Private The Sound of Rain on Water

[Iandre Athlea]

The beach had been Braze's fault.

Not directly, of course. He hadn't dragged her here, nor had he arranged the transport or packed the small bag resting beside her towel. But he had planted the idea. A beach. A change of scenery. Something fun. Iandre still wasn't entirely convinced she remembered how to have fun, but she had decided it was worth attempting before dismissing the concept entirely.

The coastline stretched before her in a sweep of pale sand and turquoise water, gentle waves rolling ashore in a rhythm older than governments, wars, and all the other things people insisted on making complicated. Naboo seemed unfairly beautiful at times. The kind of beauty that made it difficult to stay angry for long. She had spent most of the afternoon walking barefoot along the shoreline, sandals dangling from one hand while she collected shells she had absolutely no practical use for. A younger version of herself would have found the entire exercise ridiculous. The current version wasn't entirely sold on it either, but there were certainly worse ways to spend a day.

The sundress she wore was simple by design, a flowing burgundy garment that reached her calves and moved easily in the coastal breeze. No armor. No robes. No insignias. Nothing to identify her as a Jedi, a soldier, or a former representative of a government that no longer existed. Just a woman sitting on a beach with a growing collection of shells and entirely too much time to think. That last part remained the problem. Her gaze lingered on the horizon as sunlight danced across the water, and despite her best efforts, her thoughts occasionally wandered toward everything she had left behind. Somewhere ships crossed hyperspace lanes. Somewhere, politicians argued over borders and trade routes. Somewhere, people still needed saving. And for the first time in her adult life, none of it required her immediate attention.

The thought should have been liberating. Instead, it felt strange. She rolled a smooth shell between her fingers and let out a quiet sigh. "You're getting better at this," she informed herself dryly. "Only thought about rebuilding a government three times today." A small smile followed the remark. Progress, perhaps. Not much, but enough to count.

A distant rumble echoed across the water, drawing her attention upward. Dark clouds had begun gathering offshore, slowly swallowing the bright blue sky she had enjoyed all afternoon. At first, she paid them little mind. Naboo's weather was usually gentle and predictable. Then the wind shifted. Another rumble followed, deeper this time, and within minutes the sunlight was retreating behind a wall of gray. The first cold drops struck the sand around her, quickly followed by a great many more. "Of course," she muttered, gathering her things as the drizzle transformed into a proper downpour.

Laughing despite herself, Iandre hurried along the shoreline with her bag tucked beneath one arm, black hair immediately plastered to her face by the rain. The storm swept across the coast with remarkable enthusiasm, reducing the beach to shifting curtains of gray and silver. Through the downpour, she spotted a small seaside shop tucked just off the beach, its stone walls and weathered wooden sign half-hidden among a cluster of wind-bent trees. Warm light glowed through the windows, and someone had thoughtfully propped the door open despite the worsening weather. It wasn't much, but it was shelter with walls and a door that could be shut against the storm. More importantly, it was dry. Or at least dry enough. Climbing the short set of steps, she ducked beneath the stone roof and brushed rainwater from her face as the storm hammered against the coastline around her, content for the moment to simply wait and watch the sea disappear behind a veil of rain.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

He had always liked the desert. Burning sand beneath his feet. Waves of heat shimmered in the air and created minor mirages. The sun beating mercilessly on his bare torso. Sweat beading from his pores to run in rivulets down his body, intersecting faded scars of ancient battles, to briefly cool the fevered skin.

But he wasn't in the desert. It was a beach. The wind swept across the sand in a cooling respite from summer sun. He didn't mind the heat, but he appreciated the coolness. Even if the front of chilled air brought the portents of a storm. He didn't mind the storm either.

A smirk crossed his unshaven face as he moved to the edge of lapping water. Cold water caressed his feet and he squatted as the water receded. Left forearm balanced on his thigh, blue sith runes running from his palm and intricately scrolling round and round his arm until it reached his elbow. With his right hand he etched words into the sand with his forefinger.

It is what it is. It is not what it once was, and not yet what it will be. It is what it is.

As he finished his writing the water rushed back in to erode what was drawn. Sand swirled in the written grooves to create muddled water until the surf receded once more. Most of the impressions from the words were gone, a near clean slate. Only the words ‘It is what it is’ could be deciphered. Another surge of the surf and even that would be gone. A clean slate.

“Cin vhetin.”

It was one of the things which drew him to the mandalorians. The idea that you could recreate yourself into something new. You were not the sum of your parts or your past. Though they were a part of you they need not define who you were. Stagnation or growth. Growth meant the ability to go through a metamorphosis. To become something and someone new. If you possessed the strength, resilience, and fortitude to start anew.

The first drops of rain startled him from his reverie and he looked up. While others ran for cover he stood still with arms open letting the rain fall on and around him. Clouds blanketed the sun, dark skies changing the visage of the beach from bright and sunny to a misty, shadowed haven free of people. Thunder rolled in the distance, a promise of the storm approaching. A laugh welled up within him as he turned from the ocean and walked along the firm wet sand at the edge of the water.

The shirt tucked into his back pocket was pulled out and slipped on, a white short sleeve button up he gave up on buttoning as the wind whipped it to and fro around his body then out into the wind. To his right were a strand of windswept trees standing on either side of a shack like guardians bending in the storm yet resisting the effects as unmovable. Only deep roots kept the trees from falling.

“A lesson in life perhaps”, he mused to himself.

