First Reply Helping Hands

[Aris Noble]

Refugee assistance wasn't something Aris had thought much of but now that he was actually helping out it certainly seemed like a much better path. It wasn't fighting. It was just helping. He reached up to wipe his brow from some sand. The vast deserts of Tatooine were a dangerous place for those unprepared. Tuskens, the wild life, dehydration. He was helping with the last, setting up the moisture farms for another group. Easy for him, considering he could lift the whole machine befofe burying it where needed.

Another heavy thud brought down the machinery before the Padawan started to set up the program. There wasn't too much water here, but with the right sequence and.. There. Aris smiled softly as the device powered up. Solar power. The advantage of all the suns, truly. He turned his gaze over the sands, towards the budding village or sorts. Mostly refugee ships with some tents, but they were starting to make more permanent homes here.

It'd be a quiet, tougher life. But better than where they came from. Aris was just happy to be able to help.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble

Worn and battered—that was the only way to describe Braze as he trudged into town, swathed in tawny linens that clung to his frame like a second skin, stiff with dust and wear. He moved with the sluggish weight of exhaustion, his steps slow, deliberate.

Then, he saw something. A trick of the heat, perhaps, a mirage wavering in the haze of the streets. But the longer he stared, the more real it became, sharpening into focus. His breath hitched.

Aris.

Wrapped up as he was, Braze's features remained mostly hidden, and by his stature alone, he might have passed for a young man or even a child. But the way he moved—hesitant, yet drawn forward—betrayed something else entirely.

He meandered toward Aris, stopping a few paces away, silent. His canteens hung at his side, untouched, as if he had forgotten they existed. His gaze lingered, unreadable, before he finally closed the distance, his voice hoarse from the road.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

Something was off about Braze.

Aris could feel it—or rather, he couldn't. Or maybe he never would have felt it in the first place. The Force, ever a constant whisper around living beings, should have curled and coiled around Braze, reacting to his presence like breath fogging against glass. But here, in this moment, there was nothing. A void where there should have been light, a silence where there should have been an echo.

Was… this Braze?

The figure stood before him, wrapped in travel-worn linen, his face mostly hidden in shadow. The stance, the shape—it was familiar. But familiarity alone wasn't proof.

 

[Aris Noble]

Aris felt nothing, as he couldn't feel anything to begin with. The Force in that way had always been lost to him. What he could hear, though? Breathing, heartbeats. It sounded like Braze to him, even under the weird armor Braze had seemed to pick up. "Didn't think I'd see you dressed like a Tusken child. Why are you dressed like that? You're not Tusken." It'd been a while since he last saw Braze, now that he thought on it. Aris had heard his fellow teen had ended up a Knight.

Aris didn't like that, in truth. They were both still kids. That level of responsibility on a child's shoulders, was that something good? Or was Aris more interested if he could end up in such a position himself?

"It's good to see you, though."

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble

Almost as if sensing unseen eyes upon him, Braze's shrouded head turned, scanning one stretch of the horizon before shifting to the other. His gaze lingered, sweeping over the sweltering expanse with slow, deliberate caution. Only after several long moments did he glance back.

"It's... kind of a long story," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of everything that had transpired since Nar Shaddaa. He hesitated, the words thick on his tongue before settling on a half-truth. "I'm repaying a debt, in a way." The explanation felt thin, insufficient, but he wasn't sure how much of the situation he could—or should—explain.

His attention drifted toward the moisture machines Aris had been setting down, their presence offering a sense of hope in contrast to the relentless heat pressing down on them. He rolled one shoulder, pressing a hand against his chest with a quiet, almost involuntary sound. A faint but distinct grinding—bone against something it shouldn't be—might have been audible to Aris.

The ache and irony of his present predicament gnawed at him. Once, he had called down rain on a desert world, calling water from the sky through sheer will and the Force's aid. Now, that victory felt like a cruel joke. The desert had no interest in yielding to him presently. His throat tightened, parched from the opressive heat. It was evident that his quick Echani reflexes had slowed, dulled to a sluggish crawl along with his thoughts.

