when lightning strikes the sea,

[ I didn’t know that the war was still inside you, that there was a war to begin with, that once it enters you it never leaves—but merely echoes ]

[calxkestisx]

mxrrin​:

she feared what was happening with him, she worried at this amount of… hopelessness. pessimism, perhaps. it was… disconcerting. but it made sense, in a way. cal was complex, the way he saw the galaxy was something even she couldn’t comprehend, and now with his understanding corrupted by this time shift and imprisonment? she understood. but that only made her more desperate to free him. 

merrin wasn’t sure when the last time she had felt this kind of desperation was. 

the mood shifted. he didn’t… he was sure unsure of himself. it didn’t make sense– she had seen him fight, watched him face trials on dathomir. he didn’t see his strength, doubted it. merrin wasn’t sure how to handle that, how to convince him this was nothing he hadn’t faced before. a small smile stretched on her lips, an attempt at something reassuring, and she nodded carefully at his response. it was a start, “i know you will, cal kestis.” 

the nightsister had already decided she wasn’t leaving, despite cal’s wishes. she respected him but… this was foolish. foolish to act as some sort of marauder. “and you’re important to me. which is why i’m not leaving, “ she stated simply, unconcerned with the possibility of her own capture. she was confident she could escape if need be. no, her concern was more with what would happen to cal if her presence was discovered, she didn’t want him harmed on her mistake. “it’s already decided. you can’t change my mind.” 

merrin however was concerned with how… unstable he was. it was more than she expected. an arm moved under his to steady him, hoping that he was strong enough to hold at least some of his weight. her eyes flicked over to the device on his wrist, swallowing some. surely i wasn’t that powerful. nodding some, she locked her fingers with his, a reassurance, more than anything, closing her eyes to try and transport them away, eyes widening in– pain. 

             she kept her grip on cal but he had been right, whatever that was blocking her as well, sending a shock through her, and now doubt him as well. stumbling, she breathed heavily – “how– how can they do that?” 

she’s a pinnacle of solidity, her voice so steady, her terminology so direct-- it hits him in the face like a splash of water, welcome, certain, confident. he’s forgotten what it felt like to be so assured of himself, to be so resolute in his beliefs and capabilities, in what it meant to be who he was, fighting for what he was fighting for. has he really been down here in this dungeon for so long? has he really been so disconnected from the force this much, such a gap in his understanding of it, such a detachment from who he’d been before getting locked up here, for so long?

he sees how unquestioning merrin is, how trusting she is, and feels ashamed for how worried he feels, how afraid. he’s a jedi, he ought to be better than this, and merrin reminds him of that even without saying anything, without accusing him. he’s a force of light, a force of good, a force for hope and optimism, not cowering in dark, distant worlds anymore, not hiding in shadows from his master’s killers. he doesn’t want to become who these people think of him as. he must return to himself, somehow. he has to get out of here.

he grips her hand even tighter as she sparkles and gathers her strength, but then her magic sputters out and she gasps, looking at him confused. even though he’d warned her, he still feels something crack inside his chest, a hope he hadn’t wanted to birth. he deflates, sighing. “i don’t know.” he looks back at his wrist, at the evil on it, the constriction placed on him. “it’s some kind of technology, i’d need tools to unhook it from me.” nevermind about how painful that might be. again he peeks behind her, wary of guards who are sure to come by any second now.

“can you try again?” he asks, his heart in his throat, this time pulling her closer. “maybe... can you choose which things to transport, merrin? say, if you touched the device, would you be able to transport only it, apart from my arm? or would that just take my arm with it?” he winces as he speaks, hoping what he’s saying is making sense. it’s a long-shot, but then, so is everything else.

