(no subject)

[idontneedluck]

Spring is in the air at Milliways. Literally, if you are allergy prone. Flowers are in bloom, the grass is green, the mud is everywhere, and the demon bunnies are busy ensuring the next generation will be a large one.

In the midst of all of this, smoke wafts across the landscape - bitter with the scent of burning flesh and mechanics, mixed with the salt air of the sea and the scent of sun-baked sand.

Somewhere in the smoke, somehow, between one cloudy drift and another, someone appears sprawled on the grass. A thin man, bloodied and marked with blaster char. A man who, for once in his life, is completely and utterly bewildered. As he lies there, the injuries he came with fade, ghosting away as if they never were.

This new addition to Milliways doesn't have much time to consider his new and much muddier lot in life before he is joined, at not so far a distance, by a second man. A mountain of a man, armored and scarred, the last remnants of the sand from a past life whipping past and disappearing into the grass.

(Tiny tags: Chirrut Imwe, Baze Malbus, Anakin Solo)

(OOC: The boys are going to be investigating the Bar, so feel free to find them there (covered in mud) or out back (also muddy).)

(OOC: Alright my lovelies, we're going into slowtime - new pups are still welcome, and while play may be sporadic tomorrow we'll both be back tomorrow night. May the Force of others be with you.)

Comments

[iprotectyou]

Baze Malbus died in pain, but it didn't last long.

The grass takes him by surprise. He lies in it for a long while, breathing heavily and taking in the scents of his new surroundings, the feel of the mud seeping his robes under his armor. Heaven, he thinks. This must be heaven. But if it's heaven, where is Chirrut?

Ah.

Baze crawls to his friend, dragging his thick and heavy armor and weapons across the mud. The larger man lays a posessive hand across the smaller one's chest.

"Are you all right?"

[idontneedluck]

The fiery dousing from the beach is gone, along with the aches and pains garnered over the last couple days. The cold at his back is a new problem, but one he is positively gleeful to deal with.

"Baze?" First though, something very important. He grabs onto Baze's hand, tracing a hand up that familiar arm, over armor, to a face he knows better than his own. "Baze, is that... Force, Baze, my eyes, Baze, I'm blind!"

[iprotectyou]

Baze stares at him for a moment, panic rising as he speaks. That worried tone is one Baze hasn't heard often over the years, and it gets his hackles up, priming him to respond to threats, to destroy whatever is distressing his friend.

Then the words catch up with him, and he laughs. It's a great, booming belly laugh, free from worry and care, full of relief and the last vestiges of pent-up aggression.

He flips Chirrut over and smushes his face into the mud.

[sunbaked_baker]

Closer to the bar is a red-haired woman in a yellow t-shirt and purple jeans, crouching to take clippings from various fragrant plants growing in the garden alongside the kitchen door. The basket sitting beside her holds sprigs of fresh rosemary, oregano, and thyme already.

Sunshine may have decided that mint tea sounds like a fantastic idea, so the basket is gaining clippings of fresh mint, as well.

[idontneedluck]

The wind here is more friendly than on Jedha - less apt to bite, less likely to worm its way between layers of clothing. Everything here is so alive - not the tropical sun-baked growth of Scarif, or the overwhelmingly oppressive humid breath of Yavin... this place has things alive and glad of it.

It's the faint rasp of metal on metal that catches his attention, the whisper of the spring's squeak, and Chirrut tilts his head curiously, leaving off his repetitive check for wounds that Baze insists don't exist.

[iprotectyou]

She's just so clean. Dust doesn't cling to her like it would on the streets of Jedha, and she's certainly not muddy, like Baze and Chirrut are. He turns to whisper to his friend. "There's a woman, gathering herbs, I think. She's human. She's wearing some strange, brightly-colored clothing. I will hail her."

He raises his free hand to greet her, smiling from ear to ear. "Hoi! I'm Baze Malbus, and this sad, little man is Chirrut Imwe. Who are you, and where are we?"

[student_of_impossibility]

There is somewhat sprawled on the grass nearby--legitimately so. It's spring in Milliways, which is more than a little relief to Tavi. It's autumn in Alera: autumn on the eve of one of the worst winters they've sustained in years, though only Tavi himself has any real concept of how bad it will be, though he's shared most of that with Kitai.

But, as such, being outside with mild weather and summer lying ahead rather than behind him is definitely something Tavi wants right now, very much. And he will gladly take a little mud in exchange for the rest.

(He did change out of his work clothes before going outside, though. Silk's a bitch to clean.)

