Who: Luke & some wild and crazy guys (open and closed prompts in comments). When: Julyish. Where: The Moira, the Cadeucian ship, nowhere fun. What: Catchall post for Luke. Warnings: violence, raised voices, laser swords.
[Luke hears blaster fire, and sets off in a panicked run. Either it's his people filing to defend themselves, or his people being fired on. It doesn't matter. Luke ignites his lightsaber, and trusts in the Force.]
[It's not like everything slows. If anything, everything speeds up. Everything including Luke. He can feel were the bolts will be, and deflects them, trying to aim the shots back at the Caducians.]
[It's in a hallway. Some crates have been lined up for cover. He ducks behind one, and for the first time gets a good look at who he's fighting besides. He smiles to see someone he recognizes.]
[ miles is crouched behind the crate, stunner in hand, though he’s got his nerve disrupter holstered at his hip. his other hand is at his side — not a serious injury, just a graze of enemy fire. he looks up at luke, eyebrows raised, and his eyes brighten with a wry light. ]
Oh, just enjoying a meeting of the minds with our friends here. And by minds I mean bullets. Can you believe these people still use projectile weapons?
[Luke shakes his head, as though he's disappointed in their combatants.] I've never seen a slug-thrower up close before. It's so... messy. [The way his face scrunches up, he clearly means something else, like 'barbaric', or just 'gross'.]
[ by miles's matching expression, he agrees. he'll come right out and say it for you, luke. ]
And they call us Barrayarans barbaric. No, I think we're better off with our energy weapons, eh? [ he eyes luke's lightsaber with unmasked bright-eyed curiosity. ] But even on Barrayar we don't have energy swords. You'll have to show me how that works later, provided we survive this mess.
[Luke's fought before, but never on such a grand scale. He gets winded, and then he gets wounded. It only takes one wrong move, one missed dodge, and that's it.]
[He hides in a supply closet, trying to tend to the injury. It's just a burn on his upper arm from blaster fire, but it's enough that he can't dodge and block and fight as effectively. When he sees someone moving around outside the closet, he slowly opens the door. Friend or foe, you never know.]
Despite the noise of blasting three Caducans down the hallway like so many plastic bowling pins, it's a motion she's cognizant of immediately. When Luke opens the door a crack, he's met with a face full of charged pistol, and the no-nonsense redhead on the other end. Looking down the barrel, her eyebrows jump.]
Luke...?
[She drops the gun to her side, and sighs, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.]
Almost gave me a fright, there. What are you doing in the closet? [Although it doesn't take much to surmise:] Are you hurt?
[Luke grins and opens the closet more. He steps out, shoulders a little slouched-- the burn on his upper arm is clearly recent. Blaster fire never feels good, and it's making his arm sluggish and sapping his strength.]
I've had better. Just- resting. You look like you're doing alright.
[Except for the plans exploding into smithereens, and there being a blanket order to kill their invaders, or die trying, her brain helpfully reminds her. She doesn't so much as push the thought away, as curbstomp it, nodding to Luke's injury.]
You may've had better, but that's not getting better on its own. Let me have a look.
[Luke sighs, but lets her take a look. It's a light burn-- an energy weapon glanced his upper shoulder, nothing more, nothing less. Luke just hates being mother henned.]
Get out of this in one piece, and I'll give you a free lesson. [The wound isn't really that bad! Flesh wound only. What a baby. Still, if it hampers him...]
Think that'll slow you down at all? I can fix it up in a second, if it will. Ounce of prevention's is worth a pound of cure — or a traumatic resurge.
[And then everything was glass. Luke feels something... wrong with his jaw, but he ignores it. If everything's glass, people will need help. He races through the strange and beautiful halls of the Moira, an eye open for anyone- there.]
[He hears a thumping noise, like someone banging their hand against the glass. Luke follows it until he finds someone-- that angry woman from the boardwalk-- trapped inside a room.]
[He can also see his reflection now. A part of his jaw has turned to glass. Luke can see the bone right through it.]
[No time to worry about that now. He tries to call to the woman-] Are you alright?
