Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days?
Always a bigger bed to climb into.
They were both dead. She could not only feel it through the Force, she could see it with her own eyes. It didn't matter how terrible it was, didn't matter that no one but her knew it, they were gone and Tahiri Veila was now all alone in the world. Despite all this she did not let her tears flow. In fact, her face was set in a stoic expression as she dragged her parent's bodies from their home and dumped them unceremoniously near a crude dug grave. There was nothing pretty about this, so there would be nothing pretty about where they were laid to rest. The desert had no room for beautiful things.
"Idiots," she finally croaked out. "Can you believe it? Never thought I'd be the one to bury y-you –"
Her voice broke before she could continue and the girl slid to her knees onto the sand, covering her face with her bloodied hands. She couldn't believe this! Her life was practically over now as well. There was no way she could survive living out on her own at only seven years old.
She was as good as dead, and she knew it.
Finally, Tahiri wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and stood, dusting off her sand-colored pants and dragging her father over to the grave. With a sigh of broken grief, the girl pushed him in, quickly doing the same to her mother's body. It was hard work to drag two grown adults anyplace at all, but after what seemed like hours, her mission was accomplished. She stared down at their pale faces with her own bloodshot green eyes before scooping up a handful of sand and throwing it on top of them. That was all she could muster before she collapsed again into a fit of pitiful sobs.
Tahiri didn't know how long she laid there, crying her eyes out, but she finally fell asleep under the hot evening sun. What woke her was not the chilly atmosphere of the nighttime, but the screeches and howling of what could only be called the language of the Sand People. She had heard it many times before – but found with slight surprise that it did not frighten her like it used to. Nothing could scare her more than the death of her mother and father, and that had already come to pass. If she was going to die, then why not let it be at the hands of those who had disposed of her parents?
Yes, the Sand People had killed them two days ago. Deep in her heart, Tahiri hated them, but right now it was all just a numb feeling of acceptance. She didn't care who they were or what they had done, just so long as they killed her quickly. She wanted to die. She wanted to go to be with her parents in a land where there would be no more troubles for any one of them.
"Please… just…" she couldn't get the words out before she felt something sharp against her shoulder. It was like someone had laid a weapon against her flesh, but was making no move to push down enough to kill her. Why not? Tahiri wanted to scream at them to do what they had so obviously come to do, but found that the words were stuck in the back of her throat. Finally, finally she was able to choke out what she had wanted to say ever since this whole thing started.
"Just kill me!"
Tahiri awoke to a great roaring sound, as if one of the tribe members was having a loud spat outside. That might've very well been the case, since it wasn't rare for the Sand People to become agitated with each other (and not to mention her as well) every now and again. Still, the sounds of a tussle in the making were not what had awoken the young girl from her slumber. It was the prickling at the back of her mind, the sense that something or someone was there to see her and her only. Quickly, she pulled on her bindings and the traditional head and face pieces with some chagrin. It was hot on Tatooine and the traditional clothing of the Tusken Raiders didn't exactly help out much when it came to cooling down. The only good thing about it was that she wasn't forced to wear shoes. Yes, shoes. She hated them with a passion and she was grateful to her tribe for teaching her that they were not essential in the desert. Because of them, the soles of her feet were nearly invincible against the heat or the sharp edges of rocks.
She padded out of her tent and her eyebrows rose way into her hairline when she spotted someone standing close to Sliven - the leader of the Sand People. He gave her a nod and a great shouting sound from the back of her throat, which she knew meant something akin to 'good morning' in their language. Tahiri gave him a nod of her own and a bellow as well, grinning when the person who had been standing close to them blinked in surprise. Obviously they hadn't expected her, a human, to know such things. And she was recognizable as a human, even under all the layers of clothing and face bindings. Her red hair stuck out a bit from the sides and her green eyes were different from those that the Tuskens possessed. She was also shorter than... well, everyone there. So it wasn't too hard to notice that she was different from the rest.
"Can I help you?" she asked in perfect basic. "Sliven is not able to speak in what I assume to be your native tongue."
Her tone was professional, but her eyes held a dangerous slant to them, as if she were challenging the man and his companion (she had just noticed now that there were two, the other standing a bit farther back). The older man had bright blond, though his face was creased with wrinkles and his blue eyes held a wisdom that she couldn't even begin to comprehend. He was smiling amiably, but she could tell that he was surprised at her expression of distrust. The boy standing next to him was much younger, about her age, with brown hair and equally blue eyes - a curious tilt to his head as he studied her. She gave him an indignant glare - though it didn't seem to do much with the mask against her face - and turned once again to the elder man. He had not answered, so she figured he must be assessing the situation or something of the like. "Who are you?" Tahiri asked, a bit more force behind her words this time. "I've never seen you before. Maybe you should leave."
