revivalproject | open ☾ an arrival

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open ☾ an arrival

WHO: Merrin and YOU
WHERE: All over Temba
WHAT: One (1) very confused space witch makes her debut
WHEN: Right now?
WARNINGS: None yet, but will update if anything comes up!

A. YOU'VE GOTTA BE KITTEN ME

Despite the fact that Merrin is absolutely the type to hold grudges, she's somehow made peace with Voroka and the other mothkittens in spite of the terrible crime against her—at least judging by the fact that she's currently sitting cross-legged in the grass near the library while the kittens nap, lounge, and play in the sunshine around her.

A few bolder ones have already approached her, and she extends her hand towards one of them to let it curiously sniff her fingers. She's learned her lesson from last time, however, and she keeps her talisman, a palm-sized, halfmoon-shaped white rock, gripped tightly in her other hand to prevent another theft. That's the last thing she needs, now or ever.

"Hello, Voroka," she says to the mothkitten, though her voice doesn't sound welcoming so much as stern, like a disappointed parent. "Did you think I would not recognize you?"

B. LIFE'S A BEACH

It takes her a little while to find the path to the beach, but she eventually stumbles across it and—well, her home planet, Dathomir, is essentially a dry, harsh wasteland, and the largest body of water that exists there is a swamp, maybe a pond.

So nothing really prepares her for the sight of the ocean stretching out in front of her. It appears almost infinite to her, and she stands there on the beach for a long time, staring out across the water in wonder, her lips slightly parted. Her gaze keeps darting to the waves lapping against the shore as if she's... contemplating something.

(In fact, she's contemplating putting her feet in the water, though she doesn't know how safe it is, if at all. A lifetime on Dathomir has made her wary of everything, even if it looks harmless.)

C. SURPRISE! AT THE DISCO

After a few days of exploring, Merrin has finally started to get the lay of this place, and so she feels comfortable enough using her magick to teleport around—at least in the town center, where she's most familiarized, whether there are other people around or not.

The only thing that heralds her imminent arrival is a thick green fog that she materializes into, and then she's suddenly there, looking completely unperturbed, like she just stepped off a lift instead of blinking into existence halfway across the city.

D. WILDCARD

Of course, Merrin is still exploring. She can also be found in the hangar, inspecting all of the ships, including exploring her own assigned ship, the First Breath, at the inn, contemplating her food options and wishing she could eat Greez's steak, in the hotel, staking out an empty room (or not?) to claim, or pretty much anywhere else, seriously. Jedi and anyone who can sense Jedi will also be able to sense her—she feels pretty similar, actually, but definitively more... dark. Or sinister.

Or feel free to use any of her TDM prompts, if those speak to you more.

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"There are many other creatures you did not encounter," she informs him, though who knows if that's actually encouraging or terrifying? The smile she shoots him could go either way, honestly.

Her gaze sliding away from his, she thinks back on the day she defeated the Sleeper, officially earning her place in the coven. The uncertainty, the terror... and then the triumph, the joy. How happy her sisters were for her success, how relieved she felt at being able to stay. The sense of belonging. And Ilyana...

That's the thing she misses most about the loss. Not just Ilyana, but all her sisters, and the knowing, deep in her bones, that no matter what happened she would always have their support. Their love. She still does, of course, even beyond this world, but there was always a safety in knowing that they would catch her if she fell. They would fight for her, mourn her, avenge her.

With a start, she realizes that she'd let the silence lapse a little too long to be natural, and she shifts her weight, leaning more of it against the edge of the counter. "I am glad that you were able to see your home again, and experience it differently," she says sincerely. She hopes that it... helped, maybe even gave him some closure, in a way.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Cal laughs, quite glad that his encounters had been limited. Those had been enough to deal with as it was.

As Merrin's thoughts turn inwards he recognizes the look, wondering more about how life had been on Dathomir. There are still things that he doesn't know and the imbalance bothers him a little for how much she's showed to know about him. When she breaks away from her reminiscing a smile flickers across Cal's face at her words. He can't say he wasn't glad about the chance to do so either, although while he'd gotten much out of the visit, he's still unsure overall of what to think of it all.

