So...you guys wanted a continuation. I got follows...I got an idea...so, here we are! Anyways, inspiration has come...short for the past few months. Why the force is everybody so offended when you don't reply on social media? Why do people flip so easily? Why do they become judgmental and 'somebody that I used to know'? And why is everybody so negative? Uggggggg! (Basically, also life.)
Me: Hey Ezra...
Ezra: Wholock? 3 months, and you're back! What's wrong.
Me: Things kid, THINGS! *Looks around.* WHERE IS JIM?
Ezra: He left for the Imperial Academy.
Me: *Face rub.*
Ezra: Geez, why does everything need to be so mutual with you and him?
Me: ?
Ezra: Visions...
Me: *Shrugs.* We connect a little...
Ezra: He isn't even a force sensitive!
Me: *Smiles creepily.* As far as you know...
Ezra: 0_0
I came into my Dad's room to ask about something. He was watching a movie called 'Blended.' A kid called this guy Jimbo. His name was Jim.
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HELP.
ME.
Anyways, plz follow, favorite, and REVIEW!
Boots trudged along a dirt path, leaving heavy weighted footprints behind. The grass swayed slightly. This, accompanied with the dark night and tiredness of the being did not come to his benefit as his eyes tried to stay trained on the path before him. So tired. So tired.
The Jedi could make out the Ghost sitting in the distance silent, homelike, comforting, safe. From behind him came a slight rustle in the tall grass. Almost immediately, he whipped around, senses heitant and eyes wide. He silently grabbed the two pieces that made up his lightsaber and connected them with a small 'click.'
Kanan ignited it and stood defensively, waiting for his foe to approach. A few seconds passed. Nothing. Then, another rustle.
"SHOW YOURSELF AND FIGHT ME, YOU SITH!" He yelled into the dark.
Then, out of the brush revealed a small Lothcat. At the sight of the slender weapon, the defenseless creature whimpered a bit as it performed a small hop backwards.
Kanan wiped away the sweat that had formed on his forehead and collapsed down the lightsaber. His leg stung from falling on it and his eye hurt where it'd made contact with a fist. The ghost was only a few feet away, but looked...fuzzy.
The man trudged up the ramp and stared up the tall yellow ladder with dread.
Pulling himself up the rungs, his leg, his injured and stinging leg, smacked against the metal. He let out a painful grunt and bit his lip as a loud cry of a word he wouldn't want any member of his crew hearing was swallowed and avoided in speech.
One breath in, one out.
One breath in, another breath out.
One jagged breath in, a fragmented breath out.
One chainsaw-like snore in, one engine tuckering out and stranded in space.
Ezra Bridger rolled over inside his bunk and stared down at his sleeping crew mate, giving him his best death stare. Of course, Zeb wasn't awake to notice, so the effort was for nothing.
The boy pulled the pillow over his head.
One tie fighter taking off, an explosion with sparks flying with a deafening sound.
The youth was about ready to yell at the Lasat. Who cared if he woke the purple thing up? But then, there was the possibility of waking the whole crew up, ruining their slumber. He groaned tiredly. He imagined the seats in the Commons Room, so soft and the room so quiet. Vacant of noise, disruptions, or any sound at all. The notion calmed him. Tucking his pillow beneath him and draping a blanket around his shoulders, he climbed down from the bunk and quietly left the room.
The teen slowly walked down the hall, listening to the rhythmic hums and creaks of the ship, trying to compare the motionless beneath his feet with the lightyears the ship was currently traveling. He wouldn't mind sleeping in the hall, he'd had much worse sleeping situations. But compared to the soft, comfy seat that he could be resting in, it'd be a waste to miss the welcoming opportunity.
Setting down his pillow on the couch, the boy decided to get a small drink of water from the latrine before drifting away to the wonderful land of sleep. Walking to the latrine, there was a small clang that sounded deeper within the ship that made the youth freeze. This was followed by a grunt, small, but still comprehendible. The sound echoed throughout the Ghost eerily.
Ezra bit his lip, keeping his senses sharp by opening up his ears and closing his eyes as he turned the knob for the water in the sink to fill the cup. Just as he did in meditation. " Let the force guide you." The teen couldn't count how many times he'd heard that. Kanan said it quite often, absentmindedly sometimes. It was uncanny.
The youth strolled back to the commons room with his cup and laid down on the couch without any interruptions. Then...thud, drag. Thud, drag.
The sound was steady and resembled that of someone with a limp. It could also represent, The boy thought. A species whose stomach is growling for five things aboard this ship. Five living things with something that...they won't hesitate to dig for.
Ezra touched his head automatically, suddenly very protective of it.