[calxkestisx]

sclitude​:

- FLASHBACK -

-

the moment the words left his mouth, kuruk knew it was a mistake. he knows better than to talk back to this man. cal has been - so many things to the young knight-in-training. kuruk knows he wouldn’t be the man he is now without cal’s attention to his progression, harsh as it has been at times. more often than not, really. but kuruk understands. the pain, the punishment, it’s to prepare him. to sharpen him, to make him more than he could ever dream to become on his own.

and it’s for that reason that kuruk - as much as instinct screams to - doesn’t flinch, when cal takes hold of his chin and all but snarls in his face. he doesn’t resist, letting the man take a closer look at his… his failure. that’s what it is, and kuruk knows it. for all the work cal has put in, all the time the inquisitor has spent to train him, to form him into the knight he’s to become, to come back from a mission in this state can be described as nothing but a failure. “wasn’t fast enough.” he responds evenly, much less attitude in his tone than before. he’s more than smart enough, and his strength isn’t an issue. but he hadn’t reacted as quickly as he should have. a future knight of ren must be able to do better than that. just because kuruk is going to be the sniper doesn’t mean he can afford to be caught out like this.

training is.. cruel, unkind, but necessary. kuruk would be a fool to try and deny it, given the state in which he’s returns here. he responds with a nod, “yes, sir.” he knows cal will overpower him, and he knows it will hurt. a reminder to be.. better. “the order’s reputation is intact. the man who caused these bruises will not be able to tell anyone he did so.” it’s not enough. he knows. it’s no where near enough. but it’s something.

cal nods at the younger boy, clenching his jaw tightly as he looks away from him, his eyes dark and cast towards the window pane, the stars cascading outwards from the two of them as though they are just as ashamed of kuruk’s behavior and conduct as cal himself is. the boy admits to being not fast enough, which is at least a step upwards from being not smart enough, but it’s still a far cry from where he needs to be. he can’t figure it out-- what he himself must be lacking in his teachings, to seed such a discordance inside kuruk. how could he still not be ready yet?

“then we’ll have to train you faster,” he deduces tightly, looking back at kuruk, his brow knotting, his frustration churning at his core. “there is a flame inside you that burns, kuruk, i know that. i know you want to be out in the universe, that you want to be proven already, as a knight, but foundations must be laid first. other people may fall and stumble, but you, as a knight of ren, you’re to be something different. something more. as such, i expect better from you than i would from any others.” and to hammer that point home, cal takes a step towards the other male, his teeth on display, his fury blazing out from golden, seething eyes, like lava boiling just below the surface of his skin. “don’t ever forget that.”

then he turns from him, returning to the table he’d been sitting at before the intrusion, his robes and belts a heavy mantel to bare, even after all this time. he still has paperwork to go through, still has spies to send out and warrior children to train up, but he feels kuruk’s presence without looking at him. “sit. have something to eat.” the older man gestures to a plethora of dinner that’s been put on display. “or if not, otherwise you are free to return to the training room, so that you can become faster.”

[calxkestisx]

hopefulrebelle​:

there isn’t a particular goal that leia holds for herself when she reaches out. it’s to clear her mind more than anything, finding peace in the Force and its endless mystery. with luke’s support, she had been slowly exploring the extent of her capabilities. there is an unspoken fear, however, of awakening the madness that her father had succumbed to  if she travels where she should not.  a room away, he’s near to keep her grounded, no matter what she may find when she reaches within and out.

leia knows luke will bring her back.

“cal?” a voice comes from her left, head turning and eyes opening, startled. instead of seeing the concrete walls of her small room in the resistance base, leia sees darkness. “cal-there you are.” before panic forces a strained call for luke from her throat, her sight is restored, but the sky she sees is not one she knows. an abednedo in rusted orange gear looks at her and she feels overwhelmed by a deep, deep sadness and fondness, a chest aching combo. machines whirr in the background and the tell-tale saxophone of a cantina band meld together. where is this place?

she has no time to look further, whatever this was that was happening was already beginning to fade .the abednedo’s gentle eyes sticks with leia as her vision fades back to black. before the unknown presence slips back into the endless expanse of the Force, she sends her own memory back, unable to let them go without trying to send them a comforting thought to combat the raw despair that she had felt.

