Private Footprints in the sand

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

Jesse - Sweet
Seren - Awesome
Ginger - Ginger
Mari - Mary Anne
Mugen - Professor
Guilia - Skipper
Ro - Billionaire
Etain - His Wife

The ship did not fall from the sky so much as she was torn out of it. The first sign was the shudder subtle at first, a tremor that rippled through the ship's gilded bones like a warning whispered too late. Then came the second, harder, a violent jolt that rattled chandeliers in the grand ballroom and sent crystal glasses skittering across polished marble floors. By the time the third hit, the ship was already screaming. Heat bloomed across her ivory hull as she breached Vendaxa's upper atmosphere, the friction turning her once‑pristine plating into a blistering furnace. Panels peeled away in molten sheets, spiraling off into the violet sky like burning petals. The ship's elegant curves warped under the strain, metal groaning with a sound that vibrated through every deck. Inside, crimson emergency lights strobed to life, painting the corridors in frantic pulses of red that made the chaos feel like a heartbeat gone wild. THey had been invited to it after Coruscant and the show.

Jesse felt the shift before she understood it. One moment she was walking the promenade deck, the faint hum of engines beneath her feet, the next she was weightless her stomach lurching as artificial gravity flickered and died. She slammed into the ceiling, then the wall, then the floor, her body ricocheting like a loose bolt in a shaking machine. Pain burst across her ribs. Her ears rang. Her vision fractured into white static. She'd been in crashes before. Her body remembered even when her mind lagged behind. Instinct curled her into a protective ball as debris rained down shards of glass, a metal tray, a decorative vase that shattered inches from her head. The deck pitched violently, sending her sliding across the polished floor until she collided with a support beam hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. She gasped, coughing, tasting smoke and copper.

The ship lurched again, harder this time, and the corridor around her twisted like a living thing. Panels blew out. Sparks rained from the ceiling. A pressure door slammed shut just as a section of the hallway depressurized with a thunderous boom, sucking loose debris into the void. Wind howled through the cracks, a feral, hungry sound. Jesse forced herself upright, gripping a handrail that vibrated violently under her fingers. Her legs trembled. Her muscles screamed. Every breath burned. But she pushed forward, staggering down the corridor as the ship groaned around her. The lights flickered, casting everything in a stuttering nightmare of red and shadow. A blast door ahead jammed halfway open, sparks spitting from its ruined motor. Jesse dropped to her knees and crawled beneath it, the metal scraping her back. Her ribs protested with every inch, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. She emerged into a smoke‑filled passageway where alarms wailed and the air tasted like burning plastic.

The ship screamed again a deep, guttural roar that vibrated through her bones. Then the world went white. The ship hit Vendaxa's lower atmosphere like a meteor. The impact rattled every molecule of the vessel. Jesse was thrown sideways, slamming into a bulkhead hard enough to see stars burst behind her eyes. She collapsed, coughing, vision swimming. The floor tilted. The ceiling cracked. A fireball roared down the corridor behind her, heat licking at her heels. She crawled, dragging herself toward the emergency pod bay. Her fingers slipped on scorched metal. Her knees burned. Her lungs felt like they were filled with smoke and knives. But she kept moving, inch by inch, fueled by stubborn, furious survival instinct. The pod bay was chaos. Pods ripped from their housings. One exploded against the far wall. Another shot out into the void without sealing. Jesse lunged for the last intact pod, her body screaming in protest. She hit the control panel with her fist. The hatch hissed open. She threw herself inside and slammed the door shut.

The pod ejected a heartbeat later, flinging her into darkness. Her mind hoping Seren was able to get to a pod and then wondering what had happened to the ship itself. She didn't remember the descent. Only the impact a bone‑deep shockwave that rattled her teeth and stole her breath. Then silence. When Jesse came to, the world was still. Her head throbbed. Her ribs ached. Her mouth tasted like metal and smoke. She pushed herself upright, groaning as her muscles protested. The pod door had blown open on impact, leaving her half‑buried in sand and debris. The air was thick with humidity and the faint scent of ozone. The crash site stretched around her in a long scar across the coastline. The ship what remained of her lay half‑submerged in the shallows, a smoking carcass of twisted metal and shattered ivory plating. Fires crackled along the torn hull. Steam rose in ghostly plumes. The twin suns cast long, distorted shadows across the wreckage.

Jesse staggered to her feet, swaying as the world tilted. Her legs trembled beneath her. Her vision blurred at the edges. She pressed a hand to her ribs and hissed at the pain. She was alive. Barely. But alive. Her gaze fell on a reinforced vanity chest lying half‑buried in the sand. The metal was scorched, but intact. She recognized it instantly her formal ensemble, packed for a more sultry gala she would never attend. It was the only thing that had survived with her. The dress she was wearing for now in tatters. Jesse knelt beside it, fingers trembling as she unlatched the scorched clasps. Inside, the crimson silk gleamed like fresh blood. The aurodium jewelry still gleaming, ornate and intricate as it shimmered in the sunlight. It was absurd. It was impractical. It was all she had. She stripped off the torn remnants of her dress, wincing as fabric peeled away from bruised skin. The humid salty air stung her cuts. Sand clung to her legs. Her body powerful, curvy, athletic bore the marks of the crash: soot streaks, bruises blooming across her hips and ribs, a shallow cut along her thigh.