[The room to which Shepard had brought her had proved out to be safe. No one even tried to break in there and she could only vaguely hear sounds of battle coming from outside of the room -- and even then those had came from distance instead of right outside of her door.
For the whole time she was locked up inside she spent sitting on the corner behind the furniture, hugging her knees and checking her MID once in a while to see if there were any updates about the situation -- and unable to bring herself feel disappointed to see that there was none. The hours ticked by and eventually all sounds from the outside disappeared, everything turning dead quiet. J stood up and walked to the door, pressed her ear against it to see if she could hear anything.
But then something happened and all her surroundings turned transparent. In confusion, she takes a step back and nearly trips over her feet as the floor has suddenly become cold and slippery. The brief impromptu change in the balance, her weight shifting from one foot to another, manages to cause a crack on the glass beneath her feet. Feeling the panic rising and making her feel dizzy, J moves back to the door and yanks the handle violently, trying to open it. But it's no use as the whole door along with its lock has turned into a thick, vaguely transparent glass.
When the doorknob turns out to be ineffective J starts hitting the glass with her fists, desperately hoping that it would either break or then that the sound would attract attention.
The more she struggles the wider the the crack on the floor grows.
But fortunately, she soon sees a vaguely looking figure hurrying towards her. As he gets closer J recognises him as the flaunting young man from the Collective -- Luke or something like that. She can hear him talking to her through the glass door and gives him a slow and perplexed nod as an answer, tears gathering to the corners of her eyes. ]
[Luke is running along the deck when the glass below him starts to crack. Too much pressure was put on it, or maybe the design was never meant to be made of something this fragile-- who knows. All that matters is that he can't stay for much longer. He uses the Force to jump onto a higher beam just as the glass shatters beneath him.]
[It's only then, hanging by his fingertips below a yawning chasm, does Luke realize he's essentially stranded himself.]
[Tarn hears the shattering of glass before he finds himself being rained on by the tiny shards. Tentatively, he looks up for the source of what could have broken the entire floor.
He hears Luke's call for help before he actually sees him. Dangling from a beam high above Tarn's helm, the Jedi is in quite the predicament]
Luke, It's Tarn. [He calls from the bottom of the chasm. If Luke were to look down he might see the shine of Red Optics beneath him.]
[ It isn't a hard decision; Tarn knows what he has to do. After what Luke risked to bring him back on Amissis Re, he owes it to him to return the favor.
Inspecting the walls he looks for steal structures solid enough to support his own substantial weight. It takes some searching to find something that isn't destabilized by glass. It's a risky venture-- especially for a warframe as big and heavy as Tarn. He's not built for climbing or much of anything other than land travel.
But, he has to try.]
Is your grip steady? I'll get you down.
[He can't believe that he's doing this for an organic. What has the world come to?]
Uh- [Luke slips, but only a little. His grip holds firm for now. Just, his metal hand doesn't have the traction of fingerprints and skin on glass, and he's afraid of gripping too hard and cracking the ledge.]
Tell me- tell me when you're ready?
[And Luke would not normally trust his life to Tarn, for all he believes in his ability to change for the better, but what other option does he have?]
[ The metal structure within the wall creaks as Tarn rather clumsily begins his ascent. Gripping a thick steel beam, he hauls himself up, finding footholds in a wall crumbled from the battle. He has to readjust his weight quickly as the wall begins buckling beneath one of his feet, threatening to send him crumbling down with it.
Risking a glance up at Luke, he isn't quite sure how he is supposed to get to him. But, if he can just get close enough...
The process is slow going but eventually he finds himself only yards below Luke with no more wall the climb. Slowly, Tarn reaches out, but he's just a few feet shy. Venting hard in frustration, he scans the flat expanse of metal surrounding him for some handhold-- some other way to get to where Luke is dangling.
[Wanna catch Luke during the fighting? He'll be running around with a distinctive green-bladed lightsaber, deflecting blaster fire, and generally being a goody-two-shoes.
[If he sees anyone in trouble, he'll drop everything to help, running over to them so he can drag them to safety, or maybe just offer cover.]
