deercountry | (no subject)

With a final, small twirl, she touched down on the roof beside him. It was a light landing. Balanced and graceful. As if she'd been doing it her whole life. In another life, she might have been, too.

She gave him a little curtsy. "No," she said. "I...might have made a trade with the Chocolatier for a candy. I...I was expecting chocolate, not this."

Not that she was complaining. Not even a little bit.

Still, her smile was a little awkward. A little embarrassed.

He blinks at her. "And the chocolate physically changed you."

Well, that's a little weird but this seems like a harmless change, so he's not sure why she's embarrassed. Sometimes sensing emotions more clearly than just relying on body language isn't that helpful, because the why's of emotions can be so slippery.

"Well, looks like you're taking to flight with way more grace than I did. Not that I've had wings exactly. Sabine's people, jet packs are a traditional thing for really dedicated warriors. Uh-" He gestures towards his back. "It's a machine, it makes a controlled stream of fire and hot air. Strong enough to lift you up."

Ariadne gave Ezra a graceful, little smile. He beat her to her own question. Not everyone was quite so quick to pick up the fact that Ariadne didn't know a thing about technology. He was insightful, though. Thoughtful.

She gave him another curtsy. "Thank you. When I was a girl, I used to love flying. My adult wings never came in, but I like to think this is how I would have looked."

If she'd been able to live the life she should have known.

Ariadne did a small pirouette, showing off her wings as she expanded them as far as they would go. "I think they look like my father's."

Wait, wait, what?

"Adult...wings?" he asks, startled.

And then, more quietly, sensing she's just glossing over matters, "You're supposed to have wings?"

Although Ariadne was getting used to the fact that she could live openly as an Alastrian, it still sometimes caught her off guard when people didn't know the most basic facts about Alastrians. She wondered why. Perhaps because she'd become so comfortable with the people she knew, thought of them as family. And family, logically, would be...home?

Something like that.

Now wasn't the time for intellectualizing.

She nodded, instead. "Yes...um. All Alastrians are born with wings, actually. Just like these." She spread hers again, shivering the scales and/or feathers. It was hard to tell what they were. "Well, children's wings take a few years to strengthen. And then around puberty, they...change. Sort of like how Humans lose their teeth and grow newer, more permanent ones."

But changing isn't really the same as losing them entirely. Is it a translation issue? Or is she talking about it?

He can be very direct, but if she doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't see how it his place to try to corner her on this topic.

"Well, they're beautiful," he says, completely sincere. "Do you...know if they're temporary?"

"These?" She looked back behind her shoulder, admiring the way the light gleamed across the sleek surface of one wing. "Probably..."

It was hard not to let her disappointment show. Still, she had to be realistic. A year in Deerington and almost half a year in Trench made it very clear that changes like this were just...trials? Tests? Games on the part of some being she didn't know? Maybe all three at the same time.

With a smalls shrug of one shoulder, she turned back to Ezra. "I've just been enjoying them while I can. I always loved flying."

Ezra is certainly still feeling out the rhythms and rules of this place. He nods slowly, feeling a pang of sorrow on her behalf.

"Then - I'm very glad I got to see you fly." He waves her off. "You should go enjoy it, instead of standing around talking to me."

You didn’t need to be a Jedi to know when someone’s mood was bleak. Humans, in general, didn’t isolate up on rooftops. Not bad unless there was something swirling around in their minds. Something that made them seek the clarity that she felt naturally occurred in open air.

Something was wrong.

And she was shamefully selfish for not noticing it before.

Ariadne’s smile faltered. “I need a rest. Anyway, I enjoy talking to you. Just as much as flying.”

Ezra's not sure that he believes that last part, but if it's a lie, it's kindly meant one. Calling her on it would just be lashing out.

"...thanks." He clears his throat and asks, a little stiltedly, "How have you been? How's the orchard?"

"Almost ready to open. Another month or so. Although..." She paused, trying very hard not to give him a significant or meaningful look. While giving it all the same. "It's always open to you. You know. If you ever need some quiet place to think."

A place that wasn't a rooftop.

A place that maybe wasn't so lonely.

