The Forger
The sands of Jakku devoured everything mercilessly. Buildings, ships, people, even the moisture in the air. It was uncomfortable and outright dangerous if someone got lost, but those endless sands always had secrets to discover. Far out in the dunes a lone figure wandered. His golden eyes stared around at the endless expanse of sand. Frustration had long taken over now. He had felt his path, briefly as it had been, in the Force. A pull to explore, to find something lost.
He was the one lost now.
Water was low. He didn't need food, but the lack of water was going to hurt him eventually. Even he of his superior blood needed something to keep that blood flowing. He glared into the bottom of his canteen before letting himself lay out on the sands to stare up at the burning sky. He wasn't supposed to get lost this easily. How could he let himself be this lost? He was smarter than that. His brow furrowed. Annoyance.
The Firrerreo's brow twitched as that frustration built. He certainly wasn't going to end up dead out here, right? He wasn't going to let himself get that brutalized by some hot weather and sand, right? Anger grew, flooding his mind.
Clarity followed after. The pull, the sense of lost, his gaze shifted as he stared towards the pull, sitting up in the sand. He chuckled. Just a soft one, but a chuckle none the less. Of course, the Dark was the answer as always. His emotions would guide him where he wanted to go. That, or he was dying of dehydration and his mind was playing tricks.