First Reply A Rough Start

[Kallan F'lare]

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To say that Kallan was no stranger to the ways of the Galaxy at large would be a complete and utter lie, having only ever been on the frigid landscape of Arkania and beneath the icy landscape in the depths of the great diamond mines that the planet was known for. However, as with every challenge he had been met with in his short time, he plunged headfirst into this new adventure because he knew that his sister needed him. He didn't know where she was in the vast reaches of space, but he was committed to finding her no matter the time or cost. She was the last of his remaining siblings and after having suffered the loss of the others, he refused to lose Serifa as well. The intent behind his journey is how he found himself on the crowded passenger freighter headed towards Coruscant, a veritable hub of information and once the ancient home of the Jedi Order. He did not know if any remained on that planet, but it seemed the logical first step for someone that had never been beyond the borders of his own planet. He had not bothered to keep up with the state of the Galaxy, so if the Jedi had abandoned Coruscant, he was certain that there was someone there that would know where they went. So, this would be the first step in his journey. ​

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He had donned his blinders since his eyes were not well adjusted to the sunlight from stars that were much younger than Arkania's - he hoped that his eyes would be able to adjust to the discomfort he felt when wearing the blinders. He was acutely aware of the hushed conversations of passengers seated next to him though he had no desire to join in on whatever topic they were discussing. He found himself drawn from their conversation when a small twi'lek child approached him with that signature childlike curiosity that most children had - free of fear or hesitance. She gently touched the blinders that sat over his eyes and he found a smile growing from the corners of his mouth until he teeth shone briefly in the reduced light within the cabin. He gently removed the blinders stiffening ever so slightly at the pain as the light hit his eyes, he handed them to the child who proceeded to try them on and gave a soft giggle at whatever she saw behind them. Her innocent mirth elicited his own soft chuckle as she handed the blinders back to him and skipped off back to her family. He replaced the blinders on his face and settled in once more, adopting his stoic stance once more and going back to focusing on the conversation he had been listening to prior. ​

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"Have you heard the rumors?" the voice next to him whispered to its companion. Kallan scoffed inwardly at the idea of the gossip being shared between the two, rumors were often untrue and spread via malicious or slanderous intent. "They are saying that a young Jedi Knight has disappeared in the Outer Rim Colonies." As soon as the word Jedi Knight was mentioned, Kallan found himself devoted entirely to the conversation that continued next to him, his thoughts consumed entirely on his missing sister and perhaps her involvement in the Outer Rim. ​

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If she were indeed out there among traditionally lawless territory, then he had a very long way to go to find her and he was currently headed in the wrong direction. A frustrating fact that found him clenching his fists tightly and shuffling, sending out minute waves of anger in the area around him. His irritation seemed to cause a stirring in the other passengers to varying degrees, some shifting in restlessness and others looking around for the source of what they felt. Power danced around him, itching at the tips of his fingers as he scrunched his hands tightly in a fist in an attempt to control the anger fueled by irritation and worry for his sister. ​

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[Aadihr Lidos]

A Touch Too Far

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The freighter thrummed with recycled breath and too many thoughts pressed into metal. Air scrubbers worked like tired lungs. Conversations folded and unfolded like napkins—creased, passed, forgotten.

But something else moved.
Not air. Not metal. Not people.

Emotion. Strained. Barely bridled. Not loud, but bright in the Force. Like friction heat under skin. A storm trying to sit still in its chair.

Aadihr turned his head.

Not sharply. Just enough.

His boots didn’t echo—rubber soles whispered across ferrocrete tiling. Each step with the gentle rhythm of someone who didn’t need to rush. Or maybe couldn’t. The stick tapped once. Then again.

Tick.
Tick.
Just a blind man on the tram.

He bumbled, just a little too perfectly—let the cane skitter forward with a clack, shoulders twisting as though his balance had betrayed him.

A stumble.
Not quite a fall.
Enough to snap a Rodian’s attention sideways and reset the cabin’s rhythm.

“Oh—stars, forgive me,” Aadihr muttered, catching himself on a support rail with a palm that absolutely didn’t miss.

A few heads turned. Most looked away again. Nothing more than a blind man out of his element.

He straightened. Breath in. Exhale. Smile tucked just under polite.

“Crowded little ship,” he offered to no one in particular, conveniently close to the source of the disturbance. Kallan F'lare . His fingers brushed his robe straight. “Apologies if I nudged you.”

But his face had already turned. Toward the man with the blinders.

The one whose fists curled too tightly. Whose thoughts pressed too loud.