leia is nine and in her adoptive mother’s lap. the woman braids her hair, slender fingers skilled at taming the young child’s thick brown hair. “you need to be more careful leia.” her mother admonishes, referring to the ripped knee of her leggings. she had ruined her expensive clothes by climbing a tree and falling out of it on Aldeeran… again. leia had expected her mother to be mad, but she was as loving and gentle as ever when leia limped into her mother’s chambers with twigs in her hair and tears in her eyes. her mother could fix anything, such was the strength of her love. 

i am okay.

his own thoughts weigh him down, the memories sinking through his mind, down into his stomach like stones in an ocean, and he wishes they were brighter, he wishes they were happier, but even in their melancholy, they were still good. they were solid and he was free, not caged up in this jail cell, not captured by these angry, sharp-toothed soldiers, trying constantly to convince him of his deficiencies, of his own capabilities for evil.

when a muffled, barely stitched-together memory invades his imagination, clearly intruding on him from another place entirely separate from himself, he knows he’s reached someone, he’s grazed against their consciousness. the pictures and emotions flood into his bloodstream, the sensation of a mother (something he’s never had) and a name to go along with the feminine face he’d thought of earlier, pool into his body like refreshing river water, after being stuck in the ground for days on end. he feels the calmness of being cared for, the certainty of love, of safety, of warmth. he wants to reach out and hold it in his hands, he wants to feel it between his knuckles, but it’s too fleeting, it’s too faded, it’s not his own.

but even as it diminishes, he doesn’t want to let it go, straining for that connection again, whatever line presses into him between himself and this other person, this.... leia.

the image he sends back to her is a memory of himself, much younger, around the same age as she was in the images she showed him, practicing saber katas in a large, golden field, his stick weapon misshapen from hours of exercise. to his left, his master, jaro tapal, smiles proudly at him, nodding whenever cal catches his eye. “very good,” the huge male lasat compliments, performing the movements just the same way that cal is doing. above them the sky is purple and orange, the sunset casting them in half-shadows. together, they create a sort of calming dance, in league somehow with the breeze that blows through cal’s hair, rustling his robes, in and out of his lungs. for this moment, everything is in harmony, everything is in tandem, everything makes sense.

i am a jedi. this is how it was before the great execution, before order 66.

[calxkestisx]

sistertrilla​:

was she really changing her mind? it had all happened so quickly –– those words that she had needed to hear from cere for five years, all because he had dared to take a chance on her, to not strike her when she was already down. there’d been no resolution, no respite, only a swift death and an ugly scar over the expanse of her back. “i remember.” so how could they take the risk of doing that again? “the first order brought me back with a purpose. a chance to do better.” there was more to the words there, even if they would deny it. she had no idea who might have been listening.

“you think about it.” trilla echoed his words, brows giving way to a curious knit as her lips curved with amusement. there’s something more in the way that she repeated him, questions that are clear without her having to ask him: why? cal should have had no reason to, no interest in the inquisitor who had spent the last arc of her life making his hell. “that’s what the jedi want you to think,” she remarked with a tilt of her head. “that’s what i thought.” a more personal note, the slightest pause and allowing it to linger. how naive she’d been. “but it’s not that way. the force is about balance, isn’t it? dark is necessary for the light that you’re so fond of bathing in.”

once again, she avoids answering his question about trust, causing him to wonder about the spaces she leaves behind in their conversation, the way she won’t admit to being loyal or disloyal to her empire, to this twisted ideal. he wonders just how much she’s leaving out, how much she’s refusing to acknowledge, if she feels his words deeper than she lets on. he hopes so, he wants to reach her, beyond the metal of her armor, beyond the blankness of her helmet, the dark pools in her eyes. he steps towards her again, coming as close to her as his chains and cell will allow, his eyes burning, searching into her. “a chance to do better,” he repeats, seeing it from her perspective, but also seeing it from his. “you know it’s demeaning for you,” he whispers into the space between them, “to serve them still, after you already died for them.”

with such recent visits to his jail as certain other members of the first order have given him, cal can’t argue much with trilla’s assessment of the force, understanding that good and evil both exist in the universe for their own separate, yet dependent reasons, but he still frowns in response to her words. “chaos will always be there, regardless of people to wield it. it doesn’t have to be you, though.” he pauses, inhaling a deep breath. “i’m aware of what the first order thinks about my future, and i guess that’s a decision i’ll have to make in my own time, but now that i know it’s coming, i’ll have an easier time choosing against the darkness. you have that opportunity too. we all do.” he wonders if she can feel it, if she can sense the way he wants to reach out towards her, to bring her reality into focus. “is this really what you want?”