She draped the crimson silk across her chest, the fabric clinging instantly to her sweat‑damp skin. The plunging cut revealed the defined line of her waist, the curve of her hips, the strength in her abdomen. Her exposed stomach at least wouldn't have blood making the silk stick to her. She cinched the thin aurodium belt around her hips, the weight grounding her, anchoring her. The silk moved with her sliding over the curve of her hip as she bent, rippling around her thighs as she stood. It clung to her in places where sweat and seawater had dampened her skin, outlining the powerful sweep of her hips and the defined line of her waist. The fabric was light, but the aurodium belt anchored it, its weight a steady pressure against her pelvis. She fastened the aurodium maang tikka against her brow, the chain brushing her forehead. She clasped the ruby‑studded collar around her neck, the stones glowing like embers against her skin. She slid bangles onto her wrists, their melodic chime strangely comforting.

She was bruised, battered, disoriented but she refused to look broken. Jesse stepped into the shallow crystalline pools at the edge of the impact zone. The water was cool against her bruises, stinging her cuts. The hem of her wrap floated around her legs like spilled wine, swirling with each step. Her powerful legs flexed as she pushed through the surf, muscles burning from exertion. The sand dragged at her feet. The water pulled at her calves. The silk clung to her curves, outlining the strength in her thighs, the sweep of her hips, the defined line of her waist. Her jewelry chimed softly with each movement, a delicate counterpoint to the low thrum of Vendaxa's alien ecosystem. She reached the shoreline and paused, shading her eyes with a ring‑laden hand. The neon‑hued jungles loomed beyond the beach dense, towering, alive with bioluminescent veins pulsing faintly beneath the canopy. The air was thick with humidity and the faint scent of crushed vegetation. Strange birdlike calls echoed from deep within the foliage, their tones sharp and metallic. The twin suns hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the sand like reaching fingers.

Something about the silence felt wrong. Too still. Too expectant. Jesse scanned the treeline, her breath steadying. Her instincts prickled. She'd survived enough crashes to know when something didn't add up. The damage pattern on the ship was wrong. The black box was missing ripped from its housing before the crash. And the jungle… watched. She couldn't see anything. But she felt it. A presence. A pressure. A wrongness. She took a step forward, her foot sinking slightly into the pale sand. The grains clung to her damp skin, sticking to her calves and the underside of her thighs. The silk fluttered in the breeze, brushing against her legs. She adjusted the belt at her waist, the aurodium warm from her body heat. Her ribs ached with every breath, but she pushed the pain aside. She had survived worse. She would survive this.

The wind shifted, carrying with it a faint, metallic scent. Jesse frowned. It wasn't smoke. It wasn't blood. It was something else something she couldn't place. She turned her head, scanning the wreckage behind her. The ship lay in ruins, her once‑proud frame twisted and broken. Steam rose from the shattered hull. Fires crackled along the torn metal. The water around the wreckage shimmered with an oily sheen. Jesse's gaze narrowed. Something glinted near the edge of the wreckage a small, metallic object half‑buried in the sand. She approached it cautiously, her steps slow and deliberate. The sand shifted beneath her feet, the grains warm from the suns. She crouched, wincing as her ribs protested. The silk pooled around her legs, the fabric catching the light.

She brushed the sand away, revealing a piece of torn metal. It was small, no larger than her palm, but the edges were jagged, as if it had been ripped from something larger. She turned it over in her hand, her brow furrowing. The metal was scorched, but beneath the soot she could see faint markings symbols she didn't recognize. They were etched into the surface, precise and deliberate. This wasn't part of the ship. A chill ran down her spine. She straightened, her eyes scanning the wreckage again. The wind picked up, carrying with it the faint sound of something moving something large. Jesse's muscles tensed. She took a step back, her hand instinctively reaching for a weapon she didn't have. The sound grew louder, a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the sand.

She turned toward the jungle, her heart pounding. The foliage rustled, the leaves trembling as something pushed through them. Jesse's breath caught in her throat. She took another step back, her feet sinking deeper into the sand. The silk clung to her legs, restricting her movement. She grabbed the fabric, pulling it free. The growl grew louder. Jesse's eyes narrowed. She wasn't helpless. She wasn't prey. She had survived crashes, battles, betrayals. She had fought her way out of worse situations. She squared her shoulders, her stance widening. Her muscles coiled, ready to move. The foliage parted. A creature emerged massive, reptilian, its scales shimmering in the sunlight. Its eyes glowed with a predatory intelligence. It sniffed the air, its nostrils flaring. Jesse held her ground, her breath steady. The creature's gaze locked onto her, its pupils narrowing.

