Private All Adventures Start In A Tavern, This Clearly Isn't An Adventure...

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

3 WEEKS AGO…
SOMEWHERE IN THE CHOMMELL SECTOR​

The lightsaber curled around, igniting the air as it went. The smell of burnt oxygen filling the corridor as the familiar snap hiss of the energy blade connecting with the built up power blast of a blaster cracked through the enclosed space.

It felt all very intense, the extreme danger of life blaster rounds firing blindly down the cargo ships interior, being deflected by the purple blade of a lightsaber until they exploded with spark and smoke into the walls.

Nearby shouting replaced the sound of blasters for a second, barely audible over the sound of her lightsaber humming aggressively as it almost spoke to her, asking for more, asking for its chance to prove that it, like her was ready for this assignment. The shouting was a warning, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle moments before the blasters were replaced by heavier, more coordinated firepower.

She moved, falling down behind one of the crates that littered the hallway, ignoring the curled up body of a pirate who had taken one of his own blaster shots fired back towards him in the earlier engagement of the hallway.

Pressing her back up against the crate she took a deep breath and closed her eyes…

NOW…
STILL SOMEWHERE IN THE CHOMMELL SECTOR​

She opened her eyes.

The room was as it had been the last time she had opened her eyes as boring as any prison cell should be. A soft dripping from the corner pulled her attention for just a moment, a pipe clearly leaking coolant as the liquid would puff into odd coloured smoke each time it tap, tap, tapped to the metal floor that was warm to the touch. It meant they were near the reactor of the ship, or at least the engines. The air had a weird hot sweatiness to it, recycled and super heated several times before it had the chance to fill her lungs again.

“You can open the door now.” She says, what seems to herself, yet she knew her guard was sat on a chair against the other side of the barricade door that was for now keeping her trapped.

She paused, heard no answer, shrugged and put her head back down onto the hard floor that she had made her bed for all intents and purposes. “Or not.”
She closed her eyes…

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

The datapad flickered in Brandyn’s hand as he leaned into the shadowed alcove of a storage bay, eyes scanning the intercepted message one more time.

> “Unconfirmed: Jedi taken during freighter ambush. En route to secondary holding. ID unknown. Coordinates attached. Use discretion.”​

No name. No image. No confirmation. Just enough for a Jedi to throw caution out the airlock.

Brandyn's jaw flexed as he tucked the pad away. Discretion, the message said. And he had been very discreet. A single guard in the wrong place at the wrong time had been relieved of his uniform—now awkwardly tailored over Brandyn’s frame, collar tight, sleeves short, but good enough. The stolen helmet hung at his side like a weight, both literal and moral.

He moved quickly down the corridor, keeping his gait rigid, purposeful. Two guards blocked the final security door.

“Where’re you headed?” one asked, shifting a blaster across his chest.

Brandyn tilted his head, lifted a hand casually, and summoned that familiar warmth, pushing it into his voice like a thread of silk.
“You don’t need to check my clearance. I’m here for prisoner extraction.”

The first blinked slowly. “We… don’t need to check your clearance.”

The second’s grip relaxed on his blaster. “Right. Extraction. Go ahead.”

Brandyn offered a faint smile—more relief than smugness—and stepped through the door.

The cell block beyond was quiet. Low lights. Thick air. The hum of engines somewhere beneath his boots. It wasn’t until he reached the last cell—its barricaded door sealed tight with a manual override—that something in his chest shifted.

A voice. Muffled but unmistakable.
“You can open the door now…”

His heart skipped.

No. It couldn’t be.

He keyed the override. The door slid open with a hiss and scrape.

There she was—curled against the floor, face half-shrouded by the glow of a flickering light overhead. Pale blonde hair tousled. Cheek marked with grime. The same freckle beneath her eye he remembered from when she used to cling to his leg on the training fields at the lake house.

His voice caught in his throat.

“Bastila?”

She opened her eyes.

And for a second—just a second—the world stopped.

OUTFIT: Stolen pirate guard uniform | TAG: Bastila Sal-Soren |

​

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

The dripping frm the coolant pipe was getting unbearable now. It had started to merge with the hum of the ships engines, a sound and feeling that she had been paying attention to in order to know if the ship was on the move or stationary. It was so annoying that she had actually not realised that the hum had stopped, the ever present buzz gone.

They had stopped.

