Private Grain & Stardust | Flashback

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio - Several Months Ago

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

​

Morning had long since settled over the fields. The mist had burned off hours ago, leaving Ukio wide beneath a pale sky. The plains moved in slow waves wherever the wind passed through the grain. Beyond the farmhouse and irrigation channels, an old repulsor harvester sat open in the dirt where it had died two days prior, half its casing removed and its internals exposed to light.

Ace was beneath it again. One shoulder against the earth, sleeve pushed back, metallic left forearm buried deep in the machine, articulated fingers working through the cramped housing while his right hand braced the assembly in place. Metal clicked softly under his touch. A wire shifted. Something resisted. Ace paused, adjusted, and attempted it again.

The work had become almost meditative in a way he would never have described aloud. There was comfort in systems that broke for reasons that could be traced. Machines made sense... people less so. A faint chirp sounded from above. Tic.

"I know." Ace murmured, though whether he was answering the droid or himself was unclear.

He shifted back out from beneath the harvester enough to sit up, wiping a streak of grease from his hand onto an already stained cloth. Parts lay arranged near him in deliberate order; couplings, tools, a cracked regulator they had spent most of yesterday arguing whether to replace or salvage.

He glanced over the disassembled engine again, still thinking. The farmers had assumed it would take a specialist from Sashasa. Instead some drifter passing through had crawled under it and refused to leave the thing dead.

His gaze wandered beyond the machine, out over the fields. The wind moved through them in long silver-green ripples. Somewhere distant came the faint mechanical rhythm of another harvester at work.

It was quiet. The real kind. He had never spent much time in places where silence carried life instead of warning. That still felt strange, but it wasn't unpleasant. Ace leaned forward, reaching for a hydrospanner beside him before stopping when he noticed it wasn't where he'd left it. His eyes narrowed faintly. Then, without turning:

"You moved my tools, Lorn." He looked down at the loosened coupling in his hand and gave it another turn, voice lower now, almost absent. "I was close to getting this stabilizer to behave."

Tic made a small series of tones, as if offering commentary. Ace's expression shifted just enough to suggest amusement.

"Don't start."

He settled back beneath the machine once more, shoulders disappearing under the chassis, voice carrying from under the frame.

"Pass me the coupler when you find it." There was a brief pause, and after a moment, Ace added: A pause. "And not the broken one."

The wind moved through the grain again. Tools rested in the dirt. Somewhere overhead, a small flock crossed the open sky. And for a while, it was only the quiet sounds of fieldwork and the muted rhythm of Ace working beneath the old machine, as though this, somehow, had become natural.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

"Huh? Wha?" Lorn muttered, barely cracking an eyelid as Ace's voice drifted up from the dirt. He didn't move. The aging Guardian had zero interest in technology or the inner workings of a harvester. He hadn't grown up needing those skills and frankly didn't want them now. He was a naturalist by temperament, more comfortable with the wind than a wiring harness.

A coupler? Lorn could guess what it looked like, but why bother? He figured the best use of a younger set of hands was to give his own older bones a break in the sun. They were supposed to be mediating a dispute between feuding farms, not acting as free labor.

Maybe the neighbors had sabotaged the machine, or maybe it just gave up. Either way, once Acier took charge of the repairs, Lorn saw his opening for a nap.

He had moved the tools specifically to clear a spot where the breeze caught his hair just right. It was the perfect place to soak up the warmth.

"Get it yourself," Lorn mumbled, shifting his weight to get comfortable again. He stayed still for a moment, listening to the rhythmic clinking of metal on metal coming from the chassis. "Where did you even learn to fix these things, anyway?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace hadn't even realized Lorn had drifted off. His attention had narrowed so completely around the stubborn rhythm of the repair that the world beyond the exposed engine had fallen away with it.

