Ask Chandrila Salubrious as Sunlight

[Hannibal Grayza]

He'd already figured Trys wouldn't ask for help. Some minutes ago, in fact, which was why he'd offered it instead. She reached out and grabbed his hand, fingers closing securely. He began to stand with her, and all at once it felt like lightning streaked across Hannibal's skin. Every fractal scar burned, the malicious defiance of a black sky and shattered earth reverberating from Trys into himself. Shadows edged in the corn-

It passed, and he almost didn't process what Trys had said, but he untensed his face again and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, it's a good idea" he replied in a somewhat strained attempt at breeziness, always able to easily adapt to simple physical pain. That it was someone else's worried him more than a little discomfort.

Trys' first two questions were more than fair, of course, but the third left him looking mildly bewildered. At least until he caught on to what she meant when he looked down at where their hands were still together.

Hannibal looked awkwardly uncomfortable. "Erm... We've only met three times before," He looked up at her again, staring directly into her sharp eyes. "The longest was, I visited your office after the last time you were in a hospital. I gave you a blaster, wine, cookies, and an apology. The first involved a Jedi being arrested for being an idiot, the other a funeral." The Jedi cleared his throat and delicately removed his hand from Trys' after making sure she wasn't going to fall over again.

"We're not like, dating or anything," he clarified, then waved toward the bed. "Maybe sit? I'm gonna, kark standing right now." He stepped back and sank back into his chair, retrieving the ashtray gently from the floor with a flick of a finger and making it float onto a nearby table like a leaf in an autumn breeze. Hannibal ashed his cigarra, fingers tip-tapping at the arm of the chair.

"Crix is with me because he came to me on his own to join the Jedi. After what he'd gone through, I decided to take him as my student before a Sith found him. He's basically just started." Another inhale, another cloud of smoke. He frowned as he noticed the cigarra was half gone and flicked a finger again so the pack and lighter came dancing up to join the ashtray, gesturing to them to indicate Trys help herself.

"He's not off fighting anybody. Did help save some people on Devaron, though. Takes after his mother I think."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys wasn’t entirely sure why she felt compelled to hold onto his hand, but it certainly triggered strange memories. It took her briefly to a place far away that didn’t seem like it belonged anywhere in the galaxy. Her mind was slightly elsewhere before she caught him getting visibly uncomfortable. Trys quickly released him, catching how red she left the man’s hand from firmly gripping it.

She couldn’t recall the instances he rattled off, but something about arresting a Jedi stuck with her. She had a vague surge of emotions that came from being nervous and it had been attributed to being on Holo for the first time. Stronger memories were easier to recall, and she could vaguely remember the associated lines of thought. There were vague memories of a cell and two Jedi coming by to visit. Perhaps this Hannibal had been one of them.

Trys stared at him blankly when he blurted out a response to her last question. A single eyebrow rose, “I had assumed it meant the Chief was trying to stick me with another Jedi bodyguard,” She said dryly as she sat down on the bed and blew out a cloud of smoke, eyes flicking up and down to give the man, who did a poor job of presenting as a Jedi, a quick once over, “Jedi aren’t my thing,” She said flatly. Normally she would have included ‘no offense’ at the beginning of that sentence, but she knew these holier than thou stiffs never took offense to anything.

Trys parsed through what Hannibal mentioned about Crix, “That doesn’t answer shit. Why is he with Jedi at all? I mean I know he thinks sabers are cool and all but he should be with his Aunt Mina if something happens to me. Moreover, he should be finishing up his last year of school and applying to university. So I have to ask again why he’s running around with you and a bunch of space fairies. He’s always remained anonymous and should never be on any Red Saber radar to begin with.”

Trys had always gone out of her way to protect Crix’s identity and even his connection to her. Very few Rangers even knew that she had a son. She was more than a little uncomfortable to learn that he wasn’t where she would expect him to be. With no family on her side, Aunt Mina was an aged Zabrak woman that was the much older sister of the man that left her all those years ago. She had always been kind to Trys and offered to watch Crix whenever they needed to lie low.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal's sheepish look shifted to an impish grin in response to to her 'Jedi aren't my thing' comment, his nature overriding any sense of awkwardness. She wasn't wrong, of course, seeing as she'd been kinda-sorta together-ish with a Sith, who was now no longer a Sith. Talak tried, but he was not a Jedi yet.

"Just makin' sure." He flexed the fingers of the hand she'd held, returning blood to the them after her impressive show of grip strength. "Rangers ain't mine, natch." His seating position was adjusted, again, into something more casual and less professional, one leg crossed over the other and leaning against the chair's arm.