[Otherwise, he'll be darting around the Moira, trying to find loved ones and make sure they're okay. But he's liable to get sidetracked by the fighting, and help out however he can.]
[In a move that is probably a little unsettling considering how big he is, Whirl manages to appear like the most irritating blue bird right behind Luke, chest guns blasting the nearest enemy.
Even if Whirl assumes most people willing to fight can handle themselves can fight, he just likes shooting things and takes every opportunity to do so.]
Getting tired yet?
[His optic is arced in his version of a smile and he sounds pleased, even though it looks like something has attempted to shoot a hole in his shoulder joint and he's...been splattered with something. Who knows what.]
[Whirl gets clipped in the audial from behind, it makes him cringe because that rung his bell just a little, and he turns his helm to glare at whoever just shot him before turning enough to shoot the fragger. Some people are just rude.]
At least you haven't gone squish yet.
Or crunch. Organics apparently have a lot to go crunch.
[At least that's what Nate said. And he's a fellow teacher so that means he's at least probably a little right.]
You're metal! [If anyone's crunchy, it's the droid. Luke shouldn't be glorying in the... whatever this is, and honestly he's not, but it's nice to see Whirl when he's not a moody mess.] I think there's a battalion coming this way!
[Said very very pointedly, and Whirl taps Luke on the shoulder with a claw, stepping a little so there is a large robotic leg between Luke and the oncoming collective of idiots.]
Probably! They keep making chokeholds for themselves. And then they die. A lot.
[This is said with an arced optic and a pleased note to his vocalizer.]
[ While Anakin is away tending to his Padawan troubles, Obi-Wan remains behind on the Moira, destined to worry silently while fending off the invaders.
It's been a while since he's been in combat — more rotations than he'd care to count — but it makes no difference in his ability to rise to the occasion. Guided by the Force, lost to its directive, he moves between sections of the shit, near effortlessly maintaining his calm from one assailant to the next.
Those that aren't pushed back by the Force face the fury of his blue blade. Most don't challenge beyond losing their weapons — cut to sizzling pieces when not being deflected.
In the midst of the newest group of invaders, he catches sight of Luke Skywalker, his green lightsaber singing a discordant tune. Surprised, he catches the young man's eye and quirks an eyebrow. ]
[Luke, meanwhile, is doing his best. Fighting always feels like he's scrambling to stay one second ahead of the enemy, and fighting with a lightsaber even moreso. It's like dancing on the sharp edge of that fine point. Luke can do it; he has that confidence now. He went toe-to-toe with Vader, and came out alive. He trained on Dagobah. He has a legacy to uphold.]
[But that doesn't change the fact that he always feels like he's just barely managing, and making it up as he goes along.]
[So wrapped up in that, he doesn't notice Ben until he's on Luke's heels. Luke spins around with an expression of surprise, though as ever he beams upon recognizing his companion.]
[And then frowns again.] Form? What's- duck! [The Caducans throw something-- Luke doesn't know what, but the Force rings with a warning omen.]
SPLENDID except I still haven't uploaded any of the ones I found so
[ Obi-Wan is quick to react, his own senses confirming what Luke is warning against. Following his direction, Kenobi dips out of the way of the flying object and then comes to a stop next to Luke. Facing their enemy together, he takes up a defensive stands and smiles at the younger man, clearly invigorated despite the fact that lives are on the line. ]
Thank you. [ Best to be polite when someone saves you from being pinged in the head. ] You must be healed up. Have you been practicing?
[ He deflects another flying object — this time metal pipe — without looking, redirecting the metal with a minor Force push. It clatters against the wall near them. ]
[Luke shrugs sheepishly. He feels like he's eternally letting his mentors and teachers down, sometimes.] I, uh. A little. Mostly against a training droid- oh!
[Luke blocks another bolt, all instinct. Clearly, he's got talent, but just as clearly, no polish.]
[ It's not so hard to impress Obi-Wan when you're a Skywalker — the whole family line shows such great promise — but it is somewhat difficult to wring out the compliments from this younger version. He's been trained to express reserve at all times, so even the smile is somewhat telling.
