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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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.

"Not break rules," Cal says, a brow arching so high his expression is almost comical. Any attempt to keep a serious look on his face is spoiled by another chuckle. No, he supposes he's not the sort to break rules. On the whole, he still does believe in the Order, enough to want to restore it.

"Maybe reconsider them. Especially after the things that have happened. And the things we find out have happened." It's disheartening thinking that even after the Empire passes, there's something else that rises eventually in its place, that there's still a fight happening. But they can only do what's in their power, and in this place, they're all far from anything of that sort.

"I've been able to meet other Jedi here. We've been able to share our experiences, and one I know by name, though I've never met him before here. He's actually a Jedi Master, and wants to establish a Jedi temple while he's here."

The expression on his face makes her smile, pursed slightly to keep it from growing too big, her eyebrows lifting as if to say: See? I was right. Because she was, and being right always makes her happy.

Her expression turns thoughtful as she listens, her arms unfolding as she shifts her weight against the counter. She's already met Ezra, and he told her about the other Jedi, so she doesn't look surprised at all by any of this information. "Yes, I know of him. This... Master Kenobi, yes?" she asks, drawing on the name Ezra had given her. She hasn't met him yet, but Ezra had already warned(?) her that he might be wary of Nightsisters like her.

Thinking back on that conversation reminds her—she'd wondered how Cal had felt meeting other Jedi, especially after thinking he might be one of the last ones, if not the very last. And—well, now she can just tell him, even if it's slightly off topic. "I am happy for you," she says sincerely, her expression softening. "That you have found others of your kind."

It's not at all surprising that she's possibly met the others if not heard of them by now. Cal nods. "Yeah, that's him."

For her to say she's happy for him finding others like him, other Jedi or at least those learning to be, it both warms him and makes him feel all too aware that the same couldn't be said for her and her sisters, although in a place like this, it left the possibility open. His eyes fall back towards the box he'd pulled out earlier, his hand resuming picking out pieces.

"I don't know if I'd get the chance otherwise. It seems like for the others, their paths cross at some point, or at least cross those of someone who's met one of them before." Who knows if he'll ever run into any other Jedi apart from Cere, once he goes back? "I already know we won't remember what we've done here, who we've met, if we're sent back to where we were."

He's found other Jedi, been able to continue his training with a master, and now they'll have a temple to do... whatever it is Jedi do there (she's still somewhat unclear on this point)—she really is happy for him, even if there's still a small, envious part of her that wishes she could have the same with her sisters. She thought she'd long ago given up hope of seeing any of her people again, or of rebuilding the Nightsisters.

But this place brought back some of that hope, and she doesn't know if she can be disappointed a second time.

She looks away, trying to parse his timeline—four Jedi who survived the Purge, or at least lived after it, and three of them haven't crossed paths with Cal in the future. Yet, maybe? She isn't sure what that could mean, since there are so many possibilities, so many potential futures. After Cal destroyed that Jedi holocron, their path became wide open.

Or they could all be dead, which is a very comforting thought.

There is some interesting information in there, though. "We do not remember our time here?" She sounds surprised, her brow furrowing. "How is this possible?"

Maybe it's too much to be thinking about. It's not like it does him any good here, wondering who they might meet or what might happen. Merrin's the only real proof he has that he's kept on moving forward, and for a moment he deliberates whether or not to ask about what happened with the mission.

His hesitation at least gives the Nightsister the chance to seize upon other things and ask her questions. Cal lets his own undecided question lapse, nodding.

"I'm not exactly sure how it works. If it's just a matter of not missing any time from when we were taken, that'd be reasonable enough considering how easily we're taken from places. But I've spoken to someone who had been and then gone and then returned again, with obvious time having passed for him before he'd been brought back. He'd said he didn't remember anything of Temba when he was back home, but it all came back to him when he returned."

There's something she hadn't really considered before now: what would happen when (if?) she returned to the Mantis. Did she just disappear from the ship, leaving behind Cal, Cere, and Greez to wonder where she'd gone? Would she just appear back on the Mantis in the same spot she'd been when she'd left? Would the same amount of time have passed there as it did here?

At least now she knows that it would be like she'd never left at all. Even to herself, which is a strange thing to reconcile. Maybe it's just her kneejerk reaction, but she doesn't like the idea of having her memory taken from her. Sometimes, it feels like her memory is all she has.

Her frown deepens, and there's a bit of a pause after Cal finishes that she doesn't rush to fill right away.

"I see." There's another pause—she wants to say it's good or bad or even interesting to know, but the truth is that she hasn't actually decided yet. It's a lot to think about. It makes her question whether their time here even matters, if that's the case, and there's no easy answer to that.

Finally, she just sighs, her expression smoothing out again, and nods once. "Then yes, you should take these chances while you can." Spend time with other Jedi, train with a master, live at the Temple... live your best Jedi life, Cal.

It's a lot to digest, he knows. It prompts a lot of questions that aren't easily answered, that probably don't have an easy answer. Just deciding that things would be fine if you were just returned back to when you came from with no one the wiser seems to convenient a thing to accept without question, not if it meant not retaining the experiences you had here. With Cal considering his perspective, he'd lose over a year of memories, of things he's done and people he's met. He can't describe much less put a name to the feeling that comes up with such a thought, but it's not very pleasant.

But then what can they do? Things wouldn't flow right otherwise, things might turn out differently. He shakes his head as though to physically disperse those thoughts before they can gather momentum. Merrin speaks up again and he looks at her with a grateful expression that quickly turns apologetic.

"I... Sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you. For a while I hadn't given it too much thought, but then things happened and everything else just got stirred up again."

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