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starlitangels · 1 year

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Don’t Worry, Be Happy

David and Darlin’ deserve to heal their relationship and work on being friends again This is a little different from my usual stuff since I don’t often write in third-person when there’s a listener character present but I wanted this to be from David’s perspective 3.2k words

CW: argument between characters, implied and vaguely-discussed domestic violence from parent to child, blood, suturing (stitching) a wound (Mostly contained in the italicized flashback)

—

David stepped into the den—and froze in his tracks.

Deeper inside, he heard familiar whistling. The whistle interlude from Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

“Oh my God...” he whispered.

A familiar, lush voice followed the whistling. “Here’s a little song I wrote—might want to sing it note-for-note: don’t worry… beee happy…”

David swallowed, loathe to even shut the door for fear of letting the singer know he was there.

It had just been years since he’d heard Tank sing.

And by years, he meant over a decade. Maybe pushing fifteen. They hadn’t sung since before they finished puberty but the voice deeper in the den was definitely theirs. A little lower and almost sultry in its rich, throaty quality—but still their voice.

He shut the door as quietly as he could. A flood of relief washed over him.

Tank felt comfortable enough—safe enough—to whistle and sing in the den.

David stood in front of the front door, just listening. They were singing under their breath. Like their brain was just idling, entertaining itself through some monotonous task. Singing the same couple lines over and over—even though he knew Tank knew that song back-to-front. It had been their favorite when they’d first joined the pack. Or, maybe not their favorite, but something they listened to on repeat as a desperate reminder to themselves that everything would be okay—eventually.

He opened the door again and shut it loudly when it seemed like they were done.

The voice stopped immediately. Cutting off with a choke. David stepped out of his shoes and pretended not to notice.

He went straight to the communal kitchen with the paper bag of groceries in one arm and set the thing down on the table. Mostly non-perishables and snacks so people could grab them whenever they swung by and found themselves a bit peckish. No one ever really used the pack den’s kitchen to cook meals unless they were having a party at the den. Which was rare. Homes were much more comfortable.

He sensed more than heard the footfalls of a familiar set of boots. “Need a hand?”

The offer alone would have floored him, let alone hearing them sing.

He twisted to see Tank leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over their ribs. In their usual jeans-and-a-tank-top ensemble despite the rapidly-chilling Dahlia winter.

“If you’re willing to lend one,” he said.

He fully expected the joke they made—miming popping their hand off at the wrist and passing it over. There was an impish smirk on their face. But they pushed off the doorframe with their hip then shoulder and stepped into the kitchen, pulling things out of the bag and handing them to him so he could put the groceries away in the right places.

“So,” David tried, feeling awkward and not wanting to admit he’d been eavesdropping on them, “what are you doing here?”

Their hands stilled, one hovering with a jar of peanut butter in it over the open mouth of the grocery bag, the other still inside. “None of your business,” they said. There was no fight in the words.

David leveled them with a dry, sarcastic look. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that to your pack alpha in your pack den.”

“I’m allowed to have a private life and if I want to wrap gifts for the pack pups in the den, I can do that without you sniffing around.”

“Gifts?” David quoted.

Tank scoffed and rolled their eyes. “Oh don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m not sentimental enough to even know what to get kids for solstice. They’re from the kids’ parents. Asked if I’d help out since I didn’t have any other obligations today. So they’d be a surprise for the kids.”

David scrunched his eyebrows. “I was unaware that your gift-wrapping talents were notorious among the pack.”

Tank handed him the peanut butter and muttered something unflattering under their breath. “I’m not fast but I’m good,” they said louder.

David lifted a brow when he wasn’t looking at them. He didn’t need them to think he was judging. “Well. Better to be slow but precise than fast and sloppy.”

Tank froze again, staring into the middle distance. “I’m trying really hard not to make a joke right now,” they said. David noticed a muscle in their jaw was tight. “If Asher had said that I wouldn’t bother keeping my trap shut. But you don’t have a sense of humor.”

“That is not true,” David retorted, yanking the next random thing they were retrieving from the bag straight out of their hand—without touching them. It was an enormous bottle of honey. David hadn’t even been sure why he got the giant one, apart from the fact that it never spoiled and had been the cheapest option per ounce.

“Uh-huh. Sure, big guy,” they snarked.

David scoffed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t reply. Not immediately anyway. That wasn’t a battle worth fighting.

After a few minutes, when the bag was empty and everything put away, David shut the last cupboard door. “I’m… glad you’re here,” he said.

Tank shrugged. “It woulda taken longer to do it by yourself but that’s all,” they dismissed.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said.

Tank paused where they’d been folding up the paper bag, but said nothing. Their back was to him and he could see the tension in their shoulders.

“I’m glad you feel safe enough to be at the den at all. You never used to come here unless you absolutely had to. Before Washington.”

Their free hand clenched into a fist in front of them. They cleared their throat and moved to one of the cupboards to put the bag in it so it could be used later. “Right,” they muttered. They put the bag next to a small stack of other ones and shut the cupboard.

David didn’t know what else to say, but knew if he didn’t say anything, they’d flee.

He licked his lips and started to whistle. The same whistling interlude they’d been doing earlier.

Tank heaved a sigh. “Shoulda guessed you heard.”

With that, they started to leave.

“Tank,” David said. His tone halted them in their tracks. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Whatever,” they said. They took another step. Away from him. Away from the pack. They were doing better at trying to connect with their packmates in the past year, but it still wasn’t easy. Progress always felt like two steps forward, one step back. If David was lucky, three steps forward, one back.

“You’re still the karaoke champ of our generation,” David said.

Tank’s head lolled back as they groaned in complaint. They didn’t turn to face him. “From when we were, what, thirteen? fourteen?”

“Fifteen, maybe?�� David suggested.

“Ash should’ve long-since taken over.”

“We never did karaoke after you stopped coming around. It was your thing.”

Tank grunted and lifted their hands, stretching their shoulders. “Maybe I just liked watching you all embarrass yourselves,” they joked.

David ignored the comment. “Why are you covered in ink stains?”

“Ash taught me calligraphy years ago. I swiped one of his pens—with permission—to do the gift tags. I’m just messy sometimes.” They shrugged and rolled their shoulders after their stretch.

A scar poked out on their shoulder blade, sliding into view from under the black tank top. Deep and thick.

—

“Tank?!” David called, rushing into the rundown old house. The weeds out front sprouting in the lawn were worse than they’d ever been and one of the front windows had been broken and hastily blocked with a large piece of plywood. There was a shattered bottle of brown glass on the living room floor. A splash of something dark staining the worn-down carpet.

He heard rustling upstairs.

“Tank!” He bolted for the staircase.

In the short hallway, David stalled on the landing. Tank’s bedroom door—one he only vaguely remembered was theirs from how infrequently he’d been to this house—was ajar. Soft music floated through the doorway. Don’t Worry, Be Happy. As always.

But the volume wasn’t quite loud enough to cover sniffles.

He took one step closer. Just enough to peek inside.

Tank was bent over a backpack, hastily shoving clothing into it. Snatching a switchblade off their bedside table and adding it to a pocket.

Cradling their left arm to their torso while blood slid down it and their back, dripping to the floor, from a large gash on their shoulder blade that had torn their T-shirt.

Their favorite T-shirt, he realized.

“Tank?” he asked softer.

They whirled around to see him standing there. “Go away, David!” they snarled. Their face was wet. Eyes bloodshot. One of them half swollen closed with a nasty shiner.

“What happened?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“The hell it’s not! I’m the pack beta!” David retorted, not getting any closer to the room. “If a member of my pack gets hurt, it absolutely is my business!”

Struggling, with only one working arm, Tank yanked the backpack closed. “I’m not a member of your pack, Shaw,” they spat, throwing the backpack over their good shoulder. “Not anymore.”

