Gokudera (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unrelenting_rhapsody) wrote2019-01-08 11:30 am
unrelenting_rhapsody) wrote2019-01-08 11:30 am
Entry tags:
I'm not as sensitive as I should be
Who: Dera, Shamal, a bar?
When: Fifteen or so years since Shamal left the Order.
What: More training, always training.
"Smile girl, you're in a bar! Finally!"
Dera snorted, stretching, at least this planet was warm? She did enjoy that after the last several fringe worlds they'd done research on. Research. Yeeeah, that's what they called raising any old force temple they could find, Sith OR Jedi. Shamal had given up on the Sith path no mor than a year or two in, it made just as little sense as what the Jedi had become, in his words anyway, so they were 'grey'.
She called it 'pissy' but hey, maybe that was just her. Things got a bit weird with people when there was only the two of them, ever. Crazy temples, ancient death traps, old creepy jungles, just two against the world. Was it any wonder she hadn't really developed sword skills (it was a damn laser sword no matter how you dressed it up) instead of some interesting, rather explosive force skills? Handling things at a distance was nice okay?
Shamal had given up on trying to craft a proper learning syllabus for her, she was mostly self guided as the days went by, and as far as powers went, well, she'd learned to listen, just like he did. She had talents, she knew how to use them.
Mostly.
Learning from both sides of a discipline kinda slowed even her down and that probably contributed to her definition of pissy force user. Bah.
Then they'd both woke screaming; camping that night on a rock shelf above an ice swamp because 'there might be stone records'. Mainly she was pretty sure Shamal wanted to poke the weird frogs but hey, screaming was new for them. Something major had broken. People had died...
...and it was the first time she'd ever seen her uncle cry. Silent and slow, but he'd known those people. Fuck. Those jedi he left.
He'd tried to warn them...
...apparently that didn't help against pain though. It was weird as fuck to pack up around him and just...wait, yes. He had to have some kind of plan.
"Anyone left will be hiding," he sighed at last, hands fluttering a moment before settling on one of the handrolled cigarettes he made for her. She had some tension issues, so he made her smokes that helped her relax; mild, hardly addictive, but it was rare the man took one for himself. Well then. "Which means they'll be hunted, and be in the places we usually run in."
"...so we go inward," Dera pointed out. If the rims weren't safe and going to be populated by hunted Jedi, well...
"Exactly," he sighed. "Time to be civil."
"Ish."
"Point," he tried a laugh. Yeah, that didn't go well.
"No robes, no scrolls, no sabers."
"Point again, star student. We go where they don't expect to ever find force users. We don't look like Jedi, but overzealous sorts wouldn't stop to check really. And I need a drink."
Well then, coping mechanisms one oh one. Force user and alcohol, this would be fun.
"YOUR job is something of a graduation exercise," he smiled sharply, "you get to make a plan as to how we live now. Our personas."
"I'm going to make you celibate if you hand me that power."
"What? Well, I'll need to find some ladies before you decide!" he sniffed.
Good, that was the uncle she knew. He hadn't been off to brothels or anything while training her but damned if he didn't like to talk about it. A man honing a cherished theory yes. She honestly kinda wondered who he'd wantd to bang so badly in academy to make it an obsession now. Annnd that was where the wonder stopped. There were limits to how much she wanted to speculate on her uncle's libido.
"Dress like a girl for the bar, c'mon, you'll love it!"
"Fuck you," she snorted, slinging her pack to her back and kicking mud around to erase their sleeping space yes. Habits. Dress like a girl her ass, mechanic pants and a tank would do her, even though it showed the damn weird brand around her arm from a trap years ago.
Meh, anyone poked at it she'd start a bar fight. Sounded fun to her.
And so here they were, closer to civilization than they'd been since Shamal showed up to take her away, in a dive of a drifter bar while Shamal showed her how not to cope to cope with grief, yup. She was just going to hold down this chunk of bar and watch everyone; it was weird not to be in a place saturated with the heavy, watching feel of ancient places. Life was so much more...fleeting here. Bright and shiny, flame instead of deep embers.
