( an encrypted message, bounced via multiple relays across the outer rim, slow in arriving. )
hey m —
i hope this gets to you ok, it's been tough hitting comm relays out here, they're usually down for maintenance.
the ship is quiet without you guys. you left your cloak behind, but i guess you'll be buying a new one at whatever market you hit next. i'm pretty sure the bogling misses you, it keeps taking naps in your old cot.
i
how's tricks in the wider galaxy? still being an unholy terror?
Hello, Cal Kestis. It is good to hear that you have not yet gotten yourself into more trouble than you can get out of. I was not worried, but I hope you're being careful all the same.
The galaxy is much bigger than I could conceive of, and some parts of it are less habitable than others. There are few who welcome the idea of a Nightsister in their midst. It's lucky I don't want to stay in one place for long.
Keep the cloak if you like. If the bogling has not made a bed of it by the time our paths cross again, I will take it back.
I hope whoever you've found to travel with you reminds you to sleep sometimes. You make terrible decisions on no sleep.
i was running on empty for a while but saw got me a new team for the next mission. so there are six of us now -- more people than we ever had on our crew, which means quarters are getting pretty cramped, like, there's actually a line for the refresher most mornings. it's crowded. kinda like things were back at the temple. it's nice. weird, but nice.
i almost told someone they were sitting in your seat at dinner, but i'm getting used to it now.
It's that conjuring spoon of his. You should've asked to keep it.
My Sisters and I always shared close quarters when we were small. Even now it's strange to be apart from them, but I'm...adapting. Again. I am happy you've found new companions for this part of your journey. You can't save the entire galaxy on your own, even with a vat of caf.
( cere leaving him was a raw wound. all of them leaving had hurt, but it had dug in just a little sharper with her; somehow losing one master had made it worse the second time, rather than better. )
Maul had come back to Dathomir after being away for several years. This place held nothing but ghosts for him any longer, the memories of his family making the familiar planet painful for him. But it was still the closest place Maul had ever had to call home and so he couldn't stay away forever.
He went in the direction of the old Nightsister village. The place felt haunted, even more so than just the usual oppressive feeling of the Dark Side that ran through the whole planet, and he wondered if some ghosts were hanging about because of the violent manner in which they had all been wiped out. That was when he sensed something in the Force. A life form drawing near. One hand went to the lightsaber at his waist and he said in a gruff voice: "Come out now and stop hiding."
Merrin had likewise come back after a number of years away; she kept delaying the visit, unable to put words to the reasons behind her own reluctance until the day came when the need to return overcame her nameless fears.
She appeared in a flash of green magick and stood at a safe distance from the unfamiliar Nightbrother, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she regarded him with an equal measure of curiosity and wariness.
"I am not hiding."
She squinted at him, something pinging in her memory at last. Though all of Talzin's sons had left home before Merrin came to train with her, she'd heard them spoken of and seen their likenesses amongst her clan Mother's possessions.
"You are one of Mother Talzin's sons, are you not?"
The green flash brought up old, well-worn memories of the magick his mother used. His eyes grew wide when he saw who it was. A Nightsister! He'd thought all of them were long-dead, extinct with the death of Ventress years ago. He was surprised to be recognized but gave a nod of acknowledgement."I am. My name is Maul."
He looked at the Nightsister carefully, noting the tattoos on her face that marked her as belonging to the clan. She looked younger than him, young enough to have still been a child when the rest of her sisters were killed. "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, for I do not know who you are."
She regards him warily, noting the lightsaber but having little idea what to make of it. Her clan Mother had spoken of him being trained as a Sith. Merrin had been too small to truly understand at the time, but she knew now the harm that the Sith had caused. She knew now that it was one who destroyed her sisters.
But she's also learned not to snap to judgment, thanks to Cal Kestis. Thanks to a handful of years of traveling the galaxy.
"Why have you come here, Maul? As you can see, my sisters are long gone. Even some of the Nightbrothers have chosen to leave now that there is nothing left to bind them here but painful memories."
