Private Sorcererz

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin leaned against the doorway of a smoke-choked jizz club on a space station he'd already forgotten the name of, his lanky figure silhouetted by the glow of the blue lights. They had stopped to refuel and he went out for some supplies; he was supposed to have already headed back, but he found himself lingering, lost in the music.

It was a local band on the stage, hammering away on battered drums and strumming strings one hard pluck away from snapping. They were nothing special, but they played a pretty good lineup of golden oldies. The kind of shit that got his antennapalps to peek out of his graying curls, wanting a closer listen. A group of kids got up to leave, bored out of their minds. He moved to the side to let them pass, head still bobbing to the beat.

Things weren't great out there. The galaxy was at war, the Jedi were scattered, and his homeworld was under Sith control. Not that he hadn't lived to see it all before - and just might live to see it happen again - but it felt worse now. Because here he was, about to bring a new life into the galaxy, trying to make things safe for her, while everyone and everything seemed to be working against him...

In here, though, he could forget his troubles for a little while. Music was the one thing that had always been there for him, offering a sweet and simple escape. He hoped he'd be dancing in a place like this when he died.

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

Diogo sat bellied up to the bar of the space station's jizz club, hunched as he often was these days, staring into the swirling amber liquid in his glass. He'd been deep in his cups for, well, he wasn't exactly sure. Several bartender shifts, at least. Several changing of the guards.

Fuzzy smoke, blue from the light, lingered around him as he drowned his sorrows. He hadn't felt this lost and out of place since he'd first joined the Jedi, first arrived on Coruscant, a skinny little thing with a thinned out bag slung across one shoulder, staring wide-eyed at the endless skyline that stretched far and wide and made him feel impossibly small. He didn't even know the galaxy was capable of producing that much duracrete. Everything was different then. Every crack filled with hope.

Now all he'd known was no more. The Galactic Alliance disintegrated, the NJO collapsed, and the lover that kept him grounded was gone. She wasn't gone physically, but in all the other pitiful ways people distance and break apart.

And no home now. Naboo, his most recent base of operations, was nice - from the majestic Gallo Mountains, to the verdant fertile vineyards, to the surprisingly pristine streets of Theed. Yet it all felt empty. The Jedi there too - guardians of rich traditions, but insular, languid, and unwilling to take risks. The galaxy remained beseiged.

Hell, even Niamos with its glittering jeweled seas was a strange land to him. No friends there, no family. No strings, no weight. The pull of that planet was just gravitational now, pure physics.

And the girl - the Sith. The dead one, or the one he believed was dead. Yet her image was very much alive in his mind, especially in the quiet hours, filling him with guilt, bruising his eyes with lack of sleep.

The music was loud, pounding, painful even, but in a good way. The vibrations were in his teeth. Diogo didn't know the songs, but they sounded vaguely familiar.

He took a sip just as a shiver lit his spine. Another Force presence. Gentle, light, possibly another Jedi. He scowled, hunched deeper, made himself as small as he felt.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

He wasn’t supposed to stick around… but ah, what the hell. Pulling out his datapad, he typed up a quick message to the girls, then ambled on over to the bar. One drink wouldn’t hurt.

He slid into a chair beside a scowling drunk and held up a finger. “One binary sunset, please.”

The bartender just stared at him.

“Okay, uh, how about meiloorun juice and rum shaken together. With ice.” That was the gist of a binary sunset, anyway.

He watched the bartender mix the drink, glancing at the drunk with a friendly smirk. As if they were sharing a private joke. Because really, what kind of bartender had never heard of a binary sunset?

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

Curiosity and poor impulse control got the better of him. It usually did.

"What the hell's a... " he paused, brows knit together. His eyes were focused on the dregs in his glass, as if he could find the words swirling around in there. Alcohol always did something funky to his short-term memory. "Uh... what the hell's a-uh, non-binary sunrise?"

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin didn't let the drunk's ignorance disrupt his stride.

"A binary sunset, man. Meiloruun juice, rum - and grenadine. Shit! I forgot the grenadine." He held out a hand and telekinetically summoned the bottle of grenadine into his open palm - much to the irritation of the bartender, who slammed his glass of ice, juice, and rum down in front of him. Unperturbed, Starlin unscrewed the cap and poured just a touch of red syrup into his drink. "It's red and orange, like the setting of two suns. Tastes great. You should try it sometime." And not just because it had relatively low alcohol content.

Sipping from the concoction, he hummed in approval. The band finished one song and launched into something more mellow. "So, what brings you to..." He tried to remember the name of the station they were on, but couldn't. "What brings you out here?" he asked instead.

