They had spotted one another in the crowded promenade earlier in the day, yet while Balun had sensed his brother's intent to talk with him, he had surprised Balun and not followed through.
At the time, Balun had felt that his reluctance to strike up a conversation about his Son had perhaps led the Force to whisper that Makai's eyes were upon him, mixed with apprehension and foreboding. Yet when nothing had happened, and his brother had gone elsewhere, Balun had pushed the incident and his feelings to the back of his mind, instead listening to and feeling out the general vibe of the crowd to rein himself in.
As it turned out, Makai had sought him out in the end, saving his words until after the day had died down and what was left of the wandering populace had moved from restaurants to drinking holes, enjoying the nightlife on display in Theed City. Despite the apprehension that surfaced upon the edge of his mind, Balun once again had to suppress the growing tension, not necessarily understanding why it felt to be weighing him down so heavily.
The two of them had discussed
Kellan Dashiell
, a four-year-old boy, perhaps offering them both further incentive to grow even closer.
Makai Dashiell
and
Myra Arceneau Dashiell
had Pheobe, Kellan's arrival in their lives timed perfectly for the two to be of the same age and become somewhat inseparable. The difficulty, however, came from Balun and his son's sensitivity to the Force, and from the fact that Balun were the only one in the Family who understood the weight and responsibility it placed upon them.
When they came together, Balun and Makai went through the usual formalities, small talk, and compliments about the Exhibition of Light. For a moment, he might have been convinced that he had previously been overthinking things too much...-And that's when Makai finally brought up Balun's son once again. In the most shocking way imaginable.
"How would you feel about Kellan coming to live with Myra and I on Orron III, out in the Corporate Sector? Full time.
Makai was still speaking; the moment the words left his mouth, Balun's mind reeled in astonishment. Anger immediately threatened to rise to the surface; however, he turned to look away, focusing on his senses: Sight, hearing, and smell of the environment around them in a bid to push aside his feelings. For the time being, it seemed to ground himself, and he quickly moved a hand beneath the tabard of his robes, searching for his Cigarra packet tucked within one of his utility pouches.
He paused and turned to look at Balun.
"Obviously you would still be his father. I just feel this is a better compromise than sending my nephew off to an impersonal Jedi school."
"Obviously", Balun repeated, his tone a blend of frustration and sarcasm as their eyes met once more, albeit briefly, before Balun proceeded to light his cigarra and draw in a heavy drag, sucking the toxins deep into his lungs and feeling grateful for the absence of the crowd. It wasn't a great look, being in formal white and gold attire, clearly a Jedi, smoking out in the open like this.
"We're going to need a bottle of whiskey...", Balun stated, turning towards the pub, not some short distance away from where they stood, not waiting for his brother's agreement. Balun would need the drink to dull his senses regardless, with the bomb Makai had just dropped on him;
"-If we're going to have this conversation and retain the same quality of our relationship".
Makai could not possibly realise just how beneficial it was to have Jedi training kick in when anger threatened to loom over him. Despite keeping a stoic expression, perhaps showing less than his usual self if anything, Balun's usually jovial banter-like chatter had quickly been dispersed by his brother's suggestion. One that he found frankly insulting, yet would at least hear him out. Over drinks and a few more of his favourite brand of cigarras, of course.
Balun Dashiell
