First Reply Mourning on Naboo

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons:
Tag: Open

There was nothing left for Gatz on his homeworld any longer. His childhood home had been sold, his family was long dead, and he had no friends who called Naboo home. For all intents and purposes, his ties to this planet were severed. All that remained were three headstones on a small hill in a graveyard of yellowed grass. And the withered flowers he'd lain upon his parents' graves.

Gatz was used to feeling alone. He'd spent most of his adult life on his lonesome, only making the occasional trip home to visit Mom and Uncle Klein. But with them six feet under, resting with his father... what was left for him? Not just here, but anywhere? No family, few friends—and those friends had lives and families of their own. They didn't have time for him. Gatz was, ultimately, on his own. No one was looking out for him any longer. No one cared. Just him.

A starship running on empty, a failing droid, and a bank account in the negative. Those were the only things he had left in his life. Gatz supposed that he should probably count his position in the Jedi Order as well, but... who was he kidding? He'd flunk out in a few more weeks, and then he'd be out on his ass, with no home, no money, and no purpose. An ignoble end for an ignoble man.

Maybe that was what he deserved though.

With an annoyed sigh, Gatz shook his head free of those dark thoughts, and stepped away from his parents' graves. He could stand around all day, wallowing in his own self-pity, or he could make the effort to move on. He chose the latter. Life might have lost its luster for him, but he still had to live it, and he had to try and live it well.

Even if that life wasn't what he wanted it to be.

 

[Clarron Vall]

Vall hadn't expected to find himself back on Naboo so soon after the Gala, but life seldom budged toward what one wanted. He wasn't sure why he drifted back here after the last trip had ended in dismal failure. His brief sense of admiration for the world had grown sour, and he found he didn't much care to stick around and sightsee.

He got what he came for and left, slinging a pack over one shoulder containing more rations for his flight. Money wasn't much of an issue anymore, he'd cleaned out plenty of bombed-out ruins on Tund for their salvage during his brief stay. He wasn't rich, but he was now comfortable. Enough so that, were money all he cared about, he could probably retire if he lived frugally. He knew he wouldn't. Duty allowed no retirement.

He stopped as he spotted a fellow staring at a small clump of stones. That made him think. Everyone he knew, without exception, was long dead. He didn't gave a kark about most of them, but one loss in particular had stung. She'd doubtless died long ago, never knowing what had happened to him. He didn't know what had happened to her, either. Even after the incident, she'd stayed, stood by him despite the monstrous thing he'd been reassembled into. All that loyalty, and the reward he'd given her for her selflessness had been to disappear for good. Not of his own volition, but that excused nothing. Just one more sin, a particle composing the mountain of evils he was responsible for.

He started to pass by, but stopped. Maybe it was the same thing that had caused him to offer help to the injured man at the Gala. He found himself walking over to the stranger, making as much noise while moving as he could to avoid startling them. He knew his appearance might do that anyway, but best not to add surprise to the shock.

"Family?" He asked in his rattling electronic tombre, inclining his head towards the graves. "For what little the condolences of a stranger are worth, I'm sorry."