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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After all the hints and suggestions of smiles that never quite surfaced on her face in full, it's nice seeing a genuine smile. Cal can't even be jealous when he knows it's not hard around BD-1. The little droid definitely earns those smiles.

"I picked up on some Binary while I was working and living on Bracca," he says as he helps BD-1 up and over his shoulder so the droid can latch onto the strap of his harness. He wanders over towards the worktable where Merrin's drifted over to. "The Scrapper Guild had a lot of droids working and overseeing the worksites, but most of them weren't very friendly, and the rest were very focused on the job. It helps that BeeDee's a lot more expressive."

He hasn't told her very much yet about the time he spent on Bracca, working for this Guild of his. Not because he seems reluctant to talk about it—they just haven't gotten around to it much, she supposes. But she's interested enough that it distracts her a little from her quest, her gaze on him intent, but curious, as she rests one hand on the edge of the worktable.

As for BD-1 being very expressive—well, she can't help but agree. She tries to imagine a whole bunch of much less friendly droids and finds that she doesn't really like that mental picture.

"It is not difficult to learn?" That's what she really wants to know. Would she be able to learn so that she can speak with BD-1?

With the look she gives him, Cal shrugs. "Not that we were there to make friends on Bracca. When the Empire took over they just wanted us to churn out what we dismantled from old warships so they could use the materials to build new ones." He shakes his head. The days were busy, the pay, not that great, but he'd had little other choice and no real place to be.

"It takes a bit of practice," he admits to Merrin's inquiry. "Tones help a lot. Like for instance, it's easy to tell if he's asking a question. I'm sure you'll be able to pick up on the idea of what he might be saying if you're around him enough."

The Empire... old warships... she remembers the ships that came down to Dathomir with the warrior and his droids, so that's about all she can picture when he describes dismantling them on Bracca. Something tells her that isn't quite right, but at least it's a start to filling in some gaps.

But a bit of practice? Well, she has the time to practice here, it seems, so that she can do. She glances at BD-1, perched on Cal's back, and says to the droid, "Then I will learn from you." She's resolved to do it now, so... good luck, BD-1.

Next, she turns her attention back to the worktable, her hair falling forward as she inspects the items there, a slight crease between her eyebrows. Her hand moves towards the assembled lightsaber, though she doesn't actually touch it. "This is another one of your lightsabers?" she asks curiously.

BD-1 at least sounds encouraging, hooting happily at Merrin's decision. How that goes, well, it's true, they've got time.

Cal looks at the worktable, nodding as Merrin's attention goes to the lightsaber. "Yeah. My master's didn't come with me when I arrived here. I asked a friend if he could make some parts for a casing. That's this one here," he says, pointing at the pieces there. "I tried one of the raw power crystals I found here in place of a kyber crystal. It...kind of worked? Except it would also boost the power of anything running on some sort of charge that was around it." He nods at BD-1's beeping. "-and it made metal glow. Which could get pretty distracting."

He reaches over to pick up the completed lightsaber. "This one I got to build when we'd gone to Coruscant, to the Jedi temple. I wasn't sure we'd be a kyber crystal since the way we received ours was to attend the Gathering at Ilum, but the temple had some on hand and set up a sort of test for me and Ezra so we could find out if any responded to us."

Ah. So he didn't arrive with his lightsaber—that's why Merrin didn't recognize this one. She remembers Cere describing the bond between a Jedi and their lightsaber, which had made her wonder aloud why an order of peacekeepers were so attached to their weapons—she wonders now if Cal had felt the loss of his lightsaber hard. She certainly would, if it was her talisman.

She steps back a little to give him room to reach for the lightsaber, her gaze following the motion. "There is only one?" Head tipping to the side curiously, she gestures towards the blunt end of the weapon, where there's a second emitter on the lightsaber she's familiar with.

Between Cal and Malicos and Trilla, she kind of thought that... all lightsabers had two blades?