Her eyebrow raised slightly as she paused to listen more intently. Her earlier calculations had been that they had yet to hyperspace jump, which had meant they were using sublights to ply the older roads through the system. There shouldn’t be any planets within the time frame they had been sailing, she was sure of it. Which meant one of two things. Combat or failure.

She went to try the door again but just as she did the door actually slid open, the grime creating the oddest of noises.

“Bastila?”

The world indeed stopped.

Her eyes opened wide. The realisation shooting in fast as a million memories suddenly erupted in her mind.

A lake.

A picnic.

Scattered spaceship toys across an intricate carpet.

Marble floors.

Food, fresh and hot from the kitchen.

The smell of rich pine and fragrances.

Laughter.

She nearly smiled, she hadn’t heard proper laughter in a while.

Before she knew what she was doing she was on her feet and heading towards the door, by the force he was tall. She forgot how tall he was, always towering over her like some from of perfect version of everything she was told was right.

“No.” She found herself saying. “Not you. Absolutely not you.” She went to move passed him, every intent on pushing him away, throwing him in the cell. Sealing the door and never looking back.
She hated this. He wasn’t meant to be here.

So why was she suddenly wrapped around him in a hug that caused the corners of her eyes to water. This isn’t what she had imagined their reunion would be at all.

“Frakk you Brandyn.” She said into his chest, well aware of her emotion flicker in the force. “Frakk you.”

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

He hadn’t moved. Couldn’t.

It was her. It was really her.

The second her name had passed his lips, he felt like the air had thickened around him—like all the years and wars and regrets collapsed into this tiny cell on a ship that reeked of recycled heat and coolant leaks.

He hadn’t expected the years to hit him all at once. But they did—in her hair, in her voice, in that fire she wore like a second skin.

“No. Not you. Absolutely not you.”

That stung more than it should have. He blinked as she brushed past him, as though she could will the situation into something else—like he hadn’t spent the past 36 hours tracking encrypted comms and slicing manifests just to find this rust-bucket freighter drifting near the sector's edge.

He almost reached for her—

Then she turned and slammed into him like a charge that had finally discharged.

Her arms around him. Her head against his chest. Her voice, cracking under the weight of what she refused to say.

“Frakk you Brandyn. Frakk you.”

He didn’t speak right away. He just wrapped his arms around her tighter. Protective. Apologetic. A shield he couldn’t offer her when she’d been taken.

His voice, when it came, was low. Controlled. But soft in a way only family ever heard from him.

“…You were off the grid. No transmissions. No return pings. We thought—”

He stopped himself. Pressed his chin to the top of her head for a second and closed his eyes.

“…I thought you were dead.”

He exhaled slowly, a tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying bleeding out of his shoulders. She’d feel it, he knew. Just like she always had.

“You’re not supposed to be here either, Bastila. You were meant to be safe.”

A beat.

“But I’m not leaving without you."

OUTFIT: Stolen pirate guard uniform | TAG: Briana Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren |

​

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

“You were off the Grid. No Transmissions. No return Pings. We thought…”

She felt the subtle change in his emotion, as he pressed his chin down onto her head, just like he had used to.

“I thought you were dead.”

She felt something roll over her at that moment, as if all the emotion she had felt release upon seeing him hit reverse and came flooding back into that small box that she called internal protection. She heard his words, she knew he meant them but it also gave more proof towards those internal reasonings that she had for far to long been given complete free reign to mull over and twist into her own story.

Her arms fell away from him, the hug now supported more by his own actions, yet not unwelcome.

“You’re not supposed to be here Bastila. You were meant to be safe.”

She bit her lip, to hold in the words. Her head turning slightly away to look down the corridor, she swore she could hear footsteps far down that dark and dingy stretch of metal.

“But I’m not leaving here without you.”

She took a breath and pulled away from Brandyn, her eyes shooting up to his and then again being pulled towards the darkness at the far end of the corridor.

“You thought I was dead?” There wasn’t sadness in her tone, if anything there was a questioning stab that probably didn’t sit to well on the air. “You could’ve checked.”

She moved passed him towards a console on the wall and flicked a couple of the switches to gain access to the internal ships systems, allowing her to re-access the schematics of the craft on the small wrist mounted data unit that was cleverly disguised in the bracelet on her wrist.

