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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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?"

Well, he's really got her there, and she probably should've expected to walk right into it. She could try to jokingly play it off like he still hasn't won her over, but that would be the furthest thing from the truth—not that she's about to admit defeat, judging by the way she averts her gaze, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"You wish to know?" She pauses, considering her answer. "You were trying to get on my good side. You needed my help." To defeat Taron Malicos, she doesn't say. "That is when you told me that having a lightsaber isn't what makes a Jedi."

As much as no confirmation seems to be necessary at this point, even Merrin's refusal to admit as much still serves to prove it. Cal isn't the sort to rub such things in people's faces, but his smile is faint as he watches her turn her eyes away.

He pushes onto his hands, still leaning at the edge of the worktable once Merrin indulges him with an answer. With the other things she'd said and the circumstances, Cal figures he must have repaired his lightsaber and returned to Dathomir. It was the only place left that had an astrium. A path forward. She'd told him he'd said that to her. So he'd found his own path forward, come back to continue what he'd started.

"It isn't," he nods. "Thanks for giving me a second chance."

A second chance. She shifts a little uncomfortably, her fingers digging into her arms. In reality, it was Cal that gave her the second chance, after she'd made his life as difficult as possible on Dathomir. She still thinks about their first meeting, and how reluctant he'd been to fight her despite all her hostility—at the time, she'd still believed Malicos' lies, and was convinced that it was all some sort of... trick.

How wrong she'd been. And how stupid she feels now, for letting Malicos take advantage of her. If she could bury that bastard alive all over again, she would.

Her gaze lowers. "You did not need it," she says quietly. Finally, she unfolds her arms, gesturing towards his lightsaber with one hand. "You gave me your lightsaber when you had no reason to trust me. I don't understand it." At least... no reason she can see. Cal is a kind person—she knows that now, but that can't be all there was to it, can there?

Maybe it's not the right question to ask—or implied question, anyway. It's not like he experienced returning to Dathomir, so how would he know what his future self had been thinking?

"Maybe that's why I gave it in the first place, then. You really didn't have any reason to trust me either, right? Not after what Malicos might have told you, not after what he tried to do. And I know that trusting anyone after you lose everything...it's difficult." But it's hard to be alone, and you can't just stay stuck, clinging to the past, wallowing in your own guilt.

"There's risks, but...sometimes the risks are worth it. And I'd rather make friends than enemies." Friends are a precious few back where they came from.

It is difficult—that resonates with her, and she nods, frowning. She still feels it now, even though she's free of Malicos' influence, with every new person she meets here in Temba. Distrust is always her first reaction, and she doesn't know how to stop it. It just feels like another thing Malicos took from her.

"I only knew that you chose to return to Dathomir. To challenge Malicos or join him..." She shakes her head. No, she may not have had much reason to trust him, especially when she still believed that the Jedi were responsible for her sisters' deaths, but that doesn't mean she didn't have any. At least, any reason not to approach him, to give him the chance she hadn't before. To take a risk.

With a sigh, she relaxes her shoulders, her fingers splaying over the surface of the worktable. "You never wanted to fight me. That is why I took the risk." That's all it comes down to, really.

He knows he's still working on some issues of trust with Cere and Greez, the former more so because he knows the former Jedi's been holding some things back from him. Annoying as it is, he supposes Trilla did get into his head a bit with that. But Cere and Greez are the only people he's allowed himself to get close to in a while. Being here in Temba has been like starting with a fresh slate, and he found himself seizing on the opportunities here.

Cal smiles wanly. "Jedi are supposed to be peacekeepers. A fight was never anything I intended to look for when I went to Dathomir. -but you probably know that already, now," he amends.

It's easy to look back, in retrospect, and wonder what would've happened if she'd believed Cal the first time, when he said that he didn't want to fight. They could've helped each other earlier, maybe, even if it all probably would've ended in the same way.

Or maybe not. Malicos' brazen betrayal had galvanized her, and Cal—she doesn't know exactly what happened between the time he left Dathomir and then returned, but she gets the feeling that he'd changed too. But there's no point in chasing what ifs now, and so she shoves the thought aside.

"Yes, I do know now," she says, putting a slight, dry emphasis on the last word, and shoots him a look, even if it's somewhat subdued. After a pause, she tips her head back so that she can consider him down the length of her nose, and asks wryly, "What would you have done had I not returned your lightsaber to you?" Would you still be a peacekeeper then, Cal?

Edited 2021-04-30 05:35 (UTC)

That's a heavy question, but not entirely easy to answer. But then Cal wonders what he would have done, even if he can only guess at what had brought him back to that point. He shakes his head.

"I guess it'd depend on what you did with it after. If you still insisted on a fight, I'd have to defend. If I had my lightsaber whole again, then I must have made up my mind to do something, and been able to confront my past failure. I'm not sure what further test would have been expected of me to obtain the astrium, but I'd hope you would at least listen to why I was there and what was at stake."

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