“What?!”

He watched with wide, confused eyes as they grabbed yet another switchblade, shoved it in their pocket, and stalked closer to their door. David didn’t move to clear their path. They’d been taller than him until the two turned sixteen—at which point David hit his growth spurt and shot past. It was still weird, three years later, to be so much bigger than they were. He’d never admitted it, and he’d never known how, but David had always admired their strength. Their fortitude to stand straight-backed through everything.

Their current, slouched posture shattered his heart.

“I’m leaving.”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t know. Washington to stay with my aunt and uncle or something. Just away from here.” They tried to edge past him, but he slammed his hand on instinct against the door frame at their eye-level.

They flinched so hard that he did too.

“Tank. Tell me. Please. What happened?”

“Take a look at the broken bottle in the living room and make an educated guess. You’re smart like that, right?” They struck him in the elbow with the heel of their hand. His hand jolted off the doorframe as he recoiled. They took that opportunity to dodge around him and head for the stairs.

“Don’t you dare!” David snapped, rushing after them. He caught them by the backpack strap in the living room. For a horrifying second, he thought they would just slip out of it and run off with nothing but the clothes on them and the switchblade in their pocket.

But they didn’t. They just lurched in his grip like a car slamming on the brakes too fast and whirled with a growl. “Let. Go,” they snarled out.

“Talk to me. Please. What’s going on?”

“I’m getting out of here, okay?! I’m done! I’m sick of being a punching bag. I’m sick of my parents disappearing for weeks at a time and coming back only to hurt me! I’m sick of the others in the pack our age flinching when I get close. I can’t stay here anymore! I’ve tried to be a good wolf. I’ve tried to play nice with the pack. But I can’t anymore!”

“Tank…”

“Get lost, David. I’m not your problem or your dad’s burden anymore.” They grabbed at their backpack strap and tore it out of his grip. Very nearly ripping the seam completely. They were still ridiculously strong, even for a shifter.

He shifted, bounded around them, and blocked their path to the front door, shifting back.

They bent their knees in a defensive stance, arms braced forward to catch themselves if they shifted. “Get out of my way, Shaw.”

“No. At… at least let me stitch your shoulder blade,” he said. “My dad taught me. And he’d be pissed if I didn’t help you clean up before you ran away.”

Tank’s muscles slowly uncoiled. “Fine,” they growled. “Stitch me up.”

David steered them gently into the dilapidated kitchen and helped them boost themselves onto the counter. He went back to his car and grabbed his First Aid box, extracting the suture kit. Tank had removed their shirt while he was gone, but kept it bunched up on their upper arms, covering the front of their torso like they didn’t want David to see.

Tank bore the stitching well. Never flinching. Never wincing. Not so much as a flicker of a muscle. Just sat straight-backed on the counter. Unmoving.

Halfway through, he took a deep breath. “You’re not a burden,” he said quietly.

They scoffed. “Like hell.”

“You’re not. You’re pack. You’re family.”

Over their shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the way their eyes flicked toward a dent in the wall. One at the perfect height for their head. “Your experiences with family are a lot different than mine, David,” they grumbled softly. “Not everyone is lucky like you to have a dad like Gabe.”

“You’re right,” David said. “Which is why I’m stating to you that you’re not a burden. Because no one has been there to show you that.”

“Lay off the sappy. It really doesn’t suit you.”

“Tank. I’m serious.”

“I know. You’re always serious.”

“Which is why you should believe me when I say you’re not a burden.”

Their eyes finally looked away from the dent in the wall. They stared out the grimy kitchen window for a few moments. “Mm.”

David sighed. “Don’t… don’t run. You don’t have to live in this house anymore, but don’t leave Dahlia. Please. My dad and I can help you find somewhere to live on your own. You have a pack—we’re wolves. We support and help each other. And we try to do it better than your… blood relatives do. To show you how family is supposed to be.”

He’d been so focused on his words that his fingers slipped, pulling the suture too tight. For the first time, Tank winced. They sniffed and made sure David couldn’t see their face. “You didn’t deny that I’m a problem,” they pointed out.

“You’re only listening for what you want to hear so you have an excuse to leave,” David said. “You’re not a problem. You’re a friend—and you’re a wolf in my pack. We want you to stay.”

“Because I’m a good fighter?”

“No. Not because of anything you can do,” David snapped, sharper than he meant. “Just because you’re you. You’re one of us.”

He finished tying off the last suture and clipped the last bit of the thread.

“Mm,” Tank said.

David grabbed the roll of paper towels sitting next to the sink and mopped some of the blood off their skin.

“... Thanks. For the stitches,” they said, pulling their shirt back on and spinning around on the counter. They still looked a mess, but at least they weren’t quite as bloody.

He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

They pursed their lips, looking thoughtful. Still cradling their arm to their torso to keep it safe.

David licked his lips, realizing how dry his mouth had gotten while he’d worked.

“Don’t leave, Tank. Stay in Dahlia.”

They met his eyes. Theirs were sharp and clear, despite the black eye. Always had been. “You really want to keep the disappointing train-wreck in your pack?”

“No, I want to keep the wolf doing their best with the hand they’ve been dealt.”

They huffed and rolled their eyes. “Help me find a place to move in to and I’ll stay.”

“Deal. Let’s go.” He helped them off the counter and escorted them to his car, watching them carefully in case they tried to bolt.

—

David blinked several times, shaking his head to clear it. He hadn’t seen that scar in a long time and had almost forgotten he’d been the one to stitch it up. Tank always had hated going to healers.

“Do you remember when I stitched up your shoulder?” he blurted.

Tank twisted around to face him. “Of course. It stung like hell. You were terrible at it.”

“Really? You didn’t even flinch for most of it.”

They snorted. “Yeah, well, I was worse at it. Yours was easy in comparison.”

David’s heart sank. “You’d stitched yourself up before?”

“More times than I’ve bothered to count.” Their smile was nonchalant and dismissive, but faltered as they lifted their tank top just a bit to show off a scar above their hip. It was jagged and looked like it hadn’t healed properly. “You never forget your first, right?” they joked. David stared for a moment. He’d never known…

“I never got to know you as well as I should have.”

They actually laughed. “That’s because I never let you, dumbass. I never let anyone really know me. Not until Sam.” They paused and quirked their head to the side for a moment. “Well. My unempowered friend knew me better than anyone—apart from the werewolf thing. So I guess they don’t count either.” They shrugged. “I’m gonna get back to wrapping.”

As they turned on their heel, restarting the whistle interlude, David took a quick stride to fall into step behind them. “Hey,” he said. They stopped.

Am I really doing this? David thought. Apparently. If it helps…

He took a deep breath and sighed. “My mate loves karaoke. Honestly I think they claim to love anything that will irritate me. But… if you’d be willing… I’m sure they’d love a double date to one of those private room places downtown.”

Tank raised a brow. “David Shaw is willingly offering to go to karaoke?” They burst out laughing. “Oh, come on, David! That’s an offer you know I can’t refuse!”

“Does Sam know you sing?”

Their laughter died. “Um… actually… I don’t think he does.”

“Is that something you want to share with him?”

Tank blinked several times, slowly. A little dumbstruck. “He’s my mate. I damn well should. It just hasn’t come up.” They cleared their throat. “I’ll, uh… see if he’s busy on Saturday?”

David made a face. “I’ll check with my mate too. But tentatively, Saturday.”

Tank nodded, suddenly looking awkward. “Uh… great. Sounds good.” They bit their lower lip and spun around. “Anyway. I’m gonna go finish wrapping.”

“Yeah. I need to get to the office.”

He waited for them to duck into one of the offices in the den that didn’t belong to anyone specific and was there for when the teenagers needed to study or the adults wanted to get work done somewhere other than home before he slid out the front door. He locked it behind him—Tank had a key, every manifested member of the pack did—and went back to his truck.