“A single call and you could have heard me say. No Brandyn, unlike Dad I am not dead. I am still very much alive and would love some company right now.” The small hologram erupted from the bracelet and allowed her to turn it, showing several corridors at a time. “But no, you and dear Bri were too busy playing whose the better Sal-Soren to even pretend to care.”

She felt that tang of emotion again, a slight wetness to the corner of her eye. She wouldn’t let him see it. Not now.
“So I did what I had to do.” She made the hologram disappear and turned back to her brother. “I survived. I learnt how to live. Alone.”

She spat the words with venom. It wasn’t dislike, but it was full of want, want for him to feel them.

“Now, as for leaving here I agree; I am coming with you.” She started heading down the corridor. “But that pirate scum has my lightsaber and my blaster. I’m not going anywhere without them!”

Brandyn Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Her words hit like a blaster bolt to the ribs—not fatal, but forceful enough to make him falter mid-step.

"You could've checked."

His mouth opened, then closed. He didn't have a defense. Not a good one, anyway.

Not when the last message he'd intercepted from her was months old. Not when he had tried—once, twice—but been told by command that Bastila was "on assignment. Classified. Do not pursue." Not when people more in the know than he told him to leave it alone, that they had bigger problems. That she'd come back when she was ready.

But none of that mattered now. Because she hadn't come back.

And she hadn't been fine.

"Unlike Dad I am not dead…"

That one hurt more than he wanted to admit.

He stood silently as she accessed the ship's systems, watching the blue glow from her wrist cast moving shadows across her jawline—so grown now, so far from the girl who used to sneak fruit from the palace kitchens and then lie badly about it.

"But no, you and dear Bri were too busy playing whose the better Sal-Soren to even pretend to care."

Brandyn inhaled deeply through his nose, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before he lifted them back to her.

"You think I didn't care?" he asked quietly. There was no anger in it. Just that same slow-burning sadness that had been with him since the war began.

"I wasn't playing any games, Bas." His voice was rough now. "You fell off the grid, and every time I reached out, someone told me to stop looking. I should have ignored them. I should have—"

He bit the words back, jaw tightening. Regret wasn't going to help them escape this ship.

"So I did what I had to do… I survived. I learnt how to live. Alone."

He didn't answer her pain with more of his own. He simply nodded, once, like a promise.

"You survived." He met her eyes. "That's all I needed to hear."

Then, a flicker of old mischief returned to his tone as she marched off:

"But that pirate scum has my lightsaber and my blaster. I'm not going anywhere without them!"

Brandyn followed after her with a low breath and a dry smile forming at the edge of his lips.

"Well… if we're lucky, I've already broken into their locker room once tonight. Let's see if they've restocked since then."

He stepped to her side and cast one final glance down the corridor behind them, his hand inching toward the hilt clipped under his belt.

"Lead the way, little sister. But quietly. You're not the only one with something to lose this time."

OUTFIT: Stolen pirate guard uniform | TAG: Bastila Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren Blaire Sal-Soren |

​

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

“I wasn’t playing any games, Bas.” She could hear in his voice, he was being serious, he actually believed what he was saying. “You fell off the grid, and every time I reached out, someone told me to stop looking. I should have ignored them. I should have-”

Your right you should have. She didn’t say it, not outloud, that would have only twisted the knife further and she knew it.

It did raise questions though. Questions that she needed answers for, but would have to wait for that satisfaction. Why had he been told to not look for her, was it Briana? She had always had grand plans or so it felt for her little sister, a little Jedi hero in the making. Oh how disappointed she would have been if it had been her who had opened up the door to that cell. She probably would have closed it back on her and walked away.

Yes, it had to be Briana’s fault if it wasn’t Brandyn’s effort that had been lacking. After all she had taken her to Jakku, she had promised her the world following the family's collapse. Then what, she left her there, told them to use her as they saw fit and it was at that point that Bastila Sal-Soren had ceased to exist, replaced with…

Who…replaced with who.

“Well if we’re lucky, I’ve already broken into their locker room once tonight. Let’s see if they’ve restocked since then.”

“Just as sneaky as ever Bran.” She smirked, he was always good at sneaking around with her. Never as quiet as she was, but could keep up. Must have been why she had always been the one sent into the kitchens during the big ‘No Children’ allowed parties. He knew her strengths, as she did his. “Although knowing these blasted idiots I’d be surprised if they even know where the locker room is…” She went silent as she felt the door open beside her before she saw it.

