Stillness.
It was something that could be felt. Like a crushing weight pressing down upon you. Its opposite was just as stark, leading one to feel its absence.
Yet further still, there was a unique kind of stillness. One of dread. It was a precursor to something so much more. To chaos. It was that which fell upon the lone Firrerreo in the room.
Thane took a sip from his mug even as wafts of steam stung at his eyes. The cocoa was a good consistency and had been nicely spiced. This was good.
Those things though…not so good.
He blinked and watched as several transports offloaded their so-called precious cargo. At the same time, the Deputy Grand Master idly thought of who he should blame for what was to come.
Oh, right…himself.
Seemed like such a simple solution when he proposed it. The schools would be closed so the staff’s children needed somewhere to be that was decidedly not home. Why not the community centers? The Academy would surely be able to provide.
Then he had gone for drinks with Alethia and the rest was…a question mark.
Unfortunately for him, the silver-haired woman kept receipts.
With a sigh, Thane sent a signal to unlock the staff entrance for anyone who was equally unfortunate (or so misguided) as to be on duty for the main event.
The children were coming.
The staff entrance opened with gusto, pushed open firmly, slammed open…which was concerning for a sliding door. In strode seven foot three of Chiss, muscle bound and gleaming of scalp.
“Lord Renatus! I hear tell that you require the aid of patient and virtuous folk this day!” spoke Stres'tron'garmis in his usual method of deep, loud speech. “The Son of Garmis has come to assist! Let us rear these children with tradition and excellence of character!”
Thane was mid sip. Of course he was mid sip. When else would Stres'tron'garmis choose to show up?
To keep the liquid flowing into his mouth instead of unceremoniously splattered across the window, Thane opted to exhale long and slow through his flared nostrils. A comfortable swallow later and he glanced over his shoulder at the tall Chiss.
“No formalities,” he grunted before adding his own internal monologue. They’re entirely unnecessary. Especially here.
“My apologies, Lord Thane,” Strong inclines his head, seeming to think this is somehow more informal, “I am fully prepared to dedicate myself to the advancements and education of these wonderful children!”
Kerissa Monique followed slowly behind the Chiss, her hands holding onto the pair of horn-like montrals on her head in some form of deafening the sheer noise the man produced. Come into the Academy for a day of library study and not only does she get pulled out to babysit, which okay whatever, but there’s a huge dude who YELLS?
What the kark.
Her irritated glare shifted in something more shocked at the announcement that the Firrero already in the room was Lord Renatus. Oh kriffing suns-
“Uh, hi.” Kerissa maintained something of a distance, for her own sanity’s sake. “Kerissa Monique, I got called in too.”
“Kirra. Where is your uncle?” a low, tired, monotonous lilt slowly became more audible.
“Uncle Wyn is juggling Turi and Weyne,” Kirra Aarave-Tyris said, holding the datapad up close to her face, making her mistmatched eyes with messy white mop of bangs at the centered just above her upturned nose and fully freckled cheeks.
“You don’t have to hold the camera that close-wait,” Marick Tyris Arconae pasued suddenly mid thought and walk. “Actually juggling?”
When it came to his brother, you learned you had to ask these questions.
Kirra giggled, then snorted, then seemed to giggle at her own sound that she made. “No silly, I was being metaphorical,” the seven year old replied.
“Okay. You’re going to behave for him and help take care of your brother and sibling?”
“Yes papa,” Kirra replied, her face going suddenly grave and serious, a mirror of Marick. It faded immediately as an impish grin pulled at the corner of her mouth. “If someone would tell me what "have” means!“
Marick had long ago perfected the silent sigh. In this moment, it was audible as his features remained a tight mask, but he exhaled deeply through his nose and used every ounce of willpower he had not to raise a hand to his own face or to groan.
"Last time I let your Uncle babysit,” he grumbled.
“Love you papa. Remember that not all the other kids are as lucky as me. But I know they will be lucky that you are there.” She smiled, bright as a shiny new coin.
He nodded, closed the feed. He didn’t move for a few heartbeats, processing his daughters words, still in a primal way that was reserved for creatures of nature.
Then he heard a familiar, booming voice. Strong.
Leaving his reverie he moved to join the Deputy Grand Master.
“Nice mug,” he commented in deadpan towards Lord Renatus’ and his coco. “Heard you needed some extra hands.”