He sat in the driver’s seat but didn’t turn on the engine.

“Well,” he said to himself, pulling out his phone to find a familiar contact number at the top of his text conversation lists. “That’s a step forward.”

Compose New Message To: My Angel🖤 Karaoke with Tank and Sam Saturday? Send Sent

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @thegoldenlittlerose @mainhoesstuff @darlin-collins

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted David #Redacted Darlin'#David Shaw #Darlin'#David #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

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whumpiary · 3 years

Note

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together for Josiah and Cass?

future fluff 🥰

The door opens with a click and a clunk and Lou bursts through with Thai food in one hand and her helmet in the other.

“Alrighty mothertruckers, I am b-“

Mal cuts her off with a finger to the lips and a pint in the direction of the couch, where Cass and Josiah had fallen asleep beside each other a little while ago.

Lou pulls a face in apology, drops her voice low, switching tracks as she dumps her stuff, “Beeeing very quiet so my friends keep napping.”

Mal chuckles under breath and turns back to the essay he was working on, saving the doc before closing his laptop. Master’s homework could be done for today.

Lou leans over to press a kiss to his head as she passes, counterbalanced with the food in her other hand. He tilts his head up for a proper one as well which she gives him, smiling soft.

“Hey, you.”

She presses a palm to his cheek, thumb running the line of his jaw a second before she circles around the other side of the kitchen table . She nods towards the couch, unpacking Tom Yum and massaman.

“How long have they been like that for?”

Mal shrugs, taking his glasses off and placing them ontop of his laptop. “Twenty minutes, maybe?”

“You didn’t wanna wake ‘em?”

Mal smiles fondly and folds his arms, leaning back in his chair, “Would you?”

Lou fixes him with the I’m not a sap look that he knows and loves too well. She turns all the same to look at her two boys and he watches as she softens a little, then a lot, ice to warm shallows in an instant.

There’s such a huge amount of fondness in her face as she looks at Cass and Josiah. Such a huge amount of love. Mal wonders if either of them know how much she’d do for them both. How many worlds she’d go to the end of just to keep them safe in the happy ever after they’re building.

“Who zonked out first?” she asks, smiling a little as she takes in the scene.

“Cass. But Josiah was about thirty seconds behind him.”

Josiah’s leaning back on the arm of the couch, head propped up on one arm. He’s got one leg up on the couch and one down, leaving a convenient Cass-shaped space beside his knee. Cass, in turn, is curled on his side, cuddling a cushion, his head leant against the back of the couch like he’d only meant to rest it there a moment while they chatted.

They’re not quite cuddling. Not quite not either. Cass’ hand rests by Josiah’s leg, just on it in fact, and whether it started there or dropped as he dozed, the other man doesn’t seem to mind.

Lou smiles, glancing sidelong at him. “Do you think they know yet?”

Mal grins, “What? About how crazy they are for each other?”

“Mm.”

Mal tilts his head, watching as Cass shifts a little, hand brushing against Josiah’s thigh. As Josiah takes Cass’ hand in his his own, thumb running over palm as they sleep.

“Nah,” he decides. “Absolutely not.”

Lou smiles, shaking her head, reaches for the coconut rice. “Idiots.”

#answered #mal #lou #cassius #josiah #the future

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-08-06

♪ HS2 HS2 is baaaaack ♪

♪ HS2bloggin here we gooooo ♪

♪ Structural changes on their team but I don’t caaaaare ♪

♪ Already resooolved myself that its NOOOT gonna beee as good ♪ with inattentiveness to details characters like Terezi forgetting-what-they-used-to-know and an obsession with dwelling on traaageeeDEEE without relief-or-considering how weee’d feeeeeeel~ ♪♪♪ --so just gonna enjoy-what-i-caaaaaan about iiit~ ♪♪♪

Okay time for bankruptcy

> CHAPTER 11. History's Most Notorious Haters

Let’s see how effectively my perky new lowered-expectations attitude lets me enjoy this comic *click*

wut

Oh. so is this Dave drawing comics about current events or Regular Calliope doing so for our very first lanky look at her presumably-grown-up-more cherub form

> Knight: Keep it real.

HOLY SHIT IT’S DAVEBOT AND ARADIA

so we just get to SEE them?! just like that??? no buildup or anything? :D

Okay I’m marking out a little that’s a good sign. Also what a nerdy cop-out to turn the roboteyes into glasses that’s barely passable which is perfect, the rest of his outfit looks pretty cool tho

DAVEBOT: and thats reason four hundred nineteen why despite my mans many accomplishments i will never acknowledge big skateboardings contrived message that tony hawk is the quintessential skater of our generation ARADIA: o_o DAVEBOT: not in these trying times

Good to see Ultimate Dave is being true to form with regards to the core of his personality

DAVEBOT: beep boop ARADIA: i have told you several times that i was a robot before and i know for a fact you dont have to say beep boop DAVEBOT: hm that sounds fake does not compute ARADIA: david DAVEBOT: mom

I was with this conversation until the last two lines what the fuck

(I’m reading into it aren’t I, Aradia was trying to be atypically proper -- even though she wouldn’t have the frame of reference to know without being specifically told that “Dave” was considered nickname shorthand for the human name David, and thus if she DID know there’s no reason she’d use it except to troll him -- and Dave’s just mocking her response. Without any shame about his continued weirdness of calling people Mom, and by without any shame I mean he made the choice EXPLICITLY to intentionally evoke the awkwardness. Wow I got a lot out of two lines.)

(Oh, also alt!Callie’s true Jade-body incarnation here probably prompted her to start using “David” by example. There, various mysteries solved via a pile of assumptions probably to be disproven in the next couple lines I read.)

The Knight and the Maid stare at each other briefly, having exchanged enough meaningful glances over their time together to know when to drop it.

Would Time players have an easier time gelling this way, like this particular smoothness? Dropping it just before it gets weird or excessively irritating?

(Overclasspecting)

ARADIA: i think we have exchanged enough meaningful glances over our time together to know when to drop this DAVEBOT: what i enjoy about our conversations is that you just say things like that

OKAY I SNRK’D AT THAT. That was funny.

Initially. And now I’m concerned whether Aradia is being controlled by the narrative-speak, or whether they’re both just humorously referencing the meta-text they can both see, or--

ARADIA: oh is that what you enjoy ARADIA: well we are both an infinite number of years old living countless lifetimes at once but thats no reason to waste any of our...

WHAT??!? She’s an Ultimate Self too?!?

Um, okay! Yeah! So they’re BOTH just riffing on the narrative then. But... why would Dave need a robot body to accommodate his Ultimate Psyche without getting sick but Rose not need it? I can understand Dirk not needing it because the merging of the full breadth of his multiversal individuality gels well with him being a God of the aspect governing the power of his multiversal individuality, but Aradia?

Were the robot bodies not necessary after all, and the sickness Rose suffered and Obama thought Dave would have suffered some sort of ruse? Are there shenanigans afoot? (Or are we going with the “troll biology is better” cop-out?)

She knows how this will play out, having undoubtedly tried this joke on her friend in some timeline or another. Their rapport reflects a unique combination of their matching aspects but greatly differing classes. One a passive but powerful servant to time, the other wielding the aspect like a honed blade.

WHAT????

PASSIVE SERVANT OF THE ASPECT?!? WHAT THE FUCK

Okay if that means anything like it sounds like I guess my class chart is finally blown up, sure, they only waited (*checks last edit date*) SEVEN AND A HALF YEARS TO BLOW THAT GUESS UP, SURE

Wow. Okay, I feel some obligation to jump to conclusions and say the whole class chart is wrong, but let me stay strapped in to see if “passive” is as literal as one would expect alt!Callie to mean, or it just means “an active class passive compared to other classes”. And, serving the aspect? Oh dammit, now people are gonna come at me advocating a Maid / Page dichotomy about actively serving the aspect versus allowing the aspect to be served... or Page / Maid even, jesus

I wish I had enough energy to have those chats anymore. I’d rather hold on and see the whole ridiculous chart scheme they have in mind... which is definitely (and hopefully) the one Andrew really drew up at the time and not made up by the staff, even if it throws away plenty of my old work... I’ll just stop thinking about it and keep reading.