In his approach to the building he watched a drenched woman looking out at the waters and he smirked. Most people would have retreated from the fury of the storm. But this one gazed out without fear. Color him intrigued as he mounted the steps and entered the shack. The interior was well lit, a few tables and chairs scattered about and a bar running the length of the far wall. A few seats were taken at the bar but the establishment was otherwise vacant.

An employee raised his face in question when he turned to look out at the weather, standing several feet away from the woman who brushed the water from her face, rain dripping from the raven waves of her hair. He smirked and gave a slight nod of greeting.

“Great weather we're having eh”, he questioned before he turned his head to the waiting employee behind the bar. “Whatever you have on tap and … whatever the lady wants.”

He arched an inquisitive brow at his fellow weather watcher near the open doors.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The storm had transformed the shoreline. What had been bright and warm an hour ago now felt intimate somehow, wrapped in curtains of rain and distant thunder. Iandre stood near the open doorway of the small seaside shop with one shoulder resting against the frame, watching waves crash against the darkening coast. The scent of rainwater and salt hung heavily in the air, mingling with the aroma of caf and whatever food the establishment had been serving before the weather drove everyone indoors. For the first time in days, she found herself thinking about absolutely nothing at all. No governments. No Jedi. No plans for the future. Just rain and sea.

It was surprisingly pleasant.

The arrival of another rain-soaked traveler drew her attention only briefly. She caught sight of him approaching in the downpour, a solitary figure walking toward the shelter rather than hurrying. Most people ran from storms. This one appeared content to let the weather have its way with him. There was something oddly deliberate about it, as though the rain was not an inconvenience but part of the experience. The observation earned a faint smile before her attention drifted back toward the sea.

His greeting, however, brought a soft laugh from her.

"I think the weather would be offended if we described it as merely great."

Her gaze shifted toward the rain hammering the beach outside, where the shoreline had all but disappeared behind a curtain of gray. Thunder rolled somewhere out over the water. "It seems to have committed fully to making an impression."

Only then did she turn fully toward him. Up close, she noticed details she had missed before. The weathered appearance. The confidence. The faint traces of old scars. Most interesting of all were the blue runes winding across one forearm, though years of experience helped her avoid staring. The galaxy was full of strange stories. She had met enough people to know appearances rarely told the whole truth. Besides, she had promised herself she was done investigating every mystery she stumbled across. At least for today.

His offer to the bartender earned a raised eyebrow.

"That's either very generous or very reckless."

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. "Fortunately for you, I don't think they keep anything expensive enough in a place like this for me to abuse your hospitality." She stepped away from the doorway and toward the bar, brushing a damp strand of black hair behind one ear. The burgundy sundress she'd chosen for a quiet afternoon at the beach was doing very little to defend itself against the storm.

"Whiskey, if you have something decent."

The request was directed toward the employee before her attention returned to the stranger. "Though if you're buying drinks for random people hiding from storms, I suppose I should at least introduce myself." A small smile appeared, easier than most she'd worn lately. "Iandre."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

"I think the weather would be offended if we described it as merely great. It seems to have committed fully to making an impression."

His eyes viewed the power of the storm, the beauty therein as nature did as she was want to do without permission or apology. The symmetry. Torrential rain, gusts of wind as though the storm was breathing, every exhale a force to be reckoned with, ever inhale a brief moment of respite. She was right. It was impressive.

"Perhaps I should have said majestically imposing."

His head turned and he noticed the appraising look. Her gaze did not rest on any specific thing, a cursory glance that he found intriguing. This woman was more than she appeared. Most people would stare at this or that. Not this one. There was a quiet reserve about her. Typically those who had a past, a learned behavior. No gawking. But no judgement in her eyes either. For a moment he almost touched the force to reach out inquisitively, but he did not. There was no need for it. He sensed no subterfuge from the woman.

"That's either very generous or very reckless."

He smiled, his blue eyes glowing brighter with his own amusement.

"Must the two be mutually exclusive?

He followed the woman to the bar, his eyes pursuing his own visual investigation. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, unconscious habit or just a reaction to damp hair? The sundress clung to her form offering a glimpse of womanly features. Her walk was firm yet soft. A woman who knew where she wanted to go without hesitation or timidity.

At the bar he frowned at the nearly clear ale poured for him before he glanced at her order.

"I'll have what the lady is having, make it a double."

His hand slipped to his shorts and unzipped a punch from an inner pocket and he dropped a few credits on the bar. The damp clothing grew warm as his body instinctively heated, using a form of one of his innate force abilities. Wisps of steam hovered above his clothing for a brief moment before his clothes and skin dried. Much better. No wet clothing rash.

She returned her attention to Muad as she continued speaking. He smirked, eyes flashed once again.

"Sometimes random encounters are the most important encounters one could have. A pleasure to meet you, Iandre."

Her smile was small but definitely there. For a moment he paused. Perhaps he was around the cogs of politics, mandos, Jedi, and other people of power because the offered first name caught him off guard. Typically there were long titles and ranks offered with a first and last name. But not here. Despite his words, most of his chance encounters typically were on a battlefield. The etiquette of surprise random encounters was not one he was familiar with. But he could learn.

"Now that is a unique name. I do not believe I've ever met an Iandre before. Excuse my manners. My name is Muad. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

He raised the glass tumbler of whiskey just poured and gave her a smiling salute before tossing back the drink.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

A small laugh escaped Iandre as she accepted the glass from the bartender. "Majestically imposing is certainly an improvement." She lifted the whiskey slightly in acknowledgment before taking a measured sip. To her surprise, it was actually decent. Not exceptional, but far better than she would have expected from a small coastal establishment that seemed more concerned with surviving storms than cultivating a reputation for fine spirits. The warmth spread through her chest, a welcome contrast to the lingering chill left behind by the rain.