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

Yellow eyes flicked to the scruffy man for the first time - cavalier, roguish, and he used the Force so casually it drew the boy's eyebrows straight up towards the smoky ceiling. This was the Force presence he'd sensed earlier; gentle, light, and now, he was just noticing, a little mischievous. Diogo's curiosity deepened, his scowl was temporarily charmed away.

"You a Jedi?" he asked casually.

The music changed into something mellow and pleasant. It was a nice enough tune, but the lyrics elicited a perceptible wince. It felt like punishment. Most things did these days.

Diogo's gaze fell back on his drink. The compulsion to consume it had surprisingly lessened, even as the walls of sobriety rapidly closed in, an unfortunate side effect of his body's natural ability to quickly heal and cleanse.

"I'm not sure," he confessed. "Just needed to get away from... well, everything."

Diogo sighed. "You?"

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin turned his body toward Diogo, a grin spreading across his face. "What gave it away?" he asked, delighted to be recognized. Here was a man who loved being a Jedi. For him, it was the fulfillment of a childhood fantasy, a dream come true - the coolest thing in the universe.

His mouth relaxed, but the crinkling around his eyes lingered, his gaze bright and glimmering. "I get that," he said, his tone sympathetic as he took another sip of his drink. "I'm just stopping by. Needed some fuel, and my wife's got a craving for Whimbamba." He made a grand flourishing gesture with his hand, as if to say as you wish, my queen.

The drunk seemed a little down on his luck, maybe not in the best place in life. Starlin figured he had nothing to lose by offering his aid. "Anything I can help ya with while I'm here?" he asked.

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

Diogo chuckled and shrugged. "Game recognize game."

"However - if you don't mind me saying, you don't exactly act like one. Then again, maybe I've been spending too much time holed up with the Shirayans. So stiff and formal, they make their temple - or sanctuary, or whatever the hell they call it - feel like a funeral home sometimes."

Diogo considered the dutiful husband's question, but hesitated to answer. He'd been burned by strange men offering help before. Kinda fucked his whole life up, actually.

His gaze shifted to his half-empty glass. "Why, what's in it for you?"

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

"Game recognize game. However - if you don't mind me saying, you don't exactly act like one..."

Starlin grinned. "Wouldn't be the first time I've been described as such." He offered his hand to shake. "Name's Starlin Rand. Jedi Master Starlin Rand." Oh man, how good did it feel to say that! Woo, baby!

As Dio explained he was a Shirayan Jedi, Starlin laughed at his description of their vibe. "I haven't had much experience with them yet, but that doesn't sound like what I'd expect from folks living in paradise." He'd gotten married and had his honeymoon on Naboo for a reason. Maybe the locals were so used to it that they didn't realize how good they had it.

The kid's skepticism wasn't exactly unfounded. Starlin shrugged. "Helping people makes me feel good. And if you'll forgive my observation, you look like you might need it." Just to smooth things over, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad. On it he scrawled his name and contact info, then tore off the flimsiplast and slid it across the bar. "Here. If you need anything, you know how to reach me."

Finishing his drink, he dropped some credits on the bar and stood up, stretching his legs. "Don't wanna keep her waiting too long. See ya, man." As the next song in the set played, he gave the band an approving thumbs up and danced his way out of the bar.

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

Diogo met Starlin's hand halfway. "Diogo," he said. "Padawan... ish."

He shrugged. He didn't know how the Shirayan customs came about, he just knew traditions and cultural conditioning narrowed worldviews and limited possibilities, created hard habits to kick. Starlin's answer to his question was appreciated. It was surprisingly simple, honest, and stripped of the usual Jedi frills and flourishes. And Diogo was humble enough to admit the observation was reasonable.

He gave the flimsiplast a once over, half-surprised the self-satisfied man hadn't autographed it. He stuffed it in his pocket. "Right, see ya."

Starlin left, Diogo chuckled. Strange fellow. Even stranger that their paths should cross here, in a random jizz club on some half-forgotten space station far from the well-traveled lanes. What were the chances?

He felt tense then, every fiber of every muscle pressed together. He thought of the Shirayans again and his assessment - their inability to take risks, their fear, perhaps, of even weighing the odds.

Before the song reached its bridge, Diogo's seat at the bar was empty, his unfinished drink left half-full on the counter.

He raced around the corner, a scruffy crop of dark hair spotted just ahead. "Hey, Starlin! Wait!"

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Though he didn't comment on the Padawan-ish descriptor, Starlin could already sense what was coming. Diogo would've been like... the fifth? Yeah, the fifth Padawan to come to him begging for a master. Starlin was always happy to oblige, even when they all either dropped dead, dropped off the face of the galaxy, or decided all of two weeks later that actually they were ready to be knighted, no further training needed!

