wayfarer
CORIN
JEDI TEMPLE | CORUSCANT
Through the open doors and up the stairs, Corin rushed ahead of Dagon, ever eager feet barely touching the steps as he raced toward the edge. The balcony opened up before him, revealing a sky alight with streaking speeders and glowing towers that stretched endlessly. A city that never slept.
His breath caught in his throat. With both hands gripping the railing, he hoisted himself up onto the ledge, eyes wide, staring out at the vastness of it all.
Corin had only ever seen Denon from its lowest levels - a child bound to the underbelly, where the sky was only a story people told. But here, he could see everything. And there was so very much to see.
The wind tugged at his vest, and his fingers pressed against the railing, the slight sting of movement reminding him of the bandages wrapped around his forearm; a wound from before, from a life he hadn’t quite left behind. Yet.
"Careful, kid," Dagon warned, a steadying hand resting upon his shoulder.
Not that Corin paid it any mind.
"It goes on forever!" He beamed, pointing out at the shimmering expanse.
Dagon chuckled. "And it’s our job as Jedi to protect it."
Corin’s excitement faltered just slightly, his fingers curling against the railing. "But… there’s so much of it. How can we protect all of this?"
"It’s not just Coruscant," Dagon told him. "We protect everyone, everywhere. That’s our responsibility. Together."
His mouth twisted with uncertainty. "I’m not sure how much help I can be."
"Sure you are," Dagon said, grinning and ruffling Corin’s hair. "You can do anything. Because you’re my student. And if you mess up? I’ll be there to help you out, anyway."
Corin frowned, smoothing his hair back into place, but he smiled all the same…
... Now, Corin stood alone.
It was the same place, but everything else had changed.
The balcony railing was just below his hands now, his fingers resting lightly against the chilled durasteel. The sky was darker, as if the city itself had dimmed. The skyline was once a sea of shining towers, now scarred with skeletal remains of fallen buildings with their wounds patched by scaffolding and flickering construction lights.
Speeders still passed overhead, but not in the same way as before. There was no seamless flow or endless river of movement. They were hesitant and scattered, the remnants of a world that had been struck but refused to fall.
The wind stirred his vest, the same kind he had owned all those years ago. Those bandages on his arms were different now, dark but not discoloured, serving a purpose beyond what first glance might suggest - woven into the attire of someone that had set themselves upon the wilderness. The child of then would not recognise what he had become, for better or worse.
The space beside him was empty, and Dagon was nowhere to be seen.
A small grin teased at his mouth, humourless and quiet.