It had been a difficult thing to wrestle with, not having that memento of his master, even though the freshest memory of Jaro Tapal had been the encounter of that shadow on Dathomir. At least Cal hasn't lost it permanently, which is really the only comfort in that regard. He still misses it.

He holds his arm outwards away from them as he activates the blade, blue and humming. "Yeah. I was thinking of reconfiguring it with the parts from the other one. But I'll have to see how the other crystal will affect the power output of the kyber crystal's."

The answer gets an absent sort of nod out of her, her eyes fixed on the glowing blue blade. She remains quiet for a moment, so that the only sound filling the room is the lightsaber's hum, before deciding to just give voice to her thoughts from a moment ago.

"Cere told me a little of the bond between a Jedi and their lightsaber," she explains. It still sits a little strangely with her that she has to explain these things—Cal had been there when she'd had the conversation with Cere in hyperspace, no doubt listening in, but of course he doesn't remember.

"It must have been difficult to leave behind your old one." She's still watching the lightsaber, but her voice is soft.

Cal looks at the blade. He'd gotten so used to the unbalanced weapon that was his master's lightsaber that this one feels strange to him, too light, too short. He flicks it off again, fingering the hilt.

"...it was strange, not having it. I thought I'd lost it when I got here," he says after a moment. "I found out that people don't arrive with much when they come. Guess I was lucky to have BeeDee with me. But others came with their lightsabers. It was hard not to miss having mine."

He starts to put the saber back before pausing, upturning his palm with it to offer the weapon for Merrin to have a closer look if she wants.

As she thought. The confirmation doesn't make her feel any better, though at least she has the knowledge that he'll have his master's lightsaber again when he returns.

Something about the way he silently offers the weapon to her catches her off guard—not out of surprise, but rather with a sense of familiarity, almost like deja vu. It's reminiscent of the last time he gave her his lightsaber, but this time, it isn't tossed from a distance, as a peace offering from one enemy to another—no, this time they're standing close, as friends and equals.

At least, that's how she feels—she can only hope he feels the same. She looks up at him, her eyes searching the familiar lines of his face, before taking the saber from his upturned palm. She handles it more carefully than she did last time, not that it's necessary, turning it over in her hands and testing its weight.

"It is lighter than the last one," she says without really thinking, an absent sort of observation. She curls her fingers around the hilt, but even though this one is shorter and lighter the lightsaber still feels unnatural in her grip, almost awkward. "You never told me how your master's lightsaber came to you."

Her tone is subdued, like a gentle prompting. He can tell her the story—or not—and either way she won't be upset. The past is painful for the both of them.

"It's only meant to be one," Cal says, laughing lightly. "My master's, his was originally a double-bladed lightsaber. One end was damaged that day when... well, when everything happened."

He's a little more prepared to tell about it, at least. It will always be painful, but he's come to terms with it, able to really move forward. It's why he'd really decided to go through with trying to make a new lightsaber here. He wanted something to protect those he'd come to care about in this new place, and to help those that they'd been summoned by.

"Our ship was in Bracca's system, and we were about ready to head out again when something happened. I'd just finished another training exercise, and we had our commander there with us while we awaited our new orders when he suddenly raised his gun to fire at my master." Cal frowns, still unsettled by those moments, by the casual shift in someone he'd considered a comrade to become an enemy. "Master Tapal felt it, something through the Force. He had to strike the commander down, and we'd soon end up having to face our own troops.

"I lost my lightsaber when I was trying to get away since Master Tapal told me to take another way to the escape pods. Ran into some troopers. Thankfully he was there when he was. But I keep thinking...if I hadn't, then maybe..." Maybe he'd still be alive. Maybe they would have had more of a chance. Cal can't help but think those things, but he knows the past is the past. There's no changing what's happened. But it still hurts.

He looks at his empty hands as though trying to remember what his original lightsaber had looked like, curling his fingers to his palm. "We eventually made it to the escape pods," he eventually continues. "More of our troops caught us there, and it was taking me time to get the override for the doors working. We were under heavy fire, but Master Tapal was doing his best to defend us. That's when his lightsaber got damaged." He swallows, those memories seared in his mind. His master faltering, blaster-fire still flying all around them. His fear.