...

--no, I don’t think I can just stop thinking about it yet. Dammit, brain.

So um. Maids serving their aspect. There was a whole “Maids serve” thing going on throughout the whole plot of Homestuck, but despite how prevalent it was, I wrote it off as the story riffing on the classical definition of Maid when the actual stuff Maids accomplished was something different and more specific, just like Knights constantly got riffed on for chivalry and the like. Furthermore, service seemed like a really shitty class definition, when class definitions are the verbs one uses to interact with reality through Aspects to change the way reality unfolds, and “serving” isn’t really an action that results in change, implying a distinct deficit of agency that I wouldn’t have viewed as fair. (Especially since you originally think “meant to serve others” and not “meant to serve the aspect”, implying even LESS agency.) Furthermore, MOST passive classes from their descriptions seem to have a propensity to act “as if by the will of the aspect”, so even with the nuance of “serving the aspect”, devoting an entire class verb to service would just step on the territory of other active/passive class pairs’ passive sides, right?

But... IF we were to take this for granted as what it SEEMS... then concentrating on that angle of “serving the aspect” implies a whole lot more agency than a service class might sound on its surface. The definition fits with the story better once you contextualize all the Maid-y references to service around Jane, for instance, with the additional idea of “serving Life” by baking prolifically and creating more of its symbols in food and--

--fuck. “Serving”, like serving to others. Serving the aspect as its attendant AND serving it out to others that need it. Maybe this still IS part of the Additive class pair! Whoa. :O

Okay okay so, what I/we thought before was:

Create/Add - Maid / Sylph

Destroy/Reduce - Prince / Bard

But “additive” really isn’t an elegant verb compared to the “Destroyer” classes, so... could it be the “Servants” and the “Destroyers”? Like Maids cleaning up and healing the broken wreckage strewn through the halls by a bratty Prince’s tantrum???

It’d certainly be weird... and it’d CERTAINLY be a wild twist where I was partially wrong in some fascinating ways but not entirely off base?

One a passive but powerful servant to time, the other wielding the aspect like a honed blade.

And yet, I can’t bet on this being the situation yet; not at all. First, it relies on the idea that alt!Callie’s explicit narrative here is slightly misleading, which would be a pretty extreme thing to commit to, even for a technical truth like “she was saying it was passive relative to other classes even though it’s technically “active””. Second... it would mean that Muses are even more wildly defined than the previous insinuation of hers, that the Sylph -- what we thought was the passive additive class -- was not enough like a Muse compared to a Witch. Muses not being that Additive? I could grudgingly understand that, but Muses not being anything like passive Servants?! That would be EXTREMELY weird!

So... there’s not a whole lot of chance that I’m not dramatically wrong somewhere about these classes! In a way that throws the entire chart into disarray!

I’m... oddly excited? Huh.

That’s a pretty nice surprise that I actually feel that way.

(Don’t hit me up all at once to discuss this Classpect development over Discord, I’ll still need a few days without talking about Homestuck to recharge as usual. Like... maybe wait and come at me as a group chat? So I’m not talking about the latest developments separately with everyone? No that wouldn’t work, how about... guh I dunno, look my outlook’s a little more positive right now but dealing with Homestuck still takes emotional energy okay?)

Okay the rest of this page...

ARADIA: ... DAVEBOT: time then make a weird face ARADIA: ........ DAVEBOT: waste time DAVEBOT: time ARADIA:............. DAVEBOT: i experience all points of time simultaneously please just say time and make a weird face

This is true.

ARADIA: .................. DAVEBOT: cmon megido youre killing me clocks ticking ARADIA: ... ARADIA: time o_o

The Maid casts a furtive glance around the empty crew quarters, as though to search for someone more sympathetic to her bit.

ARADIA: tough crowd

Dorks.

> ==>

(Lazy fruit-throwing sword-training I won’t bother to screenshot but looks fun)

(I mean, really lazy looking, these people really don’t have Andrew’s knack for action composition that would make the same amount of gif-creation effort feel like a microcosm of the event they’re depicting, unfortunately. Again, I don’t blame them; Andrew was just too good at it.)

DAVEBOT: ok heres one DAVEBOT: how old do you think you are ARADIA: emotionally? ARADIA: that is a pretty heavy topic DAVEBOT: you know damn well thats not what i meant ARADIA: you know I have been through a lot dave DAVEBOT: ok ARADIA: its just so kind of someone DAVEBOT: ok i get it ARADIA: to finally ask how i feel ARADIA: i am beside myself with emotions ARADIA: i want to open up DAVEBOT: jesus christ ARADIA: shall i open up about my past traumas to you ARADIA: would you enjoy that ARADIA: to think even a frog like me can work through their pain with a dear friend ARADIA: you have truly blessed me on this day dave strider

Is Aradia JUST trolling here or is her Ultimate Self grappling with a ton of real unresolved trauma too that she’s bullshitting around Dave-style?

DAVEBOT: times fun when youre having flies

Okay that’s a damned good frog pun.

Alright now Davebot’s rapping

DAVEBOT: lacking tact i stay stacked while i breach contract DAVEBOT: sacred vows disavowed got divorce fever DAVEBOT: i leave her DAVEBOT: dont look back dont perceive her ARADIA: do you want to talk about it :( DAVEBOT: about what ARADIA: would you say you are hung up on leaving your wife and friends behind

Goddamnit is DAVE’S ton of real unresolved trauma leaking into his raps unintentionally Dave-style?? I knew we had to address it when we cut to Davebot but how about LESS TRAGEDY IN THIS COMIC MAYBE

DAVEBOT: arent you even a little guilty about ditching your boyfriend ARADIA: what ARADIA: oh fuck

But she knew what she was doing when she did it she explicitly did it didn’t she? Epilogues quote:

DAVEBOT: what about your boy DAVEBOT: eyepatches ARADIA: oh sollux is in one of his moods ARADIA: this was all getting to be a bit much for him ARADIA: if i go ill probably just cut him loose DAVEBOT: good move

And then they stepped through the sky hole more or less. Did like, distracted Ultimate Aradia not realize exactly how long she was leaving Sollux for, ie forever? Or did she “ascend” to Ultimate status later and hadn’t thought back to the full consequences of her actions within this timeline? Or both? From the looks of the link we’ll probably find out on the next pa--

--Wait. Something else I just thought of, unrelated.

If Aradia is an Ultimate Self, that’s another coincidentally Ultimate version of someone hanging around that happens to be on the prospective list of Soul-Powered Jujus that might have their creation loops closed in the coming story. Could those two things play into each other somehow? Like instead of their souls getting stuffed into the items, their “Ultimateness” is? Or as if that’s a necessary component, or... no, I’m probably overthinking things.

> (Months in the past, but not many...)

Uh huh. Is that flashing because he’s “watching” Aradia leave? But I thought Aradia SAID she was leaving--

> (==>)

--and that black hole portal doesn’t look as cool as it sounded in the Epilogues. But why was Aradia acting surprised, she said “I’ll probably just cut him loose” mere MOMENTS before entering the portal, did she mean “cut him loose” as in “I’m going to talk to him before leaving” and then just IMMEDIATELY forget that she didn’t say anything to him because she cared so little???