Coruscant was increasingly dangerous these days — Cal had barely made it off-planet alive last time and didn’t like the prospect of returning, too-haunted by the reminder of what had happened — but it turned out there were benefits to being friends with a near-celebrity deejay like Ashe Javi. Not every concert happened on Coruscant; far from it. They gave him a tip about an upcoming gig on a mid-Rim space station which was rarely patrolled by the Empire, the concert announcement mostly passed along via underground holonet messages, a burgeoning punk scene rising under the imperial heel.
Which is how he and Merrin find themselves here this evening, finally taking that date night. After everything they’d been through, he’d been at risk of being consumed by the thought of Tanalorr, all his energy poured into continuing his master’s legacy with the Hidden Path and forgetting to live himself — but Merrin was one of the main chiding voices on his shoulder reminding him to take a break. To relax and still have fun sometimes. To be with her.
So here they are. Cal passes a few credits to the bouncer, and then reaches out and catches Merrin’s hand so they don’t lose each other as they press into the packed building, squeezing through the sweaty crowd, following the deep bass thrum pulsing through the ribs of the warehouse repurposed as a concert space. To be heard in all the noise, Cal has to lean close, his mouth practically pressed against her ear.
“This is The Agasar!” he says, beaming. “They’re one of my favourite bands!”
Merrin was honestly surprised when Cal suggested the concert. His drive and dedication to his personal mission were part of what had drawn her to him in the first place; she understood that pressing need to make everything they'd been through count for something.
But her time away had also taught her that living was more than merely surviving, and that there were things worth stopping to truly experience, whether or not they served any greater purpose. She's just relieved that Cal was starting to see it, too. That he was willing to allow himself this downtime with her, though it meant taking time away from the fight.
She squeezes his hand in return and gifts him with one of her rare smiles. The crowd is a bit much for her, but its energy seemed to pulse in time with the beat in a way that couldn't help but lift her spirits, carrying the concerns of the past few days along with it.
"I remember. Every time this one plays in Pyloon's your eyes light up, no matter how tired you seemed when you walked in."
“—You noticed?” he shout-asks (of course she did, Cal, you dummy), and he winds up grinning sheepishly, ducking his head, cheeks already starting to heat. He blushes so easily as a pale redhead; it’s one of the endearing things about him.
His hand squeezes more firmly around hers, and they move further into the makeshift club together.
And for a while it’s loud enough that they can’t hear each other at all — there’s just the pounding bass underfoot, a synchronised stomp, everyone jumping and moving together to the beat and the chant. The living Force is wild in a place like this: so much energy careening off the walls, a bright spark in the air, everyone in sync to the same song.
It’s such a far cry from the lonely years on Bracca, or lonely years on Dathomir. But no wonder Cal likes it: it’s like tapping right into something ancient, something linking everyone. It’s not a meditation, but it’s not not a meditation. You don’t have to think about anything, you just empty your mind and go along with the beat. He had emptied his mind so many times, this song blasting in his ears and drowning out the sound of the scrapyard, his hands moving on autopilot to dissect another starship and another piece from his own life.
So. They dance, until finally one of them tires out, until having to signal his hand against the small of her back or her palm against his chest, drawing their attention to point over to the bar for a drink and the quieter balcony upstairs to take a break.
She never quite gets tired of making him blush. It's far too easy even now, and though she tries not to misuse that knowledge, it's very difficult sometimes to predict just how very little positive attention it takes to mildly embarrass him. She refrains from teasing him about it this time, if only because the music drowns out the possibility of conversation -- at least of the verbal kind.
Merrin isn't used to this specific energy, but she remembers the nights as a child when all of her sisters came together to chant, to perform great rituals as a group, to whip their shared magicks into a wild and fearsome energy that still held a spark of life even in the midst of much death. She closes her eyes and lets the rhythm take her, presses close to Cal and allows him to be her anchor in the storm of this place until she's flushed and breathless, herself.
After they've broken away, she leans against the railing and watches the crowd below for a few moments of simple appreciation before turning back to Cal with a soft smile.
"I understand why you enjoy this. It's very you."