Then, without warning, it lunged. Jesse dove to the side, her body moving on instinct. The creature's claws raked the sand where she had stood. She rolled, the silk tangling around her legs. She kicked free, scrambling to her feet. The creature roared, its jaws snapping shut inches from her face. She ducked, her muscles burning. She grabbed a piece of debris a metal rod and swung it with all her strength. The rod connected with the creature's snout. It recoiled, hissing. Jesse didn't hesitate. She swung again, the impact jarring her arm. The creature staggered, its eyes narrowing. It lunged again, faster this time. Jesse dodged, her feet slipping in the sand. She fell, the breath knocked from her lungs. The creature loomed over her. Jesse's hand closed around the metal shard she had found earlier. She drove it upward, burying it in the creature's throat. It roared, thrashing. Jesse rolled away, her body shaking. The creature collapsed, its body twitching. She lay in the sand, gasping, her muscles trembling.

She pushed herself upright, her breath ragged. The silk was torn, the fabric clinging to her bruised skin. Her jewelry was askew, the bangles dented. She wiped the sweat from her brow, her hand shaking. Something was wrong. Something had brought the ship down. Something had ripped the black box from its housing. Something had sent this creature to investigate the crash. Jesse stood, her legs unsteady. She looked toward the jungle, her gaze hardening. She wasn't alone. She wasn't safe. But she was alive. And she would find answers. She took a step forward, the sand shifting beneath her feet. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faint sound of something watching. Jesse didn't look back. She walked toward the jungle toward danger, toward answers, toward whatever waited for her in the shadows.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren remembered the moment the ship failed with unnerving clarity.

There had been no gradual warning. No cascading alerts. One instant the vessel was whole, gliding on a steady course, and the next the Force twisted—not surged, not flared, but tightened, as if something had reached into the ship and clenched its fist around the spine of it.

Systems died in unison.

The scream that followed was not the ship's alone.

She was already moving when the second impact hit. Instinct and long habit carried her through smoke and buckling corridors as gravity flickered in and out, bodies and debris turning into weapons. The heat was immediate, oppressive, the kind that told her atmosphere had been breached somewhere it should not have been. She felt Jesse's presence then—alive, hurt, terrified, but burning with that stubborn refusal to die—and it sharpened her focus rather than fracturing it.

Seren reached the escape pods seconds before the ship began to come apart in earnest. She did not remember the ejection itself. Only the violence of reentry. The way the pod screamed as it punched through Vendaxa's atmosphere, how the restraints bit into her ribs hard enough that she tasted blood. She blacked out on impact.

When she came to, the pod was half-cracked open, its outer shell split along one side like a broken rib. Pale sand had poured in, clinging to her cloak and hair. One shoulder throbbed with a deep, grinding ache that told her something had been wrenched rather than broken. Breathing hurt, but it was possible. Her head rang, vision slow to settle, but her mind was intact.

She pushed herself upright and took stock with practiced efficiency. Alive. Injured, but mobile. No immediate internal bleeding she could sense. The Force answered her call, muted for a moment by pain, then steadying as shadows gathered close, not to hide her, but to hold her together.

Vendaxa stretched around her in alien stillness.

She had landed near the coast. Shallow crystalline water glittered beneath twin suns just beginning their climb, the wreckage of the ship visible farther down the shoreline—what remained of it, anyway. The hull had not simply crashed. It had been torn. Panels peeled back, internal structures exposed like a dissected thing. And the absence where the black box should have been was unmistakable. That absence chilled her more than the injuries.

She reached outward through the Force again, searching—not for answers, not yet—but for Jesse. There. Alive. Hurt. Moving. The echo of violence was still clinging to her like heat haze.

Seren pulled herself entirely free of the pod, favoring her shoulder, sand crunching beneath her boots as she turned inland. The jungle loomed ahead, bioluminescent veins pulsing faintly beneath dense foliage. Something had already responded to the crash. Something curious. Something predatory.

Shadows slid into place around her without command, a quiet, familiar presence. She set her course toward Jesse and began to walk. Whatever had brought their ship down was not finished. And Seren did not intend to let Jesse face it alone.

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

She felt it before she could see or hear it. She knew Seren was alive at least and a few others.. the predators that had been around... at least one was here. She was moving quickly in the sands as her feet were bare. The pain of her bruises, the cuts in the salt air stung but it was keeping her alert... much better then trying to beat her chest as she moved. Memories of the last time she was in a really bad crash came to her as she moved down the beach looking for survivors. There were some pods that were blood covered... where people had been ripped out of them or some that were submerged in the waters around.

She could see the doors partially opened but the people inside had either not gotten free in time or they hadn't strapped in... not exactly a good way to go about things. Her breathing at least was evening out as she stood there in the sand as the waved came up to her feet. Her hands going through the pod and finding a small emergency kit but the internals were nasty looking and he couldn't find the locator beacon. Which was odd... thinking to it there had been a lot of odd things she hadn't registered at the time. She was looking when she felt something more, her hands mvoing before she did and getting on top of a life pod she was able to look out over the beach.