So when Lorn's answer came, Ace finally pulled himself partway out from beneath the harvester and turned. And stopped. Lorn was asleep, not meditating, not thoughtfully resting his eyes in some lofty Jedi way. Sleeping.

Ace stared for a moment, grease on both flesh and metal, trying and failing not to look incredulous. Then he rolled his eyes and a faint breath escaped him through his nose, almost a laugh.

The Sword of Shiraya. He didn't know much about what the title actually carried, only that it was evidently a serious thing. Revered, something that made him important. And yet, someone as important as him was taking a nap in farm fields. Somehow, that was… deeply amusing.

Tic let out a chirrup from the engine housing as if sharing the judgment.

"Right." Ace muttered.

He pushed himself upright, stepped away from the machine for the first time in a while, and wiped grease from his hands with a nearby rag.

"Aren't you supposed to be handling some dispute?" He asked, looking over at Lorn now, voice dry but lighter than the words themselves. "Why are you sleeping?"

Tic hopped down with a metallic clink and nosed at a misplaced hydrospanner in the dirt before nudging it toward Ace's boot like a dutiful assistant trying to repair a failed operation. Ace looked down at the droid.

"You're more help than he is."

A pleased trill answered him. He bent to gather the tools, reaching for a narrower driver before Lorn's question reached him. That made him pause for a moment. Long enough that the wind moving through the grain could be heard again.

Ace looked back toward the opened guts of the harvester rather than toward Lorn when he answered. "This mechanic. Mira."

He crouched again beside the machine and slipped the new tool into the housing, working as he spoke.

"She taught me when I was a kid. How to fix things. How to slice too."

The words came easily, though he hadn't expected to be saying them. He adjusted something deeper in the assembly. Then, after a moment...

"She was…" His voice thinned just slightly in thought. "Kind of the closest thing I had to a mom."

He paused, frowning faintly at a stubborn fitting.

"Or what I thought a mom would be."

The tool turned again and a small hum rose from the harvester as power briefly stirred somewhere deeper in the system. Ace kept working a few seconds more before speaking again, almost absent as his attention split between memory and machine.

"Why?"

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

One eye cracked open just enough to see Ace standing there, covered in the grime of a machine that should have been scrapped years ago. The boy's judgment was palpable, but Lorn wasn't bothered. Sunlight was a rare commodity in their line of work, and he intended to spend it wisely.

"No," Lorn corrected, his voice heavy with sleep. "We are supposed to be handling a dispute. Not just me. But there is no we when you won't move from beneath that blasted pile of bolts."

A dry chuckle escaped him when Ace mentioned the droid was more helpful. It was hard to argue with facts; droids were designed to be useful, whereas Lorn had spent most of his life ignoring such technology. He shifted his weight, letting the warmth of the dirt seep into his back. The internal quiet he'd been chasing was finally within reach, even if the kid was intent on poking at it.

"Well," Lorn said, finally sitting up and squinting against the glare. "Sometimes, when you spend time with someone, it's nice to know a bit about their past. Especially if one of us is supposed to be mentoring the other. You don't always have to be so closed off."

The sarcasm felt familiar, a comfortable shield. He watched the way Ace handled the tools, seeing the ghost of this woman, Mira, in the precision of the boy's movements. It was a domestic kind of skill, something born of stability and care, things Lorn had lost track of a lifetime ago.

"Where is this Mira now?" Lorn asked.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't answer immediately. His focus settled back into the open housing as if the question had simply joined the background noise of the field. Something resisted, then gave. He adjusted his grip, metal fingers working through the cramped space with practiced ease while his right hand steadied the assembly.

"I'm not the Jedi here." He said after a moment, voice carrying from beneath the chassis, even and dry. "Technically not my job. I just owed you one after Dathomir."

There was a thread of humor in it. Subtle and easy to miss if you weren't listening for it. Tic chirped from above, a soft descending tone that sounded suspiciously like disagreement.

Ace exhaled lightly. "Yeah, I know. Still doesn't make it my job."