"He fought to protect me, and ended up taking the brunt of the attacks. When he fell, I just..." Fingers brush the scar there on the side of his face as he recalls the burning pain. "I reached out through the Force in desperation. I just wanted them to stop, and somehow I managed to slow them down. Not for long, but enough for us to make it into the pod and escape." Cal closes his eyes. "...there was no saving my master. His injuries were too much. He told me the war wasn't over, and to wait for the Council," he says, shaking his head. A signal from the Council would never come, although Cal had still clung onto the hope of one for some time even after that. But that hope had eventually faded. He lets out a slow breath.

"...he pushed the lightsaber into my hands, telling me to trust only in the Force. And then...I was alone."

Merrin falls silent while he tells the story, her eyes never leaving his face. He'd told her that he knew what it was like to lose everything, just as she did, and she'd believed him, but this... this deep well of pain and loss and grief is almost palpable to her, and so, so familiar that she can feel her heart ache inside her chest.

Her fingers tighten around the lightsaber in her grasp, knuckles clenched. So this is what he'd survived. When everything had changed for him. She watches his fingers graze the scar that runs through his jaw, an answer to a question she hadn't realized she'd asked.

Wordlessly, she reaches for his hand, balled into a fist, and takes it in her own. The touch doesn't come naturally to her, after six years completely on her own, and so her movements are halting, a little unsure, as her fingers curl around his, urging them to relax.

"I am sorry, Cal," she says quietly, her expression open, vulnerable, sincere. The words don't feel like they're nearly enough, but words like this don't really come naturally to her either. "I understand," she adds. What it's like to feel failure. To lose everyone and everything you loved. To be left alone.

It's that careful touch that coaxes him away from the pain of that day, away from the memories that still haunt him, to focus on the present. Cal's hand relaxes hesitantly, but no amount of wondering on the what-if's would bring his master back. Slowly the tension of his fingers eases.

There aren't words enough for such things, but he sees it in her face, hears it in her tone, the things that can't be framed verbally, the sentiment of an empathetic heart. It's because she truly does understand that those few, simple words hold ground. He nods once. "I know," he replies quietly.

For a moment, Merrin lets the touch linger, her fingers curling around his palm to fill the space left behind when he relaxes. The contact is supposed to be comforting, but the truth is, she probably draws just as much comfort from it as she'd intended to bestow. There's something... reassuring in knowing that they understand each other in this. That they're not alone.

Exhaling, she takes his hand and presses the lightsaber into his palm, folding his fingers around the hilt with hers laid on top of his. "You are not alone this time," she says gently. A small, soft smile pulls at her lips—fleeting, but very sincere.

He might not have his order, and she might not have her sisters, but... they've adapted to each other.

As simple a gesture as it is, it does bring some comfort, a reminder of the present, of whatever happens in the future. Merrin's hand in his is proof enough that for whatever loss he- they have experienced, they've managed to move forward, to gain other things.

You are not alone this time. A smile touches his own face at her words, at the lightsaber she sets in his hand, further reminder of the bonds he's forged and the choices he's made here.

"No, we're not," he nods. "Not here, and not back there." Back where they've come from. After the things Merrin's told him, he can be confident in knowing that there's things to look forward to whenever they go back.

We're not. We. It's just a slight correction, but it hits her hard all the same, something warm and luminous unfurling in her chest like a flower from Greez's planter, unturned towards the light. Her smile returns, this time warm and lingering, and she nods her head once, emotion lodged in her throat. After so long on her own, with only grief and vengeance and Taron Malicos' manipulation to keep her company, it... it's such a relief to hear that.

Belatedly, she realizes that she still has her hands curled around his, and she drops them, maybe a little too quickly to be natural. They fall awkwardly to her sides, and she shifts her weight a little, a restless motion, but recovers her composure quickly.