He's just shy of thrilled to see Luke at work. In fact, if they didn't have others to concern themselves with, he'd stand down and see what the other man's truly capable of. ]
A modest assessment. You seem quite adept!
[ Polish isn't nearly as necessary as some people (mainly Obi-Wan) would have you believe. In some cases, it's the rough edges that catch a person by surprise. ]
[To say that Cassandra is freaked out by what's going on is a vast understatement. While she understands that fighting is necessary, she's not used to things on this scale. She's never dealt with alien ships and having to make up for the shit other people pulled on some planet she's never heard of, and she's just so tired of fighting. She thought that being here, she could finally stop.
So when the ship is attacked, Cassandra takes hold of her little knife and tries to find Luke. She's more than capable of fending for herself, but that doesn't change the fact that she's scared. So she lashes out at anything that looks like an enemy, shoving her way through them and losing her knife in the scuffle.
Unarmed, she runs and attempts to find a way to safety. She recognizes a fight she isn't going to win, and doesn't feel any shame in attempting to retreat. It's only sheer luck that has her hustling around a corner and nearly running right into Luke. Relief briefly crosses over her features, only to be quickly replaced with fear once again.]
What? [Luke has his green lightsaber out, flashing in a series of parries meant to deflect enemy fire. He manages impressively, given his general lack of training, but Cassandra's sudden, panicked appearance throws him off, and he misses a bolt. It sears the wall behind him.]
[She gives him a confused look, because how can he not know what's wrong? She gestures to the lightsaber he's holding, and the bodies that are around, and then finally to the sear mark on the wall right behind them.]
The ship is going down, we need to go. We can't just stay here!
[Afterward, everything's glass and Luke isn't really sure what to do. He finds himself stopping by reflective surfaces (which is... most surfaces) and staring pensively at his face. A segment of his jaw has become glass, and he can see the bone through it. It lends an eerie air to his smile, not to mention the strange fuzzy feeling in his jaw, like his body can't decide whether it hurts or not.]
[If you catch him staring, he'll whirl around embarrassed, and try to smile.]
[It's a rare thing for a Jedi to run into anyone they know by accident. Anakin isn't exactly seeking Luke out so much as he's still trying to gain his bearings now that everything is new, or moved, or missing. He wouldn't have exactly called the Moira "home," but it had been familiar in a vaguely comforting (and as a result, unsettling) sense. But if the Moira has been anything, it's been one upheaval after another.
And even with everything he knows, everything he's doing his damnest not to think about, an implosion that changed not only the ship's whole infrastructure, but that of the living beings on it? It's definitely the upheaval he doesn't want to outdo, sitting right there at the top of the list of Galaxy's Strangest Anomalies.
He recognizes Luke from behind first, leaving his window of Force sensing as narrowed as he can when all he can feel is the upset and confusion reverberating from...everywhere, before he ever feels him. And he's even about to apologize for intruding on...whatever this moment is supposed to be when Luke swings around to greet him first.
Anakin just stares. Gaping, actually, for a long moment, eyes wide in shock. It's not quite horrified, but close.]
Luke! Are you alright?!
[Obviously not, but it doesn't look as if it hurts like his arm had. As if a glass prosthetic hadn't been bad enough...]
[Luke blinks, momentarily confused. Shouldn't he be saying the same of his father, after everything?]
[But, of course, it's the jaw. Luke can feel something-- horror, confusion, distaste-- though the Force. He smiles awkwardly, sheepishly, and reaches up to touch the glassy patch again. It's cool to the touch, and smoother than skin should ever be.] It doesn't hurt... not really. Are you...?
[However he feels, which is tired, sore, and dealing with a temperamental replacement arm like the last three years never happened, is not important right now.]
It just... feels strange. [Luke ducks his head, but only for a moment. He doesn't want to appear sheepish, not after everything.] I've had worse. Are you...?
[Feeling better? That is, after all, the more important thing.]
[Asking your best friend to cut a limb off tends to put some things in perspective. Better is a measure of simply "not thinking about it," which he excels at if he tries hard enough. It's not particularly healthy, nor anywhere near permanent, but it's better than the alternative.
