#|| master fisto ||

[hopefromthedepths]

a plotted starter for @kestiis​

A lot of thought and planning and effort had been necessary to find a place suitable for him to lay low whenever the Captain is away on missions. 

As conducive as several outer rim desert planets would have been to facilitating disappearance, they hadn’t been discussed for long in consideration of his race. Even at his insistence that he could get by so long as he had access to water at some point, the Captain had pressed him as to whether or not he could manage well and when he had been unable to give a definitive ‘yes’, the very sound argument had been presented to him that he is already at one disadvantage. He can’t afford to give himself another.

It was truth. How could he argue with it, no matter how it narrowed the list of viable options.

Similarly, Hutt Space had been eliminated as much for the environs as for the fact that it was exceedingly likely that someone there might recognize him.

Thus, they had narrowed to a rather short list of worlds that would be suitable, and they had settled on the best of those and run with it. Out in the Unknown Regions. A stronghold for those who wish not to be found, for the shadier elements of the galaxy. A fortress set beside a large body of water. It was as ideal as either of them could find.

They both acquired new clothes, new identities, and the Captain a new profession.

Thankfully, the one who, for all intents and purposes, runs the world had taken a shine to him upon their first meeting. Of similar temperaments, the two of them fell into an easy friendship, and she had even supplied him with work that he could do to earn his keep there, as well as whatever the arrangement had been between her and the Captain.

Thus, on Takodana he remains whenever the Captain must go out on a bounty. It rankles him, hiding away when he knows what is happening through the galaxy, even when he knows that it would be safer for his rescuer were he able to assist on the bounties. And yet his… delicate situation dictates it as necessity, and he has resigned himself to this fate, this pseudo-isolation.

Which is perhaps why he almost drops a mug of ale he had been about to serve when he feels an all too familiar sensation. 

The feeling of not being the only one.

As a marine creature sensing movement amidst the water, he pivots quickly, perhaps too quickly as he needs catch himself on the bar top, gaze snapping to the still closed doors as though to find its source. 

Not here. Not yet. Perhaps whoever it is had only just landed. He can’t sense the dark side from this most basic awareness of another, and he dares not reach out to find out more. He dares not draw unwanted attention.

Those dark eyes flick to the place just below the bar. The hollowed out compartment at the base, made specifically to accommodate the weapon he can no longer carry.

Friend or foe, he’s ready.

[hopefromthedepths]

[ @fecitpacem​ continued from here ] 

perhaps  acceptance  of  such  premature  demise  had  being  heinous,   but  what  is  worse  than  waking  up  like  this     --     pinned,   spared,   but  trapped.  she  had  been  so  adamant  on  her  fate,  and  now  it  was   perhaps  so  much  worse.   shift  in  limbs,  light  streams  through  heavy  rock  and  dirt   /   everything  smells  of  burning,   of  death.   the  explosive  had  done  it’s  intended  purpose,  whatever  remains  of  the  geonosians  around  her  is  minimal ;  but  there  is  little  comfort  in  that.  with  her  saber  lost  to  the  rubble,  and  her  demand  for  advancing  forces  to  turn  back,  she  is  stuck  here.   and  even  has  palms  unfurl,  exertion  wears  on  her  bones,  and  movements  are  empty.   THE  FORCE  HAS  SPARED  HER,   but  she  is  too  tired  to   truly  wield  it.

what  a  painful  irony !   eyes  close,  hand  set  flat  to  earth  still  quite  warm  with  the  aftermath  of  inferno.  the  force  will  either  guide  her,  or  it  will  comfort  her   -   it  is  not  a  decision  that  she  is  allotted  to  make.

but  concentration  is  broken  with  the  commotion  of  shifting  material,  of  voices  muffled   -   and  when  eyes  reopen,  those  subtle  streams  of  sunlight  open  wider.  she  hopes  for  the  best,  with  lightsaber  long  obliterated  by  the  blast,  but  prepares  for  the  worst ;  as  she  has  always  been  instructed  to  do.   breath  is  held  tight  between  teeth,   form  wary  as  she  all  but  sinks  into  the  freshly-turned  ground.  when  figures  finally  come  into  view,  voice  rises  meek  above  the  wreckage.

         ❛    i  didn’t  think  anyone   --    ❜          and  in  that  moment,  it  is  hard  to  forget  she  is  young  with  such  title.

He had been on a different mission nearby when he heard of what had happened. When Obi-Wan had shared the news. His own mission completed, he saw no issue in a detour. It was not as if it would be the first time and it likely would not be the last. Really, the other council members expect it of him as much as they once had expected similar behavior from his dearly departed friend, Qui-Gon Jinn.

When he had landed on the planet, his heart sank because in the wake of such destruction, how could anyone have survived?

And yet, he had admonished himself, he cannot lose hope. He had never been one to maintain such defeatist views, after all, and he has no intention of beginning to do so now.

It had not been an easy task to work his way to the approximate location where the young Master had been located. It isn’t terribly long before he is joined by both Obi-Wan and Anakin, the latter agitated for obvious reasons.