The wind moved through the grain again, brushing past the edges of the field in long, slow waves. Somewhere deeper in the machinery, something shifted as he adjusted another connector. Lorn's earlier words lingered. Knowing more about someone.

Ace's expression didn't change, but his movements slowed just slightly as he considered it.

"Right..." He said after a beat. "I guess that's true."

It came out more like an acknowledgment than agreement. Talking about his past had never really been something he went out of his way to do. It didn't feel useful. Forward was easier, cleaner, and less to carry. Still... he'd learned, slowly, that connections didn't build themselves on silence alone.

He turned the tool turned again and a small hum stirred through the harvester, faint but steady this time. Ace shifted position, pulling himself out just enough to reach for another piece laid out beside him. He swapped tools without thinking, attention already moving to the next fault in the system.

Where is this Mira now?

He stopped. The new tool hovered in his hand for a second longer than it should have as silence settled in around it. Ace didn't look up.

"I don't know."

He left it there because that was all there was. One day she'd just… stopped being there. It was the first in a long pattern.

Mira. Red. Pisti Caleida . Even Tessk, in his own way. People... influential people came into his life, shaped something, and then... they were gone. It had taught him not to lean too hard on anything that felt like it might last. Which was why, when Lorn referred to himself as mentor, it never really sat right with him.

Ace adjusted the tool in his hand, but instead of continuing, he paused. Then shifted, pushing himself upright enough to turn toward Lorn properly for the first time since the conversation had started. There was no weight in his expression, just that same quiet steadiness.

"Okay. What about you?" His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to suggest something lighter beneath the question. "Where'd you learn to nap while on the job?"

....

"Or is that all you."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

A genuine laugh rumbled in Lorn's chest, the sound rough and rusty from disuse. He stayed leaned back, watching the kid pull himself out from the grease and gears. Ace's stubborn refusal to claim his place in the galaxy was almost impressive.

"You are a Jedi," Lorn said, his eyes finally finding the boy's face. "You just don't know it yet, kid."

Silence stretched between them when the topic of Mira ended in a dead end. I don't know was a heavy answer, carrying the weight of a ghost. Lorn considered offering to help find her, but he bit back the impulse. Empty promises were a poison, and Ace looked like a man who had already swallowed his fair share. The boy's reluctance to trust made sense now; people were just parts that eventually went missing.

Lorn adjusted his position, the dry grass crunching beneath him. "I spent my youth fighting the good fight. A decade of service starting when I was even younger than you. Day and night, always looking over my shoulder. You learn to take rest where you can."

The older man offered a tired, knowing smirk. "Plus, I'm much older now, Ace. It isn't as easy to keep up. You'll see. Spend the next decade being as reckless as you can, and your body will crave the dirt just as much as mine does. Especially if you keep spending your days folded up under these machines."

A heavy gust of wind rolled over the plains, carrying the scent of parched dirt and ripening grain. Lorn looked at his hands, scarred and calloused from a different kind of labor. He had survived the wars, but the peace was sometimes harder to navigate.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Lorn had his attention now. Ace shifted back from the machine and leaned against the exposed chassis, drawing both knees up and resting his forearms loosely across them. The work could wait. For once, he let it.

Lorn's words settled in the space between them, carried on the same wind that bent the grain and stirred the loose panels of the harvester behind him. He turned his head slightly, eyes settling on Lorn.

Jedi. He'd been around them long enough. Trained by one. Fought beside others. He understood what they stood for, at least in principle. Discipline. Balance. A life built around something larger than yourself.

It had never quite fit. A rough kid from Bonadan, raised between scrapyards and survival jobs, learning how to fix things because nobody else would… that didn't line up with the image. Monks. Guardians. People who had been shaped for it. Not him.

Ace's gaze lingered as Lorn spoke about his past, about years spent fighting, about never quite getting the chance to stop. There was something familiar in it. Not in the details, but in the shape of it.