Her next action was faster then even she thought it was, she grabbed the wrist of the pirate and pulled him into the corridor. He went to yell, but her hand was over his mouth faster then he could emit the noise and her other arm turned him before pulling him backwards onto the floor. They both fell, he landed on top of her but with every intention being hers as her arm went around his neck, squeezing hard his body held by her legs that wrapped themselves around his waist.

The struggle was over in a few seconds as she squeezed just enough to hear the soft pop from the pirates neck and let him go, allowing the body to flop to the floor as she slid out from beneath him.

She took two deep breaths. Looked at her Brother and shrugged.

“What?”


Brandyn Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn hadn’t even moved.

By the time the pirate was down—his neck giving with a sickening little shift—it was over. Brandyn didn’t blink, didn’t reach for a weapon. Mostly because he had none.

“What?”

His eyes stayed on her. Not in judgment. Not in horror. Just… realization. Cold and creeping.

"You didn’t even hesitate." He said it softly, more to himself than to her. A puzzle piece sliding into place, though the picture it completed wasn’t one he liked.

She was sharper now. Quicker. Her instinct wasn’t defense—it was elimination.

He knelt by the body and methodically searched it, movements efficient but quiet, as if sound itself might shatter the delicate space between them. He retrieved a pirate’s passkey and a vibroknife, glancing briefly at the weapon in his hand before offering it to her, hilt-first.

“I’m unarmed,” he said simply. “But you’ll use it more than I will.”

No bitterness. Just fact.

She’d become something fierce in his absence—he could see it now, in the way her shoulders stayed squared, even after the fight. And as much as part of him wanted to ask what they’d done to her, what she’d had to do to herself to survive… he knew now wasn’t the time.

He rose to his feet, gaze flicking to the corridor’s edge as distant voices echoed faintly.

“We’ve got maybe five minutes before someone notices he’s gone. The locker room should be three decks down, port side. If your gear’s anywhere, it’ll be there.”

He motioned for her to lead.

“I’ll watch your back.”

A pause.

Not because he didn’t mean it, but because he hadn’t realized until now just how much trust that phrase used to imply.

And how hard it might be to earn it back.

| OUTFIT: Stolen pirate guard uniform | TAG: Bastila Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren Blaire Sal-Soren |
| EQUIPMENT: Pirate passkey (retrieved), unarmed |

​

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

She adjusted her hair, her hands moving upwards to pull the long overdue some care locks of tied up dark auburn away from her face as he just stared at her. She newly fully well it was nerves, he probably would be able to tell too, she had always been easy to read as a child in the manor, not a lot had really changed for certain people, as much as she hated to admit it.

“You didn’t even hesitate.”

“The alarm would have been raised if I had.” She realised how it sounded, especially in the way she just found herself around Brandyn. It sounded like an excuse. You should not kill for the sake of killing, incapacitate first, always. That had been the name of the game for her first few years alone, but then she had seen the real galaxy; the people she was being sent to stop. Incapacitation wouldn’t stop them, it was a means to an end.

She almost missed her brother handing her the Vibroknife, so concerned with trying to think of how to defend her actions if asked about them was she. Yet she said nothing as she took it, didn’t even lock eyes with Brandyn for the moment. She just took it, weighed it in her hand and slid it between her waist and worn leather belt.

“We’ve got maybe five minutes before someone notices he’s gone. The locker room should be three decks down, port side. If your gear is anywhere, it’ll be there.”

She agreed, it seemed the logical place it would be. Yet three decks down was a tall ask, she was unsure if Brandyn knew the numbers onboard, but she had an inkling and it wasn’t in their favour at all.


“I’ll watch your back.”

The pause was there, she felt it too.

“And I yours.” she said quietly in response as they both headed down the corridor, a bit more pace in their step then before.

“Brandyn.” She suddenly stopped and turned towards him. “You need to know something.” She gave him a wary glance. “After father’s…the incident with Baros everyone seemed to think that I needed to be kept away from it all, you all faded away content with helping the galaxy again now that he was gone. It never disappeared you know, it just moved lanes.” She gave him almost a quizzical look. “That’s why I’m here, because it’s linked to everything, somehow.”

“If it helps though. I’m happy your here.” She shook her head, mostly at frustration towards herself, but then her face shifted, almost like someone had slapped her in the back of the head and told her to wake up. With a bite of her lip she looked back to her brother.

“Why are you here?”

​

Brandyn Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren Blaire Sal-Soren