Unsafe as he might be, he also isn't one for sitting still, and he's chided himself for that times over already. (How much of this could have been prevented if he'd been paying attention to anyone else? Anything else?)]
I've been worse.
[Only very recently, even, and taken into account, it's difficult to stack his trials next to one another in an even comparison of their hurt. It's a state of being. What he'd needed was a severe adjustment of his priorities. Vader doesn't matter so much when people here, now, are hurting, dying.]
I have you to thank for some of that, you know.
[It's too little gratitude far too late, but it has to count for something. And it needs to be said, even if it doesn't.]
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CLOSED.
MILES.
[It's not like everything slows. If anything, everything speeds up. Everything including Luke. He can feel were the bolts will be, and deflects them, trying to aim the shots back at the Caducians.]
[It's in a hallway. Some crates have been lined up for cover. He ducks behind one, and for the first time gets a good look at who he's fighting besides. He smiles to see someone he recognizes.]
How are you?
no subject
Oh, just enjoying a meeting of the minds with our friends here. And by minds I mean bullets. Can you believe these people still use projectile weapons?
no subject
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And they call us Barrayarans barbaric. No, I think we're better off with our energy weapons, eh? [ he eyes luke's lightsaber with unmasked bright-eyed curiosity. ] But even on Barrayar we don't have energy swords. You'll have to show me how that works later, provided we survive this mess.
SHEPARD.
[He hides in a supply closet, trying to tend to the injury. It's just a burn on his upper arm from blaster fire, but it's enough that he can't dodge and block and fight as effectively. When he sees someone moving around outside the closet, he slowly opens the door. Friend or foe, you never know.]
Do you need any help?
no subject
Despite the noise of blasting three Caducans down the hallway like so many plastic bowling pins, it's a motion she's cognizant of immediately. When Luke opens the door a crack, he's met with a face full of charged pistol, and the no-nonsense redhead on the other end. Looking down the barrel, her eyebrows jump.]
Luke...?
[She drops the gun to her side, and sighs, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.]
Almost gave me a fright, there. What are you doing in the closet? [Although it doesn't take much to surmise:] Are you hurt?
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I've had better. Just- resting. You look like you're doing alright.
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[Except for the plans exploding into smithereens, and there being a blanket order to kill their invaders, or die trying, her brain helpfully reminds her. She doesn't so much as push the thought away, as curbstomp it, nodding to Luke's injury.]
You may've had better, but that's not getting better on its own. Let me have a look.
no subject
I need to work on blocking...
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Think that'll slow you down at all? I can fix it up in a second, if it will. Ounce of prevention's is worth a pound of cure — or a traumatic resurge.
J.
[He hears a thumping noise, like someone banging their hand against the glass. Luke follows it until he finds someone-- that angry woman from the boardwalk-- trapped inside a room.]
[He can also see his reflection now. A part of his jaw has turned to glass. Luke can see the bone right through it.]
[No time to worry about that now. He tries to call to the woman-] Are you alright?
sorry for the latest reply ever !!
For the whole time she was locked up inside she spent sitting on the corner behind the furniture, hugging her knees and checking her MID once in a while to see if there were any updates about the situation -- and unable to bring herself feel disappointed to see that there was none. The hours ticked by and eventually all sounds from the outside disappeared, everything turning dead quiet. J stood up and walked to the door, pressed her ear against it to see if she could hear anything.
But then something happened and all her surroundings turned transparent. In confusion, she takes a step back and nearly trips over her feet as the floor has suddenly become cold and slippery. The brief impromptu change in the balance, her weight shifting from one foot to another, manages to cause a crack on the glass beneath her feet. Feeling the panic rising and making her feel dizzy, J moves back to the door and yanks the handle violently, trying to open it. But it's no use as the whole door along with its lock has turned into a thick, vaguely transparent glass.
When the doorknob turns out to be ineffective J starts hitting the glass with her fists, desperately hoping that it would either break or then that the sound would attract attention.
The more she struggles the wider the the crack on the floor grows.