It explained some things. Why it had been easy to stay. Why conversation hadn't felt like effort. Why the space between them didn't need to be filled all the time. He hadn't realized how far the similarities went. And if Lorn had come through all of that, was still here, then maybe the path he'd believed would be his didn't have to be.

A faint smirk crept onto Ace's face, subtle but there. "I didn't think I'd ever make it to your age." He said, tone dry, edged with something lighter beneath it. "You give me hope."

Tic let out a series of rapid, uneven chirps, something bright and amused in the cadence. It was close enough to laughter to count. Ace lifted a hand, resting the side of his head into his palm as he watched Lorn, expression settling back into something neutral.

"A decade of service, you said. What war was this?"

Bonadan hadn't left much room for that kind of awareness growing up. What he knew had come in fragments, stories passed down secondhand, names attached to events without context. The Hyperspace War from Red. Bits and pieces picked up later, after he'd left and the galaxy had opened up into something larger and harder to ignore.

Most of it still felt distant. But this didn't. He was talking to someone who had lived it.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

"You will," Lorn said, ignoring the dry humor in the boy's voice. "You're smarter than I was at your age. A better warrior too."

Honesty felt right in the quiet of the fields. Lorn had been a hurricane of a youth, headstrong and far too reckless for his own good. Back then, tomorrow was never a promise, and he had lived for the thrill of the uncertainty. That life made him feel alive. This quiet existence, surrounded by grain and irrigation ditches, often felt like a cage. The silence of peace had a way of gnawing at a man who was built for the noise of a battlefield.

A low whistle escaped Lorn as he watched Tic settle near the harvester. The droid seemed more at peace than any of them. Lorn looked toward Ace, finally seeing the kid still for more than a second.

"It wasn't a war you would have heard of," Lorn admitted. "Just the ruling houses on my home planet, Mirater, tearing each other apart. I got caught in the middle of it all."

Memories of Mirater were usually gray, blurred by smoke and the weight of old debts. He hadn't thought about the specific skirmishes in years, yet the lessons remained carved into his bones. Conflict had a way of defining a person until there was nothing left but the fight. He didn't want that for the kid.

"Take my advice and avoid those kinds of messes whenever you can," Lorn added, his voice dropping an octave. "There's no glory in it, just a lot of empty chairs at the dinner table. If you've got a choice, choose the machine. At least that stays fixed when you put the work in."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's gaze drifted away as Lorn spoke, settling somewhere out across the fields where the wind bent the grain in slow, even waves. The words should've rolled off him. Praise usually did, because of how he didn't find value in it. But this time, it reached him.

A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it. It was gone almost as quickly as it formed. He didn't look back at Lorn, but he didn't brush it off either. Coming from him… it landed differently. He couldn't really explain why.

Lorn's low whistle cut through the quiet a moment later. Ace's eyes flicked toward Tic as the little droid settled near the harvester, all soft whirs and mechanical ease. The smirk returned, just slightly, more visible this time.

Then Lorn started talking again. Ace's attention shifted back, sharper now.

"Mirater." He repeated quietly, testing the sound of it like it might mean something if he turned it over enough. His brow lifted a fraction. "I thought you were Naboo. Nabooan. Whatever the word is."

But as Lorn continued, Ace didn't press it. He felt it instead. Not words or memories, more like the shape of it. The way Lorn's presence in the Force shifted when he spoke about it. Like something worn smooth over time but never fully gone. Scars.

Ace's gaze lingered for a second longer than it needed to, then dropped away. He didn't ask anything else, knowing when to leave well enough alone. So he listened, and the advice followed.

The ashen-haired teen let out a quiet breath through his nose, his eyes lowering as the words settled in. For a moment, he said nothing. His attention drifted to his left arm, the beskar plating catching the light as his fingers flexed once.

