Private What the Dog Doing?

[Aadihr Lidos]

WATCH THE DOG

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The planet was quiet. Unusually so.

It had no strategic value, no ancient ruin whispering from beneath the soil, no Sith cult simmering just beyond the next town over. The most dangerous thing in sight was a patch of uneven paving stones — and perhaps, the oversized canid currently rocketing down the footpath like a beast possessed.

Aadihr stood at the edge of a small orchard, barefoot, with his robes dusted by petals and pollen. One hand rested calmly on his walking stick; the other cradled a mug of something gently steaming. He tilted his head slightly as the breeze shifted — tracking the disturbance in the Force with the same ease one might follow the tide.

The dog has doubled back. Again.

Somewhere out of view, shouting. A skid of claws. Laughter, maybe. Or alarm. Hard to tell. He sipped his tea.

They were meant to be resting. That was the assignment: rest. No debriefs. No meditations. No weapons. Just… a shared day off. It had taken significant Jedi Council wrangling — and perhaps a small bribe of baked goods — to get all three of them reassigned to the same shore-leave rotation.

Now, a chaos of fur, leash, and tactical instinct was unfolding in the distance.

Aadihr smiled. This would be the first time he properly met Buster – if he could catch up to the Aak Dog.

"Let me guess..." he murmured aloud, not to anyone in particular, "...he saw a squirrel."

He made no move to intervene. Not yet. He would wait until someone called for help, or until the dog found his way back with an offering of a half a tree or someone’s unattended lunch, or something.

The orchard rustled again. Somewhere nearby, another voice approached.

Drystan Creed | Connel Vanagor​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Dude, where’s my dog?
LOCATION
Orchard

It is not often you will see Connel Vanagor actually meditating, truth is that he hated it. Sure, it cleared the mind and brought a sense of peace, but so did katas, so did running an obstacle course. Truth be told, Connel was just built differently that way, and that was not a poke at his cybernetics. It also made him feel like he was missing something else. Like something was about to happen that he could not prevent.

TLDR: Connel hates meditation.

In this self fulfilling prophecy, there was something else that was missing. Normally someone would use his lap as a pillow right now.

Opening eyes. His single word was simple, but pointed. Buster?

@Aadhir Lidos • Drystan Creed​

 

[Drystan Creed]

ORCHARD

Despite the activity unfolding around him, Drystan remained unbothered. He wore a tight-fitting pink collared shirt, a pair of khakis, and some unassuming loafers to match. He tugged at the collar—finding it a bit too tight for his liking. Normally, he would've opted for a breathable robe or a form-fitting jumpsuit. Casual clothing wasn't something he was used to.

Trips like these were foreign to the Shadow. Even when he rested, it was for a purpose: to recover from grievous injuries or recuperate after an intense training regimen. Relaxation for its own sake was... unfamiliar territory.

He watched as the hound sprinted through the orchard, head tilting slightly. Falling in behind the other two Jedi, he brought up the rear, eventually catching up with them.

"I'm sure that canine knows better than to wander too far from the hand that feeds him," he said, almost as if reasoning aloud—trying to justify letting the dog vanish over the horizon.

"Right?"

Aadihr Lidos Connel Vanagor

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

AFTERMATH IN HIS WAKE

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

There were no leaves rustling. No breeze shifting. No local wildlife scattering in warning.

There was only the sound of disaster approaching at full gallop.

Aadihr didn’t flinch as the blur passed him — just a ripple in the Force and the thunder of paws on packed dirt. He turned his head slowly, already tracking the shape: large, four-legged, determined, and rapidly gaining a full compliment of accessories.

Trailing behind Buster now was a bed sheet, two pairs of modest undergarments, and someone’s laundered linen shirt.

A clothesline. Of course.

Somehow Buster did not slow. He accelerated as if the fluttering of fabric behind him was some form of aerodynamic enhancement. Aadihr’s Far-seeing followed the motion as it veered past a merchant’s spice stall around a street corner at the edge of the orchard looped under a hanging fruit canopy, and then—

He’s circling back.

Aadihr exhaled. Then, as if preparing to face a charging rancor, he spoke:

“He’s heading back this way now.”

The sheet flapped majestically behind the animal like a cape. The shirt caught on a bush. The undergarments sailed through the air with a certain tragic dignity before landing squarely on a bystander’s hat.

Aadihr barely had time to react with the zooming canine. He slept, grabbing onto the clothesline to try to assist.

"I think if we can grab his leash-"

Aadihr realized his mistake only after he was pulled horizontal, skidding behind buster like another garment on the clothesline.

The Gallinorese Aak Dog's momentum didn't even register the additional weight.
.

Drystan Creed | Connel Vanagor​