deercountry | (no subject)

"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?"

He shoots her a wry smile - because she's not wrong - then sighs.

"There was a giant beast. Some of us who have visions knew it was coming, that it would attack everyone in its path, and gathered together a small army to face it. I reached out to it, before it got here, through the Force. Tried to convince it to go away or to soothe it."

He shakes it head. "There were at least...seven deaths in the battle? I couldn't stay focused enough to sense them, after a certain point." Much less keep enough of a grip on the Force to pull people away from fatal blows. "Before we killed it."

Her lips pulled down, just slightly. Not quite a grimace or a frown. But a look of deep sympathy. "That sounds awful," she said softly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, for just the briefest of moments, before she took it back. Some Humans were sensitive about personal space, others weren't. It was best not to assume either way. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

And sorry, of course, that the battle--any battle--had to end in so much death. Both the seven, and the creature.

She didn't much care for the word 'beast.' But only because she'd been called it herself, more often than she liked.

Ezra's using the local terminology as he understands it. He doesn't know what else to use. On the other hand, he's talked to Varian about being in that state and coming back, so clearly somewhere under the corruption is still...a person, even if they don't look at all person-shaped, and might be nearly impossible to reason with. It's all a continuum that he's still trying to figure out.

He looks over at her. "Thanks. And - for the recond, I'm usually ok with being touched."

He clears his throat awkwardly. "I cried all over Obi-wan."

She immediately put her hand back on Ezra's shoulder.

And, for all of her differences with Obi-Wan, she said, "You picked the right person to go to. He's always a calming presence." Sometimes infuriatingly so. And he gave the best hugs out of anyone she'd ever met.

Still. Ezra didn't exactly seem all that comforted.

"What happened?"

"I did pick the right person, but I was telling myself at the time that it was stupid and selfish," he admits.

"I said something about him having a brother to look after-" He rolls his eyes at himself. "While having a pity party in my head. And he just...looked concerned and stopped me and told me we're family. And that's when I started crying." He smiles, rueful, but grateful, too.

"And then we talked, it wasn't...bad, exactly. But I dropped some things I know about the war he came from."

Obi-Wan continued to confuse her, even in absentia.

How could you have a family and no attachments?

Well, that was a puzzle for another time. In the meanwhile, Ariadne bumped her shoulder up against Ezra's, giving him a bit of a sideways hug. Not as good as an Obi-Wan Kenobi hug, but still pretty good.

Which was for the best, because she was reasonably certain she didn't have much to offer besides hugs. Certainly not advice. "You mean...things about the future? His future?"