Wait. Waaaait wait wait. I think. I think maybe I missed some subtext. Lemme do some fuller quotes here:

ARADIA: oh sollux is in one of his moods ARADIA: this was all getting to be a bit much for him ARADIA: if i go ill probably just cut him loose DAVEBOT: good move

His gaze remains fixed on her. She blinks and looks away, unsure what to say next. He’s standing perfectly still, presumably waiting for her to say something. She met him... what was it? Once, twice before? She can’t remember. But she knows this is a very different Dave. Aside from the metal skin, he seems implacably confident. But then, people go through changes. She’s been through more than her share. She cocks an eyebrow, recalling her own stint with a metal body.

DAVEBOT: hey earth to whats your face ARADIA: oh ARADIA: its aradia

[...]

DAVEBOT: youre coming DAVEBOT: better decide quick i doubt that dank fuckin hell funnel is staying open for much longer ARADIA: yes i suppose so ARADIA: thats where all the action is right? DAVEBOT: all the action that matters yeah ARADIA: off we go then :) DAVEBOT: word

He holds out his hand. She looks around, and assumes he means for her to take it, so she does. She didn’t know someone could fly this fast. He nearly yanks her arm out of its socket. She considers reminding him that maybe this isn’t necessary, since she can fly too. But she doesn’t want to risk saying more embarrassing stuff around this outrageously cool dude. Besides, they’re through the wormhole before she can even finish the thought. It vanishes the moment they’ve crossed.

...this was a SHIPPING thing wasn’t it. She’s impressed as hell with Striderbot, she SAID she’d cut things off with Sollux, and then she was so busy being swooped off her feet and into the portal that she forgot to actually say anything to him. Is that what happened????

Ultimate Self Davebot x Ultimate Self Aradia. Huh. Didn’t see that coming. (Though, again... they could make it SLIGHTLY clearer that this wasn’t just a blatant continuity error.)

Anyway, a rare-don’t-get-used-to-it [S] page...

> [S] (Gaze.)

...Okay that was kinda funny.

> (==>)

SOLLUX: h0w the fuck am i g0ing t0 get d0wn fr0m here.

HAH! Okay, he’s taking it pretty well. :) --and THAT’s what she realized she forgot, giving him a flight down from the tower before leaving.

GOOD. KEEP THINGS HUMOROUS EVEN WHEN LITERAL ABANDONMENT IS HAPPENING. THAT’S the Homestuck I was missing. :) :) :)

> Back to reality.

(Since the black hole is outside “canon” reality.)

Those are some cool poses-AHAH JESUS CHRIST ALT!JADE YOU LOOK ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING XD

COULD YOU MAYBE HAVE CLEANED UP THE DRIED BLOOD AT SOME POINT OR IS SOME OF THAT FRESH FROM EATING MORE RAW MEAT

(Lord English’s blood leaving permanent timeless bloodstains would be a cool new thing to squeeze into canon i admit, i wouldn’t blame them for taking the excuse even if you could find small canon counterexamples I’m not sure of but dimly think might exist)

((ALSO SHE’S GONNA BE TINY NEXT TO THEM I DUNNO IF THAT MAKES IT MORE TERRIFYING OR LESS, PROBABLY MORE))

DAVEBOT: so youre telling me you dont even feel a little bad that you ditched him to be a weird death acolyte ARADIA: no i think he found my wiles both charming and irresistible DAVEBOT: not even an ounce of guilt or self doubt huh DAVEBOT: just like that DAVEBOT: no conversations about the greater good DAVEBOT: no revelations about your feelings

Is Aradia a jerk or weird? Can’t decide.

ARADIA: do you often find your faith in yourself shaken like this or is it a new experience now that your mortal coil has been left behind DAVEBOT: what ARADIA: do you think now that all that is left of you is a literal ghost inside of a machine you are more or less likely to embrace finality DAVEBOT: oh dope more cult of one shit DAVEBOT: immortality changed you ARADIA: could it be that you are projecting your feelings onto my situation DAVEBOT: does not compute rose jr ARADIA: ... ARADIA: we dont have to talk about it DAVEBOT: thanks

Wow, I actually can’t follow this conversation at all. Let me stare at it for a sec...

...okay, the first part she’s talking about DAVE’s faith in HIMself being shaken, not her own. She’s not asking if he relates to HER experience, she’s contrasting it.

Then, asking if he’d be more likely to embrace death, or... Time? Death. Whether his self-worth has changed because he might view himself as “less real”, something Aradia doubtless struggled with when she was a robot who already had so many excuses to devalue herself at the time? And then Dave talks about “cult of one” shit what does that even mean-...

OH. Like she’s a death cult. Gooot it. Because Aradia’s of the position that death and ending should be celebrated, and Davebot understandably isn’t entirely bought in. This is as hard to parse down as one would EXPECT conversations between two Ultimate Selves to be hard to parse down, unlike Rose and Dirk where their insane missions and glaring flaws shine bright enough through it all that you can follow their conversation flow easily.

JADE: They sit in each other's presence, the silence between them as meaningful as any words they could exchange. DAVEBOT: its always really cool to hear how meaningful my silences are DAVEBOT: especially while DAVEBOT: CALCULATING DAVEBOT: CALCULATING DAVEBOT: especially while i am attempting to experience them

Alt!Callie pulling a narrative-text AFTER a talk-identifier like “JADE:” is really hilarious in my opinion.

JADE: i do not need your approval. the story will continue how it must. DAVEBOT: beep boop hater detected ARADIA: wow is that true JADE: i am not a hater. DAVEBOT: classic hater line DAVEBOT: i know this because i am pouring through genuine actual quadrabytes of information on historys most notorious haters JADE: no, you aren’t.

Pffffff. This is pretty fun.

DAVEBOT: you are the exact opposite of a hater ARADIA: a liker DAVEBOT: ok DAVEBOT: perfect example your tolerance for whatever is going on with DAVEBOT: all this ARADIA: i think she looks quite lovely covered in the viscera of the all-powerful enemy she consumed ARADIA: floating lifelessly in our periphery ARADIA: observing our every action and noting its relevance :) DAVEBOT: uh huh thats what i mean

I was gonna note “liker” as additive for pointless classpect purposes, but really more quoting it just because I really enjoy this conversation. I’m starting to get sold on the chemistry of these two a lot faster than I expected.

JADE: even though I understand that it must happen, i am growing frustrated with the direction of this conversation. DAVEBOT: do you want to talk about something else stinky JADE: what would you suggest?

How long has that dried fucking blood been on her

DAVEBOT: ok hear me out DAVEBOT: kanaya DAVEBOT: but like DAVEBOT: wearing huge jorts

That explains Homestuck’s twitter earlier

> Weeks in the future, relative to the original point of interest...

Wait wait which point of interest? This time we were just viewing? *click*

I love what must be this shitty imagination-ship they’re using to cross the substrate of reality

> ==>

Whoaaaa. So they DIDN’T stay in those outfits for long? It showed them in a bunk bed earlier, it showed CallieJade still going around blood-covered afterward-- dammit, I’m having a hard time gauging exactly how much time is supposed to have passed between their entry into the black portal, their earlier conversation, and this moment. And as likely as some are to call this poor scene composition, I can’t think it’s anything but intentional, given we’re dealing with a couple of Ultimate Time players bullshitting with each other.

Moments like these are not rare, and serve a valuable function to the story. They are able to show a passage of time with the bulk of the emotional labor of a lengthy bonding process happening off screen. How did we get here? What have they been through? These questions are often better left open to individual interpretation and can give the one interpreting a sense of ownership of the story.

See? We’re being trolled is why. (Even if the authors are pulling the trick Alt!Callie describes maybe a little too damn often, because a cut like this where we’re supposed to fill in the emotional gaps and intervening events ourselves as readers depends on readers’ faith that sensible events and decisions for these characters would OCCUPY the gaps, as if readers don’t have faith that what intervenes WOULD make sense to their understanding of the characters the way the authors are writing them... it just seems like an excuse to do whatever you want without adequately explaining yourself, when in reality if you’d spelled out the events that led to it we’d all cry foul at the mischaracterization.)