She hopes her tone makes it clear that she means it positively, but just in case --
[ Merrin is reasonably sure she's not capable of being sick again by now, but she's not willing to test that theory by doing anything more complicated than curling up and attempting to rest. Cal's asking her questions, and she isn't sure she's entirely up for talking, but at least it gives her something to focus on besides how achy and shivery she feels even with the offending substance out of her system. His voice is soothing, anyway, though BD's annoyingly bright chirps threaten to make her head hurt.
She hesitates a moment before doing as Cal suggested, settling herself with her head in his lap with a small sigh and answering his earlier question. ]
All of us had basic training in healing; we knew how to make healing teas and medicines and we would take turns looking after whichever sister needed assistance. Often the youngest of us were tasked with it since we were not yet fully trained in magick; it is how I ended up becoming close to my dearest sister Ilyana. She had broken her leg, and while she could not walk on her own she needed someone with her.
[ It catches her off-guard, a sudden wave of sadness; Ilyana had never been far from her thoughts, but Merrin had never been so far from Ilyana -- or, at least, her resting place, the place where she could still speak to her sisters and know that something of them remained close and present even after so long. Her breath catches sharply in her throat and she shuts her eyes against the sting of unwanted tears; she's miserable enough without making it worse. ]
[ Cal holds up a finger to his lips, silently gesturing for the droid to keep it down for Merrin. BD acquiesces with a small silent beep of apology. Ever their silent and watchful guardian, he hunkers down near Cal's shoulder. He uses the force to gently readjust the blanket around her. They've sat like this before. During his recovery after Nur when he'd been quarantined to the ship or when one of them couldn't sleep, had a nightmare.
He thinks that talking would likely help her focus on anything but feeling miserable and ill, but the wave of sadness is palpable and thick - and she's sniffing miserably. Cal swallows, gently brushing her hair back. ]
I'm sorry. It's not something you have to talk about right now if you don't want to. But maybe... you could tell me more about her sometime? You've mentioned her before.
[ Someone who meant a lot to her, and was now gone. Like Caleb, who'd brought him chocolate pudding from the mess after a particularly bad echo had him laid up in the healing ward for several days observation, who Cal had spent months following around in admiration of the older initiate.
[ Merrin wriggles down under the blankets as much as she can and makes a small involuntary sigh of appreciation when Cal touches her hair. It's been such a long time since anyone was gentle with her before Cal came along. She'd come to tell herself that she did not need any comfort, largely because there was none to be had on Dathomir. But here it is easy to close her eyes and allow herself to be soothed, even if she would still protest that she does not strictly require it. ]
Do not be sorry. Ilyana was... she was special to me. We were only children when we met. She died before we could ever be anything more.
[ A childhood crush, perhaps, but she had loved Ilyana the best of any of her sisters, and she was gone, and some days it still hurt as badly as the day she'd lost her. She knows she doesn't have to tell Cal how that feels, so she doesn't try, and instead answers his other question. ]
One of those holo programs that do not require much thought, perhaps. If I fall asleep I will not feel as though I have missed much.
[ Cal has the distinct image of Merrin, much younger than she is now; happy and unburdened by the sorrow and anger she carries with her now. With her sisters - he knows perhaps a bit too well the way she feels and while he can't do much more than distract her, he can at least do that. Until she wishes to talk about it, if she ever does. ]
I was the first initiate in my clan to be made a Padawan, but I was also the youngest. Not because I was particularly gifted or anything, but because of my psychometry. [ He pauses thoughtfully, before continuing his ministrations with her hair. ] Anyways, I didn't have the best control and it often landed me in the healing ward -- another older boy named Caleb would sometimes bring me sweets from the kitchens or distract the medic so I could escape when it got too boring. We were inseparable, until I left the Temple.
[ He snickers; force they were such trouble - it's easier to think of this than knowing that he doesn't know how his friend died. So he doesn't let himself dwell, brightening with an idea. ]
Alright. Think I know just the one.
[ He flips on the datapad and fiddles with it to come to a program that Greez had recorded. It's one that Cal had found himself getting really invested in while he'd been recovering after Nur, nearly three weeks confined to the ship and nearly going crazy during that time. ]
So Kyra here is about to confront her cheating ex-husband about him trying to kill her, what she doesn't know is that he's actually a shapeshifter and that her real husband has been dead since halfway through the marriage...