Interesting as long as no one pissed her off yes.
When: Fifteen or so years since Shamal left the Order.
What: More training, always training.
"Smile girl, you're in a bar! Finally!"
Dera snorted, stretching, at least this planet was warm? She did enjoy that after the last several fringe worlds they'd done research on. Research. Yeeeah, that's what they called raising any old force temple they could find, Sith OR Jedi. Shamal had given up on the Sith path no mor than a year or two in, it made just as little sense as what the Jedi had become, in his words anyway, so they were 'grey'.
She called it 'pissy' but hey, maybe that was just her. Things got a bit weird with people when there was only the two of them, ever. Crazy temples, ancient death traps, old creepy jungles, just two against the world. Was it any wonder she hadn't really developed sword skills (it was a damn laser sword no matter how you dressed it up) instead of some interesting, rather explosive force skills? Handling things at a distance was nice okay?
Shamal had given up on trying to craft a proper learning syllabus for her, she was mostly self guided as the days went by, and as far as powers went, well, she'd learned to listen, just like he did. She had talents, she knew how to use them.
Mostly.
Learning from both sides of a discipline kinda slowed even her down and that probably contributed to her definition of pissy force user. Bah.
Then they'd both woke screaming; camping that night on a rock shelf above an ice swamp because 'there might be stone records'. Mainly she was pretty sure Shamal wanted to poke the weird frogs but hey, screaming was new for them. Something major had broken. People had died...
...and it was the first time she'd ever seen her uncle cry. Silent and slow, but he'd known those people. Fuck. Those jedi he left.
He'd tried to warn them...
...apparently that didn't help against pain though. It was weird as fuck to pack up around him and just...wait, yes. He had to have some kind of plan.
"Anyone left will be hiding," he sighed at last, hands fluttering a moment before settling on one of the handrolled cigarettes he made for her. She had some tension issues, so he made her smokes that helped her relax; mild, hardly addictive, but it was rare the man took one for himself. Well then. "Which means they'll be hunted, and be in the places we usually run in."
"...so we go inward," Dera pointed out. If the rims weren't safe and going to be populated by hunted Jedi, well...
"Exactly," he sighed. "Time to be civil."
"Ish."
"Point," he tried a laugh. Yeah, that didn't go well.
"No robes, no scrolls, no sabers."
"Point again, star student. We go where they don't expect to ever find force users. We don't look like Jedi, but overzealous sorts wouldn't stop to check really. And I need a drink."
Well then, coping mechanisms one oh one. Force user and alcohol, this would be fun.
"YOUR job is something of a graduation exercise," he smiled sharply, "you get to make a plan as to how we live now. Our personas."
"I'm going to make you celibate if you hand me that power."
"What? Well, I'll need to find some ladies before you decide!" he sniffed.
Good, that was the uncle she knew. He hadn't been off to brothels or anything while training her but damned if he didn't like to talk about it. A man honing a cherished theory yes. She honestly kinda wondered who he'd wantd to bang so badly in academy to make it an obsession now. Annnd that was where the wonder stopped. There were limits to how much she wanted to speculate on her uncle's libido.
"Dress like a girl for the bar, c'mon, you'll love it!"
"Fuck you," she snorted, slinging her pack to her back and kicking mud around to erase their sleeping space yes. Habits. Dress like a girl her ass, mechanic pants and a tank would do her, even though it showed the damn weird brand around her arm from a trap years ago.
Meh, anyone poked at it she'd start a bar fight. Sounded fun to her.
And so here they were, closer to civilization than they'd been since Shamal showed up to take her away, in a dive of a drifter bar while Shamal showed her how not to cope to cope with grief, yup. She was just going to hold down this chunk of bar and watch everyone; it was weird not to be in a place saturated with the heavy, watching feel of ancient places. Life was so much more...fleeting here. Bright and shiny, flame instead of deep embers.
Interesting as long as no one pissed her off yes.