"Come on, show me that blue hair."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren heard her before she saw her.

Not with her ears at first, but through the Force—the familiar cadence of movement cutting through pain and chaos. A presence she had been holding onto since the ship tore itself apart. Alive. Moving. Refusing to vanish.

She emerged from the edge of the treeline where jungle bled into sand, one hand pressed hard against her left side. The impact had not been kind to her. Her cloak was gone, torn away somewhere between atmosphere and ground, and one sleeve of her tunic hung in tatters. Blood had dried dark along her ribs and forearm, shallow wounds that burned rather than slowed her. Bruises were already blooming beneath her skin, deep and ugly, each breath a quiet reminder of how close the margin had been.

Her blue hair hung loose as it always did, dulled now by sand and smoke, stirred by the coastal wind rather than restrained by habit. She stopped when she spotted Jesse standing atop the pod, salt water lapping at her feet.

"You're loud when you're worried," Seren called out, her voice carrying easily over the surf despite the strain beneath it. "I followed the disturbance. And the trail you left."

She stepped onto the open sand, boots crunching softly over debris and scorched metal. Her gaze swept the pods with a single, practiced assessment. Blood. Forced exits. Missing beacons.

"The ship was sabotaged," she said quietly, more statement than speculation. "The black box was removed before atmospheric failure. This was never meant to land."

She reached the pod Jesse had climbed, resting her weight briefly against it, breathing carefully.

"I came down two klicks north of here," Seren continued. "Jungle edge. Hard impact. I am functional, but not untouched."

Her eyes lifted to Jesse's, steady and assessing, then softened just enough to register relief without indulging it.

"You should not be moving as much as you are," she added, not chiding, simply factual. "But I know better than to ask you to stop."

The wind shifted. Something distant moved in the brush.

"We are not alone," Seren said. "At least one predator is still circling. Curious, not cautious."

She straightened, pain briefly tightening her jaw before she mastered it.

"We regroup first. Then we disappear from the shoreline."

Her gaze flicked once more to the wreckage, then back to Jesse.

"I am glad you answered." Not relief. Not sentiment. Truth.

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

Jesse heard it as she turned and was ready for something else but she saw Seren as she moved. taking in the tattered sight of the woman and when she finished speaking the Alderaanian woman did two things... first was nod and second was pull her in for a quick hug... to feel not closeness, but something solid to make sure she hadn't hit her head and the woman was just a figment of her mind being damaged. She spoke pulling back enough to look. "We'll figure it out, easier with two people." She had seen the predators and the first signs of sabotage. She breathed in though for a moment allowing herself a small moment to think about it when she finally looked at herself.

Her vision cracked through the haze of pain, her skull throbbing like a war drum. He's there tall, sculpted shadow emerging from the void, dark skin gleaming under unseen light, muscles rippling across broad shoulders and down to a taut backside. Head turned just enough to reveal a sharp profile: short curly hair, full lips parted in silent judgment, eyes piercing the darkness. Fragments of her memories assaulting her the sting of sweat, a shared breath blending with the metallic taste of blood now. The image faded as vertigo spun her around, leaving echoes of strength and vulnerability as Jesse was looking at more of it and breathing harder.

"I..." She said it and finally got to really look at herself. THe bruises and cuts were more then she had expected and once she stopped moving the sting of the salt air on open wounds came.. she sat down in the sand looking outwards as she spoke. "The last time I had been in a crash like this, we were sabotaged as well. the Organa names goes a long way for ransom."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren went still when Jesse pulled her in.

Not startled. Not resistant. She let it happen, arms coming up just enough to return the contact, solid and deliberate, grounding rather than comforting. She could feel the tremor in Jesse's muscles, the uneven breath, the way pain had been pushed aside by motion and adrenaline and was now beginning to claw its way back in. When Jesse pulled away, Seren did not step back.

She looked at her carefully then. Not the dress. Not the jewelry. The injuries.

Her gaze tracked methodically over bruising already darkening along ribs and hip, the shallow cuts irritated by salt and sand, the way Jesse favored one side when she settled down. Seren crouched with her, the hem of her cloak brushing the sand, placing herself just close enough to be present without crowding.

"You are not imagining me," she said calmly, voice low and steady. "Your pupils are reactive. Your balance is compromised, but not fractured. You took a hard impact, not a fatal one."

Her eyes lifted briefly, sweeping the shoreline, the ruined pods, the waterline where wreckage steamed faintly. The jungle beyond. The silence felt too deliberate.

"We came down on Vendaxa's southern coast," Seren continued "Near the biolume jungles, but not inside them. That gives us space. It also gives whatever did this room to watch."

She looked back at Jesse as she spoke of sabotage, the Organa name, and ransom. There was no surprise in Seren's expression—only confirmation.

"The black box was removed before atmospheric breach," she said. "That is not opportunistic. That is preparation."

A pause. Then, more quietly:

"You are hurt, Jesse. More than you want to admit. Sitting was the correct choice."