4. Not only did I hold your hair back as you puked, I braided it. I am such a great friend.>/font>
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Yes, you are a great friend. Hair down to knees, do you know what a pain to wash it is? Sidenote: don't let me drink that purple-pink concoction again. No matter how much I scream "it's so pretty!"
She had been tending the garden she'd begun cultivating inside one of the windmill's lower levels, which had left her in a pleasant mood. When her device had rung, she hadn't even minded the interruption, which she normally would have been cross about.
Seeing the name on it makes her frown. Sure she'd told her Sister's mate the Jedi could call on her if there was a need, but he hadn't, leaving the Sisters to communicate together. And a quick conversation, with his worried tone, had quickly cleared up why. Merrin was ill, Cal had been trying to care for her, but she wasn't improving. And Morgan had been trying to grow plants similar to Dathomiri ones, ones meant for spells and rituals and medicine, something she'd shared with Merrin.
She'd promised to be on her way once she gathered some supplies which was true - but she'd also sent a message to their Brother. She tended to give him notice if she expected to be away for several days.
When she'd arrived, Morgan had a basket of herbs, tinctures, and various other things and he'd ushered her to Merrin's sickbed, her Sister looking quite dreadful. Morgan muttered under her breath, and shooed him out, before kneeling down, one hand going to Merrin's forehead, both to feel Merrin, her temperature, her energy, with touch and a little Magick. Her other hand was picking through the basket, not needing to look at the contents to know which was what.
"I'm here now Sister, I've brought medicine." Her voice was tense but gentle.
It's been nearly a week of misery, and even Merrin had become mildly concerned with her lack of improvement. At first, she'd shooed Cal away out of concern for the contagiousness of this particular illness -- and because she preferred to suffer in solitude out of habit. Cal wasn't hovering so much as simply radiating too much concern for her to attend to in her current state.
"I told him not to worry you," Merrin rasped, her voice hoarse from coughing and disuse. She was far too warm for comfort, her fever annoyingly persistent despite her attempts to sleep it off. She's a shade paler than normal, which should be nearly impossible given her already desaturated skintone. It has the effect of making the dark circles under her eyes stand out rather alarmingly. It was easy to see why Cal called.
She forced a thin smile in spite of herself.
"Your medicine will at least be a welcome break from the Jedi's attempts at soup. Do not tell him I said so."
Morgan frowned as she took in her Sister. "He should have bothered me sooner." Staying in her kneeling position, she looked through the basket, pulling out a soft piece of fabric, stained from various potions but clean, abs poured on the contents of a bottle, black-purple in color with a strong smell of freshly cut greens, and worked the liquid to cover the cloth without waste. When applied to Merrin's head it applied a cooling sensation, but made her pallor really stand out.
"I'll brew you some tea, and see about putting together a stew for you do he can copy it." And probably physically drag him until the kitchen once Merrin was well for lessons.
Merrin sighed in relief at the touch of the cool cloth against her overheated skin. The smell of the medicine brought back memories she thought she'd lost, of her caring for Ilyana when a wound in her leg had brought on a fever. And before that, of being looked after as a small child with some normal childhood illness that had nonetheless felt as though she was dying at the time.
"You needn't go to all that trouble. Cal means well; he just has far different tastes than I do."
Maybe it was just the illness; she hadn't had much appetite even before Cal had given her under-spiced soup that tasted of nothing so much as salt. What Merrin wanted most was sleep, which remained elusive between fever dreams and late-night coughing fits, and Cal vibrating with concern every time he came within ten feet of her.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
post-jfo, pre-survivor.
hey m —
i hope this gets to you ok, it's been tough hitting comm relays out here, they're usually down for maintenance.
the ship is quiet without you guys. you left your cloak behind, but i guess you'll be buying a new one at whatever market you hit next. i'm pretty sure the bogling misses you, it keeps taking naps in your old cot.
ihow's tricks in the wider galaxy? still being an unholy terror?