He glaned over at the Kessurian, recalling her file and pulling a few relevant datapoints to mind just in case they’d be needed for conversation.
“Master Tyris! It has been some time, sir. And hello there, madame,‘ the Chiss gave a welcoming nod to Kerissa, unfamiliar with her. "My name is Stres'tron'garmis, General in service of the Arconan Armed Forces. You may simply call me Strong, if you wish.”
Marick offered a polite nod in response to the General. “Indeed.”
The Exarch wore not his typical formal robes, but instead the comfortable “Dadrick” clothes that Atyiru had labeled his preferred comfort wear. Black slacks and a matching long-sleeve shirt, loose enough for movement but not so loose as to be easy to grabbed onto by small children’s surprisingly vice-like grips. Also synthetic, tight weave fabric to better defend against the inevitible stains. He had multiple nerf-wool towels around his belt, also just in case.
His lightsaber was stashed inside of his BD-unit droid, Biddy, who bounced up and down excitedly on his shoulder. He’d also safety-checked his knives and daggers in a locker.
Thane offered a downward nod to Kerissa at her introduction. “Thane,” was his reply, exchanging identities with the newcomer.
When Marick approached and remarked upon his mug, he could only glance down at it and shrug with his mouth. Not much communication was needed beyond that with such an old friend. Instead of words, the Deputy Grand Master nodded upward at Marick.
“Requires infinite patience,” Thane stated in regards to the children gathering. He supposed it was time to open the doors.
<@189568236201705472> <@432543120635461643>
Marick’s hand subconsciously slowly drifted towards the towel at his hip, as if it were a knife, readying for battle.
What are you doing here, Teon? You don’t know the first thing about looking after children.
The thought, while intrusive and annoyingly self-critical, was an accurate one. He was a soldier and a damned good one, but babysitting was not in his list of skills. Figuring the invitation he’d received was the result of a clerical error, he had planned on throwing it away, and likely would have were it not for his mentor’s advice.
“There are other ways to serve the people of the Brotherhood that don’t involve using your blaster,” the new Proconsul of Odan-Urr had informed him. He’d even reminded Teon of a term he hadn’t heard since his childhood on Lazuno: sewa. It was a Miralukan word that described the acts of selfless service performed for the betterment of the colony, always done with no expectation of being rewarded. What better way for him to honor the memory of his avu (father) and ame (mother) than by adhering to the values they cherished?
Teon took a deep breath to steel himself for his new assignment and stepped through the staff entrance.
Upon his arrival, the Miralukan made quick note of all who had gathered there, of the unique way in which the currents of the Force flowed through and around them.
“Hello everyone,” he began, arms folded across his beskar hal'cabur (chest armor). “I’m here to wrangle some younglings.” He sounded unsure of himself. Hopefully, choosing to wear his armor would end up helping him in the long run. Kids liked armor, right?
Thane. That was a lot more approachable than the Lord title Garmis had yelled about.
Seriously, she was about to her montral muffs on.
Another player joined, and thr Kessurian hybrid offered a nod, “Kerissa. You’re in the right place.” She pointed toward the doors, not keen to open them herself though from Thane’s words, the Deputy of the Brotherhood was unleashing them soon upon the volunteers.
“A pleasure, Kerissa,” he replied, turning his head to nod in kind, “I’m Teon.”
Notably, when she gestured toward the doors, Teon didn’t look in their direction. He could “see” them perfectly well without having to, after all.
“Is there already food and drinks prepared? Children tend to be … peckish.”
“I believe we can arrange for them to exhaust themselves with an intensive calisthenics routine, age appropriate of course, then feed them and put them down.” Strong nodded, then paused, “For naps, rather.”
“Calisthenics isn’t a bad idea,” he concurred, “But we’ll likely have to make it some kind of game to get them all to do it.”
Strong looks considerate for a moment, then nods “Very well! We require multiple big rubber balls! The children can attempt to dodge the ball.”
Kerissa looked between Teon and Strong, a withering expression forming as she considered what they were saying.
Would this require them exercising too? Kark no was she doing squats or some kriff today, no way.
“I claim the reading corner.” She commented, unsure what books would be here but if it got her away from- Wait.
She considered for a moment, leaning her head toward Strong, her attention suddenly gained, “Are you… intending to throw large rubber balls at children?”