[sclitude-1]

ask meme starter for @calxkestisx - “Why are there bruises all over your face?”

- FLASHBACK -

the question isn’t unexpected, but it’s certainly unwanted. kuruk doesn’t want to have to explain himself. he doesn’t want to have another person judge him for not measuring up. for not being the knight he’s supposed to be by now. surely with all of their training, with the drills and the practice and every single moment of preparation, he should be able to handle this by now. right? surely he should be better than this.

he’s fully expecting cal to remind him of that. the man is the one who’s gone through so much to train him, to get him up to scratch. he got the job done, the mission was completed, but it should have been better. cleaner. and he shouldn’t be in this state.

“does it matter? i got the job done.” he grumbles softly, clasping his hands behind his back. it was unavoidable really. someone was bound to notice eventually. helmets might be worn at all times out there, but in here.. it’s not quite the same. logically… logically, he knows cal won’t punish kuruk for these injuries. the man is… the biggest support kuruk has here. but the knights are expected to hold a certain standard. and kuruk knows what usually comes when they don’t reach those. “i’ll need to have my helmet repaired, or replaced.” he adds, as if that’s going to explain what actually happened.

[calxkestisx]

cal kestis, older, angrier, sturdier than he’s ever been before, as though the darkside has festered in his skin and muscles for years now, like tumors, like calluses, like blocks of steel woven into his body, frowns over at the boy who would be his apprentice, if cal had ever been allowed a personal one. kuruk is a budding masterpiece, a child with the sympathy and softer ends of him shaved off, trimmed and cut until he is as close to a soldier as cal could make him, but there are still treatments to endure, styles to learn, darkness to absorb.

cal stands from the table, his black and grey robes falling around him, and strides purposefully towards kuruk, to get a better look at his failings. “don’t be stupid, of course it matters,” he snarls unkindly, taking the boy’s chin in his hand and lifting his face towards the light. “if you’re bruised it means you weren’t fast enough, or strong enough, or smart enough.” he doesn’t get rough with kuruk, much as he would occasional wish to, but he does press his lips together disappointed. “so which is it?”

he releases the boy, but his face remains steely and disgruntled. “do we need to go over more fighting techniques so that you’re more prepared for the next mission?” he sighs. “helmets can be replaced, even the heads inside them can be replaced, but you are building an empire, and a reputation for that empire, and that cannot be so easily reconstructed.”

[calxkestisx]

sistertrilla​:

the information isn’t entirely new, even if it was something that had not been verbalized between them. when cal had grabbed onto her lightsaber –– attempting to ensure that she did not get away with the holocron –– she had seen the affect that it had on him. though anyone trained in the force was capable of picking up on ghosts of the past here and there, it wasn’t like that. she’d always considered herself powerful, yet never come close to having that kind of reaction. his gift had let her get away. “you saw who i used to be. you know how trilla died.” he knew why she could never go back to what she was. neither one of them could.

she assumed that it had been too quick for him to have seen everything, taking note of what he says and more importantly, what he didn’t. but even if she left the first order, left second sister to die in their own way, what did that leave her? a fractured ghost of the past with no place in this world, with a curious connection to someone who had been so strong in the light that it had burned away some of her darkness. “i know exactly how strong you are, cal.” her tone wasn’t mocking him, not this time. the first order would give him two choices, as far as she knew: end his defiance and join them properly, or die in a cell. she knew firsthand just how slippery he could be, but displaced, without allies? his escape seemed unlikely. then again, she had underestimated him before. “perhaps you should think about how strong we would be together.”