"You did not throw it at me this time," she says, the slightest of teasing edges in her voice. Her gaze flickers down to the lightsaber, indicating it, and then back up. "An improvement."

It had been an honest statement more than an intentional correction, but all the same, seeing the effect of those words mirrors what he himself feels at being able to say them. Cal couldn't help but feel that there had been some sort of line between them, drawn by time no matter whether it was days or weeks or longer that differed in their experiences. It feels like they've been able to really bridge that.

He only feels a little awkward with Merrin's abrupt removal of her hands, his eyes flicking to the side as though he'd seen something he shouldn't have. He plays it off just as she does, using the break to set the lightsaber back on the table. Her words prompt an arch of a brow.

"I threw/i> it at you?" he echoes, a light chuckle following his words. "Was it still broken?" Without context he has no idea why he would have done such a thing, but he doubts he would have done so in desperation.

That had been her worry, when she'd first arrived and found out that he hadn't experienced things up to the point that she had: that they would never be on the same page, or have the same level of... trust and closeness as before. He might've missed out on only a short period of time, but it had certainly been... eventful, to say the least.

Now, she feels like her worries have been put to rest. But maybe she shouldn't be so surprised—Cal is still Cal, after all.

"Not broken, no," she says wryly, if somewhat mysteriously, leaning her hip against the edge of the worktable. "I assume you were afraid to come closer to me." Now she's not even trying to hide that she's teasing him, one side of her mouth quirking up.

Obviously she's leaving things out, and as she leans there against the worktable, Cal folds his arms as he tilts his head at her, but he looks more amused than seeking out more details. Her smirk makes him wrinkle his nose at the teasing. He glances at BD-1 as though to say 'look what I have to put up with,' but it's tempered with a crooked smile of his own.

"If I were afraid, why would I be throwing my weapon at you though?" he points out.

Involving BD-1 in this is cheating and you know it, Cal. She looks distinctly unimpressed with the exchange, her lips slightly pursed as if to keep herself from breaking out into a smile—which is true enough. She tips her head to the side and back, a contemplative motion, as if she's thinking about her answer.

"You were trying to get on my good side," she says finally. Yes, she deliberately chose to be vague, and yes, she can't quite stop herself from sounding satisfied.

It's not his fault when BD-1's just...there! Not acknowledging the little guy seems even more of a crime!

Cal leans against the worktable, arms still folded, brow arching yet again at Merrin's response. "...by throwing my lightsaber at you," he adds, not looking terribly convinced at the logic there, but he also looks like he might laugh at any moment.

Don't even pretend like you weren't recruiting BD-1 to your side, you cheater.

She shrugs her shoulders, seemingly unconcerned, and crosses her arms over her chest, mirroring him. "I could not begin to understand how you think, Cal Kestis," she says, almost airily. It's the same sort of tone she uses when she's lamenting how strange Jedi are.

And yes, she's absolutely ignoring the fact that it worked. He did get on her good side with that one.

But is it really cheating if he's already on your side?

The padawan looks at her dryly, saying nothing in response. It lasts for all of several seconds before he snorts, ducking his head as a few chuckles escape him. "Does it matter so long as the outcome works out?" he asks, unable to keep from grinning.

Merrin thinks that she's maybe a little bit too pleased that she'd made him laugh, but—well. She tries to just chalk it up to the fact that it's been so long since she was last able to tease and laugh with someone, even if she's not laughing so much as turning her head away to hide her smile, making a show of inspecting the items on the workbench as if they're at all interesting to her right now.

"Oh? How do you know it worked?" She turns her head back towards him and raises her eyebrows, challenging. And still ignoring that inconvenient fact.

"Because you're talking to me," Cal says, matter-of-fact as he turns to rest his elbows on the worktable. Both his brows lift at that, almost a mirror of Merrin's own expression. Things could have turned out a lot differently, but any hostility had definitely been absent from the moment they'd encountered each other here on Temba.

"...so why did I really throw a lightsaber at you?"

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