Ezra stiffens and swallows hard.

It's a very kind offer. He shouldn't push it away. That had been the sort of thing Anakin had been doing, when Ezra had offered help, and it had hurt.

He doesn't want to hurt Ariadne.

"...Thanks. I'll, uh, try to remember that. And message you before I take you up on it."

"You don't have to," she told him. "It's not like you can sneak up on me or surprise me." She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "I know your scent. And when I pick it up, I always get kind of happy. Because it means I get to talk to you."

She was just that way. When she decided someone was a friend...they were a friend.

So far, only Anakin had managed to break that pattern, that connection. By being a real butthead.

"Well, I guess if you want to be alone, you might want to say something ahead of time. Because I will find you."

Ezra's the same way, forming connections to people, really. Maul was his biggest exception.

The smelling thing doesn't even strike him as odd. He roomed with Zeb for fours years, and Ahsoka people were hunters, too.

"That's all good to know." He gives her small, but warmer smile. "Laying out expectations and boundaries is good."

"And," she said, "I think I may be crossing a boundary with you right now."

Which was fine. If he didn't want to talk about whatever had brought him up to a rooftop, that was fine.

There was still a lot she had to learn about Humans from his world. Obviously.

Ezra goes still for a beat, and then shakes his head vigorously.

"No. No. I'm...this place is getting to me a little. High and alone is old habits. Not great ones."

"Ah."

She frowned, looking up at the sky a moment. There were a lot of problems Ariadne fancied she could solve. And a lot of affirmations she had to offer for most situations.

Life in Trench, though, wasn't 'most situations.'

Which was to say, she had to think about it for a moment, to consider the best approach to take. "It...gets to everyone," she said slowly. There was some kind of Human expression about misery and company, although she didn't quite remember it. "And everyone has different ways of coping. I...like to think about the good things about Trench. The amazing things. The things you wouldn't have anywhere else."

He shifts to face her more fully, giving her a small smile.

"Tell me some of your favorites?"

"Oh, the people. Definitely the people."

She practically had it out before he finished the word 'favorites.' But only because she was deeply passionate about that. People made everything better.

Slightly abashed, she laughed, turning to look back at Ezra. "We've all gone through such strange things together. It makes us like a family. A very large, very confusing family."

His smile gets a little bigger.

"That's how I feel about a lot of the people in Temba. And of course the Specters."

"Exactly! You understand."

At least, she thought she did. The way he'd spoken to her about the Specters gave the impression that Ezra was good at finding family. Which was a skill. She really thought she could learn from him.

She'd never done it before. She'd never allowed herself to want it.

"I know this may sound horrible, and I don't mean it to, but I'm not sure how else to say this...I like being separated from my life as I knew it."

"No. It doesn't sound horrible. I miss the parts of my family that are back in home galaxy. I always will. But honestly."

He hesitates. "I'd....already chosen to do something that was taking me far away from them. That was probably going to get me killed. I did it to protect them and Lothal, and I'd do it again, given the choice. But being here is better than dead, or stranded halfway across the galaxy on a ship filled with Imperial soldiers."

Edited (a missing word) 2022-03-22 01:20 (UTC)

"Being anywhere is better than being dead," she said. "At least, I think so."

Not that death was a bad thing. It was just...limiting. That was her perception of it, anyway. It meant an end to new experiences and opportunities. And while it might reunite one with loved ones...

...it was a closed door.

"Anyway," she said, "back home, I never would have had the chance to meet a Jedi. Or the son of a muse. Or any of the amazing people here."

"There might be fates worse than death." He remembers one of the Inquisitors that served the Empire claiming that was so, before choosing to let go and plunge to death, while Kanan seemed to be considering a hand in mercy. "But this isn't it."

He looks over at Airy. "Did you...hear anything about the big battle off the shore?"

She shook her head. Which was a bit of a hard confession for her. Back home, she knew everything about everything, including the things she wasn't supposed to know.

Especially the things she wasn't supposed to know.

Just one more way her path was diverging.

It was all so strange.

"What happened?" she asked. "And why do I get the sense that you were there?"