Seren reached out then, not to touch skin, but to rest her hand briefly at Jesse's shoulder—firm, anchoring.

"We will not move inland yet," she said. "Predators follow weakness and noise. Saboteurs follow patterns. Right now, we give them neither."

Her gaze softened just a fraction, the edge easing without dulling.

"You survived the crash. I survived the crash. That already disrupted whatever plan this was meant to complete."

She straightened slightly, eyes scanning the beach once more.

"We will figure this out," Seren echoed, steady and certain. "And you are right. It is easier with two people."

She stayed beside her, close enough to be felt, watching the jungle and the surf alike while Jesse caught her breath.

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

Sitting there she could think of a few things... mostly that it stung more then hurt while she was looking over herself.. the injuries were largely superficial. She had pain in her leg but nothing was broken. Jostled yes... pinched nerves, bruising yeah.. her mind was going over what she could see and she knew her back was in pain more where she wouldn't be able to see. The woman remained there while she found something so that she would be able to lean over it and used her hand to probe slowly. Mostly feeling for where the air had begun to dry the blood. A roadmap in the dark as it were of her injuries she couldn't see.

She still listened though and gave a nod of her head. "Selfish to think it is all about me but it happened once before, even discounting that it still makes you paranoid." She chuckled to herself though as her vision mostly was looking into the sun. "Though I did see someone I know is dead so... there is that." She laugh more finishing and finding a small area to lay down in the sand. "We need to see what can be salvaged, no black box or beacon is one thing but any potential supplies can be useful and if we have enough we can make a better shelter for protection from predators." Jesse was allowing her mind to check over a few more things while using any pain to stay awake and for the moment flex and stretch.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren stayed close, not crowding her, but not drifting away either. She had learned long ago how to read pain that was being managed rather than announced. The way Jesse tested her movements. She stayed grounded by cataloging injuries rather than reacting to them.

She crouched nearby, letting the sand take some of her weight as the suns pressed down.

"Paranoia is only selfish if it blinds you," Seren said gently. "Yours is doing the opposite. You noticed patterns. Missing systems. Timing. That matters."

Her gaze followed Jesse's briefly toward the wreckage, then to the treeline beyond, where the jungle waited in a way that felt far too attentive.

"Seeing someone you know is dead," she continued after a beat, "especially after a crash like this… that is shock, memory, stress. The mind reaches for familiar anchors when it is trying to keep itself intact." Not dismissive. Not alarmist. Simply naming it. "It does not mean you are losing your grip."

She shifted, brushing sand from her own hands before scanning the debris field more deliberately now, letting the Force stretch outward in careful threads, not searching blindly. Listening.

"You are right about priorities," Seren agreed. "Supplies first. Anything sealed. Anything intact. Tools, rations, fabric, plating. We do not assume rescue, and we do not assume solitude."

Her eyes returned to Jesse, assessing the way she lay, the tension in her movements. "Your injuries are survivable," she said calmly. "But we should not push them until we know what we have to work with. We can build a shelter closer to the wreckage for now. High ground if possible. Clear sightlines." A pause, then quieter. "Predators hunt patterns too. Light. Noise. Repetition. We will give them as little as possible."

She settled back on her heels, solid and present. "Rest here for a few minutes," Seren added. "Then we move together. You are not doing this alone." Not a promise meant to comfort. A statement of fact.

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

Dead to her... hopefully dead in all cases. "That is certainly one way to put it." She smiled though and rested her body for a moment breathing in and then exhaling.. letting the force release all of the tension throughout her mind and body. She released it... the force flowing through her body as she didn't have the advanced healing of some but she knew how to take care of herself and start the processes faster. To start knitting flesh... just more scars that she would have physically, mentally and emotionally... it went together and Jesse finished as she rolled onto her back to feel the warmth of the sun with a breath for a moment.

She stretched out again in the sand but slowly rose up while keeping her eyes on the treeline itself. Just in case... she was looking to see if she saw anyone again from the past... and so far no. "He had a habit of surviving a lot and he taught me... even if it was brutal many things... and I gave in." She said it as she hadn't been innocent in it she had embraced it... as a means to survive at first but then she had been good at it... among all of her family she had found something she was good at and none of them did... not the best recommendation though. Jesse slowly rising up while she brushed the sand off of herself. The grit being used to wipe off some of the blood.

"Alright, we'll start with the most practical. Finding the location first... we check what is on the way and once we have a place to operate from we can spread out. If there are other survivors... which there might be we can see about them but there are hundreds of islands and miles of jungle and we were crashing.. they could be spread over a large area."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren watched her closely while she spoke, not intruding on the moment where Jesse let the Force move through her body in its own quiet way. She recognized the signs. Not advanced healing, not the dramatic knitting some relied on, but discipline. Breath. Will. Allowing the body to remember how to survive instead of forcing it to comply.

She waited until Jesse pushed herself upright again before answering, her tone steady and grounded.

"Survival has a way of teaching lessons that don't ask permission," Seren said calmly. "And it rarely cares whether we are ready for them."