his brows furrow at her admittance of her own death, and he’s sure she means the flashbacks, the ways in which the empire turned her towards darkness and violence, slaughtered everything inside her sense of self, in order to be more malleable for what they wanted. but he remembers even more than that, her actual death, in front of him and cere. “i did see you die. at the hands of darth vader, when he sense you changing your mind, when he knew you were coming back to the light.” he tilts his head at her. “do you remember that? why would you still hold loyalty to an organization that built itself from him? how could you trust them again?”

she’d been struck down before he could get her to a safer place, before they could bring her into the fold, onto the mantis, save her from this life she seems so desperate to cling to, despite its obvious terrors. this time, if he could convince her again, they would need to act sooner. “i do think we would be strong together, though, trilla.” his face smooths out, his dark green eyes clear, certain, eager. “i think about it a lot.” he shakes his head. “but the darkside is not strong. it’s just easy. it’s easy to get angry, and fearful, and stay in the place where you’ve been for so long, but you can leave it.” he wants to ask her to come with him, to escape this place with him, but... the place he wants to go, he can’t be certain she wouldn’t pretend her way in and then destroy them from the inside. not yet.

[calxkestisx]

mxrrin​:

she was surprised to feel him lean into her touch but it… wasn’t… unwelcome. she cared about cal. she wanted him to be safe . away from here. sighing some, she shifted her hand to take his hand, intertwining their fingers and giving his palm a gentle squeeze. comforting wasn’t… exactly in merrin’s skill set. but she hoped this provided something. some sort of relief from the pain he was in, even if it was only superficial. when he met her eyes, she tilted her head some, waiting for further explanation. 

merrin’s knowledge of the force was much different than cal’s. her connection was much different– but she knew this scared cal. it had scared cere, the darkside. or at least used in the way these fallen jedi used it. she shook her head, he was clearly concerned she was disappointed in him– far from it. “i trust you, cal. i trust you won’t give into… whatever they want from you,” she stated plainly, desperate to reassure him. a new feeling, really. but not one she was going to ignore. “this place, it’s– terrible. it’s the cells themselves,” the planet, really. it’s connection to the force was so complex, painful– she was certain it was a cause of some of cal’s visions. 

she blinked in surprise at his statement, “leave– cal. i’m not leaving you here,” she stated simply. she was sure she could get him out of there, at least out of these chains. carefully dropping his hand, she shifted his arm up some to see how they had him locked up, they must have been worried he would escape even weakened, “i’m not hiding while you’re trapped here.” 

“the mantis isn’t here, cal,” she mumbled, still working to try and undo his chains. if cere and greez were here, she was certain they would already have cal out of here. she nodded absently at his explanation of the energy signature, she had been able to get in regardless. it must not have been that powerful. 

she paused at his gesture to his wrist, attention diverting from the chains to take his wrist in her hand, “a deterrent? they must be awfully worried you’ll escape,” her hands carefully felt over the metal piece, eyebrows furrowing. she’d seen  nothing like it before but– surely it wasn’t capable of keeping him here, really. with a huff, she let her magic curl around his chains, unlocking them, moving to help him stand, “we’re getting out of here.” 

merrin has always been so direct and uncomplicated in her approach to life, ever since he’d met her, even when they hadn’t been on the same side. she’d never been snide or conniving with him, simply angry at the pitfalls of his order, the misunderstanding of who was responsible for her sisters’ deaths-- something he couldn’t truly fault her for, looking back on it. she’s grown exponentially, even in the small time he’s known her, seeing her branch so far out from her comfort zone on dathomir. he wonders if she’s noticed it in herself, if she’s as impressed with herself as he is in her. he wishes he felt that same sort of expansion, that same flourishing, but at the moment, all he feels is pain and blockage and frustration.

and fear. worry.

hearing that she trusts him, even when he can’t trust himself, puts a lump in his stomach heavy as a boulder, and he shakes his head, but his throat is so tight, he’s not sure what to say to that, how to contradict it. she shouldn’t trust him, even if he so desperately wants her to, but just looking into her eyes as she speaks, he already knows there won’t be any talking her out of it now. “i’ll do my best to withstand it,” he shrugs, good naturedly, hoping it’s enough.