But fortunately, she soon sees a vaguely looking figure hurrying towards her. As he gets closer J recognises him as the flaunting young man from the Collective -- Luke or something like that. She can hear him talking to her through the glass door and gives him a slow and perplexed nod as an answer, tears gathering to the corners of her eyes. ]
TARN.
[It's only then, hanging by his fingertips below a yawning chasm, does Luke realize he's essentially stranded himself.]
...Hello? Is anyone there? [...] Help?
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He hears Luke's call for help before he actually sees him. Dangling from a beam high above Tarn's helm, the Jedi is in quite the predicament]
Luke, It's Tarn. [He calls from the bottom of the chasm. If Luke were to look down he might see the shine of Red Optics beneath him.]
...Are you alright?
[That's a stupid question, Tarn.]
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[Luke dangles in the air, hanging on by his fingertips to a large shard of clear, sharp glass. How he hasn't cut himself on it is a miracle.]
I've been better.
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Inspecting the walls he looks for steal structures solid enough to support his own substantial weight. It takes some searching to find something that isn't destabilized by glass. It's a risky venture-- especially for a warframe as big and heavy as Tarn. He's not built for climbing or much of anything other than land travel.
But, he has to try.]
Is your grip steady? I'll get you down.
[He can't believe that he's doing this for an organic. What has the world come to?]
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Tell me- tell me when you're ready?
[And Luke would not normally trust his life to Tarn, for all he believes in his ability to change for the better, but what other option does he have?]
no subject
Risking a glance up at Luke, he isn't quite sure how he is supposed to get to him. But, if he can just get close enough...
The process is slow going but eventually he finds himself only yards below Luke with no more wall the climb. Slowly, Tarn reaches out, but he's just a few feet shy. Venting hard in frustration, he scans the flat expanse of metal surrounding him for some handhold-- some other way to get to where Luke is dangling.
There's nothing.]
Luke, do you trust me?
OPEN.
JULY EVENT LOG.
FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!
[If he sees anyone in trouble, he'll drop everything to help, running over to them so he can drag them to safety, or maybe just offer cover.]
[Otherwise, he'll be darting around the Moira, trying to find loved ones and make sure they're okay. But he's liable to get sidetracked by the fighting, and help out however he can.]
Fight, you say?
Even if Whirl assumes most people willing to fight can handle themselves can fight, he just likes shooting things and takes every opportunity to do so.]
Getting tired yet?
[His optic is arced in his version of a smile and he sounds pleased, even though it looks like something has attempted to shoot a hole in his shoulder joint and he's...been splattered with something. Who knows what.]
no subject
[Once he's upright again, Luke scoffs at Whirl. It's fond, though. If Whirl's in a good mood, well, that's really all that matters.]
Me? Never. I dunno if you are; it must take a lot of energy, running around like that.
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[Whirl gets clipped in the audial from behind, it makes him cringe because that rung his bell just a little, and he turns his helm to glare at whoever just shot him before turning enough to shoot the fragger. Some people are just rude.]
At least you haven't gone squish yet.
Or crunch. Organics apparently have a lot to go crunch.
[At least that's what Nate said. And he's a fellow teacher so that means he's at least probably a little right.]
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[Luke points down the hall.]
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[Said very very pointedly, and Whirl taps Luke on the shoulder with a claw, stepping a little so there is a large robotic leg between Luke and the oncoming collective of idiots.]
Probably! They keep making chokeholds for themselves. And then they die. A lot.
[This is said with an arced optic and a pleased note to his vocalizer.]
I DON'T HAVE ANY LIGHTSABER ICONS, I'M SORRY
It's been a while since he's been in combat — more rotations than he'd care to count — but it makes no difference in his ability to rise to the occasion. Guided by the Force, lost to its directive, he moves between sections of the shit, near effortlessly maintaining his calm from one assailant to the next.
Those that aren't pushed back by the Force face the fury of his blue blade. Most don't challenge beyond losing their weapons — cut to sizzling pieces when not being deflected.