The big Chiss looks considerate again “Well, coaching the children into two teams would possibly be more efficient. But allowing the children to play against we adults could be more productive for tiring them out.”
“On my homeworld, Lazuno, we played a similar game. It was meant to hone our Force Sight as it developed during childhood.”
Teon cracked a grin. “I’m sure the tykes will get a kick out of it.”
Marick considered. “It would force a montessori type learning method of adaptation to overcome adversity of a greater challenge…”
He paused. “We should also consider and take into account that some of the children might have issues with physical activity. Different species have different cardiovascular variance, perhaps some are asthmatic…we could offer them a choice between active and non active?”
Taking another long sip from his mug, Thane gestured vaguely at a side cabinet. “Brought board games.”
With that, he made his way to the main door and began keying into the lock.
Baum, bum, baum, bum.
His feet matched his heart in beat. How many hours had passed in this relentless loop of hesitation and retreat? The entrance was just around the corner. The entrance loomed just around the corner, its door a gleaming metallic surface, reflected silver in the light. Zy found himself once again retreating into the safety of the alleyway.
A number of others had all come or gone. Yet here he was, still stuck on finding the nerve to walk in. Why? They were just kids after all. He had been so excited at first—literally jumped at the chance to help others. And not just help anyone, but to seriously make a difference in an orphan’s life… the same way his father did all those years ago in his.
He drew a sharp breath through his teeth. No, this was it. He was going to march right in there, and whatever happens, happens! Chest puffed out, Zy strutted right up to that door, hand only slightly fumbling with the handle, and flung it open into the room.
The breath he withheld escaped in a subdued whistle. “…Hi.” The others in the room looked as if they were already ready to meet the children. “Am I late? This… is where I go to volunteer for the children?”
Teon tilted his head just slightly upon hearing a voice he recognized. It took him a moment because they’d only met just once before, but it eventually clicked.
“Zyrethi?” he called out, still not completely sure he had the right relative. “You’re right on time, vodu'ad.”
He lifted a hand, gesturing for the Zeltron to come over to where he was standing. It was a relief to have someone he knew, especially his own nephew, present.
“How are you? How are things in Kiast?”
Thane was only vaguely aware of the conversation going on at the back of the room. It wasn’t his business. The coming swarm, however, was.
Unleash the Kraken.
He smiled to himself, an expression so brief it could be missed by a blink. Then the doors pulled open and a cacophony of laughter and screeches ensued. Children of various species, ranging from as young as four to as old as ten, quickly filled the space within the center. They parted around the adults and quickly formed pods of similar interests.
The Deputy Grand Master followed them with his head. His gold eyes seemed to glimmer within the darkness of his obsidian sclera. Then he felt a hard tap on his shoulder. Turning towards it brought a precognitive rush of images that quickly became reality.
A flash of crimson hair and sudden warmth against his lips.
Thane only blinked as Adalinde pulled back with a smirk. “I ‘ate kids,” she stated flatly, her accent skipping over the 'h’ as usual. “Consider zat my downpayment. I’ll collect ze rest later.”
And just as quickly she was gone, merely the steady clack of boots marching off towards the masses.
“Huh,” Thane grunted. Shrugging it off, the Firrerreo gestured towards the doors and closed them with an almost imperceptible pulse of power.
Time to get to work.
Marick made multiple mental notes as he observed Thane, filed it away, and then refocused on the approaching children.
Atyiru wanted to expand the orphanage. She couldn’t do it alone. He had to step up.
Kirra’s words played in his mind. Other children might not be as lucky as me.
Marick raised a hand to try and draw attention of the closest pod of children.
“So, who likes reading?” he asked aloud. His voice carried easily without him needing to raise it. He put on a small smile and lowered down to one knee.
A loud accented shout sounded over a cacophony of young boisterous voices somewhere in the back.
“No! Nonono! What you doing? This refresher, no play in fresher! Sahsahlah!”
The giggling.
“But I gotta pee!”
“You can pee. Everyone else, shoo! Shoo before I make you shoo!”
A gaggle of the older kids ran out and away giggling and mimicking “shoo” at each other as they found somewhere else to hang out or terrorize.
“I want that armor when I grow up.”
“She looked like a mummy.”
“Or a ghost.”
“Duh, mummies are dead.”
“Your mummy’s dead.”
“A mummy ghost?”
“Shut up, fart face.”
Back in the locker room a little voice started softly crying in the stalls.
