rebuilder | dathomirs | for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

dathomirs | for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

The directive was a simple one. Routine even. For the Inquisitorious' most loyal hound, it was a test of his extensive conditioning. He wasn't a normal Inquisitor - where there was some level of free will with them, with this one, most, if not all of it had been snuffed out He had one order, and one order only: obey.

Often, obey meant kill. Destroy. Terminate a target, eliminate a base or a threat by wiping it off the map and vanishing as if he'd never been there. No evidence. Typically, he was sent alone, where an Inquisitor would have an entire squadron of troopers to lead. There wasn't much else. He was a blank slate, a sum of what they made him into, a ghost. He didn't think of himself as anything because his thoughts were all programmed by someone else.

As was his training.

Whoever he'd once been had been washed away under months of torture and conditioning until he truly was nothing but a weapon of the Empire.

(It wasn't foolproof - on more than one occasion a hint of something would slip through his shields, causing him to question... but they'd take him back and start fresh, wipe the slate all over again).

The pilot did not let up once they landed on the nearly empty ruins of the planet Dathomir. A nightsister, his target, there had been a knowing smile on Grand's face but he did not know what it meant nor did he care enough to ask as he gathered his gear and boarded the ship. The chip in his hand revealed a woman, zabrak by the look of it - according to the information, one of the last of her kind. He said nothing, or felt nothing as he stared at the holographic image for a moment longer than normal, before stashing it once again. Adjusting his helmet, he drew his saber and stepped lightly over the rust red terrain to where he believed he would find her.

When he found the woman in question, he engaged, red blade flashing as he ducked, dodged, and struck against her. She was powerful; the report had said as much - not to underestimate her and do not come back until the job was complete. For a while it seemed like they were both on even ground and fairly matched well. Neither had the upper hand.

Not until she slipped past his defenses once, for only a second. The strike was strong enough to throw him back off his feel, the blank mask flying off his face as he hit the ground.

Get. Up. Do not fail. Or else.

Head still bowed, he climbed awkwardly back to his feet before meeting his opponents eyes, wiping blood from his mouth. Green eyes stared back from a face that might be all too familiar, if not slightly different - pale and thinner, but unmistakably the face of someone long since dead and gone stares back, eyes full of hate and rage, pain screaming into the force.

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He perks up slightly at that, eyes widening slightly. "Springs. I mean... hot springs are fine. I can't remember the last time I got to bathe with actual water." Sonic freshers had nothing on running hot water, and Cal has no desire to set foot on a ship yet. Tight metal walls on every side of him, with only one exit?

Merrin was right to be cautious in that regard.

Cal nods and takes her hand and pulls himself up, still unsteady and unbalanced; grateful for the help. He feels weak, like a baby boggling - but the metaphor isn't completely far off given he's just been pulled out of a two year nightmare. Awake, the cool air on his skin, the crunch of dirt under his feet. Even the air in his lungs feel different than it did only a matter of minutes ago. He's seeing the red sky of Dathomir through new eyes, and Merrin... he swallows.

She's obviously important to him, and he recalls some of their adventures together and that he feels some kind of way, but what were they? Did they meet here? Should he ask her?

"Lead the way."

Merrin smiles softly at his reaction, some of the tension leaving the set of her shoulders now that he seems a little closer to the Cal she remembers. She forces herself to let go of his hand after she's certain he's steady enough on his feet; if she had her way she would not let go of him for an instant, but practicality means leaving both of their hands free in the event of some new threat. Speaking of which --

"Do you want your lightsaber back? None of the Nightbrothers remain in this village, but the wildlife is no more welcoming than it was during your last visit, and you are very prone to stepping where you shouldn't."

She doesn't like the idea of giving him back the red-bladed saber, but his old one is tucked safely away on her ship, and she's not letting him touch that until he's feeling more stable.

He follows her, at a close distance - taking in his surroundings. His mind refuses to not examine every turn for a threat or an objective. It is, to say the least, frustrating. BD's small steps behind them for a moment are the only sound he focuses on. Between both him and Merrin, Cal is aware he doesn't have to be so hyper focused on being on guard.

His back where his lightsaber is typically attached to his uniform seems empty and he feels a little bit naked without it but touching it - he's never got an echo of himself beffore and he doesn't want to start now. Or of the people he's killed.

Cal shakes his head. "No. Just hold onto it for me, for now. If we wind up needing it you can give it back to me, but I'd rather not." A beat. "Do you still have my actual saber? I don't know if I had it on me... when I got. Taken."