The aura around him was iron wound with guiltwire. Rage dressed as direction.

Aadihr tilted his head, soft and curious.

“…You alright?”

He said it like it meant less than it did. Like it wasn’t already a thread cast across the cabin, gentle, deliberate, offered.

“Long trip?”

No push. No weight. Just an opening. The blindfolded, snowy haired man stood in the space next to the Arkanian.
an old-fashioned figure wrapped in white and nebula-blue, leaning on a walking stick, blindfolded, harmless.

...Until the moment he subtly turned his head once more. Precisely. Deliberately

He leaned lightly on the walking stick. The blindfold stayed still. But behind it, something saw more than eyes ever could.

The Miraluka knew exactly what he was doing.

Kallan F'lare​

 

[Kallan F'lare]

Tick.

Tick.

The sound broke through the rigid walls of his anger and frustrations and forced his eyes in the direction of the noise, a noise that didn't belong to the monotonous inner thrum of the freighter. Dark eyes found the source of the disturbance, guided by the ticking, and analyzed the scene carefully as the seemingly blind man made his way across the walk between. And suddenly, almost too suddenly, the man was stumbling forward guided by unknown intention - his training in the family compound had given him some measure of readability when it came to other people and their intentions, the senses of a honed warrior who had long since learned to trust his own instincts of whatever his mind would try to tell him. The other caught himself on the railing, offering apologies to the Rodian that had been disturbed in his theatrics.

Kallan's eyes scanned his surroundings with a practised eye, searching for exits or weapons in the event that either was needed. He had left Arkania unarmed and under prepared. He only knew that Coruscant should have been his first destination due to its history of once being the powerbase of the Jedi Order in the days of the Galactic Republic. The planet itself had changed hands many times over since then, including having once been the central power for the Galactic Empire under the powerful Sith Lords.

Still.

There was hope to be found on the planet. It was stated that Jedi were Peacekeepers and Protectors, their philosophy very much involving the Light Side of the Force. A ludicrous notion to be certain. There was no Light Side or Dark Side, only the intent of the wielder mattered, or so he believed. If it had been the power base of such an Order devoted to the Light, there was bound to be some remnant of their touch upon the citizens of that world, whether for good or ill. Someone must know something - a hope that he clung to just as desperately as a frozen man clinging to Bantha hide to keep warm. Even as he clung to the hope that he would find some measure of indication on where he needed to start his journey, there was also the anger inducing rumor that a Jedi Knight had gone missing in the Outer Rim.

There was no guarantee that it was his sister. But. It could be.

If there was even the slimmest of chances that it was his sister who was the Jedi that had gone missing in the outer rim, then one could guarantee that Kallan would turn that territory upside down to find her. He would not stop until he found her and if anyone got in his way, well.... They would certainly come to the realization that they should not have. He was not overly aggressive by choice but rather his aggression was fueled by the well intentioned protective nature that he had been born with.

He turned towards the voice. Aadihr Lidos . "You did not." A simple and short response. Guarded.

Eyes sharpened ever so slightly as the other followed with more questions.

...You alright?

When he did not reply.

Long trip?

Yes. He replied internally to the man whilst remaining silent when it came to the actual response to his questioning. Truthfully, Kallan was quite skeptical of the interaction, his angered finally have succumbed to mild curiosity and a blazing sense of wariness. He was alone in a wide, wide, galaxy and far from home - the only place that he had ever known.

Yes... This was a very long trip indeed and it only threatened to span into the infinite reaches as his journey seemed to be taking him on a roundabout course to his destination.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Sound Without Sight

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Silence wasn’t absence. Not here. It had a shape.

Aadihr could feel it shifting across the cabin, folding over itself like stormclouds that hadn’t yet decided to break. Wariness had weight. He felt it rest on the young man’s shoulders like armor.

One-word answer. A verbal wall.
No offense. No invitation. Just stone.
He respected that.

The blindfolded man didn’t pry. Didn’t press. Let the quiet hold. Let the trip feel as long as it needed to.

“I knew a mentor,” he said at last, voice low—barely enough to reach across the row. The kind of tone that didn’t demand attention, only left a trail in the dust for someone to follow if they chose.

“He used to say: ‘If you stare too long into where you came from, you’ll miss your destination.’”

His hand shifted on the walking stick. The cane moved. Not for balance—there was no stumble this time. Just weight. Contact. A subtle punctuation to presence.

“...Sometimes the galaxy gives us riddles instead of directions.”

Another pause. Space to breathe. Or ignore him entirely. The stranger's aura in the force conveyed consternation, perhaps rumination or deliberation.

