@spectreuno // starter call.
SHE’D DANCED TO A SONG ONCE THAT WENT LIKE THIS. something about a girl alone in a place she shouldn’t be, something about a tall, dark, handsome stranger, looking like bad news from a kilometer away. but hera wasn’t just a girl alone, and the stranger’s hooded cloak hid his face, and life was not a song she’d danced to once, a lifetime ago. so instead of letting the gravitas of the situation kick in, she heads straight for his table in the dark corner of the cantina, drawing a scarf of her own more firmly over her lekku as she does. ( her pilot’s cap and amplifiers help her feel more secure, as doe the sheer amount of fabric on her body ––– space was cold, and ryloth had been warm, and the last thing she needs is for someone to brush up against her and get THE WRONG IDEA ––– but hera can’t hide the color of her skin, her eyes, or the shape of her lekku under the scarf. it’ll hide her heritage from a quick glance from most of the drunken patrons, but a longer stare would identify her for what she is, and so she does her best to avoid longer glances, really not in the mood to start a fight tonight. ) she reaches the stranger in another six steps, lithe, balanced, like she’s walking a tightrope or dancing on her father’s feet, before he’d decided she wasn’t the child he’d wanted, not really.
LIGHT AS AIR , SWIFT AS A GHOST. she sets herself into the seat before him, eyes of green and gold and blue seeking out his under his hood. it’s dark in the cantina, dark beneath his cloak, but she can see something azure, bright and sparkling in the light. something human. something that doesn’t want to be noticed. something . . . familiar. ❛ i hear you’re the person to come to if i want a good look around the planet, ❜ she says, head tilting, chin lowered. she might be conversing to the table. something about his eyes are hard to look at for longer than fleeting seconds, a flash of blue, a strike of green, the tidal wave of an ocean under a bright sky. the curve of his cheekbones comes in glances too, the striking line of his jaw, the prickle of facial hair on his chin ( humans grow hair in the strangest of places ), and if she doesn’t know any better, she might think he’s doing something to keep her from staring at him, and remembering.
BUT SHE DOES , SHE DOES REMEMBER. well, not exactly ––– she remembers something, feels something familiar, about this stranger before her. but there are billions upon billions of humans in the galaxy, and there are bound to be at least a thousand of them with eyes like that. i know you, she wants to say. i know that i know you. but this is, of course, impossible. the jedi are long gone, and that boy named caleb with eyes like the sea is gone with them. so instead, she says: ❛ any chance that tour comes with information? ❜