Merrin nods, her expression turning solemn. This isn't something she'd wanted to speak of yet, but perhaps sooner is better than later. Get past the parts that are going to hurt all at once.

"I was able to recover it afterward. Your betrayer had it."

She leaves the how unspoken; Cal doesn't need those details. Not yet, maybe not ever.

"He will not be returning to threaten you again. You can take it back when you are ready, but I do not know what you will see after so long away from it."

If it's like BD-1, she imagines he'll see a lot of fighting. A lot of killing. Perhaps not the best thing for him right this instant. But her ship is in sight, and the saber within it, so the option is there.

"I'll stop for medical supplies and soap; you can decide if you want to risk it now or later."

"Oh. Thanks, then." Cal might not know the details, but he can put two and two together and hear the unsaid - there could be a few reasons that he wouldn't see Bode again. But he very much doubts that turning him over to the authorities would be one of them, and given the steel laced through Merrin and her voice; he can assume said reason is a little bit. Permanent.

He hadn't known the other man very long, but he does remember it was him who'd sold him out to the Empire. He took advantage of his kindness and trust and instead of trusting Cal to help him, practically gift wrapped him for Vader and the Inquisitorious.

"Not yet. I don't think I'm ready to see it." Given how his mind still feels like a raw wound, any echoes are likely to send him spiraling. Particularly coming into contact with something stronger, like that. Though it may fill in the blank spaces, he can feel it practically calling out to him like a beacon.

He scrubs a hand over his face, grimacing as he comes into contact with heavy scruff. "I'll wait here."

It doesn't take her long to duck into her ship and find the few things she needs within the ship. She's been staying in a nearby abandoned cottage one of her sisters had once called home only for its proximity to the springs in question, as she too grows tired of sonic showers. The location is reasonably defensible and hidden out of the line of sight of the tomb whose dark energies she'd wished to avoid even now; it will serve for a place to sleep tonight, if either of them has any hope of doing any such thing.

For now she merely leads the way to the springs in question, the water a deep aqua-green whose depths faintly glow. It's a stark contrast to the deep reddish hue of the ground around it.

"It is not dangerous. Like most things here, it has its own magickal properties. It will make everything hurt less, at the very least."

She steps to the edge of the water and begins to take off her outer layers of clothing. Though she isn't particularly shy or prone to unnecessary modesty, she leaves her underclothes on for Cal's sake, as he's seemed unusually reserved given the way they had left things two years before. With that taken care of, she steps carefully into the water and wades out a little ways before turning to hold out a hand to Cal.

"It's a little slippery at the bottom, but there's a place to sit just a little further in."

Cal waits outside of the ship, fairly smaller than the one they'd traveled in before, with BD-1, the two of them having light conversation. Once Merrin is back, he continues following her - the aura of the planet is so unique to anything he'd ever felt. They pass several spots that sing with the pull of an echo but he ignores them for the time being till they arrive at the springs.

The droid, scampers back towards the front to give them privacy though Cal can tell he's reluctant to leave his side even for a short period of time. With a hopefully reassuring pat, he turns back to Merrin who's begun to strip down and he averts his eyes, but not before getting a glimpse of the pale expanse of her bare skin. Cal couldn't tell while she was covered, but while she didn't appear to be starving, she did look a bit skinny, like she'd been neglecting her own needs for a short time - he realizes with a pang.

Noticing that he's staring, he starts on his own armor.

Taking it off is a bit of an undertaking, Cal tosses the pieces unceremoniously to the ground - he'd like to burn it, bury it deep within the earth... but focuses on undressing down to only a pair of black shorts. Merrin, already partly submerged in the water hadn't completely stripped down, just to her underclothes.

Don't be weird, don't be weird --, of course his brain ignored that order already, feeling his cheeks warm slightly as he takes her hand to step into the water.

"Oh..." Cal can only describe the noise he makes as he steps his aching body into the water as a moan. A sonic had nothing on this, absolutely nothing. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting that."

Less than an hour ago he was a feared killer for the Empire, now he's blushing like he's an initiate with a crush because he's bathing with a beautiful woman.

Merrin is a bit thinner than her usual, having been away from Greez and his home-cooked meals, or even the overly attentive Anchorites, for some time now. She's been preoccupied, lost in her own grief and the near-mad certainty that this Inquisitor was Cal. The shadows beneath her eyes tell of too many sleepless nights spent wondering if she's taken leave of her senses on this planet full of ghosts.