Still, he was not expecting people to appear out of thin air, which happens less often at Milliways than one might expect. He thinks it has to do with the Bar being proud of her Door, but still, two mud-covered people who hadn't been there before is odd enough to make him decide to pay at least a little attention. As he's making up his mind they find each other, and he considers this a bit before approaching. He's surprisingly free of mud himself. (Furycrafting is sometimes really handy.)

So all six-foot four of a man in clothing rather unlike what's usually seen in a galaxy far, far away pushes himself to his feet and clears his throat to get their attention, once they're closer. "Do the two of you need any help finding something cleaner than that?" he offers.

[idontneedluck]

"Wait, you can see us?" Chirrut demands, neatly and 'accidentally' planting an elbow in Baze's gut to keep him from interrupting. "What, what then is this, this endless night, this..." He lets his voice spiral up, a good mimic of panic.

[iprotectyou]

"Oof," Baze says, rubbing his rotund belly. Then he cackles, shoving his friend. "Oh, my Force, Chirrut, shut up."

He turns to the strangely-dressed man, grinning from ear to ear. "No, we're fine, thanks. Don't mind him. He's just an ass," Baze says, looping a meaty, muddy arm around Chirrut's thinner, equally muddy shoulders. "I'm Baze Malbus, and this sad, rude little man is Chirrut Imwe."

[last_kallig]

Ibani was admiring the rare, to her, beauty of a natural area where nothing wants to eat her. It's a novel experience!

She feels something in the Force a moment before the two men appear, so she's already turned to face them by the time they materialize.

She's a young woman, no more than 20 years old, with short, dark hair. She's dressed in beige pants, shirt and synthleather boots. The utility belt she's wearing would be pretty standard, if not for the lightaber carried on one hip. (How long has it been since Baze Malbus has seen ANYONE openly carrying a lightsaber?) She moves toward them, a look of concern on her face at the smells she knows better than she cares too.

Chirrut will hear the sound of synthleather boots hitting the grass, of someone light on their feat and not massive in build. The sounds of fabric made to take a beating and synthleather rubbing against one another suggest work clothes or modest means. The adegan crystal in her lightsaber sings in the Force as a Khyber crystal does, though not as loudly. The crystal, though, is likely drowned out by the person carrying it.

What does someone strong in the Force feel like to someone who has never known sight? A ripple like a whale passing by in the sea, or just sheer POWER, an overabundance of life only just contained by flesh and blood and will?

"It's alright. Whatever troubles you've been through, they can't reach you now," she says, trying to be reassuring.

[idontneedluck]

There is a Jedi nearby.

Chirrut knows this impossibility to be true with every fiber of his being - someone trained, someone powerful, someone aligned with the Light - someone who bends the currents around them simply by existing is here.

Oh Baze, Baze, if you were here and could understand!

"I... I thank you, I..." The pitch of his voice cracks, spirals, flitting out of control. "Oh. Oh, my eyes, my... I can't see!"

[iprotectyou]

Baze is here, and he hears Chirrut being a total brat to someone. Baze rolls over onto his belly, propping himself up onto his elbows to crawl towards Chirrut. While he drags his armored body across the mud and grass, he studies this new woman. The lightsaber catches his vision and he stops crawling, gasping.

He has to get to his friend.

"Chirrut!" Baze snaps, flipping him over and smushing his face into the mud indelicately. "Could you--" smush, smush, smush "--for once in your life--" smush, smush "--be serious? There's a Jedi here!"

He lets his friend up to breathe--does he really need to breathe? he's dead, after all--and turns to Ibani to beg her forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, Master Jedi. Don't mind him, he's just an incorrigible ass."

[notmygrandfather]

Anakin Solo has always liked meditating outside.

(Well. He never likes meditating, but out by the lake is close to Yavin 4's environment while also being individual enough for Anakin ... he can focus, here.)

So. He's meditating, on a rock by the lake, when he senses -- an arrival. He tilts his head. He can't be sure if he had a vision or actually sensed the arrival of a powerful Jedi.

Anakin opens his eyes, bringing himself out of meditation, and looks around with a frown.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut can feel wetness soaking into his robes. It's chill - not his own blood then, not the warm water of Scarif.

Somewhere else.

The air smells... alive. Growing, in way that never happened on Jedha and was oppressive on Yavin IV. The sliver of kyber in his staff sings its melody off to the side, evidently unfazed by this change.

He feels... remarkably well, considering the last few minutes.

Huh.

[iprotectyou]

Baze is less concerned with the mud and more concerned with catching his breath. The last thing he saw was the redness of the inside of his eyelids as the grenade went off in his face, and now he sees the bright blue of a heavenly sky, and the green of grasses and trees.

