of the night. He was restless, unable to sleep with this decision weighing heavily on him. Thabisa, sensing her father’s turmoil, also laid awake.

She let out a comforting coo, getting Ekundayo’s attention. He stopped his pacing and walked over to his daughter, gently stroking her soft cheek with his finger. Thabisa happily nuzzled into his touch.

The moment was bittersweet. Ekundayo wondered how much longer it would be until word of Mirage’s death reached their old Nkosi’s family. Soon they would come to reclaim the land. The land itself didn't concern him as much as what would happen to Thabisa. Especially when they found out that not only was she Mirage’s daughter but also that she was force sensitive.

Would they use her to their advantage or kill her as retribution? Ekundayo shuttered at those thoughts. Can he keep his daughter safe?

“I’m sorry, Thabisa. I didn’t love your mother. She forced me to give you to her.” He regretted that his daughter didn’t have a more ideal start in life. The baby blinked up at him innocently. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“But I do love you,” He emphasized, booping her nose. Thabisa giggled and began to reach for her father’s finger. Ekundayo teared up as he reluctantly made up his mind. “And no matter what happens, I always will.”

As if she understood him, Thabisa cuddled deeper into her blanket, promptly falling asleep. Ekundayo kept smiling through his tears. 

……………. 

The next morning, Kit stood outside the hut. Thabisa was in his arms, wrapped in her blanket to protect her from the morning chill. The Jedi had sent his Padawan ahead to their ship to prepare it for departure. “She’ll be well taken care of,” the Nautolan assured Ekundayo. “She’ll get a great education.”

Ekundayo nodded, though he wasn’t completely listening. He was staring at his daughter, trying to memorize every single feature and trait she had. “Thank you, Master Jedi.”

He began to fiddle with the knot of his leather necklace. “I know Jedi are not allowed possessions or attachments but I would like her to have this once she’s old enough.” Kit accepted the necklace. It consisted of five beads painted bright green and had yellow detailing.

“We do encourage Jedi to learn about their home cultures. I’m sure the Council won’t have a problem with it,” Kit replied. Then the Jedi’s comlink went off indicating the ship was ready for departure. “It’s time.”

Ekundayo nodded sadly, saying goodbye to Thabisa for the last time. He watched Kit take his daughter away, his heart along with her. He of course questioned himself as the two left his sight but he pushed them away. This was for the best, his daughter would be happy.

Right?

Star Wars copyright to LucasFilms and Disney, All rights reserved ArtWork copyright to jilldraws.com, All rights reserved

[444names]

common plant names + the entry on those poor bastards from wikipedia poorly translated to sotho