There will be time now, though, she reminds herself as she sinks into the water with a small hiss as its intense heat hits the raw spot on her arm where his had only just burned through the fabric of her jacket. It's only a few seconds before the heat begins to soothe rather than sting, at which point she spares a smile for Cal and his unnecessary apology.

"Of course the Empire is unnecessarily stingy with its hot water. A pity we cannot remain here longer; there is much of Dathomir you would find fascinating, and there is no shortage of these pools in this part of the planet."

She ducks under the water briefly to wet her hair, which has grown out a bit in the time since she'd seen him last. She tends to wear it half-up now, or braids pieces of it to keep it out of her face. Today it was in the latter, though one of them has begun to come loose in the fight. She busies herself with undoing them and working the tangles out of the rest while she contemplates their next day's course of action.

"I am not sure where to take you, truthfully. The others do not know that I suspected you lived, and I do not want to spring them on you until you are feeling more yourself."

"They're stingy with most things, really." Medical care, proper meals, hot water to name a few. They kept him in enough shape to be a capable fighter, meals consisting of nutritional ration bars and bland food. Nothing like the meals that Greez had served of anything cooked with care. Took care of his injuries so that the more severe ones wouldn't kill him, or hinder his fighting.

And it's not like Cal looks all that much better - his cheekbones stand sharp under the deep hollows beneath his eyes, skin has taken on a pale and waxy appearance. His hair had grown out longer, and he hadn't shaved if the beard he'd grown was anything to go by, unkempt and scraggly.

And his body; there was hardly an inch of him that wasn't marked with a scar of some kind. A few new marks from their brief duel but nothing serious, nothing like thick lines of scar tissue down his chest from the probe.

He cups his hands and splashes water over his face with a sigh. It is a shame, he wouldn't mind staying here for a while longer... Dathomir is a fascinating place. Typically on missions he'd never been given free range to explore.

"That's... probably for the best. I feel alright now, but my memory isn't completely what it was before." There's a certain rawness to the edge of his mind, he fears what he will find if it's frayed, if he pulls on those bonds before he's ready to face them. "There's something I need to ask you."

Merrin hasn't failed to notice the changes to his appearance, each new scar causing her a pang of deep regret that she hadn't fought harder to get to him. That she hadn't questioned his death until the new Inquisitor had appeared. That she'd had to inflict more pain upon him to get him to this point.

She wanders back over to the side of the pool, where she's left the soap and some cloths to wash and dry with, and perches on a small ledge there.

"Come here; your hair is a disaster. You may ask whatever you like, and I will answer if I can."

Cal instinctively tries to run a hand through his hair. Key word being tries, it snags on a tangle and he shrugs before heading back to the edge to sit in front of her where the water comes up to his shoulders to let her work her magic on it.

"There's still a lot of... gaps in places, in my memory. Not everything is there yet." A beat. He's not sure how to phrase this, he doesn't want to presume anything, but he has to know. "I know I have feelings for you, strong ones. But I... what were we to one another?"

Merrin is grateful that she's behind him when the question hits her with all the grace of a herd of bantha. Her face falls for a moment, only, before she steels herself again and hums thoughtfully as she cups some of the warm water in her hands to wet Cal's hair.

"It is not so easy to say. We were never just one thing in the five years after you found me on this world. We were -- not enemies, never enemies -- but I saw you as an invader to begin. I had been told lies about the Jedi, but it was not long before your actions forced me to reconsider what I thought I knew."

She rubs the bar of soap between her hands as she talks, and once she's gotten enough lather she starts working her fingers into Cal's tangled hair, scratching lightly along his scalp as she goes and sorting the tangles out as gently as she can. It's clear the Empire hadn't given him an excess of time to look after himself, but she's grateful for the time it affords her now. She can choose her words carefully, letting the care she takes with him speak when she cannot.

"You became my family, and my dearest friend, over the years that followed, but we spent some time apart. I needed to see the galaxy on my own terms, and you did not wish to put down your fight even for an instant. We had just found one another again before you were taken."

She hesitates, takes a breath. Works out another nonexistent tangle, because she doesn't want to stop touching Cal and she doesn't want to say anything that will make him feel the loss of his memory more acutely.

She owes him honesty, though. She drops her hands with a small sigh only to rest them on his shoulders as she delivers the words that break her heart all over again.