Too late for that. The war with the Empire wasn't something distant. It was still here. Coruscant burning. Atrisia attacked. The Hidden Path scattering into silence after months of fighting just to hold ground that never stayed held.

He curled his cybernetic hand into a fist, metal joints tightening with a soft, controlled whir.

"I wish I could. Avoid it." The admission came quieter than most of what he said, but it didn't waver. "But I can't just sit around and let something like the Empire go world to world and do whatever they want. Look at Coruscant. Imagine Atrisia if we didn't fight back…"

He trailed off, Ace didn't need to finish it. He exhaled, the tension easing just enough as he straightened slightly, resting both forearms across his knees again. The wind moved through the fields and for a few seconds, he let it sit.

Tic broke the silence first. The droid shifted, small steps carrying him closer until it settled near Ace's leg. Ace glanced down, something softer flickering through his expression as he reached out, fingers brushing along the casing, scratching lightly at the edge of his head. Tic chirped, leaning into it.

Then his gaze lifted back to Lorn. There was a slight shift in him now. More focused.

"You said I was a Jedi." He paused, eyes narrowing just a touch as he studied him. "That I didn't know it. How?"

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

"Nabooian," Lorn corrected with a slight nod. "I was born there, but Mirater is where I grew up under my own Master's tutelage." He remembered that time as a mirrors of their own situation, something informal, messy, and exactly what he had needed. His Master had saved his life; he hoped to return the favor by guiding Ace, even if the kid made it difficult.

The boy's grip on his prosthetic didn't go unnoticed. When Ace spoke of Coruscant and the necessity of fighting back, Lorn's brow furrowed. The sentiment was a familiar, painful weight. "You aren't wrong," he admitted. "Some things are unavoidable. When terror arrives, men like us have to stand against it. I'm just saying it's better to find other ways to settle things before charging into the fire."

He watched the wind ripple through the grain, thinking of how many times he had tried to carry the weight of the entire galaxy. It was a heavy burden for a set of young shoulders. "Don't hoist it all on yourself, kid. It's a big galaxy."

The conversation shifted when Ace asked how Lorn knew he was a Jedi. A twitch of a smile pulled at the Guardian's mouth. "The Force speaks to me," Lorn joked, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. "It already knows what's in your heart. It's your destiny."

To drive the point home, he reached out mentally, giving Tic's internal sensors a playful nudge through the Force. The droid let out a sharp, frustrated chirp, spinning its head in confusion. Lorn chuckled, his expression softening as he looked back at the boy. He didn't need visions to see the path ahead; stubbornness aside, the light was already there.

"Is being a Jedi so bad?" Lorn asked, leaning his head back against the crates. "Or are you going to insult me by arguing about our many failures?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Nabooian. Ace committed the word to memory now that he finally had the right one. He gave a small nod as Lorn explained further. Born on Naboo, forged somewhere else. That made immediate sense to him.

Dathomir was where he'd been born. But Bonadan was the place that had actually made him into who he was, for better or worse. The scrapyards. The Vergeworks. Mira. Red. Tessk. Hunger. Running jobs too young. Learning quickly because failure cost more there. That was home, even if he didn't always want it to be.

Ace settled back against the side of the harvester again, forearms still resting loosely over his knees as he tilted his head upward. Ukio's sky stretched endlessly above the fields, clear and pale blue, interrupted only by distant birds and the slow drifting shape of clouds moving with the wind.

Lorn kept speaking beneath it all, his voice steady against the sound of grain brushing together in the breeze. He spoke of better ways than charging into the fire. Ace wished he could believe that as easily as Lorn seemed to.

But whenever he looked at the galaxy lately, it felt like every real problem eventually demanded someone willing to step into the flames first. Empires didn't stop because people asked them to. Monsters rarely waited for diplomacy. What else was there supposed to be?

And when Lorn told him not to carry the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, Ace stayed silent then too. His expression shifted faintly, thoughtful more than resistant, but he offered no argument.