"Yeah..." is the answer he finally commits to, if not much of a committal in itself. He glances down at the pieces he's yet to put in place on the charger casing he'd been working on, setting things in their approximate positions.

"I'll admit I only got to see a certain side of Dathomir when I was there. What was it like for you before..?" Before Taron Malicos, before whoever had come that had changed everything. He vaguely remembered that confrontation and Merrin's claims, but Cal couldn't fathom why the Jedi would have come out to Dathomir. Even concerns about their strange magick didn't warrant complete obliteration, not to mention the Jedi had their hands full against the Separatists.

Her eyes track the movement of his hands as he arranges the pieces of the... charge pack, as he called it, though she's really only half-watching, her gaze distant.

Before. The memories are as far away from her as they have ever been, over six years in the past, so it's becoming harder and harder to separate the village she lives in now, empty and desperately quiet, with the one she knew before, teeming with her sisters, peaceful. It feels like she's picked at a stray thread, and now that she's pulling on it more and more of her memories unspool for her.

"You did not see our village. But it was built into the side of the mountain, over the pools that the Sleeper called home. My sisters have lived there for generations." She exhales, stopping a little short. Of course, no Nightsisters live there now, not even her—only spirits.

"Before, it was always busy. My sisters would come and go, and bring their stories with them. There are paths, deeper into the mountain, and Ilyana and I—" She falters slightly, emotion lodged in her throat. "We would explore the caves together for hours, until our sisters had to retrieve us for instruction, or mealtime. I was never alone."

That's what most sticks out in her memory. Her time with Ilyana, growing up together, being surrounded by her sisters, having the community of her coven.

It's a feeling Cal can relate to. But he's found that once you started calling up the past, sometimes it's hard to stop it all from bubbling up again. He only has the village of the Nightbrothers to refer to so he's unsure of how the Nightsister village may have looked. Dathomir had been rife with craggy mountains and rock formations so building your home in them only seems fitting. When Merrin pauses, Cal glances at her quietly.

"...you were close." He can almost envy that. The Jedi were strict in their view of attachments, and although they were functionally never alone for the support and ability to approach most anyone as they were able within the Order, the only actual bond he'd started to form had been with his master. Even then there were still strict lines, and Cal hadn't the time that others had to see that develop into anything stronger than teacher and pupil, like Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.

Close. She's not sure if he means her sisters or Ilyana specifically, but either way both are true, by different degrees, and she nods in reply, her gaze still fixed on some faraway point in the past. With Ilyana, and the joy of believing they were in their own little world, hidden away in the dark corners of those caves.

"Yes. I thought we would be together forever," she says softly, echoing her words to Cere that of course Cal doesn't remember, "and that nothing would ever change. But I was wrong."

There's an edge of bitterness in her voice, unbidden, but she exhales and releases it, finally turning her head to look at Cal. "Now Dathomir is as you found it, with only the Nightbrothers and the spirits of my sisters."

"I'm sorry that things turned out the way they did," Cal says softly, almost hesitant to meet her gaze again, but he doesn't look away. They'd both been naive in that, that things wouldn't take such drastic turns. Merrin's sisters are gone. The Jedi Order is too.

"You still have a place to return to, but it's not the same without the people that made it home. I guess it works out about the same, not having a place to go back to, and any Jedi that may have survived are just scattered because it would be too dangerous otherwise."

He lifts his head a bit, offering a faint smile. "But it doesn't mean we have to deal with anything alone. I think that's something we just ended up choosing, for whatever reasons. It just takes a push to remind us that." His laugh is brief, the laugh of someone who wishes his experience could have been different. "I just wish that push wasn't so hard, but I guess I really needed it."

It's not the same without them at all. Honestly, most days, Merrin felt exactly like the rest of her sisters, just a specter haunting Dathomir, lost and very, very alone. Even the promise of revenge had started to lose its comfort, and so she'd begun losing her purpose as well as everything else. If Cal hadn't shown up... what would've happened to her?

His laugh gets a smile out of her, at least, wan but understanding. How she wishes both their experiences could've been different. Then again, if that had happened, then it's likely that they wouldn't have ever crossed paths.