...okay, maybe I’m a BIT bitter. Sorry. Where were we?

JADE: As a point of curiosity- ARADIA: oh shit!!!!

The dead Cherub possessing the body of an equally deceased Goddess of Space pauses at the interruption.

She doesn’t talk much, then? Too busy doing whatever talking you’d do as your other possessed Jade body? Just how temporally related is you controlling THIS Jade compared to when you were controlling the other? When that Jade pegged you as enjoying contact with friends, are these two just not enough for you, or did you “experience” the trips entirely separately? I don’t THINK the alt!Callie possessing either Jade is a separate entity from the other, but...

Were she to voice her opinion, it would be that --actually-- it is not unusual for those whose primary concern is The Grander Scheme to have a passing curiosity about the insignificant. So when one really thinks about it, any annoyance with the attendant’s small mindedness is both understandable and warranted.

She pissed

...also, “the attendant”. Even if “serve” is really the verb here, that phrasing really irks me as if she’s talking down to her. Which, I mean, makes sense for alt!Callie’s character, but doesn’t make me feel better about this new definition being foisted on us.

ARADIA: :( JADE: as a point of order, you never answered dave’s question. ARADIA: which one he is very chatty JADE: you experience time in a way that is woefully unfamiliar to me and it has... piqued my curiosity enough to learn more. ARADIA: ?_? DAVEBOT: shes asking how old you are

Wait a minute, is Alt!Callie asking a question about a dropped topic from WEEKS ago?! And is Davebot so in touch with Time and the meta ordering of topics that he actually CAUGHT ON that fast to what she was actually wondering about?????

This is getting more disorienting by the minute.

ARADIA: in this form our bodies stop aging once we reach maturity i think ARADIA: the god tier keeps our physical form locked in a state of undying ARADIA: even in death the bodies do not decay ARADIA: only lay dormant

THAT LAST PART IS FUCKING IMPORTANT. It’s being brought up intentionally to tell us that JOHN’S DEAD BODY can still be in the wallet Terezi’s carrying around RIGHT NOW without having decayed over the past years. I remember remarking in SOME previous HS^2 liveblog post of mine that I was alarmed by the decay that would have happened there (can’t find my remark on short notice and don’t really care to), so this explicitly dismisses it so we won’t be surprised by the fact that she could keep it in just-dead condition.

DAVEBOT: like how long have you been alive JADE: yes, that one.

[...]

ARADIA: oh maybe a few hundred years or so DAVEBOT: what JADE: what? ARADIA: well if i had known you were going to be so judgy about it DAVEBOT: when did this happen ARADIA: oh i spent some time in other doomed realities and timelines and came back before anybody could tell i was gone

Hm!

We knew she spent a LONG time in the dream bubbles, enough to talk to “pretty much all of the Nepetas”, but she was actually able to access a universe or universes and hop between them? That’s not something any time traveller we’ve seen has been explicitly able to do intentionally before, quite like she’s describing.

DAVEBOT: oh just out for a bit of fun then DAVEBOT: just hopped on over to a different reality DAVEBOT: real casual like DAVEBOT: oh hello dont mind me just popping in to see if it really is as doomed as they say it is DAVEBOT: did not disappoint ARADIA: yes almost exactly like that :) DAVEBOT: who did you hang out with are they cooler than me ARADIA: it is complicated to explain DAVEBOT: oh ok nevermind then DAVEBOT: all clear

Yep, he’s kinda bewildered. Is this Pesterquest stuff she’s referring to? Did she stop by Pesterquest?

DAVEBOT: a whole alternate universe ripe with the coolest motherfuckers imaginable ARADIA: you were there too i threw your air conditioner into the sun DAVEBOT: wow thats fucked up DAVEBOT: thats not where that goes at all JADE: these events are not-canonical. ARADIA: rude

Ah! Yeah, almost certainly Pesterquest. (Still haven’t played that and have little inclination to now that I’m more sure we aren’t being gaslit with intentional continuity errors, just disappointed by actual continuity errors.) Oh! And that makes a bit more sense because I imagine that’s Black Hole territory, and that territory outside of Canon seems pretty rich and easy for time-travellers to hop between stories and timelines willy-nilly. As they’re apt to in fanfics, which is the most appropriate way for things to be in that realm!

DAVEBOT: is that the trope of being hundreds of years old but looking young forever patently sucks ass DAVEBOT: a plot device an asshole would write ARADIA: :( JADE: that is not what i am trying to say at all. DAVEBOT: hmm wow yeah thatd really be a sort of pot/kettle situation i guess DAVEBOT: i cant believe im the only woke one here DAVEBOT: its hard being such a visionary AND such a fine metallic specimen DAVEBOT: but im an altruist first and fucking foremost ARADIA: so selfless JADE: yes, the greater narrative is truly blessed by your beneficent presence. DAVEBOT: oh so you got jokes now huh JADE: i have always had the ‘jokes’ of which you speak, but i have heretofore exercised restraint in laying you low. JADE: i possess knowledge of many of your iterations, as the scope of my powers allows me to exist in several narrative structures at once. DAVEBOT: but can she see why kids love the sweet cinnamon taste of cinnamon toast crunch JADE: i do not know, or care, what that means. ARADIA: neither do i :)

I’m actually really enjoying this conversation

JADE: its cultural significance to you as an earthling is wasted on the two of us entirely, as we have not conflated the misguided notion of clinging to nostalgic cereal advertisement trivia with socially relevant conversation.

Pff she literally checked her meta notes just now to learn what the cereal ads were after admitting she didn’t know what it meant and pretending not to care

> ==>

Oh, closer look at Davebot. Are those actual SHAPED shades over his robotic eye bulges? Weird, I thought it was just a lazy line drawn between them with red sharpie at first, Sans style. That would’ve been funny.

> ==>

Ohh, I get it. I was gonna say that was an unwarranted reaction... but he just realized that the Time-wait puns will be coming from BOTH his shipmates from now on. That’s gotta be a downer. :)

> ==>

HOLY

FUCKING

SHIT

IS ALT-CALLIE LAUGHING!??!?!?!??

That’s REALLY, REALLY GOOD!!! SHE’S ALREADY LAUGHING OCCASIONALLY THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY

“BEST NARRATOR” COFFEE CUP

SHE’S ADORABLE

> ==>

Ah, was that Jade kicking you out? Or just the multiverse punishing you for being briefly happy :(

--oh, end of the update. Guess that’s it for now!

...

Alright I know I’m A BIT BEHIND on covering the HS2 commentary,

But

I really would rather wait on that a bit longer if that’s alright. Real busy and stressful week or two. (Found out my hair is starting to thin noticeably at age 31! Quite suddenly, too. Blood test looks fine so it’s nothing serious... gonna see a doctor to check if anything can be safely done about that, it’s really hurting my self-esteem more than I thought it would. Didn’t think it would hit my emotions that hard when it eventually happened, knew it was likely but not so SOON... really messing with my anxiety every time I accidentally touch my hair, now. I’ll deal with it.)

If I sound really aimless in this post, I think it’s cause I am? My mental and emotional energy’s REALLY drained. I’m glad that June/July break in HS^2 happened when it did, and I’m definitely glad there’s apparently plenty in HS^2 I can really enjoy, if this update is anything to go by. Maybe this comic can help lift me up instead of knocking me down. :)

See y’all later! More Patreon commentary blogging catchup after some other upd8.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #Homestuck Theories #Homestuck Theory #spoiler #spoilers #Classes and Aspects #Space and Time #Aradia

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Two Sides of the Coin (17)

Chapter 17: Deliverance | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC | Special tags: Sixth Sister! Fem OC, Inquisitor! Fem OC, Twi’lek Inquisitor, OC Twi’lek

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 | Previous: Part 16 | Next: Part 18 | Masterlist

17 of ?