Again, his gaze flicked toward the horizon, this time a shade warier, more forlorn. A quiet, creeping paranoia laced the motion, the kind borne from hard-earned caution.

After another beat, he finally spoke, his tone lighter, though edged with fatigue.

"Would you like any help with what you're up to?"

​

 

[Aris Noble]

"You're repaying a debt by dressing as a.. Child?" Aris tilted his head, really seeming to think on this. It was never a good thing to dress as a Tusken anywhere, especially on Tatooine. The reasons behind this; yeah. It would be a long story huh. ".. You're the one that looks like they could use help, honestly. When's the last time you had something to drink?"

He tapped the condencentrator beside him, which had already started to fill with some water. Some. Not much but it'd be something. Aris hadn't bothered bringing water with him when he came here. He didn't need to worry about dehydration like the others back at the camp itself. "There's some in here, but there's more back at the camp."

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble

"Yeah… sounds strange, right?" Braze exhaled, his voice slow and laced with exhaustion. "But there's a reason for it. Out here, loose, layered clothing actually helps. It traps moisture, slows down sweat evaporation, and shields your skin from the suns. Keeps you from shriveling up like a womp rat left in the dunes too long. And at night, it holds in warmth. Tatooine can freeze just as easily as it can cook you."

He paused, considering the next question.

"Black melons aren't exactly easy to find right now." His gaze flicked toward the sand, as if half expecting to find one there, even prodding at the sand with a worn twisted stick he held in his hands.. it was not a gaffi stick however. What he held was un worked and raw as he had found it in nature.

Braze exhaled, adjusting the wrappings at his throat. "I'm staying with a Warden of the Sky at present, and he wants me to wear this." His tone was slow, tired, like someone too exhausted to question things anymore.

He rubbed the back of his neck before adding, "He's rather... sensitive... about his Tusken ways... I'm not allowed to take this off. Which kinda sucks... cause it's itchy." The words were dry, almost wry.

He glanced toward the horizon, eyes narrowing slightly. "The black melons haven't been growing as much lately. Not enough moisture in the sands, not enough dew at night to keep the underground reservoirs from replenishing. The Wastes are worse than usual—things that used to grow in the canyons just… aren't. Less moisture in the air, less underground seepage. The Wastes have been drier than usual.

His he shook his head. "Some say it's the sands shifting. Others think something's throwing off the natural cycle. Either way, when the People of the Sand start paying attention, it usually means trouble."

He swallowed hard, and let out a sigh.

The town wasn't silent, but something in the air had shifted—a quiet unease threading through the usual murmur of voices and the distant hum of moisture vaporators.

Some of the refugees and townsfolk had stopped what they were doing, their gazes shifting towards Aris and Braze with wary eyes.

A Tusken near town was enough to make people nervous.

But Braze? He didn't just look like a Tusken—he looked like a Tusken child. The kind of uneasy wariness that followed something like this was akin to a bear cub wandering into a village—small, seemingly harmless, but carrying the unspoken threat of something much larger looming just out of sight.

And that unsettled them more.

Whispers rose like dry wind through the gathering crowd. Half-formed words carried between the buildings, muttered under breath, uncertain, speculative. Some stared outright, hands tightening on tools or shifting toward the comfort of concealed weapons. Others pretended not to notice but lingered at doorways, watching from the corners of their eyes.

The weight of superstition clung to Tatooine's dust-choked streets like a second skin. Townsfolk knew better than to provoke the People of the Sand, but they also knew better than to trust what they didn't understand.

And a lone Tusken child, standing among them?

That was something they had no real frame of reference for.

"I don't want to impose on people who are already in need... I was trying to travel to an oasis of sorts, but I might have gotten turned around. I thought I saw something in the distance… I thought this might have been it... I'm not so sure I want to cause you, or any of the folks any trouble. "

He spoke quietly, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion, a sluggish drawl woven into each word as he sighed yet again.

 

[Aris Noble]

"A.. Warden of the Sky wants you to dress like the child of an indigenous race who has issues with outsiders? The clothing makes sense. Loose clothing, it's how the Epicanthix dress because Panatha was a hot world. I mean, not as much as Tatooine, but still." It was certainly like walking around like a bear cub, needlessly and quite literally putting a lot of innocent people in danger. Aris certainly couldn't believe a Warden of the Sky would require something so drastic.