"You told me something similar, before. You said that... life has this funny way of forcing you on the path forward anyway." If she remembers his exact words—well, they'd had an impact on her. Had given her that push. "That is why I chose to... to not be alone."

Then, wryly and very knowingly, she adds, "You do not change, Cal Kestis."

The words she repeats certainly sound like something he would have said. Cal shrugs, that crooked smile of his appearing again.

"I changed a little, I think. Otherwise I'd still be trying to hide. But...I'm glad I was able to help you figure out another path." One that wasn't so lonely.

He's also glad he'd been given a better chance to get to know the Nightsister. She has her quirks, certainly, but he finds himself not all that bothered by it despite the demonstration of her abilities. She'd reacted to an intruder and a possible threat, and he's just thankful that there won't be anymore undead Nightsisters coming after him.

Privately, she disagrees a little that he's changed, if only because she remembers their first meeting—even then, he'd tried to make an ally of her instead of an enemy, not that she'd listened. Maybe his purpose has changed, or his confidence or resolve, but the core of him is the same, in her opinion.

"So am I," she says, her smile matching his, but soft around the edges. It really had felt like a path forward, away from her anger, her vengeance, from the ghosts of her sisters. Everything that had been holding her back.

Exhaling, she pushes aside conversations of the past—as always, so fraught for them—for something a little more present. Something that's been weighing on her a little bit, and she'd resolved to ask Cal about. Now seems as good a time as any to bring it up.

"There is something I would ask you," she announces, as a... warning?

Anger and vengeance never make things better. True peace is letting go, but Cal knows it's not easy. He knows he still struggles with some things, but he's since reconciled with others.

He stops fiddling around with components, head tilting in silent query at Merrin and her prompt then.

"Oh? What's on your mind?" he asks, unsure if it's just the particular way she tends to phrase things. At least he doesn't look overly cautious about whatever she wants to say.

It's absolutely the particular ways she tends to phrase things. Apparently tired of watching him fiddle around with the charge pack, she pushes away from the counter and turns so that she can more closely examine the headset.

"The others here." She lifts her head, glancing towards him. "We are... allies?" There's a slight hesitation around the word, because she isn't really sure what else to go with.

But truthfully, she just isn't really sure what to do with all these people period. It's a small group, relatively speaking, but it's still the most amount of strangers she's been around... well, probably ever. Outsiders weren't very welcome on Dathomir, even before the armored warrior arrived, and Cal, Cere, and Greez were the first strangers she'd encountered since Malicos five years earlier.

She really doesn't want to admit it, but she feels out of her depth.

There's not much else he can do without starting up the arc-welder, but Cal doesn't want to do that while he's talking to someone. He looks after Merrin as she wanders back towards the headset, turning towards a wall lined with mostly empty shelves mounted on it to pull out a box of smaller odds and ends. Bringing it back to the counter, he starts to pick through them for the parts he needs.

He probably should have expected the question sooner or later. It makes sense to him that she'd ask about the people here, and he can guess at the underlying meaning. He's been in the same position after all, but unlike Merrin, there wasn't anyone familiar to him here, although he took advantage of that. If they didn't know who he was, then he didn't have to be too paranoid about who to trust, not that it was an easy thing either way.

"Technically. We're all brought here for the same reason, although the attitude towards the situation might differ between people. The Agrii seem to have a broad scope for what they consider 'he-rows' to be."

"He-rows," she repeats quietly, mostly to herself, as if to familiarize herself with the word. Though... it still sounds silly to her. Not only for the spelling, but also for the fact that she doesn't consider herself anything like a hero. A broad scope, indeed.

She turns to look at BD-1 and asks, "You are a he-row as well?" The droid whistles in reply, which Merrin takes to be a yes, and she nods in agreement.

Now she finally does reach out to touch something—the headset, which she picks up and curiously turns over in her hands. "So we must work together?" Again, there's that layer of doubt to her question.

Cal laughs at BD's response. "I think he deserves the title more than I do," he grins, reaching over to give the droid a fond pat on the head.

"I guess you can say we're expected to. And so far I haven't really met anyone who's been brought here that's been adamantly against working together. There have been some who had more interest in trying to find a way to escape, but so far as I know, no one's actively started any trouble."