At the mention of destiny though, even jokingly, Ace let out a quiet breath through his nose.

"You'd understand why I don't trust 'destiny' that much."

The words came low, absent of humor now. Dathomir lingered behind them both whether they acknowledged it or not. The Mother of Teeth. Her voice. The things she'd said to him beneath all that dark stone and blood and ritual. Not exactly the future Lorn seemed to imagine for him. His destiny was to conquer. Now Lorn said his destiny was to protect.

Then came the familiar ripple in the Force. A second later Tic let out an abrupt series of irritated chirps, head spinning sharply side to side as if trying to identify an invisible attacker. Ace lowered his gaze immediately and it took him all of half a second to figure out what had happened. A quiet snicker escaped him before he could stop it.

Ace shook his head lightly before his attention drifted back toward Lorn. The humor faded slowly as the older Jedi's question settled in.

Is being a Jedi so bad?

Ace looked at him for a second. Then away again. "No..." He admitted after a while. "It's just… I don't know."

He stopped there, brows pulling together faintly as he searched for words that didn't come naturally to him.

"I never trusted institutions." His voice stayed quiet, thoughtful. "I don't like people telling me what to do because… I trust myself more."

His eyes dropped briefly toward the dirt beneath his boots.

"And…" This part was harder to explain. "I don't think I have the make-up for it. To be a Jedi."

Ace leaned back into the harvester slightly, gaze distant now, like he was trying to picture the idea and failing every time it reached clarity.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

A dry laugh escaped Lorn as he shifted against the crates. "Does it look like I let people tell me what to do? Do I look like I fit neatly into an institution?"

The questions were rhetorical. Lorn knew he was a far cry from the polished, temple-bound masters of the Jedi Order. He was a man of the fringes, yet he still carried the title. He believed in the core of the Order, even if he preferred to serve it from the dusty corners of the galaxy. To him, the Jedi weren't just a political body; they were a necessary light.

"You're thinking too literally," Lorn said, squinting at the boy. "You're boxing yourself into some traditional image that doesn't exist anymore. You follow the light. You protect people. You want the best for the galaxy. What exactly would change?"

He let the question hang, watching the gears turn in the kid's head. The wind picked up, whistling through the harvester's exposed internals. Lorn felt the heat of a beginning sunburn on his cheeks, a small price for a moment of clarity.

"Sure, it might mean attending a few meetings or training a stubborn kid of your own one day," Lorn joked, though his eyes remained serious. "But when you're standing against the real evils, you'll want to be part of something greater than yourself. You won't want to be alone."

In his mind, Lorn saw a path where they traveled the stars together, uncovering the deeper mysteries of the Force. He wanted Ace to be his successor, but he knew the choice had to be the boy's own. Pushing too hard would only make a drifter run faster.

"You have time," Lorn added, pushing himself up from the crates. "And plenty left to learn. But I believe you'll get there."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

A smirk pulled at Ace's mouth before a dry laugh escaped through his nose, his head lowering slightly at Lorn's rhetorical questions. No. No, he really didn't look like someone who let institutions shape him.

Ace scratched lightly at his temple as he considered it, eyes drifting back toward the older man. Lorn didn't resemble the Jedi stories he'd heard growing up. Not the polished monks from old holos or the distant, composed figures people spoke about like myths. Even compared to the Jedi Ace had met, Lorn felt… different. Looser. More human. Someone who'd stepped outside the walls a long time ago and never really gone back.

And when Lorn asked what exactly would change. Ace felt his shoulders ease downward slightly, his expression flattening into quiet thought. The frustrating part was that Lorn was right. Nothing would really change. Ace would still fight, still protect people, keep throwing himself into danger for worlds that needed it. The issue wasn't what being a Jedi meant.

It was whether he believed someone like him deserved to stand among them.

His gaze lifted again at the mention of meetings and training future generations. That earned a small shake of his head, the smirk returning faintly.