"You should just take that off. You're not a Tusken, nor a child. It's really needless unless you're trying to trick the Tuskens, and they're more likely to scoop you up and bring you home if they think you're their young, regardless of your apparent tribe. I can help you find this oasis, though. IN a place like this I can hear water from a pretty good distance away."

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble

"Well... I think he's a Tusken. Except he speaks Basic. That is...when he actually talks." Braze supplied, his voice carrying the weight of an argument long since lost. He didn't sound eager to elaborate, as if he'd already exhausted this debate with A'Runda before—likely more than once.

His wary gaze drifted back to the horizon, scanning it as if expecting something—or someone—to appear. Seeing nothing at present, he exhaled, the sound barely more than a whisper of exhaustion, before conceding with a weary, "Alright."

With slow, careful movements, he reached up and pulled back the hood.

The garment was in truth a vast improvement over what he'd been found in despite the some what demeaning stature it portrayed. However it still felt suffocating, trapping heat and sweat against his skin.

Braze was not the pale, porcelain-smooth figure he usually presented. He was far from it.

Beneath the hood, his face had been transformed into something barely recognizable. His skin—if it could still be called that—was a ruin of darkened, parched flesh, cracked and split like drought-stricken earth. Sunburn had ravaged every inch, searing deep enough to leave a grotesque landscape of peeling layers, weeping blisters, and fissures that carved into him like the desert itself had tried to claim him. Some parts had darkened, others raw and inflamed, caught somewhere between what may have looked like decay and the slow, painful process of healing.

It wasn't just ugly—it was unsettling. The kind of sight that made people turn away, not only out of disgust, but discomfort. A visceral horror at what relentless exposure could do to living flesh. And so, the question lingered: was it better to bear the weight of the hood, inviting suspicion and judgment, or remove it and force others to look at the cost of survival?

"It would probably be a lot easier for you to find it... You're not done with what you were doing though are you? "

 

[Aris Noble]

Aris was virtually indifferent to how Braze appeared to look. If anything, he was now more annoyed at this unknown Warden of the Sky for how worse for wear Braze was. This was months of poor access to water to get like this. It wasn't right, but Aris was neither disgusted or horrified. "I'm done for the day, yeah. I've just been setting up these farms for what seems to be a town forming to use. Why did you let yourself get this bad? You took terrible."

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble

Braze inhaled, drawing in what passed for fresher air out here. It wasn't much, but after what he'd endured, even the faintest difference felt noticeable.

"Exposure's hard to avoid when you've got no protection," he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion.

He had run until his legs threatened to give out, until the prison facility was nothing but a distant scar on the horizon. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it—not yet. Maybe not ever.

The worst of it wasn't the running. It wasn't the heat or the thirst. It was the gnawing emptiness, the unsettling quiet in his mind where the Force should have been. Like someone had reached into his core and turned the volume down to a whisper, leaving him adrift.

There had been no vehicles to steal, no clear path to follow—just an endless sea of sand stretching in all directions beneath the twin suns. A wasteland with no landmarks, no promises. Just him, his battered body, and the silent, suffocating weight of what he'd left behind.

"Do you happen to have any bacta spray?" Braze asked uncertain if Aris might have carried medical supplies.
​

 

[Aris Noble]

"You're not giving a lot of information you know." Something had to have happened. Braze wouldn't let himself get like this, right? So then why did this Warden of the Sky not treat him? Not give him bacta? Just decided to dress Braze up as a child and send him off when he was clearly suffering? It was frustrating to think about right now. He glanced back to town, to the people who'd stopped staring and just went about their business. Refugees, bandaged and hurt from where they'd fled from. They didn't have the time to really stand around or be scared of a boy clearly suffering.

They didn't have time to even care.

Or so Aris thought. A pair of the older folk came over, holding up a pair of sticks. "We've no bacta, but we do have these Pydyrian sticks. Just rub them and use the foam, it'll work better than bacta." Aris blinked, then smiled softly. Right. Even as dreary as this place was, as much hardship as they'd gone through, they were kind. Caring.