“What’s wrong?”
Sniffle. “Me… sniffle pee pee me. hiccup Not-mom is ssniff be so maaahhddd…” cryyy
“Who in the nine hells would— mmmm. growl I talk to not-mom later. Anyone else in here? No? osik. Ah hang on, we fix you. Kay? May I come in? I have some.. stuff from my bag. We make fit. But we clean you first.”
“Uh huh.” sniff.
A few minutes later the pair emerged victorious, a little Nautolan girl beaming widely as she rode on top of Socorra’s armored shoulders. She was wearing one of the woman’s shirts split in half with the sleeves making a suitable makeshift pair of harem pants. The little one crushed and snagged her ride’s unhelmeted and ridiculously long raven and white locks but she showed no sign that she minded.
Even before Teon motioned him over, Zy zeroed in on him, practically sprinting to his side. A smile, bright on his face. Teon’s presence, from his composed stance—calculated and sturdy, as if prepared for any attempt to knock him over—right down to the armor he chose to wear, even in this setting, offered him a reassuring sense of stability.
“Hey, Uncle Teon,” Zy choked out a greeting, barely able to voice just above a whisper. He cleared his throat, hoping to disguise the moment as a casual cough. “Oh, you know.” A half-hearted laugh streamed from his nose. “It’s as toxic and beautiful as ever.”
His answer even caused himself to groan inwardly. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, his nerves talking for him. Whatever the reason, Zy found the words stumbling out of his lips. “Actually, to tell you the truth—”
Or not.
Squeals, speeches, and old-fashioned ‘quit-hitting me’s filled the room. At least a dozen orphans, all different races gathered together. Some of the other volunteers jumped right into their roles. He watched one—a human, or at least human adjacent—call them close for a story. Zy inched forward, then halted. What was the best approach? Should he just walk up to one and talk… about what?
Adalinde brushed her hair out of her eye with a gloved hand. The leather material stuck tightly to her fingers like a second skin. As she looked over one of the groups of children—hereafter ‘pods'—her icy blue stare only grew in intensity while she chewed lightly on her bottom lip.
“Um…miss—” One of the children began only for her to hold up a quieting hand.
“I will 'ave order among my ranks,” the woman declared.
This made the kids exchange worried glances. They were supposed to be free of school and all its rules. Chaos would reign.
“Now tell me…can any of you dodge a ball?”
Or not.
Adalinde let mirth contort her lips into a smirk and produced a rather identifiable ball. A dodgeball. “Come. Zingle file. Delinquents become target practice.”
Thane folded his arms across his chest and swirled his mug. Not much remained of the liquid within. Suppose that meant he could only idle so much longer.
The Deputy Grand Master let his gaze drift over the other 'adults’. A fair number had come, lessening his own burdens. That was nice. He made a mental note of Marick’s actions as his old friend took on ‘story time’. What a difference time made. He could recall when the Hapan wouldn’t so much as speak two words back to back. Probably Atyiru’s influence.
He then turned towards the others he didn’t know beyond their dossiers, curious as to how they would handle the plague-walkers. Erm, children.
Well, it was hard to think of them as otherwise when observing more than one smearing an arm across their sniffling noses.
The balls were being thrown between the two sides…and the Chiss was pleased, the children were engaged and trying hard. He grabbed a stray ball and wound up, his muscles flexing as he prepared to hurl one at a Zabraki boy, maybe seven years of age, his competitive urge for victory almost over taking him, before he recalled some of the words his paramour would whisper about being gentle with the children if he was committed to helping today…the ball sailed over to the other side, almost gently, Strong looking slightly bashful.
Marick watched as a few of the kids, perhaps the shier ones, seemed to find value in his offer. Especially once they saw the rubber balls start flying.
He lead them to a sectioned off reading area where a bunch of holo records and children’s tomes had been pulled and set up.
They were a mix of ages, and species. A young Pantoran – who had to be at least the same age as Kirra despite having a whole head of height on her – with vibrant blue skin and circular green facial tatoos approached him, and silently pointed at another child who had hung back from the others.
Marick nodded his thanks, smiled, and asked the child. “What’s your name?”
“Haella, sir.”
“I’m Marick. Would you be able to help me make sure every kid gets a book, or perhaps ask what kinds they are interested in.”
She nodded once. “Yessir, can do.” Something about her cadence, calmness, and willingness to listen gave the Exarch an inkling that her parents, or parent, were military focused and disciplined.