"From what Crix said, he told me he left Coruscant on a journey to find the Jedi after figuring out he was sensitive to the Force. He's got the magic stuff in him." Fingertips tapped in a four-dot rhythm against the chair for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, looking vaguely off into space and his expression normalizing to something more neutral, if mildly concerned. "Ran into a Sith, who he escaped after they went through his head a bit and found out he was your son. After you were broken out of Sith custody he contacted me to find a Jedi to teach him."

Emerald eyes shifted from somewhere on the wall to look directly into blues again. "He's still doing classes remotely, mind. But he's with the Jedi because he's chosen to become one. I'm training him myself." Hannibal paused for a moment, desire to be delicate over an issue warring with a general preference for honest clarity. The latter won out, especially since Trys would probably find out soon after accessing the holonet anyway.

Hannibal's face shifted into something distinctly unfriendly, brows furrowed and expression edging on a thunderous scowl, quite unlike the hints of playful or mischievous energy that tinted the others. Every word dripped with sarcastic irritation.

"That, and a pompous, holier-than-thou shrak with the gall to call himself a Jedi stuck Crix's face on the holonet behind my back. Hasn't shown up in front of me since, or I might've hit him." He blinked, catching what he'd said after the fact and dialing back the venom and the anger it came from, scowl relaxing into more of a disapproving frown. Crix may have gone along with Oren's idea, but the weight of it meant more to Hannibal than just putting his face and who he was related to out in the open.

Crix had chosen on his own to become a Jedi, and Oren had effectively taken the choice to simply walk away from it all away from him. An authority figure using an emotionally struggling young man as a political weapon was exactly the kind of thing Hannibal expected from a Sith, or a politician. Not a Jedi, and certainly not a member of the Council.

Hannibal straightened in his seat and bowed his head toward Trys, as he'd done in her office once before.

"I'm sorry it happened while he was in my care. There is no excuse."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys’s eyes narrowed slightly as he mentioned Rangers weren’t his thing followed by a term she hadn't heard before, “What did you just call me?”

She let it go, however, when he jumped into explaining and answering her questions. She felt sick to her stomach, especially when he mentioned Crix was… Force sensitive? Trys shook her head. She had prepared for so many different scenarios - ‘Mom I got a girl pregnant’, ‘Mom I failed school’, ‘Mom I got arrested’, ‘Mom I’m gay’. Every single one was something she could love and accept without a second thought. A Force user? She hadn’t even thought to consider that in the realm of possibility.

Trys heard the Jedi just ramble on, next getting to something that made her blood run cold. Her son. On Holo. It was as if she had woken up into a nightmare and her nightmares had been a dream. Was this all part of a Sith ploy? Was any of this real? She got off the bed, tossing the still lit cigarra aside as she stumbled over to that same trash can and vomited into it. Trys gagged a few times, trembling for a moment after she was done and breathing heavily.

She said nothing for a moment, drawing back slowly as she wiped her mouth off. She found strength in her feet then, turning to look at the Jedi. Anger like she hadn’t felt in a very long time roiled through her. Trys closed the distance, grabbing the Jedi by the front of his clothing and yanked him to his feet with far more strength than one would expect. She shoved him into the wall behind him.

“You will find a way to get me my weapons and armor,” Trys said with venom dripping from her words, blue eyes gazing into the greens. Looking into the eyes gave her flashes and she had to ignore them. From his perspective, he would see her eyes flicker from blue to pure white and then back, “You will take me first to the cock-sucking bantha kriffer that did this. And then you will take me to my son.”

She stepped back and cracked her knuckles and shoulder blades, remembering to ease into her own body, “I assume the Rangers don’t know I’m awake. We will keep it like that until I’ve..” Trys glared at the man with a searing gaze. It took quite a bit of willpower not to lash out at him. His pathetic apology was simply not good enough. Jedi never had a horse in the game, they could simply sit by and watch the galaxy implode upon itself and preach about how it was the will of the Force or some banthashit. This guy was no different and she wouldn’t let him get in the way. If he wanted to help, he would make himself useful and get her where she needed to be.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal very politely avoiding looking toward Trys as she also vomited into the bin, giving her time to process things on top of recovering. Her head wasn't in a great place, but the young Jedi wasn't going to keep things from her. Maybe avoid certain details unless she asked, but she had a right to know what was going on on. An eyebrow rose when she asked what he'd called her. She was a Ranger right? Maybe she forgot that detail too, but that didn't seem right.

