Okay, so this is why I love SYOC's. This chapter right here – I think I did a good job with it, but lemme know.

Lokori, The Gaulus Sector, Outer Rim Territories

15BBY

Corrin pressed the panel, shutting the door behind him as he made his way back into his apartment. He took off his poncho and slung it onto his bed before flopping down, letting out a long sigh. His shoulders ached, his feet were sore – he was almost certain his arms were going to fall off. Minzie was old, so she mainly handled the admin of the bar. Corrin was there to handle everything else – the lifting, the pouring, mediating conflict – his jaw still clicked from when the twelve-eyed Lokorian, Oky, swung at him for refusing service…

Corrin rose to his feet, opening the draw to find a shirt clean of spicebrew and liquor. He stared directly passed the shirts, finding the empty corner of the draw, where a small mould was left in his clothes – the impression of Master Cero's lightsaber.

Corrin looked under the other shirts, finding nothing but the metal bottom of the draw. He pulled out all the clothes, scattering them across his bed, listening for the metallic clunk of the hilt. He pulled out the draw and looked in the one below, ripping out the pants. He opened the third, pulling it fully out of the dresser and tipping it upside down.

"No, no, no…" Corrin murmured to himself, jumping towards his bed, sifting through the clothes to find nothing but his bedsheets. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. It called to him once, it would again. He knew that, he knew panicking wouldn't help, but his breath remained caught in his throat, his heart hammering…

There was a small cough – a clearing of the throat. Corrin whipped around to see a woman at the table in his kitchen ('kitchen' was a generous word for it…), Master Cero's lightsaber on the table beside her. She was half-dressed in a grey flightsuit, the arms of which were tied around her waist. She wore a purple tank-top, showing her slender and freckled arms. Her orange hair was tied up into simple plaits behind her head, her face framed by a few strands. She looked to be into her thirties – though she seemed to resemble a much older woman. Like someone around Minzie's age – the wizening of time, Corrin would've called it.

"Is now a good time to tell you I was just looking at it?" She asked.

Corrin licked his lips. "It's a remote," he lied quickly.

"Oh, really? A remote for what?" She cocked her head to the side. Corrin's jaw clenched in response. "Is it yours?"

"I found it."

"You mean you stole it?" She asked sternly, her round, forest-green eyes narrowed on Corrin for a moment. He felt something – as though the air became heavier and thicker around him… as though the wind was whistling towards him. He remembered this feeling… his brow furrowed as he pushed back against this feeling.

The woman rose to her feet, frowning slightly. "You know the Force…" she said, taking a step towards him, "You know how to shield yourself from it, how do you know how to do that?"

Corrin remained silent, his honey-gold eyes flickering towards Master Cero's lightsaber. "Give it back," he said.

"Who trained you?" She asked. "How long were you-"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you're going to give that back to me."

A small scoff escaped her lips as she examined him for a moment with slight disbelief before picking up Cero's lightsaber and offering it to Corrin, who snatched it out of her hand immediately. He turned it over in his hands, making sure it hadn't been damaged or altered in any way.

"You need to leave," Corrin informed her, walking back towards his bed and picking up the clothes, stuffing them into the dresser.

"Leave?"

"Look, I'm not causing trouble, I'm just living out my life-"

"I'm not going to turn you in!" She half-laughed. Corrin turned to face her, utterly bemused. "Wait…" she walked back to the table and grabbed a small worn satchel, reaching into it. "You'll like this…" she produced a light blue box with runic markings. It glowed and gently hummed with vibration as she set it down on his bed. "It's a holocron," she said with a smile. "It's from the Howling Ruins on Vaklin- I would've had other relics, but…" Corrin moved the holocron and continued putting his clothes away. A silence hung in the air for a moment before the woman folded her arms. "You're not a very studious Jedi, are you?"

"I'm not a-" Corrin snapped before glancing around his room. "I'm not a Jedi," he said quietly.

"Well, if that were true, you'd have sold your lightsaber by now."

"It's not mine."

"So why not sell it?"

"Maybe I don't want the Empire to get the wrong idea."

"Why would they?" Corrin stared at her. "If that lightsaber isn't yours… did it happen to belong to a man called Cero Genovin?" Corrin's eyes flickered up to hers for a second. "So you do know him?"

"Why?"

"I'm looking for him. Or his padawan, Corrin Kordath."

"I asked you 'why'?"

She walked closer. "I'm not going to hurt them. I'm like you, I can use the Force." She reached into her bag and produced an object. Long – about half a metre or so, and made mostly of wood, carved in intricate detail. On either end was a weathered, grey emitter. Corrin stared at the lightsaber before looking back up to her.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Avethelia Elysar. I'm a Knight of the Jedi Order." Corrin's lips slowly parted as he looked at her. An actual Jedi. She had a lightsaber and everything – it was just… he didn't know how it felt. Good, maybe? Rather, he knew it was good – it should have been good, but all that he felt was dread. "It's important I find Cero or-"

"He was my master," Corrin said. "I was his Padawan."

Avethelia's green eyes widened slightly. "Corrin? You're Cor-" She rubbed her forehead. "Of course you- Master Barhyatt!" She gestured to him. "He was on the ship with you and Cero-"

"He died," Corrin said sternly. "Our troopers turned on us. They shot him down – just like Dil-Ja Taso, Caden Lotana, Fel Norven…" Avethelia's eyes flitted down to the ground for a moment. "I don't know what you were hoping for, but I'm afraid I have to disappoint you – you made a mistake, I'm not a Jedi."

"A Padawan is a Jedi-"

"No, I'm not a Padawan either," Corrin shook his head. "I don't have a Master. I never finished my training." He shrugged.

Avethelia walked around the bed. "You can't just give up!"

"I didn't give up – I failed. We all did."

"We made a commitment, we swore an oath-"

"We swore to serve the Republic, the Republic is gone." Corrin cast his gold eyes across Avethelia. "And I don't need any Jedi around attracting attention…"

"Not even if I can get you off this rock?" She asked. Corrin's ears pricked at the prospect. Off Lokori? It wasn't exactly something he wanted, but… well, he'd been foolish enough to leave Jaikil alive, and she didn't strike him as the forgiving type.

"How?"

"I have a ship."

"You do?"

Avethelia bit her lip, her round eyes glancing up to the ceiling for a moment. "I have most of a ship," she corrected herself.

"Meaning…?"

"It won't fly. I just need some parts – a pair of lateral stabilizers, a dozen microvalves and as many patch circuits as I can get my-" Avethelia frowned as Corrin interrupted her with a curse. "It's not that bad – there's a ship we can scavenge-"

"It's been picked clean, there's nothing there."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I went in there and took everything useful."

"So…" Avethelia rubbed her chin. "That's it? Stuck here?"

"It's a little worse than that, actually…" Corrin murmured. "I know someone who'll have the parts you need."

"Who?"

Corrin sighed. "Someone who wants me dead…" He pulled on his poncho and Avethelia dug a hand into her bag, pulling out her own and donning it, sheathing her lightsaber in her belt.

He slapped a hand on the panel and led Avethelia out into the town.

Well, that's it for today. I'll update tomorrow – next chapter will be Mera's, followed by Ving's. That should be up tomorrow… with any luck. I promise I'll try and will myself into writing like I did today.

So, hope you guys enjoyed – feel free to drop a review etc.