Ezra sat, cross-legged on the mat Kanan had shown him; his eyes were closed, breathing steady. He was meditating.
Not in the way Kanan had taught him, of course, as he was no longer searching for and feeling the ebb and flow of the light side; now he was searching for the light side's antithesis, feeling its own ebb and flow. Kanan would never approve, Ezra knew, but he wasn't confident that the Jedi could even find his force signature any more. However, he was equally unsure that Kanan hadn't already pegged him for the dark acolyte he had become. The teen took a slow, deep breath and reached out with the force, sweeping those thoughts aside.
There were two signatures outside the boarding ramp of the Ghost, though both were pitifully dim. Another pair were outside the room Ezra had been confined to, each as forgettable and mundane as their comrades.
Ezra took another breath in, basking in the dark side. It crashed over him like a tidal wave, fully encompassing his spirit and wrapping itself around it. Ezra's expression didn't change as he drenched himself in it, and reached out. He looked past those of his guards, instead focusing on the brightest in the base: Kanan's.
It had been several hours since he'd left Ezra, and still the juxtaposition between his and Kanan's signatures unsettled the teen; Kanan was a beacon of light. Of warmth - of comfort; sympathy at its finest. Ezra's force signature had once mirrored Kanan's, but now it was a vortex of emotions; hate, anger, passion - all swirling throughout Ezra's spirit. Of course, that was when the teen wasn't concealing it.
Ezra opened his eyes, stretched, and stood up. He pushed down a yawn that threatened his composure as the door slid open. A green-skinned twi'lek stood in the doorway, who Ezra instantly recognized as Hera Syndulla, flanked by two burly rebel soldiers. Ezra regarded them with cool disregard, focusing his attention on the twi'lek.
"Ezra, we've decided." Hera said, causing a quirked brow from Ezra. The twi'lek was caught off-guard by the teen's expression; it was one that wasn't just curious - though to many it would seem so - it was impatient and demanding. It was one that seemed piercing - far too piercing for the blueberry Kanan had found three years ago.
"You're accepted back into the rebellion." at that, happiness flickered in Ezra's eyes. Hera thought he saw his lips beginning to curve into a smile before the teen forced them to form a flat line.
"Great," said Ezra. Hera nodded, adding,
"But you'll be under our supervision for the time being. A single toe out of line, and you're out." Ezra had a sneaking suspicion that "out" was really code for firing squad, but swept that thought aside.
Hera lead him to his and Zeb's old cabin, and the teen frowned.
"You're putting me back with Zeb?" Ezra asked. Hera shot him a suspicious look, turning to face him.
"No. Would you have a problem with sharing with him?" she responded. Ezra shook his head.
"No. Just wondering." Hera nodded, internally surprised: Ezra should have stuttered in his response, or at least seemed a little flustered… but he wasn't. His tone was calm, in an eerie way; it was too cool. Too… practiced. Hera shook her head lekku swaying as she did so. Ezra noted this, keeping his face neutral despite the frown that challenged his emotional mask; what did that mean? Being apprenticed to Maul had taught him that nothing was done without some reason. So a head shake, something that was universally known to be a negative sign, unnerved the teen.
Hera opened the door to the cabin, and Ezra felt memories flooding back to him; the stunts he and Zeb would pull together and to each other, how many times they'd chased Chopper out of their space, their collective shock at the mural Sabine had made of them getting shocked by Chopper… and then his eyes reached his bunk.
Where Maul had spent four weeks torturing him.
Where he'd tried and failed to keep Maul out, been broken, and had left in the middle of the night after their nightly sessions of mental slugging. Ezra wasn't able to suppress the small shiver that ran down his spine at those memories. Hera turned to face him, snapping Ezra out of his reverie.
"You'll be sleeping on the top bunk," she said, noticing the flash of discomfort that showed in Ezra's eyes at the mention of it. "Are you okay with that?" Ezra nodded vigorously, stiffening his stance a bit.
"You're belongings will be returned to you by the end of the day." the teen nodded, feeling the beginnings of anticipation developing in his psyche at the return of his weapons. He'd feel a bit safer when they were back. Hera finally ended the conversation with:
"And you're to stay in here until I or Kanan say you can leave." that made Ezra internally scowl, but he nodded despite his reservations. Hera let him approach and sit on his newly-given bed, leaving him in silence. Ezra sighed as the door closed, laying down on the bunk and feeling his eyelids becoming heavy within moments. It had been a long, stressful day, and he needed the rest.