He didn't resist when he was pulled up by his tunic and pushed into the wall, chair clattering to the floor, though he did tense up. Further scars and the covering tattoos came into view beneath his tunic, each more colourful and detailed than the last. The green eyes Trys looked into stared at her icily, mixed with concern and furrowed brows as he watched her blues flicker. Her own anger and his frustration mixed behind the light in his eyes and came out in typical Hannibal fashion, not nearly as well filtered as his actual emotions.

"Oh yeah, that'll go great. I'm sure Crix'll be just thrilled when his mother ends up in prison or actually dead," he snapped back, then waved vaguely at her entire body. "Besides, what're you gonna do, collapse at him? Give him a stern look of disapproval? A stiff enough breeze'll blow you to pieces- not that it's your fault- and the man's got all the emotional depth and complexity of a fuel station ham sandwich." He spoke with his hands, animated, filled in lightning scars flashing in the fluorescent hospital lighting. The Jedi didn't look away from Trys for a single word, the sharp tongue he'd been known and berated for as a Padawan slipping out more and more.

"And I don't know where the kriffstick even is! He's got this fantastic trait of karking off every damn time he causes a situation to implode as an excuse to sit around doing kark-all and find a convenient angle to say it's the will of the Force instead of actual dealing with anything!" Hannibal took a step closer, staring Trys down with every ounce of stubborn and defiant energy in his soul, back straight and shoulders squared. Considering the kinds of people he faced down for a living there was no shortage of that.

Somewhere in the back of his head he thought he'd rather deal with Sith than an angry mother, but he was just generally out of his wheelhouse here. All he really knew was that he cared enough about the situation, personally, to be upset about it and his mouth followed suit rather loudly.

He jabbed a finger in Trys' direction, emerald eyes flashing with the sincerity behind what he was saying. Hannibal had always preferred honesty, but in this moment it was without even an ounce of tact or careful distancing. It was just a man who cared about a troubled young man expressing it.

"So, no, I will not. Your rifle's in pieces anyway, since Crix misses you so damn much he made it into his lightsaber. I'll gladly take you to see him when you can- look, your knees are shaking. Sit the hell down for kark's sake and cut the tough Ranger bullshit. You need food, not a karking revenge plot."

Hannibal took a breath and jerked his head, the fallen chair snapping sharply and loudly back into place on the hot winds of a stormy summer's day. His expression settled into something dry and annoyed rather than upset as he regained some measure of control, arms folded firmly across his chest.

"I offered to help, not to make things worse by breakin' you out of a hospital doing somethin' stupid. Y'wanna give Crix more shit to take to his therapist and kark yourself over while you're at it, do it yourself." Rant complete he planted himself back in his chair, glaring over at Trys. The idea of a mother going off on some grand quest had struck a nerve. Blasters as gifts made for a poor apology.

"Also, I'm sure the Ranger standing guard outside might have noticed you're awake by now. So no dice."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys was completely caught off guard when the Jedi - was he actually a Jedi though? - snapped back at her. She was distracted by his animated speaking patterns, arms flying everywhere. She noticed again the copious amount of tattoos that went beyond just the arms. What the hell was this guy? Trys had to wonder what her son was actually learning from this character.

“I’m going to shove my blaster down his throat and pull the trigger,” Trys growled back, but Hannibal kept on with his rant. She found herself growing more and more furious as he kept talking. Trys couldn’t have predicted this kind of confrontation with a Jedi in any universe. The day just kept getting more and more bizarre.

“WHY DOES MY SON HAVE A LIGHTSABER AND A THERAPIST?!” Trys screamed at him, “He is a kid! There was no parental consent for him to go around swinging a kriffing glowstick that can easily cut through anything. Even I wouldn’t handle a saber and you’ve managed to put one in his hand AND GET HIS FACE PLASTERED ON HOLO FOR THE ENTIRE KRIFFING GALAXY TO SEE!” Her voice echoed throughout the halls, “He remained hidden his entire life. You stupid bastards show up and he is suddenly front page news?!” She aggressively slammed a fist into her own chest, “I protected him all this time. I did it alone. My face was on Holo and still no one knew about him. And then you kriffs come into the picture and suddenly he’s got a huge target on him and you are RECRUITING HIM INTO A WAR HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO FIGHT!”

Her chest rose and fell heavily as she glared at him, “You will never know what any of this is. You will never know what it’s like to love your own kid and want to protect him with your life. Shit you'll never even know what it's like to genuinely give a kriff about another person,” She gritted her teeth, “And so help me god if you give me an ‘all life is precious’ and ‘death is the Force’ lecture - I will shove my foot so far up your ass that you’ll give me a pedicure when you brush your teeth.”