A'mistnutly Albang Alily Amblackle Amble Ambscut Amerron Amerry Amoot Ampfood Ampistless Apleek Apleyell Appes Ardfeli Arlicarryel Arplave Arple Ashosele Askalweed Bagwee Bally Banheaple Baplenterry Bashato Bastle Bayfeedion Bernthengut Berrood Berry Berryhort Birberry Bircianash Bircress Birgeoarger Biric Biterma Blackram Blampfoot Blangbures Blaort Blarfellot Blarman Blefluer Blehloweed Blonwort Blullnea Boundberb Boweed Boxwort Bredbla Bredbush Brood Broolo Brootch Burendista Buscrooraw Busthern Butteroak Butweedoa Cabbal Cabbaldbres Calber Canish Carple Carry Cheirch Chemahle Chitersne Chitrash Chweed Clettery Cletto Coaelebirch Coftearry Cokoadbrock Coldge Colerbirgio Comestyle Cordth Corne Corseng Corth Counkbet Creedamna Crelli Croakunkch Crumea Cuckeed Curics Deaspber Derber Derooth Derry Dever Dimaple Dimblum Dootch Dowrosel Ducke Duckly Duckmailse Dumstlele Dyelloke Eplamof Eppelle Faldble Faldena Fallac Falmon Ferroodye Ferry Feves Fevilkwerow Fewberry Fewoothist Fightsha Foota Footte Frelly Frilve Fruinkweed Fruittenash Fummon Galdcrood Galder Gatastry Gaterry Golleque Grappech Grasetash Grash Grass Grayata Graybircre Graybit Grayfele Grayferry Grelloke Gress Groak Guebersne Guerry Hadittle Harlipoak Harlium Havern Hedweroak Hemaple Hernso Hogbamna Holow Honetter Hopple Horansy Hores Hound Inkcar Inosell Istle Iterseam Jaccot Judia Jundsberry Kastleash Keber Keraple Kerrowthess Kinnikint Laccort Ladle Lanbiric Langoler Lanyal Laple Leaskash Leedoak Letter Liflowfooss Lilde Lilder Lildthitio Lipeadervy Literry Loweezewoot Lulamonaldi Maindcreed Mains Manterry Mantrood Maplard Mapler Mappy Marple Matet Messe Mestle Milfoot Milkyter Mille Millow Minsy Misele Molet Monahogbite Monort Monsix Monwoot Morash Morne Mulber Mulle Mully Murplaort Muscreed Nestick Netch Netso Niposed Noaketcre Nyalbeaf Nybir Nyhes Ofell Oftleap Oldengloot Oldron Olicat Osamaine Oseareless Osedmape Oseneadbin Ossumch Peadiney Peads Pefum Penato Perry Pesseant Pevin Picares Pigilve Pinak Pinard Pinbeckle Pindcreek Pintsant Pionwoot Plach Plavess Plenpot Poiso Poistle Pokerbine Pokoak Pokoaker Polon Poplant Pople Pricabbagep Puric Purntho Quince Ragwoot Rametsugary Randoosil Range Ranglopley Ranut Rashlehem Raybircroot Redbint Reedalmose Relet Restarplent Rhedbineed Rheirge Rherch Rhuberrysa Rhubolwelow Rhucum Ricabbash Ricklebole Riereed Rillow Ristaing Ristric Riterry Riverry Rockcroom Rockerry Rockre Rosellbern Rowdal Roweedma Ruiterry Ruitonoak Sagweed Santerry Sasplearry Scaldget Scofu Scordamp Scornstle Scort Scothem Scrood Scurocory Seber Seedmat Semaparry Seneed Setalweek Siana Silantic Silfockle Silsingart Skation Skundrocka Sneardsnea Snebine Snoak Snotar Soarde Sonell Sonwornet Spaple Sparlivess Spberry Specke Spine Spoot Spotchripe Spries Spriess Sprik Squeoak Squerry Squiterroak Squithistip Stagbir Stato Stlefutlet Stletsh Stlette Sugang Sugar Sugards Sugarple Swalder Swalderry Swame Swamna Swamofte Swampared Swaterry Swatoffal Swatoot Swayle Swayterbe Sweed Sween Swellax Swerroweed Swilver Swinig Swinkbirds Swinthworn Swooth Sworkole Tailkweed Tasilve Tatice Thanellood Theirch Thele Thengbum Therch Theroppy Therry Theum Thgaress Thgat Thilkweed Thion Thish Thist Thiter Thiterry Thitiolweed Tholwoot Thymetseade Timbe Tistly Tleacka Tlewerry Tlowfood Toebirch Tourinet Trage Trappleto Trashadi Trics Trithworry Tsondle Tuberched Tulsne Tšele Valsney Vaneleyoak Vilder Vinetoot Walnefut Wamappe Wambsfoot Wamyrockly Wateng Watome Watweet Wheberase Whemps Wherice Whicmud Whigion Whislacket Whitel Whitootweek Wilderry Wildrubox Wilkwerice Willberb Wilset Wilverry Winaton Wineymewoot Winkbirch Winth Worch Yamps Yarch Yaticwerry Yelifloak Yellowdalse Zewood

[unstable-reality]

In Retrograde

For the Rogue One First Anniversary prompt: Family -- Bodhi, experiencing the effects of his imprisonment, long after the moment has passed.