"Hey!" the response came from the brown haired boy. His voice was laced with thinly concealed frustration. "We're here to save your sorry ass, so don't get smart with -"
"Anakin," the blond man said, his tone holding a distinct warning. "Might want to let me handle this, if you don't mind?"
He nodded, but kept his blue eyes narrowed at his elder's reproach.
He deserved it for not respecting what his elder had to say, Tahiri thought with disgust. She had been taught since she was seven years old to hold high respect for those that were older and/or superior to her. That didn't mean she wasn't rebellious now and again, of course, but she still knew when to keep her mouth shut. Apparently this boy here didn't have that same trait.
"Sorry about that, Miss Veila," Blondie said with a smile in her direction. She pointedly did not return the favor.
"I should hope so," she mumbled under her breath, then turned toward Sliven with a bow and gestured to the two. She let out a few grunts and he nodded his head, howling and grumbling out his own reply. "He wants to know what you're doing here."
"Ah, that is... quite the long story -"
"Make it short, I've got chores to finish," Tahiri interrupted. The brown haired kid's mouth dropped open, but Blondie (the name she had mentally started calling him) didn't seem phased in the slightest.
"Yes, of course. Long story short, we are here to escort you to the Jedi Temple on Yavin Four to assist you in your Jedi training. We recieved word that a young girl of about your age had been orphaned and adopted by a Tusken Raider tribe on the outskirts of Tatooine. Normally we wouldn't bother you, but along with that information we were also told that you possess something called 'Force Sensitivity'."
"What, you got a file on me or something?" Tahiri snorted, rolling her eyes. "Look, I don't care if you're the Queen of Geonosis, you aren't taking me anywhere. So, that's it then. See ya. Don't call us, we won't call you!"
Before Blondie could stop him, Brownie was stomping over where she stood with a scowl plastered across his face. "It doesn't matter what you want! We're taking you to Yavin Four whether you like it or not!"
"Eh, that -" Blondie tried to step in, but Tahiri would have none of it. She poked 'Brownie' in the chest with her index finger.
"Who in Bantha's name do you think you are? If you kriffing believe I'm going to follow you two to the ends of the Galaxy because you want to train me to become some kiss-up of a Jedi, then you're Sith-spitting insane!"
Brownie winced at her language, but held his ground firmly. "That doesn't matter. What the Jedi says goes. If Uncle Luke - I mean, Master Skywalker, thinks that you have potential then you're coming whether you feel like it or not!"
Before the two teens could continue their argument, Sliven began stomping his foot and howling in rage, pointing one finger at Tahiri and clenching it into a fist a moment later. She understood immediately and backed off, Brownie deciding to do the same out of pure danger instinct. "He says he's had quite enough of our quarreling," Tahiri said, somewhat sheepishly. "Give me a minute to explain..." The red-head turned toward him, waving her arms in the air and making noises that sounded like an animal in agony before listening to Sliven's response and turning back to the pair of Jedi standing before her. "He says..." she shifted from foot to foot. "He says that I'd have a better life with you."
"I'm Luke Skywalker," Blondie said. "This is Anakin Solo. We... we want what's best for you, Tahiri. Really, we aren't here to drag you away from the things you love. If you truly don't want to come with us, then so be it. I apologize for my Apprentice's outburtst. He's been having a bad day. You know how boys are."
Tahiri blinked. No, actually, she didn't know how boys were. Well, not human boys that is. In fact this 'Anakin Solo' (previously Brownie in her mind) was the first teenage boy she'd seen in... forever. He was cute, she'd give him that, but his personality obviously stunk. She wrinkled her nose and sighed. "I'm not coming with you -"
Sliven, apparently sensing his adopted daughter's answer, interrupted her with a loud grunt. Her brow furrowed in confusion and then she gasped, taken aback by his words. "You... you're forcing me to go...? But -" He interrupted once again with another grunt, most likely repeating what he had just said. Tahiri's green eyes were trembling with anger and unshed tears. He was kicking her out! Her own father figure was kicking her out! She knew that he was only doing it for her own good (or what he thought was for her own good) but it made her almost blow up at him for real. "Why? You just said I could choose for myself! You couldn't have actually thought I would say yes to them, did you?"
His fingers tightening against her shoulder was enough of a reply to make her wince. He was not asking, he was ordering. She would go the Jedi Temple, train to be a Jedi, and bring honor to them all.
Anakin Solo smirked and Tahiri had to restrain herself from slapping that infuriating expression right off his smug little face.