There was a moment of pause as she slowly began to calm down. She felt very weak, and he was right about her needing food, but she’d never admit that aloud. Trys glared at the chair that he brought up with the Force, the only time she believed he was actually a Jedi. Without anything else to do, she swiftly kicked it over again out of spite before he could sit down, looking to glare at the stupid Jedi. Fingers were curled into fists.

A nurse opened the door, accompanied by two Rangers that looked very uncomfortable. She looked over at Hannibal, “I’m sorry sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“If he leaves, I leave,” Trys hissed at the woman.

“M’am I-”

“Clear me to leave right now.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

The chair having been kicked over prevented him from pouting in it, which just annoyed Hannibal further. A hand raised up to chop through the air and pointed at Trys again.

"It was his choice to-" he began and was promptly interrupted by the arrival of an irate looking nurse and two awkward Rangers who looked very lost on what to do. Hannibal exhaled through his nose and rubbed a pair of fingers against his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

"Just let her leave before she breaks her arm trying to charge security," Hannibal sighed out, retrieving Sol's lightsaber from one of the guards and wrapping his cloak back around his shoulders. With a resigned sigh the nurse processed Trys and, after their things were gathered along with a change of clothes, they were let out.

-------
​

The two of them ended up outside the hospital. Eyes like daggers had warded off several attempts at pushing a wheelchair onto Trys, but she was given a collapsible cane amidst her bag of care instructions and medication. Hannibal also chose to stand reasonably close by in case her limbs failed her at some point while they waited for his speeder to show up.

He was smoking another cigarra and had offered one to Trys as well. He wasn't feeling petty enough to be that rude and had calmed down in the silence enforced by a head nurse's glare, though he was still irritable, fingers tip-tapping on his crossed arms. The cigarra sat between his lips, bobbing back and forth as he played with it to distract himself. After a few seconds of waiting he glanced back over at Trys, taking in anew the general state of her.

She was upset- reasonably, to be fair- about the things that'd occurred while she was bedridden, and she also had no way of knowing the things that Hannibal picked up from the people around him, so he gave her a pass about it. The young Jedi could appreciate a good insult, but it was probably for the best the argument had been cut short before something truly stupid happened.

The end of his cigarra glowed as he took a drag, held it for a moment, then blew it out into the cool night air of Chandrilla.

"How 'bout noodles? Everyone likes noodles, right?"

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys thankfully had some of her own clothing to get into from hopeful people that expected her to wake up. She was in black form fitting pants, boots, a loose fitting shirt and leather jacket on top. Trys was even able to procure some gel and style her hair a bit, reminding herself to trim it. The multiple black studs and rings were back in her ears, trailing along the helixes. It all made her feel a bit more like herself.

She took the proffered cigarra, placing it between her lips with a grumpy expression on her face. Neither of them would admit that they had just gotten kicked out of a hospital. Trys stood in silence for a moment, blowing out smoke and standing next to a man she wanted to punch with the collapsible cane she didn’t want. Trys couldn’t deny that her knees felt slightly weak still and she felt wobbly on her feet.

His words caught her off guard. Trys turned to look at him with a scowl, staring holes into him for a moment before she spoke, “Tamyang noodle place a few blocks from here if I….recall correctly,” It felt stupid even saying that. She couldn’t tell the man to get lost until her head was screwed back on and he led her to her son. The only thing that prevented her from going ballistic was him proving that Crix was actually safe and not in any immediate danger.

A taxi speeder arrived to take them to the aforementioned joint. It was a low key ma and pa shop with only four tables. Thankfully, one of them was open and she walked over to take a seat, almost tripping over a few times on the way. It was then that she looked up to glare at the Jedi, “They don’t have buttered noodles here, but you can eat a salad or something,” She rolled her eyes. When the waiter came by, she rattled off the dish name in the off-world language and ordered a bottle of distilled rice alcohol for herself.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Tiny little noodle joint owned by a family? Perfect choice. Trys gained like, two points for that choice.

Hannibal followed behind her toward the table, keeping an eye on her in case one of those trips turned into a fall. He was pretty sure 'death from corner of table' wasn't something she or Crix were going for. His cloak was placed on an adjacent chair, lightsaber concealed within a cloak pocket for the moment.

The next words out of Trys' mouth brought a look of mixed disgust and horror. Buttered noodles!? Hannibal could let the other stuff slide, but that was just too far. His expression shifted into an impish grin and mischievous energy glinted behind those bright green eyes as he turned to the waiter and slightly dipped his head.