"We were -- together, the night before you were betrayed, but we never got the chance to learn what that relationship would have looked like. I would never expect you to pick back up where we stopped, if you cannot remember. My feelings for you are what they are, and they have remained unchanged even in your absence. We can start over again."

The second that Merrin begins working her fingers through his hair, he instantly feels his body lose some of the tension and its hard not to just let himself sink into the water, eyes closed. Dying because he drowned in a hot springs would be an embarassing way to go; but nobody had touched him with such tenderness or care in years - Cal has fleeting glimpses, but nothing concrete.

He holds his head back, listening to Merrin speak. She keeps her breath steady and words don't betray the storm of emotion he feels radiating from her. It's not easy for her to talk about this. Even if she didn't say the words, there's love in how gentle she is with him, the obvious care behind her actions.

Something warm prickles behind his eyes that he doesn't think has to do with the hot water or soap getting into his eyes. Grief for what they had and lost and remains lost to him, for her to get him back - but incomplete. Taken away from someone he'd considered a friend.

But she loves him. All things considered, even after he'd become unrecognizable and tried to kill her.

With a sigh, he pushes himself away from the wall to turn and lean facing against it, glancing up at her.

"I don't know how any of this will go from here, I really don't --" Neither of them are the same people anymore.

"But I still feel... a lot for you, and I think I want to. Start over again, I mean."

Merrin hops off the little ledge she'd been perched on with a soft smile for Cal's benefit. She can be patient with him; truly she'd been ready for nearly anything, including much more of a fight than he'd put up in the end.

"It was never going to be simple between us. You were a Jedi; I had long come to terms with what I thought that meant for us. I never expected there was room for me alongside your duty to the galaxy, not in the way I wanted."

She has to stop and breathe through a sudden pang of grief; even with him here it's difficult to put aside the past two years, and the time in between when she'd roamed the galaxy without him -- time she couldn't bring herself to regret until she'd lost him completely, at which point she'd begun to bitterly regret every moment that had been stolen.

"And then you were gone. Anything we build for ourselves now is a gift I never expected to see."

Her eyes shine too bright with unshed tears, and she looks away before they can become more. It's too hard to look at him without wanting to fall to pieces. He can't know how often she'd pleaded with the Force, with her sisters, to find her a way to say a real goodbye. Having him back is unfathomable; to hope that the love between them was untouched by everything that'd been stripped from him is too much.

She busies herself with scrubbing some invisible dirt off her injured arm until she's more certain she isn't about to weep. If he touches her now she might shatter into a million pieces, and they don't have time to put two of them back together.

Two days ago he'd quite literally been a different person. Cal supposes that part of him, the parts of him that had killed and acted upon orders upon remorse; will never truly be gone. But the idea that he'd had a life and people that loved him had never crossed his mind (perhaps due to the fact that it wasn't allowed to). Merrin, BD-1, and he imagines that Cere and Greez will be elated to know that he was alive. He hopes that soon he will see them as well.

But right now, it's the woman in front of him he's currently focused on. He lets his mouth quirk gently up on the corners, just the barest hint of a smile and even that feels like a workout for muscles that haven't moved that way in years.

She loved him. No, loves him. And he... he thinks he could fall for her. After all, he'd done it once before.

He doesn't need to have the force to feel the regret rolling off of her in waves, the grief. Even without having a complete reference for it, Cal feels it too. They could've been happy. All this time. The Empire tears apart everything it touches, but he doesn't have the energy for anger right now. Perhaps it will come later. Swallowing thickly, he reaches out to touch her face and gently guide her gaze back to him.

And then, uncaring of the fact that he's still covered in soap dripping down his neck and back, he pulls her into a hug, her body flush against his own, holding the back of her head to his shoulder.

Edited 2023-09-30 07:08 (UTC)

Merrin can count on one hand the times she's truly cried as an adult; for the longest time there was nothing that could touch the grief she'd felt at the loss of her sisters, and rage had long since burned all those tears away. The loss of Cal had threatened to break her until she'd remembered that place where her rage was buried and had cracked upon that deep pool within herself, let it be her fuel until Cal's betrayer was dealt with. And then she'd felt empty again, without purpose, like the girl who'd been left alone on Dathomir so many years ago. She couldn't break; she feared that if she did she would never claw her way out from under the weight of this particular, singular grief.

