Marek S`hadar
Time Passes By
Neshtab, Early Evening
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Marek had never been fond of places like this, thrumming music, emptied drinks, dancing people, it was all so loud. But this was where the war was, the war that didn't exist, and that he never wanted to come. He'd seen too much of that for one lifetime. But he was still here on an unclaimed border world between yet another Empire and the Silver Order that'd become his life somewhere down the line. It was strange, the Republic and its successors had fallen time and time again, the Sith, the Mandalorians, their states crumbled as quickly as they were built, but not the Silver Order. How strange it was for something to last.
It wasn't supposed to be that way, galaxy-spanning nations were not meant to rise and crumble as blindingly fast as they did, but Marek had long ago stopped trying to will the universe to be as he wanted. He simply did what he could for whoever he could, and protected that which he had with all his might. And he drank. Sitting quietly at the barstool, hood hanging over his head, the Jedi threw back the liquor that sat in his glass, and let his eyes wander. Somewhere among the crowd of this hole-in-the-wall was a man who'd been his learner once, and his partner now.
Talos was a good kid, frustrated, angry, just like he'd been, and Marek's guidance had likely been the difference between the path his friend had taken and something a deal darker. Not that the boy would ever admit to such. He had a cockiness to him that reminded the Jedi more of his brother than himself, and made him all the more pleased in his choice to keep him far away from his daughter, wherever she was. That was another thing he'd simply learned to live with, not knowing.
Once he'd have been wary of every stranger passing by, every sidelong glance might've sent his hand to a hilt, and demanded interrogation. But now it was so much easier to simply accept the galaxy as it was, and the people in it. Cale, Galen, Allana, he didn't know where they'd gone, or what they were doing, he just trusted in the force to guide them home one day, in this life or the next. If he found them, and they needed him, nothing in the universe could stop him, but he'd seen the futility in punishing himself for simply not knowing.
Quietly, he gave the bartender a nod of appreciation as the alien refilled his glass, and he sipped on it more gingerly. The song changed, one pulsing beat to another, and beings half his age cried out with excitement as their night's festivities continued on. Talos needed to hurry, wherever he was, find his way back with their contact so they could be on their way to a more tolerable place.
Without causing a scene, with any luck.
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Marek had never been fond of places like this, thrumming music, emptied drinks, dancing people, it was all so loud. But this was where the war was, the war that didn't exist, and that he never wanted to come. He'd seen too much of that for one lifetime. But he was still here on an unclaimed border world between yet another Empire and the Silver Order that'd become his life somewhere down the line. It was strange, the Republic and its successors had fallen time and time again, the Sith, the Mandalorians, their states crumbled as quickly as they were built, but not the Silver Order. How strange it was for something to last.
It wasn't supposed to be that way, galaxy-spanning nations were not meant to rise and crumble as blindingly fast as they did, but Marek had long ago stopped trying to will the universe to be as he wanted. He simply did what he could for whoever he could, and protected that which he had with all his might. And he drank. Sitting quietly at the barstool, hood hanging over his head, the Jedi threw back the liquor that sat in his glass, and let his eyes wander. Somewhere among the crowd of this hole-in-the-wall was a man who'd been his learner once, and his partner now.
Talos was a good kid, frustrated, angry, just like he'd been, and Marek's guidance had likely been the difference between the path his friend had taken and something a deal darker. Not that the boy would ever admit to such. He had a cockiness to him that reminded the Jedi more of his brother than himself, and made him all the more pleased in his choice to keep him far away from his daughter, wherever she was. That was another thing he'd simply learned to live with, not knowing.
Once he'd have been wary of every stranger passing by, every sidelong glance might've sent his hand to a hilt, and demanded interrogation. But now it was so much easier to simply accept the galaxy as it was, and the people in it. Cale, Galen, Allana, he didn't know where they'd gone, or what they were doing, he just trusted in the force to guide them home one day, in this life or the next. If he found them, and they needed him, nothing in the universe could stop him, but he'd seen the futility in punishing himself for simply not knowing.
Quietly, he gave the bartender a nod of appreciation as the alien refilled his glass, and he sipped on it more gingerly. The song changed, one pulsing beat to another, and beings half his age cried out with excitement as their night's festivities continued on. Talos needed to hurry, wherever he was, find his way back with their contact so they could be on their way to a more tolerable place.
Without causing a scene, with any luck.