"Sounds horrible."

Then Lorn mentioned being part of something greater than himself. Ace's expression dimmed slightly as memory pulled at him; the Hidden Path, brief as it had been. The people there. Late conversations at the outposts. Shared meals. Planning operations together. Fighting beside people who actually believed in the same things he did.

It had felt strange at first. He'd spent most of his life surviving alone or alongside people where trust had limits and conditions attached to it. But the Hidden Path had been different. It was messy, chaotic, imperfect, but still… good.

Ace rubbed at the back of his neck absently. "Yeah." He admitted quietly.

Tic, seemingly bored of being ignored, wandered away from the harvester with a series of curious chirps before stopping near Lorn's crates. The little droid tilted his head upward expectantly, photoreceptor fixed on the older Jedi with obvious intent.

"How did you become a Jedi?" He asked after a moment. "Was it something you… wanted?"

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

"No. Not at all," Lorn said, leaning back as he reached into his pack. He pulled out a ration bar and began tearing at the wrapper while Tic watched with exaggerated interest. A reflexive move followed as Lorn shifted his shoulder, shielding the snack from the droid as if the little machine might actually try to snatch a bite.

"I lost my father when I was young," he continued, chewing through a mouthful of the dry bar. "I had all these massive feelings I didn't understand, and I could already move things with my mind." He waved a hand vaguely toward a loose tool in the dirt to illustrate the point.

"My mother didn't know what else to do, so she put me in the New Jedi Order. I hated it. I made it very clear I didn't want to be there and fought every lesson they tried to give me."

Stray crumbs caught in his beard, and he absentmindedly plucked one out before popping it back into his mouth. The memories of those early, angry years felt like a different life entirely. "Eventually, I was paired with a relatively new Knight. He took me away to his home planet, and we just... never went back. We stayed Jedi, protecting people and the light in our own way, but we did it outside the walls of the temple."

Lorn paused, swallowing the last of the ration bar. He looked at Ace, seeing the same spark of resistance he once carried. "I've been a Jedi in some form since I left Naboo as a kid. I'm not the perfect example, and maybe you won't be either. But it's in your heart, whether you fight it or not."

He gave a casual shrug, the movement stiff from old injuries. "Destiny is just a fancy word for who you already are when nobody is looking. You can keep fixing harvesters, but you'll keep standing up for the ones who can't. That's the part you can't change."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace stayed quiet while Lorn spoke, eyes remaining on the older Jedi as he leaned back against the crates with the ration bar in hand, watching the small unconscious details most people overlooked; the way he shielded the food from Tic on instinct, the crumbs catching briefly in his beard before being brushed away, the stiffness in his movements that spoke of old injuries long before.

And somehow those details made the conversation feel more honest than if Lorn had sat there speaking like some enlightened master from an old holocron.

Ace took it all in. The anger. The resistance. Being forced into something he hadn't wanted. Fighting every lesson they tried to teach him. Then leaving the temple entirely and still remaining a Jedi anyway.

It didn't answer every doubt sitting in the back of his mind, but it did change the shape of them. Maybe being a Jedi wasn't about fitting cleanly into an institution or living up to some idealized image people carried around in stories. Maybe it was simpler than that.

Maybe it was just… choosing to stand between people and the dark when it mattered, again and again. Whether you wore robes or wandered the Outer Rim fixing harvesters. Maybe that was why Lorn still felt like a Jedi despite being nothing like the image Ace had grown up with. The thought sat strangely in his chest.

Ace's gaze drifted briefly toward the fields again as the wind rolled through them, Lorn's final words lingered quietly in his head.

Destiny is just a fancy word for who you already are when nobody is looking.

For once, Ace didn't try to argue with it. He gave a small nod instead, absent and thoughtful, eyes lowering toward the dirt between his boots. A few seconds passed before he finally looked back toward Lorn.