Hannibal took great pleasure in the act of flawlessly going through a polite greeting and asking them how they liked working in the shop, engaging in a brief conversation in the dialect printed on the shop sign. Smoothly he transitioned to his order in the rapid pace of a native speaker. A notably spicy meat and vegetable noodle dish, with some additions, and the same kind of alcohol for himself, as well as a small plate of dumplings and whatever hot tea the owners liked. And a ginger salad, possibly out of spite.

When the waiter left he turned back to Trys, characteristic little smirk firmly planted on his face and sarcasm at the ready.

"Oh, sorry, were you busy assuming all of us are carbon cardboard copies? Don't let me interrupt."

A few seconds later the bottles and dumplings had shown up at the table and he was popping his open to pour some into a glass with practiced ease. He raised the glass in a breezy cheer.

"To getting out of the hospital."

Hannibal somehow managed to take a drink with a certain degree of smug amusement.

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Even the waiter, the son of the couple that owned the place, could sense the clear tension of his newest patrons. Though he engaged in conversation and kept a cheery demeanor, he quickly shuffled away to remove himself from their presence. Her own dish was also a spicy one, the broth red hot. She was in a visibly better mood when she smelled the food. Noodles always happened to cheer her up, and she often ate them from street vendors while she worked Ranger ops.

Trys had been more than surprised at seeing Hannibal speak fluently and order a wide assortment of dishes. He obviously was more cultured than the average Jedi. Trys could vaguely remember Oren and how he hadn’t had spicy foods and didn’t know what a Holomovie was. In fact, the only other memories she had of Jedi were very much the same - all monotonous squares that pontificated for hours. She shuddered to imagine the same fate for her normally dynamic son.

As she observed this tatted up, animated and ragey man before her, she wondered exactly what kind of dropout he was. Was he in remedial Jedi classes? Was her son being taught by some sort of Jedi reject? Just her luck. He cut off her line of thought with a smug expression and some alliteration. Carbon cardboard copies? She said that a few times in her head for fun.

Trys had poured herself a glass by then, and she raised it unenthusiastically, “To you being a pretty shitty Jedi,” She muttered before throwing her drink back. He had to be a Pandyman or whatever the hell that word was for kindergarten Jedi. Probably the blind leading the blind with her son. Who now had a lightsaber. She had to fight not to slam the glass down.

She picked up the chopsticks and helped herself to the noodles, savoring the taste. Trys had to slow down, her body having forgotten how to eat normally for a bit. She coughed a few times, a problem she never had before, and was surely losing street cred with the fairy of all people. Ego thoroughly bruised, she angrily took a sip of water before she resumed eating.

Trys paused for a moment before looking at him, “What else should I know? How long have I been out? Is there anyone else I should remember?"

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

His smirk only widened at her muttered retort, and with a cheeky wink he finished his drink and poured himself another. With chopsticks in hand he got to work on his noodles, sipping the bright red broth first before slurping up some of the noodles. He pretended not to notice Trys coughing, though he couldn't help an amused twitch at the corner of his mouth. He'd been eating this stuff since he was a kid and was very used to it.

Trys' questions weren't answered right away on account of being asked while Hannibal was halfway through a dumpling. He finished chewing and took another drink first, then poured a cup of the tea and gently sipped at it. His eyes turned up to look at Trys, clearly much calmer now that he had the taste of noodles and tea in his mouth rather than vomit and cigarra smoke.

"Let's see, uh... Two and a half months, give or take. Talak Rand? 'Bout six foot, dark hair, perpetually broody expression, likes to paint? Pretty sure y'all were like, together-ish kinda?" Fingers tapped thoughtfully against the table for a moment. "Gonna be honest, don't know you well enough to be familiar with your friends 'n' family besides Crix and Talak. And Douglas Hudson I s'pose, Ranger chief. Does he count?" He grew silent for a little while, expression pensive. Seriously, who else did Trys actually know? It's not like anyone had given him a brief for this.

"Well, recent events wise, a Sith apparently shot down some diplomat over Naboo an-" he paused, eyes turning from Trys to look in the direction of the shop entrance. "Y'gotta be kidding me," he muttered, a second before some dude in a mask ran in waving an oversized blaster pistol over the counter. There was quite a bit of initial shouting about handing over credits and more yelling in off-world languages in return while an older lady- one of the owners- went to the register.