In the midst of the newest group of invaders, he catches sight of Luke Skywalker, his green lightsaber singing a discordant tune. Surprised, he catches the young man's eye and quirks an eyebrow. ]
That's no form I'm familiar with...
forgiven JUST THIS ONCE
[But that doesn't change the fact that he always feels like he's just barely managing, and making it up as he goes along.]
[So wrapped up in that, he doesn't notice Ben until he's on Luke's heels. Luke spins around with an expression of surprise, though as ever he beams upon recognizing his companion.]
[And then frowns again.] Form? What's- duck! [The Caducans throw something-- Luke doesn't know what, but the Force rings with a warning omen.]
SPLENDID except I still haven't uploaded any of the ones I found so
Thank you. [ Best to be polite when someone saves you from being pinged in the head. ] You must be healed up. Have you been practicing?
[ He deflects another flying object — this time metal pipe — without looking, redirecting the metal with a minor Force push. It clatters against the wall near them. ]
no subject
[Luke blocks another bolt, all instinct. Clearly, he's got talent, but just as clearly, no polish.]
no subject
He's just shy of thrilled to see Luke at work. In fact, if they didn't have others to concern themselves with, he'd stand down and see what the other man's truly capable of. ]
A modest assessment. You seem quite adept!
[ Polish isn't nearly as necessary as some people (mainly Obi-Wan) would have you believe. In some cases, it's the rough edges that catch a person by surprise. ]
no subject
So when the ship is attacked, Cassandra takes hold of her little knife and tries to find Luke. She's more than capable of fending for herself, but that doesn't change the fact that she's scared. So she lashes out at anything that looks like an enemy, shoving her way through them and losing her knife in the scuffle.
Unarmed, she runs and attempts to find a way to safety. She recognizes a fight she isn't going to win, and doesn't feel any shame in attempting to retreat. It's only sheer luck that has her hustling around a corner and nearly running right into Luke. Relief briefly crosses over her features, only to be quickly replaced with fear once again.]
We need to get out of here, come on!
no subject
What- what's wrong?
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The ship is going down, we need to go. We can't just stay here!
...CLEANUP! CLEANUP.
[If you catch him staring, he'll whirl around embarrassed, and try to smile.]
Oh! I didn't see you there.
hi hello i am late to everything
And even with everything he knows, everything he's doing his damnest not to think about, an implosion that changed not only the ship's whole infrastructure, but that of the living beings on it? It's definitely the upheaval he doesn't want to outdo, sitting right there at the top of the list of Galaxy's Strangest Anomalies.
He recognizes Luke from behind first, leaving his window of Force sensing as narrowed as he can when all he can feel is the upset and confusion reverberating from...everywhere, before he ever feels him. And he's even about to apologize for intruding on...whatever this moment is supposed to be when Luke swings around to greet him first.
Anakin just stares. Gaping, actually, for a long moment, eyes wide in shock. It's not quite horrified, but close.]
Luke! Are you alright?!
[Obviously not, but it doesn't look as if it hurts like his arm had. As if a glass prosthetic hadn't been bad enough...]
pfffff
[But, of course, it's the jaw. Luke can feel something-- horror, confusion, distaste-- though the Force. He smiles awkwardly, sheepishly, and reaches up to touch the glassy patch again. It's cool to the touch, and smoother than skin should ever be.] It doesn't hurt... not really. Are you...?
no subject
[However he feels, which is tired, sore, and dealing with a temperamental replacement arm like the last three years never happened, is not important right now.]
What do you mean not really?
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[Feeling better? That is, after all, the more important thing.]
no subject
Unsafe as he might be, he also isn't one for sitting still, and he's chided himself for that times over already. (How much of this could have been prevented if he'd been paying attention to anyone else? Anything else?)]
I've been worse.
[Only very recently, even, and taken into account, it's difficult to stack his trials next to one another in an even comparison of their hurt. It's a state of being. What he'd needed was a severe adjustment of his priorities. Vader doesn't matter so much when people here, now, are hurting, dying.]
I have you to thank for some of that, you know.
[It's too little gratitude far too late, but it has to count for something. And it needs to be said, even if it doesn't.]