You must not at this point that Ezra has not slept well for about a week or two, this being the 11th night. Slower, yes. His ideas to the crew, more far-fetched (Yet plausible.) than ever. Hacking into old television studios with Sabine that had been up before the Empire had taken rule were not the most beneficiary. Especially in the respect that they viewed classic black and whites. Assuming the amount of horror films revolving around the undead, it wouldn't take a padawan-master bond to predict what the boy was thinking.
The youth sat up and ignited his lightsaber. Back pressed against the space beneath the keypad, he waited.
Kanan trudged down the hall, leg dragging alongside him. His leg hurt, his face hurt, his eyes begged to close. His hand pushed against the wall occasionally for balance and so that he wouldn't collapse on the floor.
The Jedi was vaguely aware that his fingers were wet with something, but wasn't enough awake to register. Yawning, he pulled the sleep out of his eyes and down his face, pasting the chemical liquid all over.
Now...which door led to his room, again? There was a door the right, that must be it.
The footsteps grew closer to the teen's area with the same intensity and volume.
Then, they stopped outside the door.
The undead didn't know how to use a keypad, correct?
Six beeps. Ezra readied himself as the door slid open, shooting up from his crouching position and aiming the lightsaber. What he was met with made him drop his lightsaber as he saw a green zombified Kanan standing in front of him, leg looking completely limp. No. A million thoughts raced through his mind about his Master, the end, and last words. The boy tripped over a bench and ended up sitting on his backside on the floor.
Kanan stumbled forward clumsily and felt his knees give out as he fell onto the floor. For a moment, Ezra though he would collapse, but the man forced himself back up.
He was not sleeping on the floor. Strait. He needed to go strait. His eyes refused to open so much as a centimeter. Ah, force it, there was a reason for having six senses. He let out another groan as he moved forward, glad that the crew couldn't see him literally crawling to bed.
Ezra pushed himself back as the undead proceeded. He let out a scream.
The Jedi stopped as the sound of a scream filled his ears, as it was registered. His padawan's scream. His eyes immediately flew open, senses heitant. What he saw before him was Ezra sitting in his night clothes and blanket laying on the floor. He was slightly cowering, leaned back and eyes fearful. His lightsaber laid a few feet behind Kanan.
"Uh..." He said awkwardly. He noticed the boy was shivering slightly. Not because he was cold, but out of fear. The Jedi's face contorted into confusion and worry as he reached out towards the kid.
Ezra froze as the Kanombie opened his eyes and stopped his 'rampage'. The youth was a bit surprised as he stared into blue. Blue, and alive. The man he knew as a mentor, kind, looked worried as he reached out. Weary of being deceived, Ezra stared at the green and red smears on the man's face.
The door suddenly slid open as the rest of the crew came armed, as they had heard their crew member yell. All sets of eyes fell to the two cowering and face-painted specters.
Sabine was the first to notice the paint smeared Kanan. Her eyes widened.
"Kanan..." Zeb was the first to break the silence. " A bit late for red and green face paint, isn't it?"
The Jedi felt his face and looked in the reflection of a steel crate. His face was indeed a collage of green and red paint.
Ezra relaxed and smirked.
Kanan looked to Sabine with a glare.
"Any idea who might've done this, Spector 5?" He asked.
"I-uh, may have left some art murals out on the walls that are still drying." She looked down and then attempted a guilty smile. "I didn't paint your face, though."
Kanan looked at Ezra. The boy's cheeks had turned a dusty red and he was clearly embarrassed.
"Ezra, why are you up?" Hera questioned.
"Zeb's snoring."
Kanan retrieved the youth's lightsaber. "And this...?" He gestured to the mess of items that had been knocked off when the boy had tripped over the bench.
The crew waited while Ezra searched for another explanation. "Uh, sleep walking...?" He tried, though he knew by Sabine's smirk that she already knew the full story. Ezra and Kanan half-faked half-meant a yawn as their eyelids drooped.
The whole team was tired. They'd resolve the issue in the morning. For now...sleep.
Ezra curled up on the couch in the Commons Room and, being too tired to object, the Ghost crew let him.
As he drifted off to sleep though, one thought crossed the youth's mind, a relived feeling. The moment seeing Kanan as an organism, a being that could harm him. That was what had shaken him up. He hoped to never have that feeling again because the feeling was a lie. Doubt was not an option to be taken or needed to be taken. He was safe.
It's 3:00 am over here. I feel like Ezra right now. Tomorrow I'll bet I'm going to look back on this and be a hypocrite about stuff I think is good now. Sorry for any bad plot points. Had to publish something. Will fix tomorrow. Goodnight, everyone!