The dark night of Tatooine was only pierced by the light of the planet's single moon, illuminating the barren wastelands with an unnatural light. On the edge of the Dune Sea, if there had been anyone to witness it, a single figure stood alone, dark cloak worn about him like a fog. A frigid and dry wind tore down the dusty plains, creating small whirlwinds of dust, whirlwinds that turned around this mysterious figure.
The moaning call of a bantha could be heard from far off, enough to keep even brave and possibly foolhardy humans at bay. The night was the time of the sand people, the Tusken Raiders. Only this solitary figure seemed to be purely ignorant of this fact or just extremely brave.
In a blink of eye, he left. Soft footprints in the sand were all that remained, landmarks of this person's existence. They marked a trail back to this man's home, a hidden structure far away from any prying eyes; a place where this man could live out his life and fulfill his mission. Stepping inside, the view was barren; only essential pieces of living decorated this sparse desert apartment. Drab colours adorned the meagre furniture, the only spot of colour visible from two holo-pictures. One was of a young man with auburn hair, a bright smile on his face, his arm draped onto a taller man's shoulders. The older man's eyes held an aura of amusement, even if his face and head were covered with a beard and shoulder length hair. It was obvious that these two men were close, father and son, it would almost seem.
The second picture was that of a young woman, soft red hair cascading down her shoulders, bright green eyes laughing. A wide grin added unfathomable beauty to the picture, to this beautiful woman's face.
A large hand swept down and plucked the second photo from it's perch, a hand calloused with the toil and physical work of it's many years; a hand that held many stories. A single finger traced the contours of this lady's face, with a softness and sadness evident in it's movements. The picture was then replaced to its spot of honour, to remain in stark contrast with the rest of abode.
The cloak was cast off, placed on a nearby chair. Next, an ancient weapon, one not recognized in the galaxy any longer. It gleamed in the midnight air, scratches and scrapes paying homage to the untold stories of its master. A weary body was then placed into a soft chair, arms falling to his sides and eyes closing briefly. Snow white hair was on the man's head, and a short white beard. Cerulean eyes were masked by weary eyelids, seeking respite from the day's troubles. The rest of the body had worn with age, but strength was still held there, remnants from his younger days, days where he could have run marathons and climbed mountains.
Today was the day. The anniversary of her death. Eyelids opened slowly, letting the grey-blue eyes be drawn to the holo-picture. The laughing grin, dancing eyes and soft hair were ever-present in his mind, mental torture to him. The old hermit was silent in his chair, words having very little presence in his life anymore.
He reached out with the mental tendrils of his mind, enveloping himself in the unifying Force. Over the years of his self-induced exile he had developed his mind powers to the point of being ever-present in the Force. His talents for masking his own presence and yet always in contact with his powers had grown incredibly since his younger days. But now, at this moment, his mind had work to do. Searching... he was searching.
There. He had found what he was looking for. In his mind's eye, a dazzling image of a young, flaming red haired girl appeared. In stark contrast to her locks were her emerald eyes, bright green orbs of power. The Force was dark in her, but he knew that she had so much potential for light. He knew that someday she would join the forces of good. After all, it was on that side that her father had exiled himself for and her mother had died.
His eyes closed once more, retreating to the cold, dark world of sleep. He dreamed of a time when he had been with those he loved; when his Padawan had fought for good, not evil; when his wife had been alive and when he himself had been happy...
*Hello all!
This is the introduction to a two part story that I am writing. I am writing this between updates of 'Mistake', and so unfortunately the two other parts to this story may be long in coming. I promise you though, that they will come.
I hoped you liked this introduction, and I look forwards to writing more!
Tata!
~Eleia Kenobi*