As she turned to go talk to the small group of other kids, Marick clocked the child that hung back shyly.
They were a Miraluka. They had messy, auburn hair that tumbled down to either side of their face, framing a plain white eye-sash. Their nose was straight, lips thin, and they fidgeted with something they held gripped tightly in hand.
Marick kneeled down, making it so that he could be “eye” level with the child. This one looked to be a full teenager, but they wore baggy clothing that made it hard to really tell if they were under or overfed.
“Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “I made sure to pull some books with braille lettering. I also don’t mind reading out loud to you, if you prefer that.”
The child lifted their head up, eye wrap leveling with Marick’s face, taking in his shape, his aura, his colors. They looked for judgement, but found none. Just a stoic, calm, figure who radiated neither darkness or lightens in the Force.
A smile pierced the shy viel as the child brightened.
Marick returned the smile breifly, then offered his hand. The child took it, and he lead them over to the other kids. “I’m Trell”, they said.
I’m Marick. A pleasure to meet you, Marick replied in fluent, clear Miralukaese. This seemed to cause the child to freeze in place, and the emote of eyes-widening despite none existing was something Marick had become accustomed to over the years.
Trell joined the other kids, and Marick pulled one of the books for older children that he knew contained touch-based lettering.
“Now does anyone-”
As the Hapan looked over the group of children, another caught his attention sharply. It was a young Barabell. Scaly gray skin, attentive, reptilian eyes, a tooth grin. He sat eagerly, bouncing in place, unable to contain his energy it seemed.
“Tell us a story!”
Marick froze as his edict memory slashed through his minds eye.
He was on Dantooin, the dry air stale and arid. His lightsaber, leveled at the neck of a kneeling Barabell with no shirt.
Zakath.
“Don’t make me do this. We can find another way.” he heard his voice say.
“It’s the only way. You need to stop him. Stop the purge.” Zakatha had rumbled.
The Grand Inquisitors arrived, just as he’d planned. They saw him, facing down the “undesirable”.
Marick blinked as his saber flashed, and he was back standing in front of the eager, if not a bit confused children.
He looked again at the bouncing Barabell. “A story, yes…what kind of story do you want to hear about?”
He tried to remember the training he’d been doing with Asani. He was genuinely trying to work on the “voices” when he told a story. Kirra was lenient, and let him get a pass, but he wished that he had Wyn’s knack for being…animated.
Uncle Teon. That was still taking some getting used to. He’d only just reunited with Wulfram and met the rest of his family, which was far larger than he’d anticipated. Although he always knew that his vod couldn’t resist taking in children who were in need, he never would have guessed that he’d do it so many times. It was his best quality, and it made Teon happy to know that each of them had better lives, now.
Although he was eager to know what Zyrethi had to say, the clamor of children ripped his attention away from his young nephew. They spilled into the room like a tidal wave of little sentients. Teon swallowed hard upon seeing them all.
“You good with kids, Zy?” asked Teon nervously.
“Well you have control at least!” Kerissa commented, coming up beside the Chiss with a smile. Her tail was tucked in close. Having not expected to be around so many people today she hadn’t tied it as usual to hide it and so, decorated with the usual golden bow, she was simply doing her best to keep it close.
Another ball rolled past and she bent down, picking it up and feigning a throw as much as actually throwing the thing. She keyed into the Force, but in the sudden decision of the moment it didn’t respond as expected. Or more so, not as strongly as she tried to push on it.
At least it looked a realistic throw for her noodle-arms.
Thane began to make the rounds through the community centre, checking in at each ‘station’ that had formed itself. Arriving first behind Marick, the Firrerreo observed with his usual stoicism. He had known that the Hapan had become a so-called family man, but hadn’t really had the opportunity to see it in full. There was something reassuring about such a measure of normality amongst the constant war and chaos the Brotherhood had brought for so long.
In an uncharacteristic move, he reached out and gave Marick’s shoulder a squeeze, offering an approving nod once he had the other’s attention.
From there, the Deputy Grand Master approached Teon and Zyrethi. He knew of them but did not know them. A slight but distinct difference. “You good?” he asked them both.