He doesn't blame Merrin for being dubious about the expectations of everyone working together. But he suspects the Agrii might have ways to ensure that no one tries anything against their interests and the safety of those they'd brought here.

"...there used to be a couple of Imperials," he says. "There was even someone who claimed to be a Sith lord, although he was from a time in our distant past, and could have been mistaken as a Jedi for how he acted. He wasn't at all like Malicos either." Cal had actually come to consider the Chiss as a friend, although he can't help but think that perhaps it's better Altair's no longer here what with the number of Jedi that have recently been brought, especially with their personal experiences with Sith.

It's a little bit of a relief to hear that no one's started any trouble. Honestly, her experience is so... limited, on just Dathomir, that she wasn't sure what to expect with a group of people from many different places, planets, and galaxies. She certainly knows what would happen with a group of Nightsisters and brothers brought to one place, but not much else.

"A... Sith lord?" That's a new one.

She doesn't know too much about the Empire or their Imperials, even now, but she knows enough about how dangerous they are to Cal and Cere—to everyone, really. But she's less concerned about the latter, at the moment. Her eyes narrow as she glances at Cal, her grip on the headphones tightening. "You were in danger?"

He blinks, sensing Merrin's tension. "No, I wasn't. Of course I got a little concerned, but they'd been here longer than I had and one of them said his ultimate loyalty was to his people." Maybe not in such exact words, but Cal felt it was still a dangerous game Thrawn played.

"The Sith...they're the ones who use the dark side of the Force," Cal explains. "Their motivation is power. Malicos wasn't quite at that level but he was probably headed in that direction." It was difficult for Cal to really gauge, given that the only Sith he'd met ~~so far~~ was very unorthodox.

Hearing that makes her relax again, though... in retrospect, she's not sure what she would've done anyway. He just said that the Imperials—and the Sith lord, which she still doesn't really understand—had already left, so there's nothing for her to do with the information either way. Still, she's... relieved?

It hits her, again, that he really was stuck here all alone, without the rest of his crew. She's glad that it hadn't been her instead—Cal seems much more adaptable than she is.

Looking away, she sets the headphones back down again, quiet as she absorbs the rest of what he'd said, a thoughtful furrow appearing between her eyebrows. "The... dark side of the Force?" It's another new concept for her, but using Malicos as a reference helps anchor the idea somewhat. "So they are... evil Jedi," she offers.

"Anti-Jedi is probably more accurate," Cal says thoughtfully, folding his arms as he leans a hip against the worktable. "From what I've heard in old stories, the Sith were ruthless, dangerous beings who sought power. Tapping into the dark side of the Force is giving into your emotions, particularly fear, anger and hate, and using the Force fueled by that."

He'd seen the aftermath of a Force-infused temper tantrum, and had felt the reverberations so clearly in the city, which was usually so quiet and still. He's just glad that Altair had known better than to direct his anger at anyone.

"...that's why we're brought to the temple when we're really young, once it's discovered that we're Force-sensitive. Before we can really get to know our parents, so that we won't have strong attachments that might influence us when we learn."

There's some sort of stray bolt on the counter, and she picks it up mostly to have something in her hands while she listens, her brow furrowing thoughtfully.

Power. Anger and hate. Merrin wonders if she would be considered something like a Sith, if that was the criteria. After all, that was what had fueled her for years, all in search of vengeance for her sisters. In the end, she may not have been consumed by it—not like Malicos, who had become... unhinged after Cal had arrived on Dathomir, truly mad—but she understood its lure.

But in her mind, power is only power, and emotions are only emotions. They're tools, and the danger is in how they're wielded. It sounds to her like these Sith used their tools wrongly.

Which is probably why she can't quite make the connection between that and attachments, or taking children from their homes. Maybe it's also because she grew up always surrounded by her sisters—in her coven, raising the younger generation was basically a community effort and everyone was family. Discouraging those bonds sounds foreign to her.

"Attachments? I don't understand." She sounds genuinely puzzled. "That is bad?"

Even Cal knows it's impossible not to let some emotion bleed into the things you do. He knows he's done so, using the Force in desperation to escape with his dying master when the situation had become so dire. In moments like that, he's not sure if anyone can keep their calm.