- c.
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Hello, Cal Kestis. It is good to hear that you have not yet gotten yourself into more trouble than you can get out of. I was not worried, but I hope you're being careful all the same.
The galaxy is much bigger than I could conceive of, and some parts of it are less habitable than others. There are few who welcome the idea of a Nightsister in their midst. It's lucky I don't want to stay in one place for long.
Keep the cloak if you like. If the bogling has not made a bed of it by the time our paths cross again, I will take it back.
I hope whoever you've found to travel with you reminds you to sleep sometimes. You make terrible decisions on no sleep.
Be well.
- Merrin
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( this is patently false. )
i was running on empty for a while but saw got me a new team for the next mission. so there are six of us now -- more people than we ever had on our crew, which means quarters are getting pretty cramped, like, there's actually a line for the refresher most mornings. it's crowded. kinda like things were back at the temple. it's nice. weird, but nice.
i almost told someone they were sitting in your seat at dinner, but i'm getting used to it now.
nobody cooks like greez, though.
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My Sisters and I always shared close quarters when we were small. Even now it's strange to be apart from them, but I'm...adapting. Again. I am happy you've found new companions for this part of your journey. You can't save the entire galaxy on your own, even with a vat of caf.
Have you spoken to Cere recently?
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( cere leaving him was a raw wound. all of them leaving had hurt, but it had dug in just a little sharper with her; somehow losing one master had made it worse the second time, rather than better. )
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He went in the direction of the old Nightsister village. The place felt haunted, even more so than just the usual oppressive feeling of the Dark Side that ran through the whole planet, and he wondered if some ghosts were hanging about because of the violent manner in which they had all been wiped out. That was when he sensed something in the Force. A life form drawing near. One hand went to the lightsaber at his waist and he said in a gruff voice: "Come out now and stop hiding."
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She appeared in a flash of green magick and stood at a safe distance from the unfamiliar Nightbrother, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she regarded him with an equal measure of curiosity and wariness.
"I am not hiding."
She squinted at him, something pinging in her memory at last. Though all of Talzin's sons had left home before Merrin came to train with her, she'd heard them spoken of and seen their likenesses amongst her clan Mother's possessions.
"You are one of Mother Talzin's sons, are you not?"
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He looked at the Nightsister carefully, noting the tattoos on her face that marked her as belonging to the clan. She looked younger than him, young enough to have still been a child when the rest of her sisters were killed. "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, for I do not know who you are."
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She regards him warily, noting the lightsaber but having little idea what to make of it. Her clan Mother had spoken of him being trained as a Sith. Merrin had been too small to truly understand at the time, but she knew now the harm that the Sith had caused. She knew now that it was one who destroyed her sisters.
But she's also learned not to snap to judgment, thanks to Cal Kestis. Thanks to a handful of years of traveling the galaxy.
"Why have you come here, Maul? As you can see, my sisters are long gone. Even some of the Nightbrothers have chosen to leave now that there is nothing left to bind them here but painful memories."
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“ᴇꜱᴇᴇʀɪɴ ᴠᴀꜱᴀʜɪɴᴀ” ♫ https://youtu.be/UjtOUwErXyo
Which is how he and Merrin find themselves here this evening, finally taking that date night. After everything they’d been through, he’d been at risk of being consumed by the thought of Tanalorr, all his energy poured into continuing his master’s legacy with the Hidden Path and forgetting to live himself — but Merrin was one of the main chiding voices on his shoulder reminding him to take a break. To relax and still have fun sometimes. To be with her.
So here they are. Cal passes a few credits to the bouncer, and then reaches out and catches Merrin’s hand so they don’t lose each other as they press into the packed building, squeezing through the sweaty crowd, following the deep bass thrum pulsing through the ribs of the warehouse repurposed as a concert space. To be heard in all the noise, Cal has to lean close, his mouth practically pressed against her ear.
“This is The Agasar!” he says, beaming. “They’re one of my favourite bands!”