The sudden sense of panic and desperation floating in the air made Hannibal tense up and he kept his eyes on the robber, left hand slowly raising off the table. The husband and the thief got into an argument, the older man waving a large soup ladle around. The blaster pistol came up to fire and-

The thief must've had a spectacularly poor grip, because the pistol kept going where his hand did not before he could point it at the old man. It flew into the air, arced across the small room, and landed on the floor near the table Trys and Hannibal were sitting at. There was a brief moment of tense silence that was broken by the unmistakable sounds of a ladle being liberally applied upside the thief's head while he was chased from the shop.

The Jedi's hand dropped back down to the table and he picked up the weapon, pulled the power pack out, removed the barrel and X-citer chamber, and piled the four parts at the corner of the table as if they were a collection of dirty, bunched up napkins. Hannibal sipped his tea.

"M'sorry, what was I saying?"

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys paused from eating when Hannibal explained a name and description. Broody? That tracked more with her usual tastes. However, the name was triggering and she closed her eyes as she began to see flashes. She felt a sudden whirlwind of emotions, all very strong, and she saw glimpses of brown eyes and then golden eyes. Trys gripped the table from everything washing over her, and it took her a few seconds to come back to the present.

“Where is Talak?” She asked abruptly, looking at Hannibal. Why did she see yellow eyes? While the Jedi always answered her questions, he was horrible about being forthcoming. She was about to snap at him about it when someone came rushing into the store waving a gun about.

Trys looked over silently for a moment. And then instinct kicked in.

Before she knew it, she was clear across the shop, collapsible cane in hand.

“Ranger! Freeze and drop your weapon!”

Said weapon abruptly flew out of the man’s hand and Trys slanted a shoulder back without flinching as the gun zoomed through the air. She moved in one fluid motion as the gun flew past her - she knew what happened - and landed a solid hit on the perp with the cane. He had been in the middle of attempting to run and the hit dropped him where he stood.

Trys didn’t hesitate as both arms were brought up behind the man. Weaker than normal, she decided to move to straddle the man’s back to pin him. He was groaning in pain as she reached for a radio that wasn’t on her. Instead, she drew out her wallet and flashed her badge at the people beginning to gather around her. However, she barely got any words out before a few customers excitedly pointed at her.

“It’s Ranger Aran!”

“Trys Aran!”

She looked up, bewildered, “Call Hanna Ranger Department now!” The owners jumped to action, calling the local authorities. She remained on the man until other forces arrived, several of them excitedly recognizing her. Trys eyed them suspiciously before rising to her feet and walking back towards the table to retrieve the gun in question. She saw Hannibal casually sitting with it disassembled.

“That’s evidence that now has your dumpling fingerprints on it, you absolute clod,” Trys said with exasperation, using a napkin to pick it up to hand over to the local authorities. She came back after a while, giving a statement and evading an abundance of questions.

Trys grumpily sat back down across Hannibal, “Why does everyone know me?” She growled. The other patrons still kept looking at her and pointing. Trys paused as she looked down at her badge, the adrenaline rush from what happened kicking a lot of memories back.

“Lieutenant Aran,” She muttered quietly, staring at her picture and rank.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

The Jedi watched the display of true blue Ranger boyscout-ism with an expression of mixed amusement and annoyance, but quickly turned away and went back to his noodles. People noticing Trys Aran wasn't entirely unexpected, but it also wasn't the most ideal. Hannibal sighed softly and took a drink of his rice alcohol.

The look he offered Trys in response to her complaining about evidence was a thoroughly unapologetic shrug followed by eating another dumpling. Hannibal only looked up again when Trys sat down across from him and asked another question.

"You were on the holonet more than once, and your being recovered from the Sith was also reported in the news. You are, unfortunately, slightly famous." Then more drink and yet more noodles, chopsticks deftly picking out a few vegetables to join them and emerald eyes back down at his food. He looked distinctly grumpy, the corners of his lips slightly downturned and brows furrowed.

"Last they heard you were in a hospital and here you are in a noodle shop caning some poor fool." He finished his drink, poured another and moved his much lighter bowl aside to focus on his tea. He sipped gently and took a deep, quiet breath to make his face relax before his eyes found Trys again.

"Dunno where Talak is. Out in the galaxy somewhere. Sorry."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys was staring at her badge for a moment until Hannibal spoke. She glanced up and could tell the man was just as frustrated. Seeing him frustrated actually made her feel better. If she looked up and saw that smug, ‘the sun shines out my ass’ sort of look on him, she may have had violent urges. Trys sighed instead, running her fingers through her hair.