It was too much to feel, and so she'd never allowed herself to feel all of it at once.

Some of that long-suppressed grief crashes into her now, carried by the wave of sheer relief that comes when Cal's arms go around her. She clings back instinctively, heedless, a stifled sob breaking free of her after a moment in which he doesn't simply disappear. He's real. This is happening, her dearest wish, the impossible prayer she thought would go forever unanswered. He may not remember, but he's alive and he's here and she can stop holding on so tightly for fear of shattering completely.

She hadn't wanted to do this here, but once the dam has broken she isn't given the choice, and she finds herself shaking with quiet sobs against his shoulder as two years' worth of buried hurt demands its release.

"I never thought... I never thought I would get out of there. Whatever past I had, it was lost to me and I thought..." As she clings to him in her tears, Cal finds himself folding as well. What they lost... it was so unfair to think that after everything they hadn't been allowed the peace and companionship that they so wanted with one another. Time wasted.

But they have a chance now.

He might not remember; his memories still a confusing jumble in many places but he will get them back. However he has to... he can consult with Cere once they reunite about it if they're not by then. Maybe there was a way...

His hand strokes the back of her head.

"I'm here now..."

Merrin allows herself just a moment longer to accept the comfort she never dreamed she'd be given. To hold as tightly as she dared and breathe him in for as long as it takes for her to rein her emotions back in. When she lifts her head again her eyes are wet but her voice has regained its calm certainty.

"I am sorry. This is not like me."

She gathers her composure enough to step back, to let go -- with great reluctance -- of the man to whom she was still nearly a stranger. She hadn't wanted to place any of this upon him now, not when he still had a whole life to piece back together. She reaches out one last time to wipe away a bit of suds that have trickled down onto his cheek, and the ridiculousness of the scene brings a genuine smile to her features again.

"Rinse the rest of that soap out of your hair and let's get somewhere more secure before nightfall. You do not want to know what goes on out here after dark."

"It's alright. You don't need to apologize to me." He clears his throat, almost having forgotten completely about the soap in those last few minutes.

Grinning slightly, he ducks his head under the water and letting it flow over him. It's so peaceful down here - the force beckons to him to reconnect with it, here under the water but... it's been years since he's done it, and it's probably unwise to try it around others or surrounded by water or other things he can do damage with. So he pushes the call away as he resurfaces.

His hair falls in a curtain over his eyes, and he can't help the laughter that escapes him as he brushes it away. He was going to need to cut it and definitely shave later on.

"So uh, I don't suppose you've got anything I can wear for the time being, do you?" Because no, he is burning the armor first chance that he gets.

Merrin finishes up her own washing while he's under, and finds herself genuinely smiling when he surfaces. He always did have a habit of letting his hair get long and messy when they were apart. She could help him trim it later, though so long as it was fiery red there was no hope of hiding his appearance from any Imperials who came looking for their lost asset.

The desire to hide him away from the rest of the galaxy forever is strong, and Merrin pushes it aside now in favor of more immediate practicalities. She hops up onto the side of the pool and starts drying off with one of the towels while she considers Cal's question.

"You are lucky in that regard; my sentimentality would not allow me to be rid of all of your old things."

She dries her own underclothes with a quick sweep of her magick before she begins dressing, and will do the same for Cal once he's on dry land again. As for his armor... Merrin pauses a moment, considering the options.

"Do you think there is anything to be gained by deception? We could leave your armor, damage it such that it appears you met with some misfortune here."

The absence of a body would raise doubts, but he had been a Jedi; becoming fully one with the Force was not out of the question. It would delay those who sought to follow them, in any case.

It was about the one thing he wouldn't consider; modifying his appearance in any way despite the fact that it would probably make staying under the radar easier. As soon as it was realized he was missing they'd do everything in their power to hunt him down, but he evaded capture for years before Bode... betrayed him. He averts his eyes as Merrin steps out, to give her some privacy while she towels off and to spend a few moments more in the water before finally pulling himself out.

Still sopping wet, he wraps it around his shoulders instead of toweling off completely. He's more comfortable putting on his old clothing than touching his old saber, echoes don't reflect as strongly in clothing as they do in objects.

"Thanks."

He'd left the helmet back where they fought, but he stared at the pieces for a long moment before replying.

"Yeah. We could do that - wouldn't be completely unbelievable for me to have been I don't know, taken by surprise by some of the wildlife here. It won't fool them forever, but it can give us a good enough head start."