His question about generosity and recklessness earned a faint smile. "No, I suppose not." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the storm outside as another gust of wind rattled the windows and sent sheets of rain skittering across the glass. "In my experience, they tend to travel together more often than most people admit." The observation came easily. She had known plenty of generous people over the years. Most of them had also possessed a tendency to leap before looking, particularly when someone else needed help.

Then something else caught her attention. The steam. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the last wisps disappear from his clothing. One moment soaked. Next, he was merely damp. It was subtle enough that most people might have missed it, but Iandre had spent far too much of her life around unusual talents not to notice details like that. The observation earned a look of genuine envy rather than suspicion.

"That would be a wonderful skill to learn." She glanced down at the still-damp fabric of her sundress before returning her attention to him. "I feel as though I've made several poor life choices in the last ten minutes that could have been avoided with that particular trick." The corner of her mouth lifted slightly as she took another sip of whiskey. Whatever explanation existed for it, she wasn't particularly interested in interrogating a stranger over it. For once, she was content to let mysteries remain mysteries.

When he introduced himself, the name drew another smile. "Well, that makes us even." She raised her glass slightly in return. "I've never met a Muad before either." The name suited him somehow, though she couldn't have explained why. Perhaps it was the quiet confidence. Perhaps it was simply that she couldn't imagine him being called anything else.

For a moment, she studied him over the rim of her drink. Not suspiciously. Merely curious. He carried himself with the ease of someone comfortable in his own skin, weather and circumstance seemingly unable to trouble him much. It was an unusual quality. One she found herself appreciating more these days. "And if random encounters truly are the important ones, then I suppose we both picked an excellent storm to get caught in."

Outside, thunder rolled once more across the sea, and the rain continued its relentless assault on the shoreline. Inside, however, the atmosphere felt surprisingly comfortable. A warm room. A decent drink. A conversation with no expectations attached to it. For someone who had spent most of her life carrying responsibilities, it was a rare thing. And rarer still, she found herself content to simply enjoy it.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

He watched the delicate way she tasted the whiskey. A test at first then an acceptance for the quality. Obviously she tasted better vintages. And certainly worse. Well travelled he decided rather than an alcoholic, not that he assumed the latter. He definitely did not know her but from what he witnessed thus far, he would have been surprised.

That he was her first Muad, he had no doubt. In all the eras, times, dimensional rifts, and all his travels in his current state of existence he had never met another Muad either. Even five decades or so earlier, when there were Temporal versions of alternate realities of people throughout the galaxy, he didn't have a doppelganger pop up. Now two Muads would have been disturbing. He smirked slightly at the thought.

The hair tucked behind her ear fell loose with a second taste of the whiskey. It reminded him of the holodramas his kids watched. Romcoms they called it. Where the man would lean over, slightly encroaching upon her personal space, and tuck errant strands once more behind her ear. The other kids would fight for their turn to watch action sci-fi.

His kids. A clan full of adopted prodigals, orphans, outcasts, and loners. Not all of them kids. When he met a lost soul something deeply buried and hidden woke up. Kindred spirits. The corusca gem hidden in the rough. He would never admit it, but somewhere within he possessed a heart.

The bartender came over and refreshed his whiskey glass which Muad happily reclaimed before glancing over and catching Iandre studying him. His lips twitched in amusement and, for a moment, wondered what she saw. He knew what he saw in the mirror. Short brown hair and stubble. The sprouting of white almost unnoticeable in the short shorn temple locks. Eyes that glowed blue, piercing in their benign look, impassioned gaze, or predatory glare. As though energized by an internal power source. The lines at the edges of his eyes could easily be from squinting or laugh lines.

As odd as it seemed for those who knew his reputation of old, it was the latter.

And maybe, just maybe, a hint of pain veiled deep within. He believed he could see a reflection within her own eyes. Maybe that was why the random encounter with this stranger felt familiar and comfortable. Then again, it could be the rain water still dripping from her hair. His eyes remained on her own as he raised the tumbler glass of whiskey again.

"To fortuitous encounters through benevolent forces of nature. To strangers meeting and friends farewell."

He took a measured sip as his attention was drawn to the gale storm outside their momentary reprieve. Life. Cycles of relaxation under a merciful sky turn to foreboding and ominous weather. The trick was finding the beauty in every season. In the distance over the sea, lightning forked across the horizon. Powerful, dangerous, and mesmerizing. Much like the woman sitting across from him.

Carefree and enjoying a simple respite, Iandre seemed untethered to the concerns of the galaxy. Just a simple day at the beach. However details showed him there was more than met the eye, despite how the sundress clung to her figure. Whether it was etiquette, training, or manners she was able to look beyond appearance. She was very perceptive. His clothes drying for one. And she was skilled in seemingly noticing nothing and seeing everything. Simultaneously.

Turning back to the bar he caught the furtive glance at his much dryer clothing. His shrug was nearly imperceptible, a nonchalant physical expression. His hand raised, fingertips spread and he gestured.

"I could do the same if you wish. It won't hurt and I don't bite … that's not true, I do. But only under extenuating circumstances."

His brow arched and his smirk returned to dance on his lips.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre caught the slight shrug and the gesture that followed, her gaze flicking briefly from his hand back to his face. The offer was delivered with enough casual confidence that she suspected he made a habit of presenting unusual things as though they were perfectly ordinary. The comment about biting earned a quiet laugh before she could stop it.