The last thing he saw was Sabine's mural.
"How much longer, master?" Ezra wheezed. His body was aching over the day's exertion; he'd been woken up an hour before Dathomirian dawn, and had had a cold pale of water thrown in his face. That had snapped his senses back into gear. First came a workout with Maul that included, but was not limited to: laps around the nightsister fortress, rock climbing, and plain-old push and sit ups. That had been done until midday, when Ezra got a bowl of colourless, tasteless soup. After that came lightsaber training, which boiled down to Ezra suppressing his natural snarkiness whilst Maul berated his technique. Then, finally, came sparring. The rest of the day would have been more than enough for the teen, but Maul insisted on pushing him. He was in the last stage of the day at the moment.
"Not a standard minute than is necessary, apprentice," came Maul silkily, then his face turned stern.
"Now get into ready stance." Ezra did as he was told, forcing his screaming muscles into motion. Ezra mentally recited the sith code:
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion I gain strength,
Through strength I gain victory,
Through victory my chains are broken.
The force shall free me.
Ezra launched himself at Maul, employing form IV, ataru. The most acrobatic of the seven forms, Ezra quickly found it his favorite; it was aggressive and dynamic, trading defense for a speedy offense. It's main problem, though, was that it expended energy at an alarming rate. But despite this, Ezra's strikes were fluid and aggressive, all of which Maul batted away harmlessly with deft and tight defensive parries.
A few minutes in, Ezra began to tire. His movements became slower within minutes, despite the teens efforts to draw on the dark side to rejuvenate his limbs. With disdain, Maul smacked one of Ezra's slower strikes aside, striking him across the cheek with his training stick. The teen fell back at the zabrak's counter, onto Dathomir's soil. Maul stood over him, disgust across his face.
"Perhaps I was wrong about you," he murmured quietly. "That is enough for today." Ezra watched him stalk away, indignation and humiliation emotions roiling within him; he wanted to prove the zabrak wrong. He wanted to best him.
Rising to his feet, Ezra promised himself that he'd do better next time around.
It was the sound of the cabin door opening that snapped Ezra from his sleep. The teen shot up, head banging against the metal ceiling of the cabin as they did so. Ezra muttered a swear and looked around the room; it was just as it was when he fell asleep, yet there was a burly man in the doorway now. His heavy brow was furrowed in frustration at the weight of the duffle bag he carried, something he swore weighed several kilos more than it should've.
He unceremoniously threw it down, ignoring the thump it made and making eye contact with Ezra; he glowered at the teen for a few moments.
"These are your things, kid." they said gruffly. Ezra nodded, sliding his cloak and off his bunk, doing so gracefully onto the floor. That made the man delivering the duffle bag glower even more. He left Ezra in silence, whilst the teen inspected the duffle bag's contents: there was a few pairs of pants and shirts, all of which were either gray or black. Ezra rummaged further and found what he had been desiring for the past few hours: his lightsabers.
He was quick to grasp and hang his personal lightsaber from his belt, but hesitated slightly when faced with the darksaber. It was a ticking time-bomb waiting to explode, and for Ezra to use. He guessed Sabine didn't know that he had it, or that anyone had recognized it; and him having it also meant Kanan likely didn't know he had it, either. He couldn't be sure, though… Ezra stopped himself.
Having been down similar lines of suspicious and conspiratorial thinking over the past two years, Ezra shook his head and stuffed the darksaber underneath all of the clothes the Alliance had provided.
Ezra zipped the duffle bag closed, heaving it over his shoulder and onto the end of his bunk. A moment after he did that, the cabin door opened again. Mentally shaking his head in weariness, he turned to face whoever was in the doorway. He steeled himself for it to be Sabine, Zeb, or even Kanan. The latter of the tree Ezra hoped wouldn't be there as he turned. When he faced his visitor, though, he felt his jaw drop.
He saw Hera, but that wasn't what made him unabashedly stare: the girl to the twi'lek's right did. They looked to be a girl of about seventeen, with a bright, striking mane of red hair tied in a simple yet elegant bun. Their eyes were a similarly striking gray, and that fact combined with the rest of their face left Ezra speechless. They, too, stared back, equally flabbergasted. Ezra's face was completely different to how they'd last seen it; before it had been properly boyish and prepubescent with the development of a fourteen year-old, but now it was angular, with paler skin, and a more pronounced jawline. The black robes he wore showed his slimmer, more lithe wasn't the Ezra they remembered at all. Hera looked between both parties, confused, but nonetheless spoke.