but when she contradicts him again, the frustration only grows. “no, you have to hide, it’s important that they don’t find you too. they keep holding it over my head, the people i have to lose, the people who are important to me that they can get to. merrin, that includes you. so i need you to get to safety, to make sure you stay away from these people, so that i’m not worried about you.” he glances out the force-field doorway once again, paranoia creeping through his bones. “i don’t know what other kind of tech they could have that could damage you, if they knew your abilities.” if they have even the slightest bit more understanding of her race than cal does, since he has barely any, to be honest. but he knows the pain of watching someone he cares about get hurt because of him-- he has trilla to thank for that.

but he doesn’t fight her when she unshackles him and helps him stand up, only groaning a bit and wobbling on his feet, which suddenly feel more like jelly than muscles and skeleton. he winces, wishing he didn’t look so weak. he continues examining the device in his wrist, frowning at it and hoping it won’t react negatively to merrin’s magic. “okay, if you think you can try to get me out, i would appreciate it. no harm in trying, right?” kriff, he hopes there’s no harm in trying-- he hopes this won’t be painful.

he’s not exactly sure if physical contact is necessary for her working to be effective, but he reaches out for her hand anyway. “i’m ready.”

[halfwayriight]

[calxkestisx]

sistertrilla​:

there was something more in the room between them, something strong in the force that trilla did not know how to explain –– was that because their jedi training had been cut abruptly short by the execution of order sixty-six, or something else altogether? she only wondered for a brief moment if cal could keep it too. he could, she was suddenly confident in that belief. but that connection only meant there was a vulnerability in the room, one that she could no longer deny. her skin crawled.

“no one ever thinks they’re going to succumb to it. but everyone has their breaking point.” every jedi who had been put in that interrogation chamber had thought that they were better than to fall to the dark side, and they were not. even her own master had been filled with such hate and anger, despite her denial. “once you reach it, there’s no going back. not really. not for you and not for me. the sooner that you accept that, the easier that this will be for both of us.” her voice remained even and steady as she spoke, as if entirely unbothered. “a shame i didn’t get to see it for myself. you would’ve made a fine inquisitor.”

cal ventures to lean forward towards her, his eyebrows furrowing, his fists clenching and un-clenching, the frustration in his voice clear and apparent. “i know that breaking point already though, trilla.” and then he lets his tone soften, remembering the pain and anguish he’d felt, remembering the fear, the desperation, the uncertainty. “i felt it. when i grabbed your lightsaber, after you took the holocron from the temple, i saw what you went through, i....” he shakes his head. “i have the ability to see events when i touch things, and i saw you, how you tried to protect the others, how you were captured.” he looks down at her uniform. “how you were knighted into the inquisitorius.”

and it had felt hopeless, it had seemed impenetrable, that mountain of darkness and terror bearing down on her, keeping her from finding the surface of her own misery. he knows she’s lost, he knows she needs help and just can’t find the way towards it, but he wants to be that way for her. he wants to show her the path out. “but i’m telling you now. this isn’t the end for you, this doesn’t have to be all there is for you. you can leave this.” her last sentence hits him like a sledgehammer, the weight of it striking him as hard as a lightning bolt. he shakes his head at her, at the echo of words he’s heard before, him, an inquisitor, an agent of the darkside. he wants to rail against it, but he’s been hearing that same thing for too long now. “i’m stronger than you think.”

[calxkestisx]

@hopefulrebelle

there’s a certain level of madness that sinks into cal’s bones after too long underground, in the dungeons of the first order’s fortress. he loses track of the days, he loses track of his own identity, too many masked figures’ words trailing down his brain-stem, seeping into his skin, making him question what’s true and what’s just stupidly hopeful. he prays and prays to the force, to the world beyond (which can’t have collapsed in his absence, it wouldn’t have, it couldn’t have), but merrin hasn’t visited him in so long and whenever he reaches out into the force, all he sees is.... the gaze of his enemy, of a woman who would cut his heart out if she could reach it.