"I appreciate the warning. I'd hate to discover the terms and conditions afterward." The corner of her mouth curved upward as she lifted her glass, and when his toast received a small nod of approval, she raised her whiskey in return. "To fortuitous encounters."

The glass touched her lips for another measured sip before she lowered it again. The warmth settled comfortably in her chest while rain continued to batter the shoreline beyond the windows. It was strange how quickly a random shelter from a storm had turned into a conversation. Stranger still that she didn't feel any urge to leave it.

Her attention drifted briefly toward the damp fabric clinging stubbornly to her torso and legs. Normally, she would have ignored it. There had been years of sleeping in armor, standing watch in storms, and trudging through conditions far worse than a little rainwater. Yet she was no longer trying to prove anything to anyone. Comfort, she was slowly discovering, was not a moral failing.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "a wiser version of me would probably ask several questions before agreeing to mysterious weather-related assistance from a stranger."

The smile returned, carrying a hint of self-awareness. "Fortunately for both of us, she appears to be elsewhere today." Setting her glass down on the bar, she gave a small gesture of invitation. "Go ahead. If nothing else, I'd like to leave here with the ability to say I was outsmarted by a rainstorm only once."

There was no apprehension in her voice, only curiosity. The same quiet curiosity that had brought her to Naboo in the first place. Whatever trick he intended to employ, she suspected it would be far more pleasant than spending the next hour sitting in damp clothing while the storm showed no signs of ending.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

Her laugh was infectious. Like the soft chime of clinking champagne flutes. Light and airy with a hint of discharged bubbles from within. Muad decided he liked the sound. And intended to hear it again. The remark about terms and conditions drew a quiet chuckle.

"Far be it for me to ask for wisdom to prevail. Sometimes thought and intention comes first. Other times it is the leap into the unknown which grants the greatest rewards."

A slow mischievous wink was his only admission to which one marked their current status. The thumb, forefinger, and middle finger of his right hand rubbed against one another.

"One way to, ahem, dry things is from heat."

A small blue flame sprang to life at the pinnacle of his fingers.

"I have a, some would say, innate ability and relationship to the flame. Fire is important in the mythos of humanity. It brings light, warmth, protection, and security. A useful tool for a great many things. I have never feared the flame and the power it contains. But that is not what we will do on this fine day."

His fingers parted and the blue flicker dissipated. Instead he reached out with his left hand and let his fingers hover just above her wrist, his thumb a bare fraction above the tempo of her pulse.

"I learned this from a sage of the Baron Do. We all have our own energy field. Created by our bodies. Bioelectricity. The secret is nothing ever really touches. Just energy fields pressing against one another. The sages, and many other creeds, believe that any sentient being can learn to harness it. Call it chi, ka, chakra, aura. Whatever."

Imperceptibly he matched her breathing with his own, watched the tic of her pulse in the graceful swan-like neck, felt the tempo from her wrist and regulated his own heartbeat to dance at the same rhythm.

"This isn't the force, or magic. It's an understanding of who you are, an acceptance of what you have become, a cohesive synthesis of what could be. Think of it as a kiss."

Eyes flickered unbidden to the curve of her lips before moving back to her eyes.

"Think of what a kiss is. Between friends, family, or even a type of greeting it is a benign symbol. A gesture. Nothing more than an intimate handshake. But now think of a different scenario. Two people attracted to one another. Enjoying a night out. Lowering the guards we all keep up. Desire grows. Longing lengthens. Need arises."

As he spoke he leaned forward just slightly.

"The question of will he, will she? The moment when each is straddling the precipice. Breath intermingles. Excitement flares. Expectation grows with every moment. And then their lips touch. A spark. Tingles run up your spine. A different kind of magic is born. Two distinct and separate people united in the moment. Both yearning, both unconsciously attuned to one another on levels they cannot comprehend. Energy fields interacting."

His fingers twitched slightly.

"Teräs Käsi is an ancient Mystical martial art where the practitioners learn to control their bodies and mind. The deeper you go the more you can control. The more you can interact with things not within your own bioelectric field. It's a redistribution of energy. Of intent. And just like the lover's first kiss, you focus your energy."

His voice lowered, almost a whisper now.

"Take goosebumps for example. Strong emotions like fear or … desire, create a type of flight or flight response. A need for action. Or being cold and wanting the caress of warmth to trail along your skin. An involuntary reaction. We just do the same with the water molecules. Electromagnetic agitation. The protons, electrons, and atoms in the water get over-stimulated and vibrate at increased speeds until …"

Water vapor began to steam across the sundress as the molecules evaporated from its new excited state.

"Just like that first kiss when energy fields interact, overlap, and dance to a primal tune that is felt but never heard, so too can we influence other fields through the force of our desire."

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre had expected a simple trick. A little warmth. A clever technique. Perhaps some explanation she only half understood before finding herself dry again. She had not expected a lecture on philosophy, nor had she expected to find herself listening so intently. The warmth spreading through the damp fabric of her dress was pleasant enough, but it quickly became secondary to the conviction behind his words. Muad spoke the way some people fought or prayed, with complete certainty in what they believed. It was difficult not to be drawn along by the force of it. Not compelled, exactly. Merely carried by the current of a man who had clearly spent a great deal of time thinking about such things.

When the last traces of moisture finally evaporated from the burgundy fabric, Iandre glanced down at the now-dry material before flexing her fingers experimentally. Whatever he had done, it had worked remarkably well. "That is considerably more elegant than standing near a heater." A smile touched her lips as she reclaimed her glass from the bar. The whiskey was becoming increasingly enjoyable, helped perhaps by the weather outside and the comfortable pace of the conversation inside.