Jidné strolled to the meadow and settled herself by the bank of the waterfall’s pool, something about that spot calmed her and so she chose it as a meditation spot. She unclipped her saber from her belt, nestling it in the curve of her palm and then her other hand cradled the three strands of beads. The smooth, dainty baubles ran between her forefinger and thumb as her hand followed its length.

She clutched onto the longer strand, the chipping of the color at the edges were more visible when brought closer, the dust that never washed away reminded her of the Purge; the Jedi holds her saber with both hands with great care and devoutness.

“Master…” the air answered her call, a gust of cold wind blew the wisps of her fringe, it’s as though the wind cradled her face in its hands.

She urged herself to open her eyes, and slowly, she did just so.

Standing in front of her again is a vision of her late master, but this one is very much different than the last. A venerable air loomed around the figure of the vision, compared to the last one that felt stale, heavy, and hostile.

“You’re right, I’m may not be the Padawan you trained and hoped to be… but I’m the Padawan you left behind—along with the teachings you’ve given me all my life.”

The walking memory spoke nothing, instead, she smiled and walked closer. Nomara’s Force Ghost was just two paces shy from the line between water and land. She knelt in the same manner as her broken apprentice, now grown into a young woman and no longer a child, in Jidné’s eyes the appearance of Nomara’s ghost was so opaque that she almost seemed real.

“Master… If that was your way of testing me, then whatever the result I will accept—it just means I have a long way to go, but I know you’ll always be there to guide me… like you always have.”

Jidné wondered if her hand would feel soft, warm flesh. She was startled by the answer of her unspoken question when the Force Ghost’s hand nestled under her jaw. From that touch, her heart leaped wildly, skipping a beat one after the other; she couldn’t pinpoint if this was grief or joy—whichever it was, she perfectly knows that she’s been yearning this comforting touch from Master Anesh.

Tears streamed ceaselessly from her eyes, her breath shuddered as she tried to regain the rhythm of her breathing while savoring the feeling of Anesh’s touch—albeit only a vision. The Force Ghost never spoke a word, but the genuine, affirming smile didn’t disappear. The Jedi girl’s eyelids drooped, savoring the surreal yet warm caress of her master, she dared to hoist her own hand up to clutch back the hand… only to touch her own jaw.

Her eyes shot up and found the waterfall’s pool absent of any Force Ghost standing on the water as if it was the floor. Although, it felt like she’s had some kind of closure, and that was enough. Jidné mounted a Q’aval and she spurred the steed, galloping to an area of the forest where she and Cal have agreed to meet.

“Did I make you wait too long?” the girl beamed, dismounting the animal.

“Not really,”

The pair hiked through the forest, finding eroded structures such as a bridge over the river in the deeper part of the woods, hinting that this location must have connected to Diitana and its other villages before the overgrowth set in.

Jidné scaled the thick railing of the bridge and walked on its length like a tightrope as they walked. She slightly bobbed left and right, Cal held her one hand that’s closest to him as she continued to gently tread the bridge’s fence.

“Be careful or you’ll fall,”

“Would you catch me if I did?”

“Sure I will!”

Cal caught Jidné, holding her by the waist as she hopped down once she’s reached the end; her bead tassels faintly rattled and swung wildly after landing on the balls of her feet back onto the soil. The two were faced with a wide section of the woods, shaded by the great trees forming a large canopy over their heads—shielding them from the sun—and framed by the river snaking along the edge where the bridge stood.

At first glance, there was an eerie emptiness to it, which Cal found oddly serene and calming. He felt Jidné’s grip loosening around his fingers, he took it as a sign of caution; he takes notice of her irises carefully rolling from one side to the other, examining the breadth.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I…” she trailed off. “I thought I heard something. Probably an animal.”

The girl’s feet hesitated another step forward. Cal gently dragged her along and her legs were finally coaxed into moving. Jidné dismisses whatever it is that she felt as nothing—though her senses were still keen from earlier, the feeling that was left behind in her after that last encounter with Nomara’s Force Ghost is still fresh in her.

“What do you think was in here before?” the redhead wondered out loud.

Looking around, it seemed to be an open base until it was eventually abandoned for reasons unknown. Small structures and machines still stood, however, they’re already riddled with signs of negligence and weathering over time.

“Could’ve been a town outpost,” guessed Jidné. “Looks like one anyway.”

The two explored the desolate checkpoint, as well as ID-3 and BD-1 who filled their databanks with tons of scans around the place. Cal did more investigating rather than exploring it: picking up objects and using his Psychometry on them. He takes a small, tattered leather satchel leaning against one of the vapor towers and detects its Force Echo.

“This was place was an outpost all right, this was also a hotspot for wandering traders,”

“Until no one came here anymore,” Jidné finished.

“Wooo…” the probe droid lowed a sad yet spooked tone at Jidné’s sentence, to which she immediately consoled him that nothing’s going to hurt them in there.

On the northernmost point of the outpost was a path that may lead to the badlands, but the view comprised mostly path that connects the transitioning from desert to forest—and vice versa—as well as a view of the trenches that framed the road.

“Travelers who came from the direction of the badlands surely stopped here for rest and restocking supplies, until they reached Diitana,” the girl hypothesized.

“Well, that does explain some of the cluttered stuff. Do you think they were in a hurry to leave?”

“More like in a hurry to run,”

Cal shot her a look with a raised eyebrow, “From what?”

Both heads jerked to the empty space in front of them, their attention drawn by an incoherent roar in the distance followed by the rustling of the treetops and startled birds.

“Probably that,” blurted the girl.

“Come on, let’s mosey on other places where that thing won’t find us,”

It was most unusual for a pair of Jedi to take a stroll into the heart of the forest, though the fresh air that filled their lungs and the tranquility put their worries at bay. They came across another bank and rested there, refreshing their parched throats with the sweet, clear water.

“You know, you fit right in the crew,” Cal blurted out of nowhere.

The girl turned around and sat beside the redheaded Jedi, curious to know more with what he said.

“Oh?” she drew her legs up so she can rest her chin atop her knees. “You’d want me to tag along?”

“Why not? We can travel as a pair with our ships, I didn’t say we’d leave your freighter behind,”

Jidné smiled at the idea. She felt warm and fuzzy all of a sudden, then her mind began imagining what misadventures she, Cal, and the crew would bump into. The Mantis crew had a different flavor of fun in their mishaps, Jidné almost missed that feeling—it would’ve been nice to experience it all over again, this time, she won’t be alone in doing so.

“You’ll have more time to think about it later,” Cal leaned closer and planted a kiss on her forehead, the quick peck took her by surprise—the same way his kiss on her cheek did—and scrambled up to his feet, offering her his hand in the next second.

They decided to take on the path where the road connects the forest and badlands—a canyon pass, which they learned its moniker from the locals: the Red Wall. They stepped out of the green and yonder into the blood-orange trench. The roof of the trench was a gaping space where the sun managed to peek its rays through, as the two walls of rock split open to produce a wide, winding path.

As one would expect, the desert was barren and almost devoid of anything organic. The canyon was no stranger to that setting. The wind was beginning to pick up and dust was pricking the two youngsters’ faces so they shield themselves with the flaps of their cowl and poncho until the gust dies down. When it did, ID-3’s rather sensitive scanners were picking a signal, his tiny satellite dish spinning erratically on his head.

“What is it, ID?”

“BEEE-TRILL!!! CHIRP!”

“What?!”