So he didn't exactly speed-walk to the hangar with his ship in it, though he was nearly there by the time Diogo caught up. He turned to face the lad, feigning surprise, but not his enthusiastic grin. "Ay, Diogo! Nice to see you again. Need something?"

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

"Uh," he started, mouth dry, muscles still tight. His eyes darted to the ground, came back up. In his impulsivity he hadn't anticipated how awkward this shit was.

But Starlin's enthusiastic grin was inviting enough. It occurred to him, for the first time, that that sharp grin was mostly likely weaponized on a semi-regular basis. It certainly cut through the sinewy tension that had seized Diogo's voice.

"I was wondering if I could come with you," he said. Then quickly after, "Just until the next stop, maybe, then I'll be out of your hair."

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Apparently immune to the awkwardness, Starlin briefly considered Diogo's request, then nodded. "Okay. It's this hangar. Get your stuff, we leave in thirty minutes."

While Dio was gathering his things, Starlin returned to his ship. The Bright Knight wasn't your typical civilian transport. Classified as a cruiser, it wouldn't stand out in a military fleet. His master had gifted it to him long ago, stressing the need for a Jedi to have a mobile base. He stowed his starfighter in its hangar for smaller scale missions while he practically lived aboard the Knight.

It also meant that he was used to picking up travelers. Someone had to fill all those empty rooms. Over the years, the crew quarters had been occupied by forgotten Jedi, orphaned nobles, amnesiac assassins, wandering witches, and other lost souls. Diogo was one more in a chain stretching back decades.

But so too had Starlin's household grown. It's still growing, he thought as he spotted a familiar figure standing at the top of the boarding ramp.

This is Isolda Rand: The last survivor of an Essonian noble house wiped out by Carnifex during his "cleansing" of Ession, she grew to adulthood knowing nothing but war. By the age of sixteen she was an Ashlan Crusader, marching under the banner of Cedric Grayson, taking the fight to the Sith on Korriban, crucifying the monsters who had destroyed her homeworld and nearly rendered her race extinct. When the Crusade failed and most of its adherents became disillusioned, she turned to the ways of the knight errant, wandering the galaxy, defending the innocent and the helpless.

But in this moment, she was none of those things. Clad in a bathrobe over a loose-fitting dress that obscured her little baby bump, she was Starlin's wife and a mother-to-be who really, really wanted some Whimbamba. She rested her hands on her hips, watching as her husband climbed up to meet her. "Finally, my snack has arrived," she remarked.

"Me?" Starlin grinned cheekily as he handed her the Whimbamba. She immediately ripped the bag open, more focused on the food than him - but she did pause and give him a begrudging little smirk before she started chowing down.

"Oh, by the way - we're having a guest for the next couple nights or so," Starlin added. "Name's Diogo. He's a Jedi Padawan."

"One of yours?" she asked, mouth full.

"Not yet. But probably. You know me."

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

He met that with a grin of his own. "Hell yeah."

Mood brightened, Diogo rushed to the small room he'd rented - a hidey-hole conveniently located right next to the jizz club. It was a whole four walls, so technically a room, but it was small and there was nothing at all inside except a rectangular alcove carved into the far side, just big enough for sleeping in and not much else. It was all well and good for what was intended to be a brief layover, waiting for the next public transport to... wherever.

The door slid open. Diogo sauntered inside and began packing vigorously, stuffing his old bag with the few belongings he had; a change of clothes, some toiletries, and a few 'expired' packs of nuna turkey jerky.

He bid the room goodbye like it was an old friend and left.

Diogo arrived back at the hangar just shy of two quarter clicks of the local clock. He was getting a good look at the Bright Knight for the first time now, nodding in silent approval. He didn't know shit about ships but damn this baby was packed to the gills. It was a little intimidating and very, very cool.

He climbed up the ramp. "Hello? Starlin? Anyone home?"

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Having sensed Diogo's arrival in the hangar, Starlin was waiting for him at the top of the ramp. "Hey, glad you could make it. Let me show you around."

He led the Padawan down a well-lit hallway aboard the Bright Knight. "This'll be your quarters," he said, palming a control pad on the wall. The door next to it slid open. Inside was not a spartan dormitory, but a cozy bedroom with its own 'fresher and holo projector. There were a few signs of a previous occupant - a couple of band posters still decorated the walls and some holobooks about space navigation were stacked on a shelf - but it was otherwise clean and neat.

"Feel free to make yourself at home," Starlin said, rubbing his hands together. "And uh, guess I should give you the rundown...