“Look, you don’t wanna be here, I get it. You don’t have to help me, just let me know how I can get to my boy,” Trys looked down at the table, “I won’t go on some some sort of assassination plot,” Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the badge, “That’s not who I am now..” It was an important distinction to make. It had taken a lot of work to put her past behind her and change who she was. At the end of it, Crix had been her driving force to shift how she operated. A lot more of that came back from the incident with the thief.

Being famous certainly added a lot of complexities to her plans, but she would have to work through it. Trys poured herself another glass and sipped from it. She could picture this Talak man a lot more clearly now, though it did beg the question on why he wasn’t here. For some reason, it left her with a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach when she normally was unfazed by others.

Trys looked at Hannibal and met his gaze, “But thank you for being here,” She said quietly, her voice sincere, “I don’t care if it’s just a random job you were assigned, I appreciate it all the same. I will probably never understand how exactly you helped me, but you are here when no one else was and I will never forget that, Hannibal.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

When Trys looked back up at Hannibal he was wearing an expression of genuine bemusement, brows closed in and one raised higher than the other. It clearly stated the sentiment that she didn't get it at all. The Jedi wasn't going to go into a lengthy spiel about how off base half of what she said was, though he was relieved that she seemed to have given up on going after Oren. That would have been, uh, not so good.

Hannibal looked down at his tea for a moment, finished off the cup, and poured more of the steaming, greenish drink. The floral and earthy scent of green tea wafted through the air between them.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be," he stated simply with a certain stoic finality, emeralds raising to Trys' face. For a moment he looked almost melancholy, as if a deep weight was trying to drag him down somewhere out of sight. Then it was gone and he had those distant stars shining behind the green. He smiled, a real one that lit up his face even if a little sadness showed through.

"I volunteered because I want to help. But, you're welcome." The Jedi sipped at his tea, having given it a moment to cool slightly, and offered forward the plate of dumplings in case she wanted the one remaining. "I'll take you to see Crix. We uh.."

A troubled look crossed his face, almost a scowl.

"We don't stay where we used to, though."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys kept eating her noodles, withdrawing into her mind for a moment. She glanced up at the Jedi every now and then, still marveling at all the emotions displayed there. She had been angry at other Rangers that always judged her by her past, and here she was generalizing him. From the way he spoke, it was clear that her son meant something to him. Her expression was softened from there on and she quietly ate for a moment.

“What happened?” Trys glanced at him as he mentioned not being where they were before. She could vaguely recall the place - Ajan Kloss. She had attended a funeral after a Ranger prison had been attacked and several Jedi had died. As Trys thought hard about that incident, her eyes widened. Hannibal had been in that fight too, and his name was mentioned by...Talak. Again some painful pangs hit her, but she brushed them aside.

“If you ever come by Coruscant I’ll have to show you a noodle stall run by a Trandoshan named Guff,” Trys smiled as she recalled the vendor fondly, “I usually go there a few times a week... well I used to. Great guy and great food.”

She sipped from her glass, eyeing him for a moment, “Do you have a hard time fitting in with Jedi? You’re not exactly like the ones I’ve met and I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing,” She grinned.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal was almost uncharacteristically quiet for a little while, though he did look up when she mentioned a noodle place on Coruscant. He hadn't been to that one from what he could recall, athough he did try not to spend too much time there in the first place. The young Jedi was less than fond of it most days.

"I'll hold ya to it." He smiled back, usually up for something involving good food. The touch of melancholy seemed to stick to his features now though, and some of his thoughts were a little more far away from where he was than he'd like. He drank another mouthful of tea.

The question about fitting in with Jedi actually got a laugh out of him, soft and amused. He was remembering how things had been for most of his career. His current ranking was still a little jarring, especially considering his age, but even more so the fact he'd been branded a maverick and unorthodox Jedi since shortly after he'd first joined the Order. Hannibal was still shocked the council had dragged him into one of their poorly designed chairs.

"I used to, sort of. Now not so much." Hannibal grinned, a mischievous light glinting behind his eyes. "After I was knighted I actually hung up on the Council a couple times and they gave up trying to assign me to any particular area." Which brought his thoughts back to Ajan Kloss.

His grin dropped away and a complex expression replaced it, part sorrow and part stormy, and just a little bitter.

"The Sith found our temple. Most Jedi aren't there at any given time and I was off," he raised an arm to indicate the golden fractal tattoos that had become of the lightning burns. "getting fried by the Eternal on Sullust. We lost people."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Knighted? So he wasn’t a panda-whatever. The news brought a mixture of relief and alarm. The two of them had been close to fisticuffs not even an hour prior and now here he was telling her he was a Jedi Knight casually teaching her son to wield dangerous weapons. Trys threw back the rest of her drink and poured herself another glass, needing to desperately calm the nerves.

