He had forgotten where he came from, forgotten who he was. A part of it was the war, a part of it was that he soared and flew and lived among the stars. He had tried so hard to be what the order required, what the masters demanded of him. And yet, it was never enough. Could never be enough. They had reminded him, as the dreams called, as they spoke to him, as the winds of time whispered to him from places detached from the limits of the waking world. In the dreams, his eyes were open, sand cracking from his eyelids.

His dreaming self shifted, as he returned home, as the suns caressed him, imposing himself onto his physical form (which was but a mask), as he walked among his people. He had tried at first, but how long had it been since he tried to do anything? How long since he had gotten comfortable and forgotten his brothers and sisters still in chains? He did not know, could not place a finger on the exact moment, slipping from between his fingers like the wind, like help from the core. He was silent, as he drove the speeder to the Larrs farm.

A part of him had worried, had feared that his mothers marriage was forced. A 'former' slave 'marrying' their 'former' master who 'set them free'? So often, there was nothing truly free about it. A farce from those that wanted a salve to their conscious. A means to pretend they were anything other than more predators. He had come prepared to give false smiles, to resent and hate them. Only to see the white sun shining down on the sky roads, to feel the love and the loss, the grief and the pain hidden among the bones.

But, he paused. As he remembered, as his angel placed her hand on him. He kissed her, as the sand swirled by his feet. For he was a Jedi. A warrior of the light and a protector of the peace. But, he was more, for he remembered where he came from, even as remembering was painful. But the chains could only be broken if one remembered that they were there. And in the light, he could see them. For under the light of the sun, there was no weakness, no mercy, no room for doubt or deception.

And so, he went alone, marching to the drums that sounded like war, that trembled in times ever so near.

Cardac Lark

Frankly, the clans shaman was an idiot. Not quite a waste of water, but at times? Yes, Q'San was able to ask the spirits where the best watering holes were, where they could find relics of the ancestors and avoid some of the worst predators (natural and offworlder alike), but sometimes? Close eyes, calming breaths, avoid punching the idiot. Because they were NOT one of the fucking psychotic raider clans! Would they occasionally clash with some of the offworlders? Yes. But only with those that invade tribal grounds or lacked powerful friends.

Most of his people were not idiots. Piss off powerful offworlders, that possess ships (truth be told, he did not understand much about them, but still, he was familiar enough with speeders and podracers to have an idea) with powerful weapons capable of unleashing death from the skies, far beyond the peoples ability to fight back, which would lead the clan to getting slaughtered like whomp rats. And thanks to the fucking raiders, even those people they used to be able to trade with would shoot on sight, as the assholes had to ruin things for everyone.

And now? The idiot shaman had to steal a woman who was not of the people, claiming that she was touched by the spirits and that they needed to sacrifice her to steal away the blessing with her life-water. Which seriously, yes the man was the shaman and in theory knew more of spiritual affairs than he did, but that was just stupid. It was all that he could do to have the woman in a tent on the outside of the camp under light guard (and mostly to keep the idiots away from her), so that when her people showed up? Easy to find, easy to take back and then problem solved.

And of course, just as he was deciding on if it was a good idea to kill the idiots for creatively interpreting his orders, was when a pissed off spirit appeared. A pissed off spirit to who the desert clings to like a cloak, as the light blazes from eyes and blade. The winds whisper, and the ground beneath his feet pulses like the beat of a giant heart. And apparently? This spirit of a warriors rage, of blazing and purifying wrath? The woman the idiots stole was his mother.

Even as she was presented, tortured, deprived of water and food, the state she was in? Every one of the clan went still, as the eye of the world fell on them, as they were held still by chains of light and fire. By the fact that a predator of predators was before them, the shadows cast by the light something to ignore if you wanted to retain your sanity. Stay still, stay quiet, resist the urge to bow and beg, as you did not want to draw attention. Which is when Q'San and his idiots screamed.

When the light blazed and seared as the desert lurched under their feet, nightmares of midday sun descending on them, clawing and devouring them alive as the blade fell... and as the spirit left, mother in his arms. The dream receding, lucidity in its wake... and with only the idiots who stole her dead.

Padmé Amidala

Ani could be intense at times. And at others, as he joined his step-father in fussing around his mother? Her lips quirked in amusement. He cared, and he cared deeply and totally. She loved that about him, as she pulled him away for cuddles, to wrap him in her embrace. He was warm. He was kind. He fought and laughed and lived and saw the people. She loved him, even as he shifted without moving, something formless and with more forms than she could register wrapping her in its embrace.

She did not understand all of him, but she thought that she understood enough. He was calmer, more sure of himself, less frantic. A weight released from his shoulders, even as she dreamed, as she slide inside of him, engulfed by him as they dreamed and danced among the stars, feet on the desert and the sea.