The silence that follows isn't exactly heavy, but Cal can tell that there's a lot to be thought about, and he can guess at what Merrin might be wondering. It's something he can't help but wonder too- just what is the origin of Nightsister magick? Is it some aspect of the Force? There are still so many mysteries to it, after all.

He's not surprised at the question that she finally asks. "Not...necessarily?" he says, shaking his head. "What we're taught is that as Jedi, we're meant to serve all, not just a specified few. Attachments might influence our actions and ability to act fairly. I'm not sure if it makes much of a difference now, though..." Now the Jedi are so few, scattered and acting independently if at all.

It is a lot to think about. As Jedi, Malicos and Cal had felt similar to her sisters, but not. Similar to each other, but not. They're all alive, and so is magick. It's trees and mist and blood, in the living and the spirits, in the hearts of planets and stars. From what little she knows of the Force, it may be the same thing, but she can't say for certain.

Almost absently, she calls her magick, feeling it thrum in her hand, bright green ichor levitating the bolt over her palm. A second later, she lets it fall again, the ichor dissipating like a guttered flame as her fingers close around the bolt.

Cal's explanation tells her quite a bit about the Jedi and their aims—very noble, it seems, but she's still not really sure what to make of this attachment business, which is probably evidenced by the skeptical angle of her eyebrows.

"So you are not allowed attachments to your family," she says, her head angling curiously. "And friends? Lovers?"

His eyes are drawn to the glow of green, and while his immediate reaction is to tense, he manages to relax into more of a curious state as he watches Merrin manipulate it. Even to his senses he's not quite sure what to make of it.

"I don't even know who my family is," Cal admits, which hadn't used to bother him, but then he'd gotten used to people again, around here, people who actually showed they cared and looked out for him in turn. So was it really so bad to be close to them?

He blinks and then shifts a little where he leans as he realizes Merrin hasn't finished with her line of questioning. "It's kind of strange on that. I think we're allowed friends, we're supposed to bond with our fellow Jedi, and even masters and padawans become close. I don't know how you can really avoid attachments at all when you really think about it. There's more objection when it comes to lovers." He offers a rueful smile. "But then I've found out that even Jedi Masters don't adhere too strictly to those rules."

She does notice the way he tenses a little when she uses her magick—she'd forgotten for a moment that he isn't so familiar with it right now, that last he remembers, she'd actually used it against him. Frowning a little, she sets the bolt back down on the counter, then leans against it and crosses her arms across her chest.

Strange is also the word she'd use. No families, but friends are allowed. It sounds like lovers aren't allowed, but some Jedi take them anyway, despite the "rules." It all sounds very convoluted to her, even arbitrary, especially since the apparent goal is to prevent attachments.

Will she ever understand Jedi? The more she learns, the more mysterious they become to her.

She shakes her head a little, her tone very dry. "You Jedi are indeed very strange." It isn't disparaging—if anything, she sounds almost amused. "The Nightsisters do not have such rules. I was close with many of my sisters."

As he well knows... their bond is eternal.

It's one of those things that the more you think about it, the less it makes sense. It also had to do with his being so out of touch with the Order and trying to live up to Jedi expectations. Cal can see how one's focus can shift in favor of those you grow close to, but maybe focus isn't that bad a thing. The Jedi had stretched themselves thin.

Merrin's comment isn't something he can disagree with. Framed in that particular way that she can manage, it makes him laugh. "I guess we are," he concedes with another shrug. "Maybe being here is a chance to try things a little differently."

Well, at least he agrees. It makes her feel a little better to know that even an actual Jedi finds his own Order a bit strange. Then again—he might say the same thing about the Nightsisters too, if she told him about some of their traditions.

"Oh? You would break the rules?" She's teasing him now, spurred on by his laugh. Her tone is light, eyes gleaming with humor and crinkled slightly at the corners—subtle, but it's there. "You do not strike me as the type, Cal Kestis."

To break the rules, that is. No, she's picturing him as an obedient and eager pupil—not that she was much different, if she's being honest with herself. She bent them a little, maybe, because she and Ilyana had a bad habit of egging each other on, but never bad enough to incur the wrath of Mother Talzin, like some of her sisters.

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