Kit also had not agreed with this decision, with sending someone so young for such a terrible and dangerous task, but it had not been his call to make.

With Obi-Wan and Anakin’s help––as well as others who had gathered as well––they had begun to dig through rubble. 

Kit’s sensitivity to smells––though slightly diminished when not underwater––has always been both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it makes him more aware of information that his fellow Jedi might miss. On the other hand, there are times when it can be overwhelming that the sense is so sharp. Now, amidst the rubble, amidst the odor of charred and burning flesh, of destruction and death, there are several times when it seems that it will be too much, and he must draw upon the Force for focus, endurance, and clarity.

Though a concerned Obi-Wan suggests that he step away and take a break, he declines. He knows he cannot. He is needed here.

He had not been close with young Master Tohno, though their paths had crossed on occasion. Even still, he knows her scent, as he does most of his fellow Jedi with whom he spends more than a few moments. It is an identifier, an imprint, filed away as a means of identification just as others might make note of a person’s eye color or the sound of their footsteps.

That is why he could not step away, could not risk missing a clue as to her whereabouts, whether for purpose of rescue… or simply to retrieve her body.

It seems like hours before he suddenly stops, almost midstep, and focuses. Smoke. Burning. Chemicals… and spices… He moves around only slightly, to locate where the latter scent seems strongest before he shouts to those with him. Together, they begin to move debris, so very carefully shifting it all away from the spot. Another eternity and at last––!

He cannot stop a smile from appearing, however dimmed by her current state. Trapped and injured but alive! As those around him continue to move the rubble in an effort to entirely free her, he kneels beside young Master Tohno, taking her hand within his own.

“It is alright now, chi’alyim,” he says, using the soft term of endearment––friend––from his own language, nebulous eyes focused on the young woman. “Just breathe. We will have you free from this in no time at all.”

[hopefromthedepths]

[ @thezabrakassassin​ continued from here ]

“Why do you care?” Maul snapped back at the Jedi, a Jedi  was the very last thing he needed right now.

“Perhaps I should not, and yet, whatever your past misdeeds––and as I understand it, there are many––these are dark times… If you require help, I would not deny it to you.”

Though, perhaps he should. Kit’s own friend, Qui-Gon. The Duchess who was very dear to his other friend, Obi-Wan. How many countless others had suffered at his hands. And yet… Still he cannot simply leave him to his fate if he is in some sort of trouble.

Ones such as them are too few now.

“Have you been stranded?”

[hopefromthedepths]

plotted starter for @kestiis​

He doesn’t like the idea. Already he has lost one padawan to this war. Really, he hadn’t even been able to see to Nadhar’s training. Not properly. They had reassigned the padawan to a different Jedi when his duties left the training to the wayside.

And yet, now the Council––despite his protests––has seen fit to assign him another padawan, Cal Kestis, and assured him that this time would be different.

The boy is bright to be certain, and he is talented without question. In fact, he is perhaps one of the most gifted of the younglings who have been admitted in recent years where his studies are concerned. 

No, it isn’t the boy’s qualifications or skills that he questions but his own ability to teach. 

Regardless of his doubts, the Council had spoken and, as such, he has little choice. Pushing his doubts from his mind, he walks to where he is to meet the boy and sees him already there, waiting for him.

That bright smile for which he’s known so easily appears, as though his dark thoughts were far gone, he waves and calls out to greet the young one as he approaches.

“Ah! Cal Kestis! In addition to everything else I have heard, I see that you are prompt as well!”

[hopefromthedepths]

@kestiis continued from here

“I thought so. I could feel that there was another force-user almost as soon as we landed. That’s why I came here. Well, part of why I came here. I do need parts to fix up BD.” He told him, feeling the need to stress that so the other didn’t think it was all a lie. He took a look around before meeting the other’s gaze.

“I was too – well, a Padawan anyway. I never got to complete my training.” He thought he should be honest with him. It wasn’t often he came across a fellow Jedi after all. Cere had been the first he’d crossed paths with and the rest...well, they were either Inquisitors or dark Jedi. He didn’t get that feeling with the other. “My Master. He...he gave his life to protect me.”

“I’m Cal. I was Jaro Tapal’s Padawan.”

His expression darkens as Cal explains, almost equal parts sorrow and guilt. So many lives lost. So many forever changed. He cannot help but to recall the part he played in that. If only they had been more careful! If only they had seen the danger and been more prudent!

Instead, they had gone to confront the Sith Lord himself, so certain of their cause and of the urgency and of their victory that they had not properly weighed the possible outcomes, the potential good versus the risk. They had not seen how tightly enmeshed they were within the now-Emperor’s net until it had been too late.

And for their mistake, others had paid dearly.

“Yes… I remember your Master well. He was a true Jedi. A brave General… Unfortunately, there are many such stories as yours, Cal Kestis. Though, even more unfortunately, not so many as we would like…”

More stories of unfinished training and sacrifices made would mean that more people had survived. That the slaughter had not been so terrible.

He sighs.

“I can’t go by the name. Not anymore. Not without risk to those around me. But once I was Jedi Master Kit Fisto.”