<@1056685516441006091> <@1151314406735618069> <@189568236201705472>
It was enough to make his head tilt. The sensation was smooth; it drifted by, nearly gone by the time he’d noticed it—emotion. Zy could feel it in Teon. Indecision? That one was always hard to distinguish. Perhaps a smidgen of fear swirled in. He rested a hand on Teon’s shoulder, turned to stare deep into the eyes he knew weren’t there, and spoke plainly.
“No.”
He never was good at keeping his laughter at bay. Today was no exception. Thankfully, he managed to collect himself in time for the warden of the gremlins to properly come inspect the two of them. “Oh,” he stumbled his way through a salute. “No, sir! I mean yes, sir!” The corner of his lip started to bleed to keep the dappy from his smile.
“We were just strategizing our strategy… sir.” Nudging Teon with his elbow, Zy continued. “I think I came up with the perfect idea.” Every ounce of courage summoned up from the dredges of his heart, Zy stepped up. There but five paces ahead of him, came charging a small warband, one which had broken off the main horde. One step, then two. As luck would have it, a foam ball lay in the middle of Zy and the kids. It flew into his hands. Body twisting around for momentum, he screamed a warcry that would rouse the children, “GET ‘EM.”
And the ball left his fingers, aimed right for Teon’s head. <@1056685516441006091> <@185936112441622529>
The most imperceptible of twitches pulled at Thane’s right eye as he was bombarded by ‘sir’. He was getting used to it, but it still hit him right in the pet peeves. Opting to simply nod in acknowledgement, the Deputy Grand Master returned to his pacing. Everything seemed…fine? He expected worse somehow. Perhaps he just happened to be fortunate in that the volunteers were, well…on the same level as the swarm.
Mostly Strong.
Especially Strong.
A rhythmic thumping then reached his ears. With a curious expression contorting his face, Thane turned to find a group had split off and grabbed the instruments in the corner. More than one were just dancing to some music in their heads that only they could hear.
The Firrerreo approached this group, placing a pale hand on one of their heads with a reassuring pat to signal his arrival. “Like to dance?” he inquired. The one that had no means of escape could only offer an awkward nod, even as they wrapped their arms around themselves protectively.
Yeah, he had that effect.
He sighed between his barely parted lips before shaking his head slowly. “Try this.”
Thane grabbed a viol from the shelf and put it between his shoulder and chin. He ran the bow across the strings a few times tentatively, testing the tuning. Then he hit a shrill note. Another. He nodded and turned towards the children as he began to, well, fiddle. An upbeat tune flowed from the instrument as he tried to entice the children into a frantic dance.
“Miss, I don’t think—”
“You don’t zink, soldiers,” Adalinde commanded, her arms folded behind her back. “Dodgeball is war. Tell me, what matters in war?”
The children exchanged a confused glance. Silence held firm and Adalinde found herself glancing skyward with a sigh.
“Victory, children.”
“Oh,” a few mumbled. They’d rather have fun.
“What I want to see is very simple. Two battle lines. ‘old ze ball be'ind your back. Don’t let zem see. Front line fires, swap, re-arm. Got it?”
“GOT IT!”
“Good.”
Kerissa watched the opposite team start to organize, the red haired woman whipping the children in a battle line rather than the spandangled chaos they’d been running in prior.
The Kessurian-Ryn looked toward the Chiss still hauling dodgeballs into the fray and called over, “Is dodgeball supposed to be organized?”
And then yelped as the Force sparked, and on that instinct she dodged a ball directed for her face. The front line was launching balls back, able to do so faster thanks to not needing to collect balls without someone there to replace them.
“KA-crabs. Crabs! Jeez-” She splattered, doing her best to not cuss out ransom children before focussung onto a tactic. “Theyre just standing in a line, menacingly, go all out!”
<@244241287669219328> <@185936112441622529>
Teon didn’t recognize the voice that spoke to him. However, Zy’s reaction to their presence removed any doubts that this was someone of notable importance. His first guess? The Deputy Grand Master himself, whose name was mentioned in the invitation he’d received. The Miralukan straightened up a bit upon making the connection.
“A little nervous,” he replied, “Never worked with children before. But it should be fine.”
A hand found its place on his nephew’s back. Hopefully, that would calm him a bit while he addressed their superior. The boy way the boy stumbled through his response was both amusing and cringe inducing.
Luckily, it didn’t take him long to regain his composure. The nudge was curious, as was Zy’s inching toward the little troop of younglings who’d rushed over to them. “What did you have in mind?”
