Private Time Of Your Life (Solo Thread)

[Kayla Ordo-Shan]

In the dim light of her apartment, Kayla approached the small glass case resting on her shelf; a delicate container holding an assortment of tokens carefully gathered over the years. Each item seemed like a trivial keepsake: a weathered pendant, a carved wooden bird, a tiny holophoto that had faded from too much exposure.

She gingerly slid the case open with deliberate care, the soft click echoing in the stillness. Her fingers hovered briefly over the pendant before she settled on it, lifting it into her palm.

Closing her eyes, Kayla drew a steady breath and extended her senses through the Force, letting its current flow like a river beneath her skin. The pendant warmed against her palm, a tether pulling her back.


"You see those?" A familiar voice carried across the memory, steady and sure. Her father, strong enough to be a whisper, just barely heard over the soft hum of the air vents.

Kayla inhaled the scent of blooming vines, the river's murmur filling her ears.

The vision pulsed, vibrant and alive, before receding. She opened her eyes to the quiet apartment once more, the pendant cool and still in her hand.

The glass case sat half open, a small sanctuary for few memories of the past that she still liked to recall.

For a moment, she braced herself against the onslaught of memories, easing herself into the past; poking her toe in, before she finally swallowed her fear.

She let the past swallow her, sinking into her bed now as she did so.

The grass is soft beneath them, swaying in the warm evening breeze. Fireflies blinked lazily over the silver-blue river, and the air carried the scent of flowering vines from the far banks. She sat cross-legged on a flat stone beside her father, her chin propped on her hands, listening to the water ripple over the rocks.

Her father, Kadan Ordo leaned back, his travel coat loose over his frame, looking up at the velvet sky. Here on Tirahnn, there was no hum of city skylanes or distant gunfire; only the slow chorus of crickets and the far-off calls of birds. There were patches of grey in his beard and hair. Her mother had teased that he was aging as gracefully as a Wookie. He had once shot back, saying she was starting to resemble a Gamorrean.

He never tried that again, Kayla recalled. The aftermath had been memorable, from what she could recollect.

It was peaceful, that much she recalled. The vision seemed to agree for now.

Kayla let her memory of the moment fill the ambiance of the moment as she fixated on the vision.

"You see those?" He asked again, pointing to a cluster of stars just above the horizon.

Young Kayla had nodded, her eyes remained wide.

"Each one is a place you could go. A place you could make yours. The galaxy's bigger than you can imagine, ad'ika. It's dangerous, yes, but it's also full of wonder. Things worth seeing. People worth knowing."

She tilted her head. She had so much wonder at that age, so much desire to know, that the galaxy was just a big playground.

Where did it all go?

"And I get to see it all?"

Kadan smiled faintly. "If you choose. You'll grow stronger than me, smarter than me. You've got your mother's fire and my stubbornness. Force, help anyone who stands in your way."

Kayla grinned at that, then looked back at the stars. "Will you and Mama be there?"

"Always," He said, voice steady and sure. "Even if we're far apart, even if you can't see us…the Force will carry us to you. Our voices, our hearts-“

There was a pause in his words, as if search, the memory flickered as she focused.

“They’ll never leave you."

She wouldn’t yet understand what that truly meant, but she leaned into him, she could recall the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. She recalled thinking he was the strongest being in the galaxy, that no one could beat him; except of course her mom.

The simplicity of just having a parent there. Something that seemed an ever constant in childhood, now just left a hole that she had still not mended in her life.

Above them, the stars turned slowly, each one holding a story she had lived.

Yet, what did she have to show for it?

The specter of her past peeked up, the smirk of a four year old spreading across her face; she could see the resemblance she shared with her mother.

“Mama said she kicked your butt here, did it hurt?”

She had to laugh, her phantom of a father stumbled over his words, trying to elaborate.

Then the amulet slipped from her hands, the connection severed, as she was back in bed.

Not that she had ever left.

She was alone in her apartment once more. The amulet no longer felt cold, but the warmth was slowly being drawn away.

Just as a similar warmth in her chest was fleeting. Her gaze settled back onto the case, a puff of air escaping from her nostrils as reality dragged her back down to normalcy.


Maybe….it wouldn’t be the worst thing to…ruminate after all.

 

[Kayla Ordo-Shan]

She slowly sat up, a hand reaching forward, as she put the amulet back in its place. Finding the next item, a pommel cap. It had belonged to her mothers first lightsaber. In a sense, it was Kayla's lightsaber as well in a way.

The training room took shape around her. It was a bright, open room, humming faintly with energy shielding. She was eight again, knees knocking with excitement and nerves as she gripped a the saber. She recalled the old chromium that was starting to chip. The woman before her seemed a mountain compared to the child version of her. Silver-white hair spilled over her shoulders, stirred by the soft wind that drifted about the room. A series of scars decorated the left side of her face, and her pale grey eyes seemed to measure every horizon, as though weighing which ones were worth crossing.

Her robes were a blend of tradition and rebellion; deep teal folds cinched by a warrior's belt, layered over travel-worn gear. A yellow-green lightsaber rested in a pair of fingerless gloves, the familiarity of which this woman held the weapon betrayed over a decade of experience. Aayla Shan ( Aayla Shan ), her mother, stood across from her, graceful, dangerous, and smiling with that mix of pride and mischief.

Kayla's present-day voice echoed faintly as she felt the phantom pain throb at the sight of her mother. And I thought I could take her back then.

If not for the energetic bouncing of her younger self, Kayla might have thought the memory was frozen in time. She was wrong of course. Her mother moved first; one clean strike, blocked. Another, faster. Kayla's younger self grinned, emboldened, and lunged. Her mother was trying to teach her Makashi. Though, being the eight year old she was, Kayla was just trying to tag her mother and say she won.

That was a mistake, Kayla thought dryly.

The clash rang sharp. Her footing gave way, but she caught herself-barely.

From the side, her Kadan's voice barked, "Careful!"

He was wearing his knights robes, a rather boring basil, cast over a green tunic and brown trousers. The Clan Ordo necklack hung from his neck, the speckled grey from the past had spread, claiming most of his goatee and hair; which was now tied into a manbun. She recalled how her mother teased him relentlessly for the manbun. He looked more like a diplomat than the Mandalorian he was supposed to be. Yet the beskar hilted lightsaber still hung to his belt, his arms crossing in disagreement as his wife dismissed his concern.

Aayla glanced at him with a smirk. "Easy, Mando. She's fine."

Kayla, watching from the memory's edge, smiled faintly. You always said that, Mom.

The spar picked up speed. Younger Kayla was determined, but Aayla's strikes were impossibly fluid. She watched as her mother moved from amused, to annoyed, that Kayla was no longer considering technique. From her new vantage, Kayla watched as her strikes left her more open, finding several points where her mother could have struck, and chose not to. The exchanges went on for some time, until Aayla realized they were going no where.

A light slash to the forearm dropped her child self. The blue blade vanished, as she dropped the saber, starting to cry as the stinging sensation of the saber began to creep in. She withdrew from her mother, gripping her arm as if concerned it might very well fall off. In hindsight, it was amusing to see now, but by the force, how she had been so scared at first that she might have lost her arm.

Her mother crouched instantly, hand on her shoulder, voice warm. The saber already powered off and out of sight.

"Steady, ad'ika. You did well." She whispered, slowly pulling her daughter into an embrace.

Her father was already half way towards them, alarm painted all over his face, as Aayla turned to assure him all was well. He merely joined them in the embrace, as the memory began to fade.

Leaving Kayla once more, alone in her room, her fingers fiddling with the old metal device, as a mountain of conflicting feelings tumbled down upon her.