Before Jidné could understand what ID-3 meant by “a lot of Imperial signals” the collective clicking sound of blaster rifles being cocked came from all directions, white-clad figures started materializing through the setting sand, but what alarmed the two young Jedi the most was the sound of a third saber being activated—followed by a throaty yet feminine chuckle.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Cal moaned.

The sand had finally cleared, and just like in Jidné’s memory, they were surrounded by Stormtroopers, led by a red female Twi’lek clad in a black ensemble with the bright white insignia of the Empire stamped on her gauntlets.

The Sixth Sister carried herself in a menacing yet graceful stride, emphasizing her height over the pair whom she perceived as mere children; her lightsaber—as crimson as her skin-glowed in her hand, while a smirk plays along the edge of her lips.

Cal ignited her saber upon sight of the new Inquisitor, readying himself in a defensive starting stance as he usually does, the smirk in the enemy’s lips grew. Due to his spiked alertness, he didn’t realize that Jidné hasn’t activated hers, instead, she stuck close against his back—quite reminiscent of her final scenario with Master Anesh against their clone troopers.

“Well, well,” the Inquisitor uttered in a singsong tune. Her eyes examined the boy from head to toe, her mouth finally stretched across her face to reveal a pearly white, fanged grin. “Look what we have here.”

“You’re new,” Cal blurted.

“And you must be Cal Kestis,” the Sixth Sister cooed. “Do me a favor and stand still while we cuff you up. Unless, you wanna do this the hard way.”

She peeked over Cal to find Jidné taking a sideways glance over her own shoulder.

“Well done, Jidné, just like Lord Vader asked—though a little overdue, if I may say so,”

Jidné’s eyebrows furrowed together until her forehead creased. Her heart raced so ceaselessly that her breathing couldn’t possibly keep up. Her brain sent out a string of sentences—almost causing a haywire—that when spoken, it’d be so fast-paced to comprehend, but the only thing that stuck in her head is Vader.

Cal’s mind as well ran endlessly and yet couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the Sixth Sister had just said. His grip around the hilt shook and loosened, eyes wide with bewilderment and confusion as he slowly turns to the girl he thought was an ally.

“Ji-Jidné…? You?”

The Inquisitor read the room and chortled once.

“You never told him?” she then turned to Cal. “She was sent out to get you—because apparently you have something of great importance to Lord Vader.”

Cal heard the Twi’lek but didn’t listen, he kept his eyes on Jidné, desperately searching for the truth to come out of her mouth or see it in her eyes.

“You’re a bounty hunter? And you never told me?”

“I was going to hand you over…” she murmured only within his earshot, the pressure’s taking its toll on her that she doesn’t have the strength to make her voice louder. “Until I decided not to anymore.”

Before Cal could even process what she meant, the Twi’lek signaled the Stormtoopers—one of them produced binders for Cal, another shoved Jidné away for her to watch him be apprehended right in front of her, whilst the rest of them close in around with caution around the Jedi boy. By instinct, Cal fought back—particular the Stormtrooper who held the cuffs and the other who pushed Jidné away.

A single swing of his saber and the Sixth Sister brandished hers in the speed of lightning. The boy could feel the glow pulsing out of the red beam hovering at mere inches away from his only flawless cheek.

“I wouldn’t go for it if I were you, ginger,” the Twi’lek blurted.

Cal lowered his saber and switched it off, prompting the Stormtroopers to continue what they should be doing to him. The trooper confiscated the Jedi’s weapon and took his hands to his back and secured the metal binders around his wrists. Deep inside Jidné, she wanted to whip out her saber and take them all on—she even dared in her mind to face the Sixth Sister—but it would be doubly difficult for herself and Cal, should he ever choose to back her up.

“Take him away,” Sixth Sister aloofly waved her hand, gesturing at the troopers to put Cal into the transport shuttle at the end of the trench.

“No…!” Jidné exclaimed out of the blue.

The Inquisitor immediately reacted to it, “No?”

She made a back-and-forth glance between the cuffed boy and the girl standing there frozen, another sardonic laugh came out of her throat and she felt the need to tilt her head back for emphasis.

“Oooh, dear gods!” she sighed. “Honey, you can’t be serious?”

The two Jedi stood there in silence, eyes shifting between one another and then to the Sixth Sister, this urged her to elaborate. She strode towards Jidné and cupped her jaw, taking the Jedi girl by surprise; she tried to fight it, slightly thrashing her head to shake off the Inquisitor’s grasp but to no avail.

“Don’t tell me, sweetie, you’ve fallen for the boy?”

Upon asking the question, Cal skidded his boots against the soil, halting his pace to anticipate Jidné’s response.

The Inquisitor’s reply was a low growl rumbling within Jidné’s throat—it did very little to intimidate her, it rather amused her, and she took it as a yes. A pink line appeared on the girl’s jaw underneath the older humanoid’s long, polished fingernails. She licked her lips and grinned.

“That’s cute…” she clicked her tongue. “But sad.”

The Sixth Sister shoved Jidné’s face away from her hand, finally letting her go. Her suggestive, coy tone transformed into a firm and demanding one. She turned aroud as she followed behind the Stormtoopers pushing Cal into their vessel.

“Chart a course to Mustafar,” the Twi’lek stopped and turned around to find Jidné standing as still as a rock pillar. “Oh, you’re coming too, Jidné, sweetie. Can’t collect your bounty without getting it from the source, hmm?”

The whole time as they walked through the rest of the canyon pass, Jidné can’t find the strength to look at Cal in the eye and face him as this revelation unfurls at this very moment. Having no other choice, she pressed a button on her right-hand gauntlet which remotely activated and controlled the Scarab—even from afar. A distant rumble thundered, followed by the whirring of an engine’s throttle until the sound got closer and louder.

The Scarab zoomed past above their heads and—using her gauntlet remote—landed right beside the deep gray transport shuttle waiting for them at the end of the path. The exit ramp unfolded as soon as its landing gears touched the drought-plagued soil. She entered the safety of the Scarab, but she wasn’t exactly relieved—not the slightest bit.

“Beee, chirp trill?”

“I know, ID, and it’s all my fault!” she retorted, her anger mixing with her stress heavily affected her speaking tone. She marched to the cockpit and settled herself on the captain’s seat.

From where she sat, she watched the bevy of Stormtroopers herd Cal into the transport while the Twi’lek Inqusiitor was the last board the shuttle—before she did, she gave Jidné a passing glance when she turned in the direction of the Scarab’s windshield. Jidné watched steadily until the entry ramp sealed off the hole where all of the passengers of the transport went through.

“I should’ve told him earlier on,” she snarled, regretting the moment of telling the truth too late. She slapped her forehead. “Fucking idiot!”

Cal was relieved of the handcuffs when he was thrown into the holding area guarded by a pair of Stormtroopers on the other side of the door. During occasional peeks through the small rectangle on the door that served as a window, the soldiers found him surprisingly still and calm, one guessed that he was trying to sleep through the trip.

In truth, Cal has spaced out for he can’t pinpoint the emotions that’s gathered in his very being and all of them revolved around Jidné. He starts with his infatuation for her until, it would be violently interrupted by the loud confusion that birthed from the moment the Sixth Sister opened her mouth and exposed Jidné’s agenda.

“I was going to hand you over… until I decided not to.”

Her words had burned its way into his head. He afforded the luxury of meditating through the rest of the journey. When he closed his eyes, he felt a faint pang of Jidné’s energy mingling with his—as if in an attempt to resonate, but slowly dying down like candlelight on the verge of being extinguished. In the middle of his trance, he could sense a sheer amount of regret, a soul that was once loud with laughter and stories has become languid and dispirited—although, buried within those inhibitions was a tiny spark that seemed to be holding up. He followed that spark, but it kept eluding him; just when he thought his subconscious self has gained on that little speck of light, he was cut short of his meditation when the turbulence from the atmosphere rattled the vessel.

They have arrived.

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