He noticed Zy pulling the ball to his hand, but he didn’t think anything of it until he heard his scream and the subsequent roar of the children. The Force’s warning bell rang in his mind, and he reacted, catching the ball in his hand. That little show of skill earned a few “ooohs” from the group but that didn’t deter the little gremlins from launching an assault on him with any of the foam balls they could find.
Dodging them was easy enough. What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was for a few of them to get the idea to rush him while the others continued to fling things at him. Two latched onto his legs, using their full weight to slow him down enough that he couldn’t move effectively.
“Uh oh. They’re tactics are evolv–”
A foam ball hit him square in the face. It didn’t hurt, but the shock of it forced him to pause long enough for the rest of the children to charge and dogpile him.
<@185936112441622529> <@1151314406735618069>
Crumbled, but not broken.
His ball was caught; he should have been out. The sea of jeers was proof enough for that. But he couldn’t give up after he just started! Zy’s gaze swept across the room. He was abandoned. The slew of followers he had accumulated had flooded past him, riled up by the charge; they attached themselves to Teon’s armor by any means necessary.
Chaos reigned. But what else could he do? Perhaps… he could be an influence? Yes. He could lead! Zy gave a quick study of the room till he found them—a Mirialan boy and a Twi'lek girl, both sprightly, if a little shy. Even as they were approached, both kids retreated further against the wall.
“Hey, hey.” The effect was immediate. Relief relaxed both their faces in a way that he could not help but wonder if it was because of his tone or his blood. “What have we got here? Two young Padawans? What luck! I’ve got a mission tailor-made for you both. Why don’t you tell me your names?“ he inquired, the Mirialan promptly replying, "I’m Kylan!” with the Twi'lek chiming in only after, “I’m Lira!”
Gathering them conspiratorially close, Zy whispered, “Alright, recruits, our mission is to construct the mightiest pillow fortress this side of the galaxy. Follow me!” Leading Kylan and Lira to a semi-secluded nook, Zy tore off his cloak for use in keeping away prying eyes.
Once properly hidden, the construction began in earnest. Each placement of cushions and the arrangement of blankets was orchestrated with military precision. “Solid defense is key, Kylan! Lira, gather those pillows, we’re building walls!”
Bit by bit, the trio toiled zealously. Their laughter—the calm before the storm. Kylan adopted the guise of a covert operative, while Lira adorned the fort with her colorful scarves as their banner.
Oh yes, it came together perfectly. Zy stood tall over the wall, his cloak removed to reveal their creation. “Alright, listen up! I won’t lie to you. The enemy we face is superior in every aspect. But fret not! Look at them—your enemies. Now look back at me. Even I am small compared to the rest of the world. But that inferiority you feel is actually a quality of a peacekeeper. You may yet grumble because you know how small you are. And yet, you still struggle to reach heights greater than you can imagine! Glory lies beyond the horizon! Challenge it, even as it feels unreachable. I shall grieve, and I shall weep. But I shall never regret! That is the Gremlin Brigade way!”
Foam ball in hand paired with the FULL MIGHT of a tiny armed Zeltron catapulted projectile after projectile over the pillow rampart. A hailstorm of ammunition rained on both children and volunteers alike. “Defend the fort!” Zy hollered, his chest filled with cold air. Not needing any further prompting, the children joined the fray, giggling and scrambling for more of the balls.
Unable to resist the dramatics, Zy continued his bellowing, “None of you shall defeat the Gremlin Brigade!”
A stray dodgeball came flying towards Marick and the group of kids he was helping with reading and story-time. Usually, the Brotherhood’s Gray Fang wouldn’t be caught off guard. But in opening himself up to the children, he had, it seemed, dulled his hard-won Assassins instincts, his preternatual awareness failing to detect the “danger” of a rubber projectile.
So it hit him in the head. There was a bit of recoil, but the Exarch balanced himself, blinked once, and then on reflex caught the rubber ball with his mind, grasped a hold of it telekinetically, and sent it hurtling back towards the direction it had come.
He rubbed idly at the red spot that had formed on his forehead, then turned his attention back to the children, who looked at him with wide eyes. He blinked again, waved off their concerns, and continued reading the story outloud.
“Oh kark this!” Kerissa yelped, ducking as the Force wrenched at her, just barely avoiding another dodgeball careening in her direction after richocheting off of a kid.
She quickly retreated to safer horizons.