Merrin gives it a moment's consideration and then nods, satisfied with the options available to them for the moment.

"Bring it, then. We'll drop it on our way off the planet; I know just the barely-accessible spot for an Inquisitor to have disappeared with little trace."

Barely accessible to anyone without both the Force or an innate knowledge of Dathomir's flora and fauna, at least. It will slow their pursuers down; give them time to get somewhere unworthy of their notice. Tanalorr is an endgame she doesn't want to bring into the discussion yet, given the fraught circumstances under which she'd finally gone there.

With that much decided, she looks Cal over again with concern that's more muted now that he seems... okay. Better than she'd hoped, at any rate.

"How are you feeling? That fall you took can't have been pleasant. Nothing's broken, I assume, or else your tolerance for pain is worrisomely improved."

The hot springs have some analgesic qualities, can help speed up the healing of minor bruises, that sort of thing. Her arm throbs dully rather than feeling as badly singed as it was. She expects Cal's fine to walk back to her makeshift home, but she doesn't want to be surprised.

"Sounds like a plan." Cal picks up the armor off the ground and moves to follow Merrin, trying not to think too hard about the uniform in his hand. But a crunching noise draws his attention and he looks to see that he'd cracked one of the pauldrons in a tight fist. The force swirled dangerously - red with rage, as he stopped to take a deep breath.

The memories threatened to drag him down. Just keep moving. Don't think of it. He forced himself to keep moving, dimly aware that Merrin had asked him a question.

"I've had worse." He says with a shrug. "No, I feel pretty good - the springs really did wonders." His tolerance for pain has improved a quite deal, it had to in order to survive his training and conditioning without breaking, but -- it was in the past, it was at least something useful that had come out of the whole thing.

She regards him with quiet concern nonetheless, not missing that reaction to touching his armor again. She makes a mental note to take it and put it in her ship while he sleeps -- or more likely, pretends to -- so that he can be rid of the memories it stirs sooner than later. She only doesn't offer to take it from him now because she knows Cal; she knows he'll bristle at the offer of help if he thinks he should be able to keep his own emotions in line. She'd been much the same for the early part of their time together, though she'd paid the price for trying to suppress too much when her magic rebelled against her.

Still, she worries. It's a short walk back to the place she's been staying, and she leads him through the door with a nod to an unoccupied space in a corner.

"You can drop it over there for now. I will find you some fresh clothes and we'll see what we can find for dinner. It's not going to be Greez's cooking, but I suspect I can do better than whatever the Empire feeds you."

She disappears into the back room where a makeshift bed is surrounded by a few trunks with clothing and other things she's collected while here. She remembers exactly where she'd put Cal's old clothes, and one thing in particular stands out as being perfect both for the weather here and, perhaps, for helping Cal find an uncomplicated memory in all of this.

She returns a moment later holding a spare pair of pants that had been Cal's, and one of the more muted ponchos he'd been so attached to -- she unfortunately drew the line at the horrid pink one, but this one had, on occasion, warded off her own chill in the cold nights here.

"Here you are. You can change in my room if you like. You're welcome to take the bed tonight, as well."

Another time they'd have shared, but she wants to give him space. She doesn't imagine either of them will be getting the best sleep of their lives, but Cal at least deserves a comfortable space to shake off some of the shadows of the past two years.

He's glad of the silence as they walk, till they get to the place that Merrin has been staying. Not until she instructs him to put the armor down does he loosen his death grip on it; but despite his anger and hatred toward what it stands for, he deposits it on the ground carefully not to damage it further. The conditioning in him scolds Cal for allowing it to be damaged --

As if to make itself known, his stomach growls at the mere mention of food and his face reddens slightly which luckily pulls him from getting too dark in his thoughts.

"I could honestly eat a bantha. Maybe two." He's used to rations, small portions, nothing has ever come close to Greez's cooking; now that he remembers what that was like.

With a nod he takes the poncho and clothing and moves to her room to change, running his hand over the thick fabric and letting the emotions attached to it in. There's his own: grateful for it's warmth on Illum and snuggling underneath it after he'd been ill. There's Merrin's; basking in the warmth and feeling close to him underneath it.

He dresses himself quickly, the pants fit a little loose on him now but they work fine enough. Cal for the first time in years, feels like himself again. A person, not a thing.

His legs move backward until he hits the edge of a bed. He crumples down onto it.

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dathomirs | for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

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