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But her time away had also taught her that living was more than merely surviving, and that there were things worth stopping to truly experience, whether or not they served any greater purpose. She's just relieved that Cal was starting to see it, too. That he was willing to allow himself this downtime with her, though it meant taking time away from the fight.
She squeezes his hand in return and gifts him with one of her rare smiles. The crowd is a bit much for her, but its energy seemed to pulse in time with the beat in a way that couldn't help but lift her spirits, carrying the concerns of the past few days along with it.
"I remember. Every time this one plays in Pyloon's your eyes light up, no matter how tired you seemed when you walked in."
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“—You noticed?” he shout-asks (of course she did, Cal, you dummy), and he winds up grinning sheepishly, ducking his head, cheeks already starting to heat. He blushes so easily as a pale redhead; it’s one of the endearing things about him.
His hand squeezes more firmly around hers, and they move further into the makeshift club together.
And for a while it’s loud enough that they can’t hear each other at all — there’s just the pounding bass underfoot, a synchronised stomp, everyone jumping and moving together to the beat and the chant. The living Force is wild in a place like this: so much energy careening off the walls, a bright spark in the air, everyone in sync to the same song.
It’s such a far cry from the lonely years on Bracca, or lonely years on Dathomir. But no wonder Cal likes it: it’s like tapping right into something ancient, something linking everyone. It’s not a meditation, but it’s not not a meditation. You don’t have to think about anything, you just empty your mind and go along with the beat. He had emptied his mind so many times, this song blasting in his ears and drowning out the sound of the scrapyard, his hands moving on autopilot to dissect another starship and another piece from his own life.
So. They dance, until finally one of them tires out, until having to signal his hand against the small of her back or her palm against his chest, drawing their attention to point over to the bar for a drink and the quieter balcony upstairs to take a break.
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Merrin isn't used to this specific energy, but she remembers the nights as a child when all of her sisters came together to chant, to perform great rituals as a group, to whip their shared magicks into a wild and fearsome energy that still held a spark of life even in the midst of much death. She closes her eyes and lets the rhythm take her, presses close to Cal and allows him to be her anchor in the storm of this place until she's flushed and breathless, herself.
After they've broken away, she leans against the railing and watches the crowd below for a few moments of simple appreciation before turning back to Cal with a soft smile.
"I understand why you enjoy this. It's very you."
She hopes her tone makes it clear that she means it positively, but just in case --
"I'm glad you asked me here tonight."
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tfln | @rebuilder
[ Merrin is reasonably sure she's not capable of being sick again by now, but she's not willing to test that theory by doing anything more complicated than curling up and attempting to rest. Cal's asking her questions, and she isn't sure she's entirely up for talking, but at least it gives her something to focus on besides how achy and shivery she feels even with the offending substance out of her system. His voice is soothing, anyway, though BD's annoyingly bright chirps threaten to make her head hurt.
She hesitates a moment before doing as Cal suggested, settling herself with her head in his lap with a small sigh and answering his earlier question. ]
All of us had basic training in healing; we knew how to make healing teas and medicines and we would take turns looking after whichever sister needed assistance. Often the youngest of us were tasked with it since we were not yet fully trained in magick; it is how I ended up becoming close to my dearest sister Ilyana. She had broken her leg, and while she could not walk on her own she needed someone with her.
[ It catches her off-guard, a sudden wave of sadness; Ilyana had never been far from her thoughts, but Merrin had never been so far from Ilyana -- or, at least, her resting place, the place where she could still speak to her sisters and know that something of them remained close and present even after so long. Her breath catches sharply in her throat and she shuts her eyes against the sting of unwanted tears; she's miserable enough without making it worse. ]
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He thinks that talking would likely help her focus on anything but feeling miserable and ill, but the wave of sadness is palpable and thick - and she's sniffing miserably. Cal swallows, gently brushing her hair back. ]
I'm sorry. It's not something you have to talk about right now if you don't want to. But maybe... you could tell me more about her sometime? You've mentioned her before.
[ Someone who meant a lot to her, and was now gone. Like Caleb, who'd brought him chocolate pudding from the mess after a particularly bad echo had him laid up in the healing ward for several days observation, who Cal had spent months following around in admiration of the older initiate.