Her gaze drifted toward the storm beyond the windows before returning to him. There was a magnetism about Muad that had little to do with whatever technique he had employed. He possessed the rare ability to make even ordinary subjects sound significant. Some people filled silence because they feared it. Others spoke because they genuinely had something to say. He struck her as the latter. The distinction was subtle, but after years spent around politicians, soldiers, diplomats, and Jedi, she had learned to appreciate it when she found it.

"I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone explain drying clothes by comparing it to philosophy, martial arts, and romance all at the same time." The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "It's certainly memorable." There was no mockery in the observation. If anything, she sounded amused. The explanation had been unconventional, but she suspected that was true of the man delivering it as well.

She took another sip of whiskey before settling more comfortably onto her stool. "I think I prefer your version to simply calling it a trick." Her eyes moved briefly toward the rain hammering the shoreline. "Most useful things seem to have a story attached to them. The older I get, the more I find myself interested in those stories." The statement lingered for a moment before curiosity entered her expression. "So tell me, Muad. Do you always offer complete strangers whiskey and impromptu lessons in the nature of existence, or is today a special occasion?"

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

Once finished he leaned back against the bar and reclaimed his whiskey glass. Her words, “More elegant than a heater”, caused him to laugh before taking another taste of the whiskey. As she gazed at the storm he glanced at her and mused silently to himself.

Most people would have asked what the trick was in spite of his florid explanation. However Iandre made an offhand comment to accept the answer given. His instincts said force user. Only someone familiar with the unknown would be willing to accept a truth they were unaccustomed to. A politician or ambassador was ruled out for asking too many questions. A civilian was possible. But even then, her ability to roll with the conversation made for a rare civilian indeed. There he went, always examining every one and every thing.

Muad felt relaxed, a comfortable bubble of exclusion to the reality of the galaxy and was hesitant to pop it for unnecessary answers. When life offered you a chance to live in the moment you grasped it.

“I'll take memorable.”

Her words drifted between them, intimate yet nonchalant. As though she was free of tethers or burdens. Serenely carefree. The phrase ‘the older she got’ drew a slow smile as he appraised her appearance.

She was certainly mature, in the throes of womanhood. But he failed to see creased lines or shades of silver in her hair. But there was much life experience within her eyes. Comfortable in her own skin and willing to strike up a conversation with a stranger. She didn't bow to his words, instead she seemed to accept them in a framework that was outside of her own. Older by appearance? Absolutely not. Yet she carried herself with a certain stoic, graceful strength which belied her youthful presence.

Her question brought him back to the moment.

“Certainly we are not strangers. You are Iandre and I am Muad. Casual acquaintances perhaps? As for a special occasion, what is that but an occasion we choose to make special? I feel our meeting is more than fortuitous, maybe a remarkable, memorable occasion?”

His lips twitched into a smile once again as he took another sip.

“To answer your question, no. I tend to prefer more solitary endeavors. I have family, friends, a clan, and many other responsibilities that keep me busy. But I grow weary of generic platitudes. Of the meaningless parroting of insincere veneers. Of the double speak of words that say one thing while secretly conveying a completely different intent. I like simple truths conveyed by open individuals.”

He shook his head ruefully at the thought of corporate intrigue and diplomatic doublespeak.

“It is I who should say, the older I get the less time I have for falsehoods and misrepresentation. Perchance it is only through random meetings with strangers that the true self shines forth …”

“The eye of the storm. It is my favorite part. I love the wind, the rain, the complete fury that nature brings. But it is the peace within, when everything else around you is in the hands of chaos, that moment of respite that is calm. That is what I look forward to. And then back into the fray as the eye passes you by and you are once more rocked by nature's wrath. But it is endurable because of that moment of tranquility. I believe you are the eye for me today. Thank you.”

Wind and rain fell in splendor as his eyes traced the majesty of nature. Trees bent and the waves crashed against the shore whilst sun hid behind darkened clouds that stretched across the horizon.

“And what of you? What prompts today's interrupted excursion and occasion to parlay whiskey and words with, what did you call us, complete strangers? Is this a special occasion or run of the mill expectation?”

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre listened quietly as Muad spoke, her fingers loosely wrapped around the whiskey glass. There was something oddly refreshing about his honesty. Most people would have laughed off a comment about strangers becoming acquaintances or hidden behind layers of polite conversation until both parties found a graceful excuse to leave. Muad seemed entirely comfortable saying exactly what he thought and allowing the other person to decide what to do with it. It was unusual. Perhaps a little dangerous. But unusual in a way she found herself appreciating. There was no performance to it. No careful dance of expectations. Just a man speaking his mind while a storm battered the coast outside.

His description of the eye of the storm drew her gaze back toward the rain-swept shoreline. Outside, nature continued its relentless display. Waves crashed against the beach, wind bent the trees nearly sideways, and somewhere beyond the curtain of rain, lightning flashed across the sea. Yet inside the little establishment, there was warmth, shelter, and the comforting scent of food and whiskey. For a moment, she simply watched it all unfold. The contrast felt familiar somehow.

"I think I understand that," she said quietly. "Not the storm itself. The moment in the middle."