Her gaze followed Jesse's toward the treeline, not because she expected something to emerge, but because vigilance deserved to be mirrored. She remained standing, posture relaxed but alert, weight balanced easily in the sand.

"Giving in does not always mean surrender," she continued. "Sometimes it means choosing the tool that keeps you breathing when no better option exists. What matters is whether you remained aware while you used it."

A brief pause, then quieter.

"You did."

When Jesse shifted to logistics, Seren nodded once, approving, already mapping the problem in her own mind.

"Agreed," she said. "We establish a fixed point first. High ground if possible, defensible, close enough to fresh water that we are not burning energy to stay hydrated."

Her eyes swept the beach, then the jungle beyond, tracing invisible lines.

"We inventory what survived the crash, even the damaged pieces. Power cells, ration packs, signal components, fabric, metal—anything that can be repurposed."

She glanced briefly toward the wreckage behind them.

"Once we have shelter and supplies secured, we expand our search in controlled sweeps. Not wide dispersal. That gets people killed."

Her attention returned to Jesse, expression calm but firm. "If there are survivors, they will move toward water, light, or wreckage. We will find signs before we find people." A faint, wry note entered her voice. "And if something else is watching, it will reveal itself once we stop acting like prey."

She shifted slightly closer, not crowding, simply aligning.

"You've already done the hardest part," Seren finished evenly. "You stayed conscious through the damage. Now we build something that lasts longer than the crash."

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

She gave a nod of approval to that plan and stood up. Brushing more and more of it off sand wise. "Also, cloths, I got somewhat lucky to find one of my outfits but you'll need something eventually... and as fun as it can be to go native and just run around all natural." She said it with a look and a laugh to herself. "It isn't entirely conducive to making a good impression." Jesse began to move as now she could take in more of the ocean, seeing small islands, patches of sand as the surf was coming in and the debris in areas. Some of the pods were around and some of the pieces of the ship itself were in deeper waters. They would have to see about some of those things.

She let out another breath but started to move as she was going. putting the treeline in sight but not entering it as she moved. Looking for the highest point they could reach and where it wouldn't just be a lot of sand you couldn't hear something approaching. Streams would also be important for fresh water sources they would be trying to find as she moved at a good and careful pace. She moved with her bare feet but had moved most of the bangles and jewelry of the outfit to a small collection she could use with the silks. Tying and tightening it into a solid lump that would double as a blunt weapon as she spoke. "So want to distract my mind a little from the situation? Tell me a little about yourself since I kind of trauma dumped upon you."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren rose after Jesse, slower, deliberate, letting the sand settle beneath her feet before she moved. She did not rush to follow, nor did she lag behind. Her gaze tracked the shoreline Jesse was already assessing, the same priorities registering quietly. Elevation. Water. Visibility. What could be defended? What could not?

At the comment about clothing, a faint breath of amusement escaped her.

"You are not wrong," Seren said, dry but warm. "Practicality tends to matter more once survival replaces ceremony."

She adjusted the fall of her cloak, already cataloging what could be repurposed, what could be traded, what might eventually need replacing. Her eyes flicked briefly to the bundled jewelry Jesse had shaped into something usable, a silent acknowledgment of ingenuity rather than surprise.

They moved together, parallel to the treeline without entering it, the surf close enough to hear but not close enough to limit retreat. Seren matched Jesse's pace easily, neither leading nor trailing.

When Jesse asked about her, Seren did not answer right away. She watched the horizon a moment longer, committing landmarks to memory, then finally spoke.

"I was raised Jedi," she said. No defensiveness. No ceremony. Just a fact. "From the time I was old enough to listen."

Her eyes remained forward as she continued.

"I was trained to observe first. To feel what others overlook. To understand how environments shape behavior, and how belief hardens into habit." A pause. "Combat was never my focus, but neither was ignorance."

She glanced sideways at Jesse briefly, then back ahead.

"I learned early that the Force does not always announce itself through violence. Sometimes it gathers in quiet places. In shadow. In absence." Her voice remained calm, even. "That is where I learned to work."

The surf hissed against the shore as she spoke.

"I left the Jedi because I chose to," Seren continued. "Not out of anger. Not betrayal. Because I reached the edge of what they were willing to ask, and found I still needed answers."

Her gaze softened just slightly, not vulnerable, but open. "As for what I do now," she added, "I listen. I guide when asked. I survive."

At Jesse's self-deprecating comment, Seren shook her head once. "You did not overstep," she said. "You shared context. That is not a weakness. That is awareness."

A beat. "If you want distraction," Seren went on, "I can talk." Her tone warmed just a fraction. "If you want focus, I can walk quietly beside you. Either way, we move with intent."

She inclined her head slightly toward the terrain ahead. "So," she asked, steady and present, "what do you want to find first?"