[AO3]

There’s something significant about this day.

Bodhi knows it. He can feel it. There’s a pressure, behind his eyes, and his stomach aches, like it’s curling around a stone, but he can’t get at it. He tries. Force knows he does. Yet it dances away from him, leaving in its wake a residue of longing and guilt.

It was there, with him, in the fresher, and when he reported for duty, and when he launched. It was there with him out on the perimeter, lurking in the space between his ship and its nearest counterpart. An itch. Persistent, unreachable.

It happens often like this.

He levers himself up, grips the upper edge of the cockpit’s wall, helmet tucked under his arm. His R2 unit chirps at him. He turns and smiles back at her (he doesn’t know why he thinks of her as a “her.” Everyone else seems to think their droids are male).

“I know. Me too.”

She lets out a long, high note that has the cadence of a sigh. His smile broadens. He drops to the floor of the hangar bay.

There’s sweat along his hairline and on the back of his neck, and his hair clings to his skin. The fabric of his flight suit scratches against the backs of his knees and on the insides of his elbows. His patrol was long. But he doesn’t mind; he relishes it. Every moment spent in the cockpit, at the controls, in control, able to fly, truly -- not solely as a tool or a cog, but as an autonomous being, expected to call and rely upon skill, and in service of something good and decent -- feels like a gift. It’s what he’d dreamed about, when he was young.

He thinks. He thinks it’s what he’d dreamed about. He’s fairly sure. There was that speeder...

Dreams slip and slide around. Everything’s been slipping and sliding around, since Bor Gullet.

He makes his way across the deck. Home One hums beneath his feet. Its artificial atmosphere envelopes him, stale, but warm and comfortable. He’s off-duty, now, for a good handful of hours, along with most of his squadron, and he’s thinking about that pressure, and that ache. He’s thinking about the things that he forgets, as much as one can, given that they’re forgotten.

A member of his squadron nods and sort of smiles and moves closer to him. He’s had a few drinks with her, a few times. With all of them. It was awkward, at first, but there’s been...time, now, since Jedha and Eadu and Scarif (he has trouble remembering just how much time), and he’s on pretty good terms with them all.

“That was a drag, huh?” Lev says.

He shrugs. It wasn’t, to him. “Um...yeah, I guess.”

“Sometimes I wish we’d find some Imps, just to make things more interesting.”

He’s sort of glad they haven’t in a while, despite his aspirations.  

“Hey, uh…” Her head dips. “A bunch of us are gonna be playing horansi later. You in?”

He looks at her. He is in, of course, because he’s always up for a game (and oh goodness, has that gotten him in some bantha fodder), but something suddenly clicks in his head, and he feels his pulse double. His hands flex and unflex.

“Sure.” Flex, unflex. “Yeah, sure. Definitely.” He’s not even interested in her. He has no idea why his anxiety is spiking. The stone turns.

He feels it, whatever it is. He feels it in the way that he feels every episode, every moment that cascades into the churning void that spins at the edge of his conscious thought. The heaviness, the weight that shouts to him that a part of him has been stolen, and that he must yank it back. But so many times, he can’t. In those moments, he wishes for the clarity of Cassian, Jyn, Chirrut or Baze, whose words and actions somehow anchor him. Or for Galen, whom he can’t forget.

What is today?

There are so many things that he can’t remember, and so many things that his mind can’t wrap around.

He’d like to find one of them. Their shifts don’t line up, most days. He wonders if this is one of the days they do.

Lev nods again. “Wedge’s quarters.” Her fingers briefly wrap around his elbow. “See you,” she says, and then moves away. It occurs to him that he should probably talk to her, lest she go on getting the wrong idea. His anxiety spikes again. He closes his eyes. It’s only for a second, but it’s long enough for everything to shift.