A faint smile touched her lips before she took another sip of whiskey. The glass was nearly empty now. She raised it slightly toward the bartender in a silent request for another before returning her attention to Muad. His question lingered in her thoughts longer than the others had. Why was she here? Why a beach? Why this particular afternoon? The easy answer would have been almost anything else. A vacation. A quiet day. An appreciation for Naboo's coastline. All technically true. Yet something about the conversation made dishonesty feel unnecessary. Not because she knew him. She didn't. But because he had given her no reason to hide behind easy answers.

"A day at the beach was actually someone else's idea."

A small laugh escaped her.

"A friend suggested I try doing something enjoyable for a change. Apparently, spending all of my time sitting indoors arguing with my own thoughts was becoming a concern."

The humor lingered only briefly before fading into something more thoughtful. She looked down at the whiskey glass, turning slowly between her fingers. The amber liquid caught the light as it moved. "The truth is I've been trying to figure out what comes next." The admission felt strangely vulnerable, even now. For most of her life, there had always been a next step. A mission. A responsibility. A purpose waiting just over the horizon. She had never needed to ask herself who she was because there had never been time. Now there was nothing but time, and she was discovering she didn't particularly like the question.

"Several months ago, my husband died."

The words came calmly. Not because they hurt any less, but because she had repeated them enough times to survive saying them aloud. The grief was still there. Some days it felt distant. Other days, it felt as sharp as the moment she learned he was gone. And beneath it lived something else. Anger. Not the hot, reckless kind. The quieter variety. The sort that settled deep in the bones and refused to leave. Anger at what had happened. Anger at everything that had been lost alongside him. Anger at a galaxy that had simply continued moving forward afterward.

Her eyes lifted to meet his once more.

"So I suppose today's excursion was equal parts taking good advice and attempting to remember how to exist outside of mourning."

A small smile returned, softer than before but genuine nonetheless.

"The beach seemed like a reasonable place to start."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

To be able to sit and talk. It was a refreshing change. The ease of their exchange and enjoyment in the company held a unique opportunity. The unique opportunity to bare their soul, to speak truth not willing to be uttered amongst familiar people. A chance to strip away carefully crafted personas and to find your true self. Oddly liberating at times. Unless you didn't give an osik what others thought of you. Which was rare.

The pain of a lost love and the questions that arose from the loss often sent one into a facade to keep the image of who they once were. Or some internalized and inevitably were destroyed from within. Iandre, however, chose to step out and look for a place where she could move forward despite the agony she felt, even if it made her uncomfortable.

The storm outside still blew walls of rain and whipped the shoreline. But it was lessening. Trees began to stand tall, a resilience in their nature to bend without breaking. Sand speckled with rainfall craters was swept by the surge of water, erasing the violence endured and leaving a new, pristine slate of sand at the water’s edge. Even the forks of lightning grew distant, and the thunder no longer rattled the shack they had taken refuge in. Small breaks in darkened clouds cracked, and shafts of sunlight peered out to cast auras of light across the landscape.

As he listened to the slowly coming words from the woman next to him, he tossed back the remainder of his whiskey. A brisk breeze blew through the open doors and windows, soothing their exposed skin. If only it could soothe the troubled mind. Once Iandre finished speaking, a lull came over them. Not an uncomfortable silence but a repose to conversation. His head nodded slightly as he processed.

“People tend to say things like ‘time to get back on the speeder’ in a desire for us to move on with our lives. Personally, I've found that this often leads to avoidance. Grief requires time. Rediscovering yourself is a process. And sometimes the best course of action isn't about trying to think of the next course of action, the next step in your path, but to merely start walking. Start doing. Take a step of blind faith and see where the path leads.”

He pushed away from the bar and padded across the rough-hewn wooden floor to the batwing doors propped open. The storm abated, rain now falling in a light shower. Still, people remained aloof, preferring the shelters found.

“Our brains try to tell us what is right. What is wrong. We take social cues. Society lays the groundwork for the acceptable course of action for everything. How to mourn and how to rebuild. But sometimes we have to say to hell with it. Follow our own impulses. Break from normalcy and walk a different path. Stop trying to figure out what comes next and just do whatever comes next. Look stupid. Be misunderstood. Embrace what is. And go with it. Try a new way of doing things.”

He held out his left hand, fingers open in invitation. The swirling pattern of blue runes lay concentrated at the center of his palm.

“Take a walk in the storm with me. Enjoy the chaos. How many times will you ever get the opportunity to stroll in the rain with a casual acquaintance? Maybe in the doing you'll discover your path. And you never know, perhaps talking, venting, screaming your emotions and thoughts, you know, the ones we are supposed to bury away, will help. I have two ears I can put to good use.”

He stepped from the alcove of protection, water falling on him gently from the heavens. His hand was still outstretched. An offer she could either take or refuse.

“I'm going. Take a step into the absurd, the unconventional, the unknown. You may find that you like it. You said it yourself, the beach seems like a reasonable place to start."

A small smile stretched his lips.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre remained where she was for a moment, watching him step out into the soft rain as though it had been waiting for him all along. Her fingers rested loosely around the whiskey glass, now empty once more, while his words settled into the quiet places of her mind. They were simple words, yet they carried a truth she had been slowly discovering for herself. There wasn't always a map through grief. Sometimes the only way forward was exactly as he had said. One step. Then another. Not because you knew where they would lead, but because standing still eventually became its own kind of prison.

A small smile found its way to her face as she set the glass upon the bar. She had spent so much of her life making calculated decisions, weighing consequences, considering responsibilities. Every choice had carried someone else's future alongside her own. It felt almost absurd that the decision confronting her now was whether to walk into the rain with someone she had met less than an hour ago. Yet somehow, it also felt wonderfully insignificant.