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

She listened and thought about it with a smile on her face now.. one of warmth. The church of the force believed in the purpose of the jedi, in ancient times being the ones who would seek and work to bring their light back to the galaxy. Now the jedi were always around and there were a dozen orders. She offered a small look though and a nod of her head. "It happens in some places, The Church of the Force believes in the jedi's light... not always the individual jedi themselves. They can be very different when you first meet them." She said it though and moved. "But I mostly need distraction, last time something happened I ended up like this."

She said it and thought about it. "I got used to it, I adapted but it was not my first choice. I never would have even thought about it until I met..." She trailed off. "Well he is gone and I am like this now, an outcast of a family of political savvy rulers at times." THe smile though was on her face as she kind of preferred it, she appreciated the draw that came when her family were sometimes around to see her... and she wasn't restricted to the formal outfits she was able to wear more what she wanted. She stopped only for a moment and looked at the beach and the tree line as they sloped upwards with an area extending over the water. She flexed her hands. "We might be climbing."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren listened without interrupting, the way she always did when someone spoke from experience rather than doctrine. She let the words settle, let the shape of Jesse's history reveal itself without forcing interpretation. When she finally said it, it was carefully, as if choosing her footing rather than making a declaration.

"I have found that people often believe in ideas more easily than in those who live them," Seren said quietly. "Light. Purpose. Redemption. They are comforting at a distance. Much harder up close, when carried by someone real."

Her gaze followed Jesse's toward the beach and the rising treeline, already assessing slope, cover, and the places where stone would give way beneath sand. She did not rush to soften what had been said.

"Adaptation keeps you alive," she continued. "But survival does not always begin as a choice. Sometimes it begins as a necessity, and only later becomes something you shape."

She looked back to Jesse then, expression open, without judgment or pity.

"Being outside a family, a tradition, or a role does not mean you lack direction," Seren added. "It means you are no longer bound to a version of yourself that was decided for you."

At the mention of climbing, Seren shifted her weight subtly, eyes tracing the incline where land rose toward rock and root. Her fingers flexed once, shadows stirring faintly before settling again, instinctively quiet.

"Higher ground gives us time and sight," she said. "Predators rely on surprise. So do people. Altitude denies both."

A brief pause, then something gentler.

"And distraction does not have to mean avoidance," Seren added. "Movement can be a form of clarity. Forward. Upward. Away from where thoughts begin to fold in on themselves."

She nodded once toward the slope.

"Let's climb," Seren said. "If nothing else, it reminds the body that it still chooses where it goes."

She moved first, not hurried, not commanding, simply present, setting a pace that invited Jesse to follow without pressure.

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

SHe gave a nod of that as approaching the rising rocks and cliffs she tested it for a moment. Tossing the sick and jewels up and over as she listened. The sound of it landing was there but nothing else aside from the surrounding surf. She breathed in deeper when she started up. If there was someone or something up there it should have made noise coming to investigate. She moved up slowly though just in case as she breathed in and then outwards.. allowing the force to settle and expand with her breathing. Senses going outwards to search the treeline and if they were unlucky the waters. Herr hands gripping the rock which was dried and sandy but at least it wasn't slippery.

She finally made it up and slowly moved over grabbing at the ground when she had a strong enough hold to pull herself up. Making the movements for Seren to be able to work with and come to join her. She found her weapon while staying close and ready to the ground. It looked secure enough for the moment as it slanted down into more rocks and the trees were there. Canopy darker but she was able to watch it while she stood up for the moment. SHe sensed and followed the treeline so she could look out at the debris. It was scattered over a largerr area and she could see a large section was on the jungle. "Well that will be promising at least, if anything the rooms should have plenty left."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

As she tested the climb, Seren did not rush to follow immediately. Instead, she paused at the base of the incline, eyes lifting to track the other woman's movements, listening not just with her ears but with the Force as it spread outward in a careful, disciplined sweep.

The rock face was dry but uneven, its surface broken by shallow ledges and loose grit. Not ideal. Not dangerous either—if treated correctly.

She inhaled slowly.

The shadows answered.

They did not surge or coil dramatically. Seren never forced them to. They gathered instead, subtle and cooperative, pooling along the rock where the stone dipped inward, darkening crevices and seams that would otherwise crumble under weight. A faint veil of umbral density crept across the incline, giving the surface just enough cohesion to hold.

When she moved, it was with quiet confidence.

Her foot found purchase where moments before there had been only sand, the shadow beneath it firming just long enough to bear her weight before thinning again. Her hand followed, fingers sinking into a darkened groove that steadied rather than pulled. The shadows did not lift her; they guided, supported, corrected micro-slips before they could become mistakes.

Each motion was deliberate. Economical.

As she climbed, the darkness flowed ahead of her like a whispered promise, anchoring here, reinforcing there, never visible enough to draw attention but always present. From below, it might have looked like skill alone. From closer, it was clear something else was assisting—something practiced, controlled, and entirely at her command.

Within moments, Seren reached the top, rolling her weight forward and settling into a low crouch beside her companion. The shadows loosened immediately, peeling away from the rock and slipping back into their natural places as if they had never been disturbed.