He sighed. ]
D'you want me to put something on?
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Do not be sorry. Ilyana was... she was special to me. We were only children when we met. She died before we could ever be anything more.
[ A childhood crush, perhaps, but she had loved Ilyana the best of any of her sisters, and she was gone, and some days it still hurt as badly as the day she'd lost her. She knows she doesn't have to tell Cal how that feels, so she doesn't try, and instead answers his other question. ]
One of those holo programs that do not require much thought, perhaps. If I fall asleep I will not feel as though I have missed much.
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I was the first initiate in my clan to be made a Padawan, but I was also the youngest. Not because I was particularly gifted or anything, but because of my psychometry. [ He pauses thoughtfully, before continuing his ministrations with her hair. ] Anyways, I didn't have the best control and it often landed me in the healing ward -- another older boy named Caleb would sometimes bring me sweets from the kitchens or distract the medic so I could escape when it got too boring. We were inseparable, until I left the Temple.
[ He snickers; force they were such trouble - it's easier to think of this than knowing that he doesn't know how his friend died. So he doesn't let himself dwell, brightening with an idea. ]
Alright. Think I know just the one.
[ He flips on the datapad and fiddles with it to come to a program that Greez had recorded. It's one that Cal had found himself getting really invested in while he'd been recovering after Nur, nearly three weeks confined to the ship and nearly going crazy during that time. ]
So Kyra here is about to confront her cheating ex-husband about him trying to kill her, what she doesn't know is that he's actually a shapeshifter and that her real husband has been dead since halfway through the marriage...
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Tfln 4
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Yes, you are a great friend. Hair down to knees, do you know what a pain to wash it is?
Sidenote: don't let me drink that purple-pink concoction again. No matter how much I scream "it's so pretty!"
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It was very pretty. Fortunately for me it doesn't appear to have the same effect on zabrak physiology.
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That's good - both of us down wouldn't have been good for... many people.
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Are you feeling better now?
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Sick Meme VAGUELY FM setting?
Seeing the name on it makes her frown. Sure she'd told her Sister's mate the Jedi could call on her if there was a need, but he hadn't, leaving the Sisters to communicate together. And a quick conversation, with his worried tone, had quickly cleared up why. Merrin was ill, Cal had been trying to care for her, but she wasn't improving. And Morgan had been trying to grow plants similar to Dathomiri ones, ones meant for spells and rituals and medicine, something she'd shared with Merrin.
She'd promised to be on her way once she gathered some supplies which was true - but she'd also sent a message to their Brother. She tended to give him notice if she expected to be away for several days.
When she'd arrived, Morgan had a basket of herbs, tinctures, and various other things and he'd ushered her to Merrin's sickbed, her Sister looking quite dreadful. Morgan muttered under her breath, and shooed him out, before kneeling down, one hand going to Merrin's forehead, both to feel Merrin, her temperature, her energy, with touch and a little Magick. Her other hand was picking through the basket, not needing to look at the contents to know which was what.
"I'm here now Sister, I've brought medicine." Her voice was tense but gentle.
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"I told him not to worry you," Merrin rasped, her voice hoarse from coughing and disuse. She was far too warm for comfort, her fever annoyingly persistent despite her attempts to sleep it off. She's a shade paler than normal, which should be nearly impossible given her already desaturated skintone. It has the effect of making the dark circles under her eyes stand out rather alarmingly. It was easy to see why Cal called.
She forced a thin smile in spite of herself.
"Your medicine will at least be a welcome break from the Jedi's attempts at soup. Do not tell him I said so."
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"I'll brew you some tea, and see about putting together a stew for you do he can copy it." And probably physically drag him until the kitchen once Merrin was well for lessons.
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"You needn't go to all that trouble. Cal means well; he just has far different tastes than I do."
Maybe it was just the illness; she hadn't had much appetite even before Cal had given her under-spiced soup that tasted of nothing so much as salt. What Merrin wanted most was sleep, which remained elusive between fever dreams and late-night coughing fits, and Cal vibrating with concern every time he came within ten feet of her.
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