The Mentor
It had been a rough week for a certain Jedi Master. The sudden demise of Sandrow and Ijet, the turning of Hion, the revelation of a father long abandoned, the allegiance of the sibling... Yet none could prepare him for the worst. Saoirse, his light in the dark, lay slain, gone. Josh had taken years worth of frustration, pain, suffering, and had pushed it aside, graced the world with a witty manner and a handsome smile. Yet the death of Sao and his unborn child finally broke him. What had kept him strong for so long lay six feet under, gone. It was a void that wouldn't be filled for a long time to come.
Hood covering his head and face, Josh decided to head to Tattooine. It held a special place in his heart that calmed him down. It was here, in this very cantina, which he walked into not long after arriving, that he had met the bartender that had kept him alive for so long while he had amnesia, kept him standing while he scratched and clawed to make a living, up until he was found and brought to the Jedi. That seemed so long ago now.
And yet, it also carried another meaning. This was where Josh's final secret meeting with Saoirse had been. She had come to him, excited, with news that she'd left the Sith. Rounds of drinks followed, it was one of the happiest days of his life. Sure, it'd been marred with conflict. The Sith weren't happy of her leaving, and had sent two Sith Knights after her. The two, with the chemistry they had, had warded them off. Josh scanned the room, and every spot, whether it was now occupied by patrons or not, he remembered the moments of slamming a Sith through that table, or kicking another into that wall. He took note of the spot where Saoirse had severed the hand of one of them, ending the conflict.
Yet, despite the memories that plagued him now in this location, it still brought him comfort like no other to be here. He felt safe here, he was known here, he was generally well liked here. He could get a good drink and hit it off with the other patrons like old friends.
Yet, he wasn't here to socialize, or meet people. He was here to drink, to forget his troubles, and forget the pain.
Under the hood, Josh's eyes were filled with sorrow and evidence of an extreme lack of sleep. The five o'clock shadow on his face was another testament to the lack of sleep, and he had halfheartedly combed his hair. The hood hid most of these problems, but up close, one would be able to tell if they looked hard enough.
"The usual, please" Josh grunted as he took a seat. The bartender was too swamped by customers to ask what the matter was, so he poured his drink and slid it to him, patting his friend on the back, a silent promise to see to him later.
Josh nodded in thanks, gulping down the drink like it was nothing.
@[member="Karin Dorn"]
Hood covering his head and face, Josh decided to head to Tattooine. It held a special place in his heart that calmed him down. It was here, in this very cantina, which he walked into not long after arriving, that he had met the bartender that had kept him alive for so long while he had amnesia, kept him standing while he scratched and clawed to make a living, up until he was found and brought to the Jedi. That seemed so long ago now.
And yet, it also carried another meaning. This was where Josh's final secret meeting with Saoirse had been. She had come to him, excited, with news that she'd left the Sith. Rounds of drinks followed, it was one of the happiest days of his life. Sure, it'd been marred with conflict. The Sith weren't happy of her leaving, and had sent two Sith Knights after her. The two, with the chemistry they had, had warded them off. Josh scanned the room, and every spot, whether it was now occupied by patrons or not, he remembered the moments of slamming a Sith through that table, or kicking another into that wall. He took note of the spot where Saoirse had severed the hand of one of them, ending the conflict.
Yet, despite the memories that plagued him now in this location, it still brought him comfort like no other to be here. He felt safe here, he was known here, he was generally well liked here. He could get a good drink and hit it off with the other patrons like old friends.
Yet, he wasn't here to socialize, or meet people. He was here to drink, to forget his troubles, and forget the pain.
Under the hood, Josh's eyes were filled with sorrow and evidence of an extreme lack of sleep. The five o'clock shadow on his face was another testament to the lack of sleep, and he had halfheartedly combed his hair. The hood hid most of these problems, but up close, one would be able to tell if they looked hard enough.
"The usual, please" Josh grunted as he took a seat. The bartender was too swamped by customers to ask what the matter was, so he poured his drink and slid it to him, patting his friend on the back, a silent promise to see to him later.
Josh nodded in thanks, gulping down the drink like it was nothing.
@[member="Karin Dorn"]