She remained still for a beat, senses extending outward again, tasting the canopy, the scattered debris, the quiet promise of salvage ahead.

Then, softly, evenly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world:

"Go ahead," Seren said. "I have you covered."

Her gaze followed the treeline, shadows already listening with her.

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

Jesse felt the force prickle along the back of her spine as Seren was ascending and she didn't look back or down... her eyes remaining forward as she walked with a nod of her head. The treeline was dark but she didn't feel that sensation of eyes on her. For the moment at least she didn't feel it when she was walking. Her attention going to the rest of the area where they were standing as she walked. Towards the edge to look down and they had a good area of coverage, minimal approach from a single direction. "We have more of a moment, I wouldn't call it shelter but it can work for taking a moment to prepare for the next part."

She said it but found a place she would be able to crouch and watch it all there was also the dirt that she was checking. Running her finger to make something of a map. "it isn't much but we at least know a little about the coastline as we were coming this way. The islands interior will be the tricky thing to check after we find a place. Might be good to see about climbing a tree if we can." She was debating more the best ways to scout without them tiring themselves too much. THey didn't have the initial supplies forr long excursions without shelter... but if they did nothing it wouldn't help them either so it was about that balance.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren reached the incline just as Jesse began to assess their position, the Force already answering before she consciously called for it.

The shadows along the rock face shifted.

Not dramatically, not as some overt display, but subtly enough that the uneven stone darkened where her hands would go, edges sharpening, contrast deepening. The incline did not change its shape, but it became easier to read. Holds revealed themselves through the absence of light rather than texture, negative space outlining where weight could be trusted.

She moved with quiet efficiency, letting the shadows brace where her footing would have slipped, lending purchase where sand threatened to give way. It was not lifting her, not carrying her, just assisting. Guiding. Like a second set of instincts layered over her own.

When she reached the top, she settled beside Jesse without ceremony, lowering into a crouch as well. Her gaze followed the same lines Jesse had already traced: coastline, debris field, the jungle's edge where density swallowed sight and sound alike.

"This is good ground," Seren said calmly, her voice low and measured. "Not safe. But honest. We can see what approaches, and what does not want to be seen, will have to work for it."

She leaned in slightly as Jesse marked the dirt, studying the rough map taking shape beneath her fingers. Seren extended one finger and added a faint line of her own, marking elevation rather than distance.

"The interior will cost us more than the shoreline," she agreed. "Sound dies faster there. Sight too. If we rush it, we burn energy we cannot afford to replace yet."

Her eyes lifted to the trees, tracking their height and spacing.

"A climb would help," Seren continued. "But only after we establish a fallback. One high point, one defensible rest point, and a clear retreat path. Balance first. Then reach."

She shifted her weight, scanning again, then glanced to Jesse with a quiet certainty.

"For now, this is enough," she said. "A pause without stagnation. Preparation without hiding."

The shadows around them settled back into stillness, no longer needed, but not gone.

Jesse Organa

 

[Jesse Organa]

Seren Gwyn

She listened. "Agreed." There was a smirk on her face though. They had a plan at least one to start... the real trick would be later once the hunger started or worse... but at least neither of them was cripplingly injured and a danger of holding them back. "We might benefit being the only ones who survived, no big injuries means we can at least move but the double edge to that is any predators if they aren't finding bodies would be coming towards us for encroaching." She looked at the jungle and then the rest of the coast they had to search. "We'll explore it in a bit, the force energies for healing will be better." She sat there for a moment and she knew how to use the energies for her body to sustain her which would help with food conservation. "Also might clear my head for sensing."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren listened, then inclined her head once in agreement, the faintest smirk touching her expression as she followed Jesse's line of thought. The plan was not elegant, but it was workable. That mattered more than polish right now.

"Agreed," she said simply, though there was quiet approval beneath it.

Her gaze moved with purpose, sweeping from the dark edge of the jungle back toward the broken coastline, already mapping risks and advantages without needing to voice each one aloud.

"Being mobile gives us leverage," Seren continued. "No severe injuries means we can choose when to move instead of being forced to. But you are right. If predators do not find bodies, they will eventually start investigating what displaced them."

She let out a slow breath, grounding herself as she studied the treeline again, not tense but alert.

"That makes us the anomaly," she added. "And anomalies draw attention."

At the mention of waiting, of healing energies, her posture eased slightly. This part was familiar territory. Control. Conservation. Listening instead of pushing.

"Taking time before we move is wise," Seren said. "The Force here is… unsettled, but it is present. Letting it stabilize will help more than forcing progress."

She rested her hands loosely against her thighs, eyes lowering as if already preparing to center herself.

"I can sustain myself for a while without drawing on physical reserves," she said, matter-of-factly. "That will buy us time and clarity. Hunger clouds perception faster than fatigue."

Her eyes lifted again, clear and intent.

"And if my head is clear," Seren finished, a faint edge of dry humor in her tone, "my senses will be sharper. Which means we are less likely to be surprised when something decides to test whether we belong here."

Jesse Organa