"What could possibly go wrong?"

The question lingered for barely a heartbeat before she laughed softly and shook her head.

"No... don't answer that."

The chuckle that followed was small, but genuine.

Stepping away from the warmth of the little beachside tavern, Iandre crossed the wooden floor toward the open doorway. The cool air met her first, carrying the scent of rain and saltwater, then the gentle touch of drizzle on her skin. She looked down at the hand he had offered for only a moment before placing her own into it. There was no hesitation, no implication beyond accepting the invitation exactly as it had been intended. Two acquaintances and choosing to embrace an unusual afternoon rather than hide from it.

"I suppose if I'm trying to learn how to live differently," she said as they stepped out beneath the rain together, "walking through a storm with a man I met over whiskey isn't the worst place to begin."

Her smile lingered as they made their way onto the rain-soaked beach.

"Lead on, Muad."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

“What could possibly go wrong? No … don't answer that.”

The audacity to murmur such a challenging phrase to the gods of chaos stretched a wide grin across his face. Even for those who were not superstitious, the gall to tempt fate was never strong. But Iandre felt no trepidation for speaking words or taking action, it would seem.

Her hand slipped into his. Warm to the touch, trusting, and perhaps even eager for new experiences. He understood loss. As a warrior, it came second nature. The problem was that the more you allowed yourself to be open and vulnerable, the easier it was to be hurt and withdrawn.

But here she was, taking a walk in the rain with a stranger. His feet sank into the sand, each step disappearing beneath a cascade of fine white grains until they reached the compact strip washed by the surf. Small waves of water swept over their feet and washed them clean—a cathartic simile of what they needed in life.

“One of the things the younger ones in my clan like to do is snowball fights. Hoth, Rhigar, Olanet. If there's snow, then there will undoubtedly be snowball fights. It's like they unplug their brains to have fun. And it is. Sadly, we don't have any snow …”

He released her hand and moved to the edge of the smooth ground where they walked to scoop a handful of moist, loose sand. His hands molded it into a semi-loose ball, and he grinned at Iandre before reaching out and handing it to her. Then he squatted to make another loose ball before rising and walking backward, a suggestive brow arched.

“Sometimes the best way to do things differently is to ask yourself what you would normally do, then do the opposite. If anything, it's fun. Tell me, you ever have yourself a fun sandball fight?”

He grinned as his left hand scooped another ball of sand. Both hands squeezed and molded until he had two semi-cohesive balls ready for fun warfare, if Iandre was game for some ridiculous, self-deprecating fun.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The cool rain settled gently across Iandre's shoulders as she stepped farther onto the beach, the hem of her sundress brushing against her legs with each step. She tilted her face toward the clouds for a moment, closing her eyes as the steady drizzle washed away the lingering warmth of the afternoon. There was something unexpectedly freeing about getting soaked on purpose. No schedule to keep. No meeting waiting. No crisis demanding her attention. Just the sea, the rain, and the simple decision to stop caring whether she looked presentable.

She looked down as Muad placed the damp sandball into her hand. Turning it over once, she gave it an amused inspection before looking back up at him, a genuine smile spreading across her face.

"Never." She laughed softly, shaking her head.

"I've fought with training and light sabers, blasters, and the occasional kitchen utensil..." She glanced at the misshapen sandball resting in her palm. "But never a sandball fight."

The admission sounded almost ridiculous to her own ears. After everything she had experienced across decades and wars, this tiny, absurd pastime had somehow escaped her.

She looked from the sandball to Muad, the corners of her mouth still turned upward, and gave a small, amused shake of her head as a quiet laugh slipped free. "I suppose that says something about my priorities," she admitted, drawing her arm back just slightly, her expression shifting into something more playfully determined. "Though if this is how your clan entertains itself...then I should probably find out what I've been missing."

Without another word, she tossed the sandball toward him. It was hardly an attack worthy of a seasoned warrior. If anything, it was cautious, more an invitation than an attempt at victory. Still, as it left her hand, she found herself laughing again.

For the first time in a long while, it felt remarkably easy.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

The symmetry of the afternoon was amusing. Two pieces, people with no prior contact, found themselves clicking into place as if the fates, or gods, or some force willed it. Random encounters of importance. Unknown experiences that felt eerily righteous. One of those blink and you miss it moments. Too odd to be planned, too surreal to be false. However long the moment lasted it was more genuine than a hundred lifetimes.

“Priorities have a funny way of changing when we least expect it to.”

The determined look on Iandre’s face was too amusing for Muad not to laugh. And he did. Perhaps it was unwise to do so with a woman you just handed a sandball to, but he never claimed to use wisdom. Especially when it came to a beautiful woman.

The benign toss was both deliberate in its aim and relaxed in force. A nonchalant arc of feigned determined deliberation. One which smote him across the forehead. He coughed and bent at his waist, sand cascading from his face and hair even as he laughed out a sandy wheeze.

“It would seem you have the gist of it madam.”

His words escaped his grinning face, even as he blinked sand from his eyes. Hands raised as he arched a brow, wondering from whence would the first retaliation come from. The left ball was tossed high, a long arc through the sky with intent to draw the eyes even as his right hand threw a slowed curve ball, aimed to track for the curve of Iandre’s hip.

Not to be caught off guard or placed unaware, he scrambled sideways with a grin, hands searching for soft sand to curl into more offensive weapons to toss at his frolicking companion.

“Well, do you find this entertaining enough or should I try harder to keep your attention in a thrawl?”