"I already mentioned my wife, Isolda. She's pregnant, but not due for another seven months. Then there's my apprentices, Kyla and Lara, and Shep. He's a charhound. Might be a little aggressive at first, but give him time and he'll get used to ya. There's no curfew, but obviously don't be making a ton of noise after hours. Meals are in the mess three times a day, but you can come and get a snack or a drink or whatever anytime." He shrugged. "Welcome aboard."

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

"Oh, this is sick," Diogo said, stepping past the threshold to get a better look.

The bedroom was nice and cozy, even had its own amenities. There was evidence of a former occupant. Band posters suggested youth. Whoever it was, they had pretty good taste, a couple of the bands he knew and listened to from time to time. He felt a little strange about it.

The fact the room still had remnants suggested something; recent vacancy, laziness, forgetfulness, sentimentality. Diogo wasn't sure which.

He was about to set his bag down when Starlin gave him the rundown. His stomach sank. He felt like a dumbass. It hit him that there was a complete life here, an ecosystem he'd just recklessly inserted himself into on some childish flight of fancy.

His gaze searched empty space, then found Starlin.

"I didn't realize you had a whole family here," he said, adjusting the bag back over his shoulder. "Are you sure this is okay? I feel like I'm intruding..."

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Diogo seemed a little reluctant now that he knew there were other people aboard. Starlin shrugged. "My ship is pretty big, and you said you'd only be with us until the next stop." He'd added maybe to that statement, as Starlin recalled, but that could've meant anything. Regardless, he wasn't going to retract his offer of hospitality.

It did help that Diogo had said something. If he had just accepted everything at face value without comment, Starlin might've wondered if something was up.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go get us rolling. I'll leave you to get settled in, and we can talk more once we're in hyperspace."

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

Diogo chewed his lip. "Yeah, okay," he acquiesced, though his discomfort faded little. "Where are you headed, anyway?" Hopefully it wasn't some shitty place like Dahrtag. That would really suck. He got the heebie-jeebies just thinkin' about that gray, misty, damp, gross excuse for a planet.

"All right, see you in a bit," and then before Starlin was beyond the threshold he said, "Oh, and thanks. Probably should've said that before."

Diogo turned, set his bag down, and immediately hit the 'fresher. Alcohol and nerves had offered no mercy on his bladder. When he was done, he meandered around the room. Stopping at the bookshelf, he pulled out a book and began flipping through the pages. Space navigation, real nerd stuff, but cool pictures at least. He slapped the book shut and put it back, feeling somewhat weird about riffling through somebody else's belongings.

He turned away, folded his arms, looked around. Then a rumbling from below had him clutching his stomach. Damn, he was hungry. Was it okay for him to just wander around the ship? Starlin said he could head to the mess anytime, but...

His stomach rumbled, louder and with more attitude this time. Whatever. He stepped out from the room and into the well-lit hall, then headed in the opposite direction from where they came, searching enthusiastically for the mess, on a mission to see what kind of snacks this ship was armed with.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

"Right now? Pylos Satnik. There's a new Jedi Enclave there, just starting out. Supposed to have a big library."

Diogo would find the mess hall relatively easy to locate. It was towards the center of the ship, accessible at the end of the hallway he was walking down, which curved inward. As he approached, he would hear voices—young, feminine voices.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Isolda said to share it, fatty.”

The two teens stopped their bickering once Diogo appeared. Both turned to stare curiously at their new guest.

“You’re Diogo, right?” One of the girls, whose dark hair hung in a braid on her shoulder, gestured. “Starlin said you were coming with us. I’m Kyla.”

“I’m Lara,” the other girl said shyly, clutching a bag of chips.

Diogo​

 

[Diogo]

Pylos Satnik wasn't a place Diogo ever heard of. Neither famous nor infamous. He figured that was a good thing. And with an enclave just starting out, maybe it would be a good place to slap the ol' reset button and start fresh. Yeah, okay - he was on board.

The boast of a big library was appealing too. His past inquiries into Anzati Jedi came up frustratingly empty. If the Pylos Satnik enclave had even a crumb of information...

Diogo found the mess easy enough, and walked in on the two girls bickering as siblings do. Not that he knew from experience - he had no siblings,
no family at all - but it was a popular enough dynamic in the holodramas.

They stared at him, introduced themselves. Kyla was first to speak, no hesitation. The other, Lara, seemed more timid, clutching the bag of chips like she could hide behind it. Diogo hit 'em with the upwards nod, that classic masculine gesture.

"Hey," Diogo said. "You're Starlin's 'prentices, right?"

After a moment his golden gaze settled on the bag of chips, mouth watering, stomach grumbling. "Ya'll got any snacks?"

Starlin Rand