he leans his head down on the floor of his cell, his hands on his ears, trying to block out the intruding thoughts as though they are only echoing in his ears instead of his head. he closes his eyes and pictures someone new, someone he’s never seen before, a figment of his imagination probably. she has brown hair and dark eyes and she’s not a jedi, but she has force-sensitivity, stronger than she realizes. he wonders if she’s a vision, if she’s one of the students he’d hoped to help raise.

he sends a single image to her, too weak now for words. the view from the scrapyards on bracca, high in the atmosphere, when he’d been in hiding, but free; a thousand crumbled ships, dark and silhouetted against the blue twilight sky, cantina music playing somewhere behind him, his friend prauf calling his name from somewhere beside him, always helpful, always optimistic. it hadn’t been the best of times, but it had been the longest solid home he’s ever had.

[calxkestisx]

👌 trilla

Send 👌 For a Random Headcanon Between Your Muse and Mine

@sistertrilla

[in the near future]

at one point, when the force bond between them jerks them together, the first thing that comes out of cal’s mouth when he turns around to see her is “you don’t look well, have you not been eating?“ and the way it comes out sounds genuinely concerned. it might be the first time he’s so blatantly admitted to the fact that he notices her figure. she never lets him live it down.

[calxkestisx]

👌for ahsoka and kuruk (from cal's future if you want)

Send 👌 For a Random Headcanon Between Your Muse and Mine

for @inspiringgreatness

when cal finally gets free from the first order, and begins practicing under the tutelage of ahsoka, he finds he trains better at night, insisting the best hours for form-play are only after midnight. she has no idea when he manages to find the time to sleep and to be honest, neither does he. he mostly just naps at random times.

Send 👌 For a Random Headcanon Between Your Muse and Mine

for @sclitude

[from cal’s future and kuruk’s past]

kuruk never heard master kestis laugh whenever they were in or near the imperial fleet, or whenever they were sent on missions that involved the murder and eradication of groups of people, particularly refugees or surviving jedi padawans. in truth, cal rarely ever laughed or smiled even on the days he wasn’t in a bad mood, but occasionally, there were nights around campfires, on outer rim moons, just the two of them, when cal would tell young kuruk old stories about mythologies and fables he’d heard in his own childhood. those were some of the few times kuruk was permitted to see a clearer, more tolerant side to cal, a side that cared more about teaching and enlightenment, than any duty forced upon him through the manipulations of the order.

[calxkestisx]

👌 -- kanan

Send 👌 For a Random Headcanon Between Your Muse and Mine

@lastpxdawan

cal has actually met kanan before order 66 almost killed them both, his mentor and master jaro tapal having been good friends with kanan’s mentor, depa billaba.

[calxkestisx]

👌 -- merrin

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@mxrrin

cal has taught merrin how to play a tabletop game when they were traveling between planets searching for the pieces of the holocron. it’s a mix between checkers, poker, and monopoly, and once merrin got the hang of it, she quickly surpassed his skill and began beating him relentlessly at it. he claims she’s found a way to cheat but she insists that she doesn’t need to with him, he’s easy to win against. he keeps demanding rematches and she keeps beating him every time.

[calxkestisx]

“ why can’t you trust me? ” - cor

@corvusren

“you’re kidding me, right?” cal asks incredulously, giving her a heavy look under his frown. “what the hell are you talking about, trust you? of course i don’t trust you, look at the crest on your shirt, cor.” he points at her. “that’s why.”

[calxkestisx]

“ i was already calm, asshole. ” - cor

@corvusren

“i’m just saying,” he hisses through his teeth, the frustration rising in his bloodstream, his mentality frayed and threadbare from so long locked inside this jail cell. “maybe you don’t have to say that you’re having second thoughts about being in the first order so loudly.”

[calxkestisx]

“ you can cry if needed. ”

[from a little bit in the future once cal is free]

“i am not crying!” he snaps, louder than he meant to be, and then immediately reddens and flusters in his seat, scratching his arm just to have something to do with his hands. “i- i just mean, i’m not-- i’m just not in a good headspace right now and i’m stressed out, but i’m going to get through this, it’ll be okay. i just have to find my way.”