Two more sandballs were lofted in her general direction.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The first sandball caught him squarely, and Iandre couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her as he bent over, coughing sand from his face. It wasn't dignified in the slightest. Somehow, that only made it funnier. For a few precious moments, there was no grief, no responsibility, no questions about the future. Just two people on a rain-soaked beach behaving like children.

"I think you're getting the hang of losing gracefully."

She barely had time to enjoy the victory before one of his returning sandballs found its mark against her hip with a soft thump, scattering damp sand across her dress. She let out an indignant little gasp before looking down at the evidence of the successful hit. The second sailed harmlessly past as she instinctively sidestepped, shaking her head as another laugh escaped her.

"Oh, I see how this is."

Stooping to the wet sand, she quickly gathered another handful, packing it together with considerably more confidence than her first attempt.

"This is entertaining enough, Muad."

Her smile was bright as she straightened again, another sandball resting in her palm.

"Though I suspect you're only making it more difficult for yourself."

With that she sent the second sandball arcing toward him, following it with a laugh that carried across the shoreline as the rain continued to fall.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

“I think you're getting the hang of losing gracefully.”

That may have been the first time he was ever told that. Not that he wasn't graceful, or had ever lost, but that he was both together. He laughed aloud, his humor externalized and mingled with her own. A frivolous activity that was fun, shared with someone who was no longer a stranger.

The two newly created sandballs were hefted as a mock, indignant expression crossed his face. His hands raised in an overly exaggerated motion as he tossed both directly at her. Whether the aim was true or not, he didn't know because her return volley smacked him in the forehead, and he fell back, landing on his butt in the loose sand.

The rain fell, creating a light mist from the ocean that rolled in and out with waves undeterred. Leaned back on his elbows, he watched as Iandre danced about, collecting more sandy missiles. Light wind tousled her hair, and for a brief moment, he smiled, taking in the blissful enjoyment she reveled in.

“I tend always to make it more difficult for myself. It's usually more fun that way!”

His arms spread wide, and he scooped an armful of sand into his embrace as he leaped to his feet. Eyes glowed mischievously as he ran toward her, prepared to launch the sand onto Iandre. When he neared, he released the wall of sand in hopes of catching her within its cascade.

A super sandball, he thought.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The sight of Muad toppling backward into the sand sent another peal of laughter from Iandre. She covered her mouth for only a moment before giving up entirely, the sound carried away by the breeze and the gentle hiss of rain against the shore.

"That was a bit of an overreaction, don't you think?"

Still smiling, she took an instinctive step toward him, one hand beginning to reach out to help him back to his feet. The gesture proved unnecessary. Before she could offer it, he was already springing upright with an armful of sand and a look that immediately told her she had made a terrible tactical error.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh...eep!"

The playful squeak escaped her as the great wave of damp sand came tumbling toward her. She threw up her arms far too late, laughing even as the loose grains showered over her shoulders, caught in her dark hair, and dusted the front of her rain-soaked sundress. When the last of it slid harmlessly to the beach, she stood blinking for a second before brushing at herself with only limited success.

"It's going to take weeks to get this out of my hair."

She shook her head, sending a few stubborn grains flying before laughing at the absurdity of it all. Stooping once more, she scooped up another generous handful of wet sand, already beginning to shape her next projectile.

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

The words carried no anger whatsoever, only cheerful surrender to the ridiculousness of the afternoon as she lofted another sandball in his direction and prepared to make another.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

It wasn't every day he was able to throw an armful of sand at anyone. It was as rewarding as it sounded. Muad almost felt bad as Iandre shook sand from her raven locks, but the pure enjoyment they were sharing wiped away any form of guilt he may have had. The pure enjoyment in her company reminded him that sometimes you just needed a laugh with a friend. Perhaps they both did.

“It might not take weeks. And you could always shave your head … wait wait wait …”

He watched as she began forming her next offensive weapon with way too much glee. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he smirked at her words.

“I'm always proud of what I do … you wouldn't attack an unarmed civilian as he clearly doesn't intend any more shenanigans … would you?”

His face contorted to the dopiest expression he could make, only managing to hold it for mere moments before his grin split the facade, and his hands dove to the wet sand he was sitting on. Two half-formed sand balls were scooped and thrown even as her missile smacked him in the face. He fell back onto the beach, sputtering loose sand as he shouted.

“Devilish fiend!”

Lying there, he wiped the loose grains from his eyes and sighed in contented defeat. Above them, the broiled dark clouds were rent, creating schisms where you could see stars peeking from the canopy above. Light rain still fell, oddly warm against his skin, as he laughed aloud again. His arms fell outstretched from his body, and he crossed his legs at the ankles.

He couldn't remember the last time he laughed as much, certainly not in carefree enjoyment. Life had grown sparingly short with fun and levity. Not that the madman ever needed life's permission to have fun. It was just that life rarely offered fun so easily.

“Look up, madame. Tell me that sight isn't glorious.”

Through the veil of parting clouds, you could see the galaxy spread out. Stars twinkled, gas nebulae swirled, and the three moons of the planet were in attendance. One was full overhead, reflecting a pale blue light, while the other two were crescents, not in their majestic fullness but still splendidly there. One of the orbital stations was low enough that you could make out its shape against the heavens. And dozens of vessels crossed the skies, exhaust plumes of various colors that left streaks above them.

He was relaxed, knowing there was still a better-than-average chance he would take another shot to the face. But it was a risk he was willing to take with Iandre, a woman he found he was beginning to like more and more.

Iandre Athlea