"Ezra, this is Moreena Krai," Hera gestured to Moreena, "Moreena." then to Ezra. "Ezra." A few more moments passed, with neither Moreena or Ezra finding the courage to speak. Hera frowned.
"Is there something I don't know going on here?" she asked suspiciously. She looked between both teens once more, seeing equal amounts of shock in both their faces. Another thirty seconds passed. Hera looked between Ezra and Moreena one final time, before shaking her head in exasperation.
"Fine." she huffed. "I guess I'm not supposed to know." Again, Hera didn't get any response. The twi'lek, submitting defeat, sighed heavily, the wears of the day showing themselves across her face.
"Just get acquainted okay?" to that both Ezra and Moreena nodded, still staring at each other with disbelief. Hera left with a suspicious look to both. After the door shut, Ezra found his courage to speak.
"M-mori?" croaked Ezra. "Is that you?" the first thought that passed through Ezra's mind was how cliché that line was, which he ignored. This wasn't the Moreena he remembered, either. She'd hit puberty earlier than him, but now she'd… filled out. He spent time with Black Sun vigos, who very often had prostitutes walking around with them, all of which were attractive and voluptuous. At first they drew his teenage eyes, but eventually he became apathetic to them. That same apathy should have rung true with Moreena - but it didn't. Ezra mentally scolded himself, forcing his eyes up to her face and away from Moreena's body.
"Moreena?" he repeated, only realising then that the first time he spoke he'd used a nickname. Mentally he scolded himself, only stopping when Moreena rocketed toward him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and back. That gave Ezra pause.
He hadn't been hugged or hugged anyone in two years, let alone let himself be touched by someone without his permission. Only Maul had the power to do that, but he'd never done anything as sympathetic as this. Ezra suppressed the mutinous and indignant thoughts that rose in response to that realisation; Maul had made him stronger - helped him see the fallacy in what Kanan had taught him. But the sheer warmth he felt at the moment felt strange and alien; he hadn't felt anything like it in two years. It was like a volcano erupting in the middle of a snowstorm; utterly jarring and shocking yet at the same time slightly welcome.
Moreena withdrew from the hug after a few seconds, stepping back with curiosity in her eyes.
"Ez?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Ezra blinked, barely able to suppress the blush that threatened his face.
"Is something wrong?" there was concern in her voice - which gave Ezra pause again. That wasn't something he'd heard in two years. Gulping, sure that Moreena noticed, he shook his head.
"No," he said, hoping was voice sounded more sure than he felt. "I'm fine." Suspicion flashed in Moreena's eyes, and for a moment Ezra feared that she'd somehow seen through his emotional mask. But soon she grinned again, and Ezra felt relief.
"Where have you been?" asked Moreena. Ezra sighed, theatrics mixing with need. He approached his bunk and climbed up to sit on it, slouching at bit, and looking back at Moreena with what he hoped was convincing emotion.
"You mean Hera didn't tell you?" Ezra said, surprised. The Ghost crew had always been fairly open with each other, and Moreena wasn't there when he explained himself… so she was likely a recent addition. And the fact that Hera asked if there was something between them meant that Moreena hadn't opened herself up to the twi'lek yet. In his musings, Ezra almost missed Moreena shaking her head - almost.
"No, she didn't." said Moreena, and Ezra detected a small hint of bitterness in voice. "If you feel comfortable sharing it though…"
Ezra didn't have to tell her, then. But it would be in his best interest to tell her, if nothing else so she wouldn't be hounding after his sighed again.
"You sure you want to know?" he asked quietly. Moreena nodded firmly, a determined expression across her face. After sending a glance to the floor for effect, Ezra began speaking again.
Welp. The cat is out of the proverbial bag. Props to anybody who guessed who Moreena was before she was revealed. She wasn't even a character I could select, so I'm guessing that group is pretty small. Still, though, she isn't an OC. She has an article of wookiepedia, I promise.
And… that's it. I hope this chapter was good enough for you guys. Any and all reviews/follows/favorites will be duly noted. - Raging Celiac