"Thank you. Let's get you treated, Braze. We're not going anywhere until you don't look like a mummy."

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble

Braze shifted his weight, adjusting the wrappings again—more out of habit than anything. He let out a slow breath, his voice low and rough when he spoke.

"Things went bad for me." A pause, then a hollow-sounding exhale. "Really bad."

He rubbed at the back of his collar, gaze shifting away as he studied the ground. "Didn't have much of a choice." He swallowed, jaw tightening before he forced himself to go on. "Or maybe I did. Maybe I just—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."

The tension in town had eased, the wary looks from the refugees fading once they realized he wasn't what they'd feared. That should've made him feel better. It didn't.

His fingers curled against the strap of his canteen, but he made no move to take a drink. His throat ached, dry and raw, but the weight in his chest was worse.

"It's not easy... bein' like this." The words were quiet, edged with something bitter. "Hurts like hell, yeah, but…" A long pause, before he finally admitted, "My pride hurts worse."

A short, humorless breath left him. "I feel like I should've—" His voice caught, and he clenched his jaw before finishing, "I dunno. Just… something." He gave a tired shake of his head. "Shouldn't have ended up like this."

Braze hesitated, then finally looked at Aris, his expression tired but sincere.

"But I appreciate you." The words came softer now, stripped down to something raw. "For not looking at me like I'm useless."

Because right now? He wasn't sure he could convince himself otherwise.

He exhaled, a slow, weary thing, then dipped his head in a shallow bow toward the kind strangers.


"Thank you… for your kindness."

There was sincerity in it, quiet but genuine. Even if his body ached and his thoughts dragged like feet through deep sand, he could still recognize kindness when he saw it. And for now, that would have to be enough.

But even standing here, even with help offered, Braze felt out of sorts—adrift. He was supposed to be learning how to survive the desert, understanding what it meant to live as the Tuskens did, but instead, he was barely holding himself together. His body still hadn't recovered from his time alone in the sands, and though A'Runda had done what he could, the Warden hadn't had much in the way of medical supplies. Water had brought him back from the edge, but it hadn't healed him.

That was why he'd set out again. He hadn't been looking for a town—he'd been searching for the oasis A'Runda had spoken of. He'd clung to the idea of it, of cool water and shelter, of something untouched by the endless, punishing suns.

But he'd gotten turned around.

And now, instead of an oasis, he'd found this settlement. A stroke of luck, maybe. Or just another detour. Either way, he wasn't sure he had the strength to keep searching right now.

Braze just seemed… defeated.

Not just exhausted, not just worn thin from the journey. There was a hollowness to him, like his spirit had taken just as much of a beating as his body. Maybe it was the heat, the dehydration, the sheer toll of pushing himself past his limits, but there was something in his gaze...glassy, and unfocused, that made it seem like he wasn't entirely present. Regardless he seemed compliant for anything that Aris wished of him.

​

 

[Aris Noble]

Aris was confused.

He'd never seen Braze like this before. The boy who always had something silly to say, to smile and laugh and tease. He was one of the stronger willed of their generation- No, he had seen Braze like this before. In the shadows. Aris's expression tightened for a moment before he motioned for Braze to follow. "Let's- get you something to eat. And drink. You need to rest for now, I think."

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble

​

Braze nodded lightly, receptive to the idea. "Okay."

He followed Aris without protest, his steps sluggish, his body running on sheer willpower. The moment they reached the shade, and he was given a place to rest, his knees nearly buckled. Exhaustion hit him like a collapsing dune, and for a fleeting moment, he considered surrendering to it entirely. He was beyond tired—his limbs ached, his thoughts blurred at the edges—but nagging at the back of his delirious mind was the gnawing awareness that there were still things he needed to do.

Still, the need for rest won out.

It seemed nature had humbled him once again. Braze, was now subdued—withdrawn, quiet. He kept to himself, speaking only when spoken to or when offering Aris a quiet, earnest thanks for the small kindnesses.