"How did the war end?" He asked quietly. "In Mirater."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

"We lost," Lorn said, a forced smile tight on his lips. He didn't enjoy digging up these particular ghosts, but the lesson felt too vital to leave buried. Revisiting Mirater usually meant inviting back the cold, but he looked the kid in the eye and kept going. "A decade of fighting and absolutely nothing to show for it."

Pain and trauma were the only real dividends that war had paid. Internal reflections turned darker as he remembered the thrill of his youth, that jagged sense of being truly alive when the stakes were highest. There had been a fierce camaraderie in the trenches, a bond with those who stood shoulder to shoulder with him against the dark.

Now, those faces were gone. Everything they had built or bled for had been swept away by time and tide. Only emptiness remained where that purpose used to be. Lorn felt the weight of it in his marrow, a hollow resonance that usually grew louder in the silence of places like Ukio.

He shifted his weight, his old injuries complaining as he looked out at the peaceful horizon. He would answer if the boy had more questions, but he wouldn't willingly dive into it. The kid would only think less of him if he did.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Ukio

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

The clipped answer told Ace everything he needed to know. Not just the words themselves, but the way they came out. Tight, controlled, and final. Lorn didn't want to sit in Mirater any longer than he already had and Ace understood that instinct better than most.

His gaze lingered on the older Jedi for a second before drifting away again toward the fields, the wind rolling softly through the grain beneath the afternoon sun.

"Sorry." That was all he said, but the sympathy sat clearly beneath it.

Silence settled over the fields after that, heavier than before but not uncomfortable. Just quiet in the way old wounds sometimes demanded. The distant rustle of crops filled the space between them while Tic let out a series of softer chirps near the crates, the little droid's photoreceptor shifting uncertainly between the two men as if sensing something he couldn't quite understand.

Truthfully, he still didn't really know what to do in moments like this. Seeing someone clearly carrying something painful and realizing there wasn't actually a fix for it. Not a clever answer, an adjustment to make, or a fight to win. He just had to… leave it there. Let people speak if they wanted to speak. And if they didn't, respect it. That seemed to be the closest thing to the right answer he'd found so far.

Ace rubbed his thumb slowly against the side of his index finger for a moment, lost somewhere in thought, before finally exhaling through his nose. Then he pushed himself away from the harvester and crouched back down beside the exposed internals.

The familiar rhythm returned easily. Tool in hand, loose panel, worn connector. Things that made sense.

"Almost finished here." He said after a moment, voice lighter again as he leaned partially beneath the chassis. "Then you can figure out this dispute while I stand next to you and look tough."

A faint smirk tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth as Tic chirped approvingly from nearby, clearly supportive of Ace's highly important role in the negotiations.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

"Hmph," was the only response to the apology. No sorries were needed; it was a fair question for a kid to ask. Perhaps one day the full story would come out, once they had spent enough time together to bridge the gap. Lorn was curious about the boy's past, so it was only right for the favor to be returned. Admitting the truth remained the hurdle. He hadn't fully made peace with his own history, making it nearly impossible to confess his failures to someone who seemed to hold him in high regard.

The quiet moment stretched out, thick with everything left unsaid. Tension eased only when Ace returned to the machine, the familiar clinking of tools replacing the heavy silence. Lorn felt a wave of relief wash over him as the boy dove back into the work. It was easier to exist in the present when the past wasn't being picked at like a scab.

"Wake me when you're done," Lorn said, pushing himself off the crate.

He moved back toward his chosen patch of grass, bones creaking in a protest against the movement. The ground felt warm, and the breeze was still perfect. It was a rare luxury to have nothing to do but wait for a machine to start breathing again.

"Do take your time, though," he added with a tired smile, settling back down.

Closing his eyes, he let the rhythmic sounds of Ace's labor become his anchor. The dispute would still be there in an hour, and the farmers would still be angry. For now, there was only the sun and the breeze.