Hearing about Ajan Kloss coming under attack and the Sith finding it brought a grimace. She could vaguely recall that the jungle planet was supposedly thoroughly hidden. It meant that the Jedi, and her son, weren’t safe anywhere. When Hannibal uttered the word Eternal, however, she felt a throbbing headache come on. She clutched at her head, the chopsticks clattering on the table.

She saw the mask all over again, heard the voice toying with her and telling her of her son’s death. She felt agonizing pain, felt the being pierce through any barrier and drill into her thoughts and mind to unravel her in every way possible. Externally, Trys appeared to be in pain, clutching at her head and groaning from the sudden assault of memories. Some of them were memories that weren't her own, vivid images flashing of a Kel Dor with a red saber within her mind that she had never seen before.

What would be curious was that it wouldn’t be for her alone. At the same time, Hannibal would be assaulted within his own psyche, the faintest sliver from his earlier journey clawing at his mind. Thoughts long forgotten and overcome would threaten to surface now that the walls weren’t there to hold them back. Some of them were thoughts that weren't his own. He would see glimpses of a middle aged woman laying on the ground, dead eyes staring up as blood poured from the nose and a hand loosely held pills.

It took a moment for Trys to finally gain control of the situation. She focused her breathing and gripped onto the table to tether back to the present. She was breathing heavily as she opened her eyes. Curiously, the effects on Hannibal would stop at the same time.

She snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes wide.

"What the kriff happened to me, Hannibal?"

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Very suddenly his entire body tensed up in a prime example of psychic feedback. A hiss escaped from between his teeth and a hand clutched his left wrist, the hand starting to shake. Echoes of events, not all of which were his own, ran wild through his mind. Dancing shadows edged in the corner of his vision and dissonant whispers only he could perceive were heard, some few in the voice of the Eternal.

The fingers of Hannibal's left hand shook and he clenched it tight, brows furrowed and face set in concentration. Just as he caught flashes of a dead woman, Trys shared in an image of his fight with Sol Puara. The Jedi looked up and for a moment it seemed like the pained visage of Trys was wearing a breath mask.

She would also share in the memory most strongly brought up in Hannibal when the Eternal was mentioned, one of the strangest perhaps. It passed through within a second or two, brief and difficult to interpret.

The ground was hot and coarse, black with sand and blacker still with Dark. The air writhed with heat, yellow and red, and each person in sight had indistinct echoes that flickered in and out of existence around them. There were sounds of blaster fire and the buzzing of lightsabers, but also a mix of others that had no obvious source.

Electric power cut through the air and he caught it, defiant and determined despite the agony that coursed over his skin and through his muscles. Cold rose up in challenge, durasteel and frostbitten, and-

It ended and Hannibal blinked, the old pain suddenly gone. He flexed his left hand to try and stop the shaking, and when Trys looked to him his face was set with an icy, dangerous determination, far different from any of his other expressions. She spoke and he looked up, the look steadily slipping away into something concerned and sad as he relaxed his body and re-centered his mind.

Hannibal took a deep breath.

"You were tortured. They failed to break you, I think, so they settled for messing with your head. Dug in and warped everything." The Jedi looked down at his tea for a moment, fingers closing tightly around it to defy the few tremors still left as he remembered the experience. "Like a trapped box. You had to give things up to escape. Not lost though, just forgotten." Hannibal looked up, expression clearly apologetic.

"Sorry. I couldn't fix it, just help you come back."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys eyed him for a long moment, noticing how he viscerally reacted the same time she did. His face was icy, and the friendly demeanor was gone entirely for that brief moment. Whatever happened to her had obviously impacted him at the same time, and it bubbled up many questions that she didn’t feel appropriate to ask. The incident obviously shook him to the core as well.

When he spoke, Trys sighed, silently disagreeing about being broken. She couldn’t feel more broken and shattered. She felt as if she were picking up tiny shards to piece together an image without knowing how the full picture ever looked. Trys met his gaze for a moment, her expression harder as her eyes pierced through him.

“If it was a box, how did you get inside? What did it do to you?” She asked finally. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and she began to wonder if he had to pay any price to do what he did. In the short time she spent with him, she learned enough to deduce that the hospital experience rattled him in some way. Why did the word Eternal impact them both so much?

@Mr. Teatime