Aadihr began to step away then. Slow. Deliberate.

Tick.

Tick.

But just before he turned the corner between rows, he paused. No glance back. Just stillness.

“If the riddle points toward the Jedi... Coruscant still has plenty of echoes left – you don’t have to shout to be heard. Stop by the temple anytime and ask for Aadihr”

The walking stick clicked softly again.
Then again.
Moving now. Aadihr watched the man without eyes – they seemed to be the type who would sooner starve than ask for help – the Miraluka had aided such people before and knew a little persistence might be needed.

Kallan F'lare​

 

[Kallan F'lare]

"If you stare too long into where you came from, you'll miss your destination."

Perhaps there was some truth to what the blind man offered. Kallan often could be so consumed and determined with a chosen task or mission that he could be blinded to all else that moved in the peripherals. Of course, his pride would not allow him to admit such a concession, so all the man would receive is a derisive scoff and a muttered "Jedi nonsense, if I've ever heard it before." intending for his words to be too low for any but himself to hear. He was not one to rebuke kindness when it was offered, even if it had not been asked for. He was arrogant and prideful, but he liked to think that he wasn't ungrateful.

It seemed that the oddity that was the blind man himself was enough to distract Kallan from his inner thoughts and feelings, enough so that the air settled and the charged energy faded into gradual tranquility. "...sometimes the galaxy gives us riddles instead of directions"

Had he been so obvious in his emotion that he had given sight into the source of his frustrations? Or was the blind man simply more perceptive than others on the freighter?

He was certainly something more than he seemed to be and the in the way he spoke and carried himself, there was a certain familiarity he had witnessed only once before - in the Jedi that had taken his sister to the Temple for training. Could the blind man be a Jedi? The chances that he would cross paths with a member of the very order he was seeking seemed astronomical and that was saying a lot considering he was crossing the sea of stars via starship.

His suspicions found themselves confirmed with Aadihr Lidos next words. "If the riddle points towards the Jedi... Coruscant still has plenty of echoes left - you don't have to shout to be heard. Stop by the temple anytime and ask for Aadihr."

Kallan now knew two things about the stranger - He was Jedi. And it seemed that some greater force had designed the events that led him to the point he was at now. It seemed an awfully big coincidence that he would cross paths with a Jedi while on the search for the Order. Perhaps the blind man might even know of his sister.

"Do you know of Serifa F'lare - a Jedi Knight?" he questioned. His words were soft and whispered, his intent to keep his questioning guarded from unwanted ears. He tried his best to not allow the desperation he felt to bleed through his words and give any indication of his purpose for wanting to know of the woman.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Where the Echoes Gather

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The name landed like a weight. Not heavy. Just… meaningful.

Aadihr didn’t reply at once. Didn’t rush to pretend recognition where there was none.

He turned halfway back toward Kallan, robes catching faint breeze from a ceiling vent. That subtle hum again. Same rhythm as before. The kind the Force made when someone told the truth with their whole self—even when only whispering.

“Serifa F’lare,” he repeated softly. “I don’t know her.”

No finality in the words. No defense, either. Just clarity, grounded in calm.

“But from the way your presence shifted when you spoke it…” He gave a small breath of a smile. “She matters. A great deal.”

He stepped aside from the aisle to give space for the trickle of a server droid to pass, then turned slightly—fully facing Kallan now, head bowed just a little, as if listening with more than ears.

“If she trained at the Temple… even briefly… the Archives might have a record. Something I can search.”

He made no grand promises. No sudden flames of hope. Just the quiet suggestion of continuity. Of legacy.

“How long ago did she leave home?” he asked, tone unhurried, not pressing. “How old was she?”

And then—after a moment of stillness—he began to retie the cloth at his brow.

Fingers lifted the blindfold with quiet care, brushing a faint trace of dust from the edge. Beneath it: no eyes, no lids. Only smooth, unbroken skin stretched like silk across the sockets—flesh untouched by sight, yet aware in ways eyes could never be.

“What was she like?” he asked softly while brushing off dirt from the cloth. He tied the blindfold anew with a practiced knot behind the temple.

No trick in his intent, just an opening. A path back to the memory that Kallan was already walking.

Inside, Aadihr made note of what he might need: a name, a sense of time, a thread if the past. Enough for the Archives. Or—if it came to it—enough to search for her echoes through the Force itself.

He wouldn’t offer those tools yet. Not unless Kallan asked. First, she needed to be recalled. Right now, all he needed was the silence that comes when someone is finally allowed to remember.

Kallan F'lare​