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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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."

It's a more serious answer than she'd been expecting, but ultimately... not unexpected at all, from Cal. Even hypothetically, he chooses the path of least bloodshed.

"I did listen," she says decisively. Lives were at stake—many lives. She remembers the conversation like it was yesterday. There's something teasing in her tone when she continues, "You were lucky I did." And that she returned his lightsaber. That he didn't have to fight her in earnest, after all.

Then again, if she's being honest with herself, she's not sure which of them would've won, if it came down to a fight—while she had the advantage of being on her home planet, Cal is a strong fighter. So maybe she's the lucky one too.

"You are very different from the Nightbrothers, Cal Kestis. My people," she adds thoughtfully, almost idly, running her fingers across the surface of the worktable. Nightsisters and brothers always choose violence, if they can—power and strength are all that matters on Dathomir.

It's not a thought Cal wants to entertain. He hadn't gone to Dathomir looking for a fight, and even after he'd rather avoid it. So he's not going to discount Merrin's words, even if she is a bit teasing in that he was lucky she'd decided to listen. He grants her that twitch of a smile at that. "Guess I am," he says.

"I've only got somewhat of an idea of how life is on Dathomir from what I've seen and what you've told me. Just surviving the world itself looks like a challenge."

"Survival is always a challenge. But it made us strong," she says, almost as if by rote, with the confidence of someone who's very small frame of reference includes an entire life spent on maybe the most hostile planet in the the galaxy. Death can come very swiftly and unexpectedly if you're not careful, and only the strong survive—Dathomir taught her that. It might have... colored her views a bit.

But there is no us anymore. Just her. She frowns, her gaze snagging on that circular object on his worktable and then unfocusing as she sinks into reverie. "Perhaps not strong enough," she says quietly, as if from somewhere far away. Despite being forged in those fires, her sisters still perished. So what is the value of that strength?

Because really, the more she sees of the wider galaxy—and the more time she spends with Cal and his crew—the more she wants to question Dathomir's lessons. If Cal wasn't... Cal, she would've expected him to cut her down as soon as she stood in his way. It's how things are normally done on Dathomir. The planet is harsh, and it made the people harsh too. She's not sure she wants to be harsh.

Not being strong enough... He can relate to that. How many times has he felt that if he were stronger, braver, so many if's- but maybe it would have saved his master. But the past can't be changed, and dwelling on regrets just holds you back.

"Strength comes in different forms," Cal says quietly, like he's trying to remind himself aside from reassure someone with such similar experiences.

The soft tone of his voice draws her out of her reflection, and her eyes travel up to his face, searching. Some part of her senses that he isn't entirely speaking to her, but she can't quite bridge the gap to why. Does he not think he's strong enough? (This is probably what happens when you miss a life-changing trip to Ilum.) If so, she must disagree.

"Yes. I see that now," she says, her gaze on him direct, almost significant. Then she exhales, letting it drift away again. "I do not know why my sisters were... targeted."

All she remembers is a series of seemingly disconnected events: a long-lost sister, Asajj, returning home and taking a mate; two Jedi arriving on Dathomir to speak to Mother Talzin; and the armored warrior landing with an army of droids. The war came to Dathomir, but why? Why did all her sisters have to die? Will she ever know the answer?

"But we spend all our lives learning our magick. Honing its power. Protecting each other." Before the war, Merrin would've thought they were invincible, that no one would be able to challenge their power. She scowls, her hands curling into fists. "But we were still cut down so easily." No, strength—the traditional strength—doesn't always matter. Her sisters are proof of that.

That sort of look is hard to ignore, but Cal catches the tail end of it before Merrin is looking away again. He doesn't have answers for her when it come to what had happened to her people, her sisters. Fear, perhaps, power, most likely. If not the only reason, those things definitely had to have some part in it at the very least.

He finds himself nodding. How quickly a majority of an entire Order had fallen, playing into a grander scheme without even being aware of it. The thought still turns his guts after what he'd learned from Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Not everyone," he says, his eyes seeking hers. "You're proof as much as I am that those responsible for going after the Nightsisters, or even the Jedi, haven't completely succeeded. It may not seem like much, but it's still something." He breathes a weak laugh. "It just took me a long time to figure that out."

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