Past and present are such fluid things. He would never have thought so, before he was introduced to the Partisans, but they are. They flow together. They overlap. Most of the time, still (or more of the time, these days), he is where he is, and only where he is, and thinking only regular, grounded person thoughts. But there will be a scent, teasing at a fractured memory of Jedha City’s market; or a sound, like the ululations from the temple; or a texture, like fine, cold sand; or some small, seemingly insignificant thing that makes his heart beat faster. And he will then be tumbling, careening, and set adrift.

He places his credits on a table. They are the same credits he placed on a table in a tavern years ago. His fists wrap around a pair of sticks, pull back, and send him flying, and it is the same flight he took on his first round of practicals, back when his discomfort with and resentment of the Empire was a small bud that needed tending, and he’d thought joining up would help him take care of his mother.

His mother.

He hears his breaths. His strides lengthen, but he doesn’t know where he’s going. There’s a roar in his head, and there are images, so many, and they’re coming so fast, and he is where he is, but he’s also back, in that chair, in that dungeon, and the air itself is alive and coiling around him, and a great mass is moving and moaning and his flesh is slick with its backwash, with all of the matter and agony that it leaves behind. He is in a corridor on the Alliance’s mobile headquarters. He is being roughed into a cell. The pressure in his head is opening up, and a sliver of memory is seeping through.

He collapses onto a ledge in an alcove. He leans forward, elbows on his thighs.

It’s her birthday. It’s his mother’s birthday.

[litessaber]

Suspendisse quis magistrum

Star Wars Fictober Prompt #5: “Game”

 (Poetry again.)

i am the horansi master,

with just the right hand

to

win

it

a l l.

 i am the outlander champ,

my high score undisputed

to

top

the

c h a r t s.

 i am the lady luck victor,

with just the right touch

to

win

the

j a c k p o t.

 i

am:

 master

of the galaxy,

 master

of the game.

 master

of the Force.

 ( (in) sidious)

[jilldraws90]

Obi-Wan's Wing Man To Obi-Wan's dismay, Thabisa is a big Obitine shipper. Haha! She just wants her master to be happy. Original quote from Disney's Mulan. Star Wars copyright to LucasFilms and Disney, All rights reserved ArtWork copyright to jilldraws.com, All rights reserved

[jilldraws90]

Second character biography of my Star Wars characters revamps. Everyone meet Obi-Wan's second padawan Thabisa, The Treka Horansi. A Jedi turned smuggler turned rebel! WARNING: Spoilers for Star Wars: The Clone Wars in backstory. Star Wars copyright to LucasFilms and Disney, All rights reserved ArtWork copyright to jilldraws.com, All rights reserved

[jilldraws90]

Hey Jealousy Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t the jealous type. Yes, he was envious of Qui-Gon’s attention to Anakin all those years ago but he chalked it up to immaturity. It was rather ridiculous for a 25-year-old to be upset he was getting less attention than a literal child. No, he had grown too much for that kind of insecurity. In fact, other masters were jealous of him. Thabisa was such a gentle and obedient padawan. Some still look down on her due to her mother’s betrayal of the Jedi, but all agreed: they wished their padawans behaved half as well. Obi-Wan was grateful for that - at least compared to Anakin - training Thabisa was easy. However, he noticed things, such as how whenever Kit Fisto was around, Thabisa would change. She became talkative, excitable, and just plain adorable. She would expressively ramble on about their latest war story to the Nautolan. Kit would just laugh and cheer the little Horansi cub on, sharing his own stories once she had finished. Stories that Thabisa, in turn, would listen to with excited attentiveness. Obi-Wan knew Jedi and the younglings they would find and bring to the temple had special bonds. Plo Koon and Ahsoka certainly did. Why would Kit and Thabisa be any different? However, he wonder why. Why would Thabisa only save this playful, happy side of herself for Fisto? Why never for him, her Jedi master? Why did Kit sometimes know things about Obi-Wan’s padawan that he, himself, didn’t even realize? Why did her eyes never sparkle when she saw him, like they did when she saw the Nautolan? No matter, after all… Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t the jealous type. Star Wars copyright to LucasFilms and Disney, All rights reserved ArtWork copyright to jilldraws.com, All rights reserved