Once he can breathe again, once he notices that his chest is no longer constricted or pained, he flips over onto his belly to crawl to Chirrut.

He doesn't doubt for a moment that Chirrut is here. He has to be. The Force wouldn't separate them like that.

Would it?

[wheatencrown]

(OOC: Let me know if you need more from her.)

When Spring returns, Demeter always likes to stop in Milliways to make sure everything is growing properly.

She's in the garden when they appear in the mud, she makes her way over, her linen dress in the wind, her bare feet getting messier as she approaches. The air around her smells of ripening crops, fertile soil and spring rains. Its always odd to find the dead here, for them and or those living, "Hello."

[idontneedluck]

The steps, the cadence, they are human. The things the Force tells him of...

Are not.


Still, Chirrut feels more hale than he has an right to be, his good humor at being allowed to continue overflowing.

"I..." He pauses, then anxiously pats his face, spreading mud like so much warpaint. "My eyes! My eyes I... I can't see!" He yalps, letting his voice spiral and crack.

[iprotectyou]

The woman looks human to Baze, as he drags himself across the mud. He pays her almost no mind, more concerned with Chirrut being a brat. He reaches his friend, flips him over, and smushes his face into the mud.

"Oh, my Force, Chirrut," Baze says, doing his best to ensure that his friend eats mud. "You're so rude!"

Baze turns to the woman with a winning smile. "Forgive him, lady. I'm Baze Malbus, and this sad, rude little man is Chirrut Imwe."

[penderwydd]

A man wearing a brown linen tunic top, and a pair of brown pants tied by a belt at his waist, is walking in the woods when the other two appear. He aproaches the nearer of the them.

"Hello," he says leaning on a wooden staff and smiling, "That was a most interesting entrance I have ever seen."

[idontneedluck]

"What?" Chirrut sits up, mud staining the back of his robes and clinging to his hair. With years of practice hiding his thoughts, he lets his face fall into a mask of confusion. "Who... but then I, no, my eyes! My eyes, I can't see!" He howls, a warbling, panicked sound.

[iprotectyou]

Baze hears the sounds of Chirrut being an ass, something he's grown used to after so many years. He's relieved to hear it now--Chirrut's here, wherever here is. The larger, armored man crawls across the mud to him, and, upon reaching him, tackles him into the soaked earth.

"You idiot," he roars, smushing his face into the wet soil. "You've never been able to see. Don't start with that now!"

Eventually, he turns to the man in brown, looking him over. "Hi. I'm Baze Malbus, and this sad, rude little man is Chirrut Imwe. Who are you again?"

[witchfinder_general]

There is a man wearing mostly black walking down a path from the woods towards them.

He's tall, as tall as Baze, and just about their own age, very clean, just faintly smelling of incense, flowers, tea, wax, and paper. He is calm, with a demeanour that will indicate to both of them that he belongs with some sort of religious order, organised not quite entirely unlike the Guardians of the Whills used to be. He exudes a sense of faith that he absolutely trusts in, a faith that hinges on understanding, forgiveness, helping other people; on honest self-searching, discipline and learning.

And an absolutely ruthless core of steel that will stop at nothing to achieve its aim and destroy the enemy -- but never living people, only ever undead blood-drinking monsters. That distinction is crystal-clear, and whatever falls on the wrong side of it will be ended mercilessly.

And a loaded weapon in his right pocket, and three small grenades in his left.

He stops walking when he sees them.


[[OOC: I hope this tag is not too late -- I was sick yesterday, but absolutely want to be in on this first entrance post, because yay Chirrut and Baze!]]

[idontneedluck]

The footsteps Chirrut has been listening to have stopped. They aren't Baze's cadence, which is... disappointing, though he holds hope that Baze somehow makes his way out of the disaster that is Scarif. As the Force wills it.

"Hello? Is... is someone there?" He lets his voice wobble and spiral out of control. "I... My eyes, I can't see!"

[thewidewideworld]

A figure steps out of the trees, trailing the last of the cherry blossoms just as newcomer trails sand.

He rushes over to the fallen Chirrut. "Sir? Are you hurt?" He rests a hand on the man's shoulder, kneeling at his side. His eyes flash gold, careful to shield himself from the rush of fear and confusion.

[idontneedluck]

The voice is not Baze's. The voice, the span of that hand, the rush of steps... not Baze.

Good. Maybe... maybe he will make it out alive, and see the end of the Empire for both of them.

"I..." He frowns, then cautiously touches his face, smearing mud across heedlessly. "My... my eyes, I can't see!"