Saga - Legends "Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light" (drama about Palp´s niece, a mix of legend & canon

*beams and beams and beams DarthUncle, suddenly feeling strong enough to rise and shine... plus setting new tea water

Relationships can have many layers like an onion. Thanks for once again getting to the core of my story and choosing the right words for explaining it.

As I said before, I was fascinated by the character of Orson Krennic the very moment that Ben Mendelsohn played him at the Celebration Europe in London. I saw so much potential in him as a villain and his background story, as written by me, has some similarities with the life AND the roles of Mendelsohn. Especially the Netflix series "Blood line" made me creative for my own fanfic.

You also analysed the Sheev situation right. He is too clever to make his own hands dirty when it is about Nagina. And he needs to tell himself: "I did not wrong her this time. Orson is to blame here."

 

As always, I'm fascinated by the interweaving tangles of the character relationships that we see in these latest updates. The parallel between Orson's relationship with Nagina and Palpatine's is highlighted by the way he reacts to her throughout their journey to and stay on Scarif. Sheev even says "He loves you almost as much as I do" -- I think he must see the same patterns too. Orson does care for her very deeply in a peculiarly Sithly sort of way; it's no wonder that Sidious sees him as a kindred spirit. The bond he feels towards Nagina is vastly important and full of emotion for him, but it also involves an element of being controlling. And perhaps not especially caring if he strangles her (either metaphorically or literally -- his threat to crash the shuttle seems at least half serious to me) in the process. He's very determined that he is the one who gets to set what is an act of devotion; if making her drink spit or stand there while he takes an oath of fealty she doesn't approve of is what he has decided will show his loyalty for her, then that's exactly what he's going to do. Dude has issues, is what I'm saying. Can't remember if I said this before, but I'm amazed at how you've taken the few minutes this guy has on screen and made a really convincing argument for what makes him tick.

 

Thanks, you saying this makes me very proud. I wrote my version of Orson Krennic before watching the movie, as I said before.

Being deeply inspired by Ben Mendelsohn's appearance in his white uniform during the Celebration Europe, that I was only able to witness on youtube, the words just came out of my brain straight onto the laptop keyboard.

Then I got the book from my loving husband DarthUncle.

After that I tried to watch all that I was able to get on Ben Mendelsohn. Especially this clip here helped me to cement it:



I will not be online as regular in future as I would like, but I need to sort out things and settle into a new job position that I fought hard to get.

Today I update Chapter 20 before Kahara had a chance to edit it, because she is busy with the "Golden Yoda Awards 2017". Which reminds me I also need to hand in my votes.

Okay, but first the update (and I edit flaws & mistakes another time):



Chapter 20:

In the company of my uncle Orson enfolds his entire charm. He is good at small talk, but I must admit, is still a shameless self-promoter. This is a character trait he yields like a marketing tool. He also has turned into a master in the art of negotiation. If he would not be a military man and an engineer, he could be a successful entrepreneur in the intergalactic business world.

Sheev laughs from the head of the table, eating everything that Orson serves him with a good appetite.



Magically, more wine bottles appear and I begin to suspect that my uncle brought them along from Coruscant. But there is more.

There are occasional heavy steps to be heard from the veranda, which tells me that at least two Red Guards are on duty tonight. Of course the security protocol is tighter since Sheev made himself Emperor. Over are the days when he could travel on his own. He owes that to his new status, to his supposed fragile health.

As the night wears on, the voices of my generous jailers blur into one another. They go along fairly well. Since their childhood both men have focused only on the acquisition of power. At any cost.

I rub my aching temples.

Orson glances at me. A muscle in his cheek twitches, possibly a repressed smile. “Are you not well, Ina?” he asks.

“I feel a bit strange,” I admit, glancing down into the fourth cup of kava that I am made to drink.

After my second one Orson had altered the mixture slightly with starch and buttermilk. This made the colour of the emulsion change from tan to opaque greenish. The taste remains slightly pungent though.

He frowns at me. The blue in his eyes is like the sky at twilight. “Would you rather have some water?”

“No, thank you,” I reply politely. There is a tingling sensation throughout my body. “I am fine.”

The crease in his brow deepens. “Are you sure?”

My hands tremble and I will them both to steadiness. “Yes,” I fib.

Orson does not comment on it, but keeps an alert gaze on me.

In silence I finish the cup and I try to play indifferent to his intense observations.

Soon, it becomes harder and harder for me to focus on the ongoing conversation between Sheev and Orson. My head seems to be filled with carbon gas, turning slowly into liquid carbonite.

I place my elbows on the table in order to rest my chin into the palms of my hand. Then I draw a deep breath, feeling at least steadier.

Colours and sounds dance by.

I make a small gurgling as the air around me seems to sparkle. In wonder I gaze around.

“Ina?” Orson asks, sounding worried.

The essence of the Force is wild and joyous. And at the same time it is gentle, so very gentle, yet unimaginably vast that it makes my head spin. I am filled with so much energy, that I can barely contain it.

I rise from the table.

“Ina?” repeats Orson.

My legs give way altogether and I sit down with a thump. My head drops as my shoulders sag.

Orson moves swiftly across the room. “Ina, talk to me!” he demands, while kneeling at my side.

I feel boneless and liquid. Like a drop of water really. Finally I have become a daughter of the sea.

He places his fingertips on my temples and peers into my eyes. There is blond in his eyelashes and eyebrows. I never noticed that before. “She is having a seizure of some kind,” he says.

“Not a seizure, just a deep religious experience,” Sheev disagrees.

“Pardon me?”

My uncle shrugs. “Intoxicants of any kind do not become her. She even reacts strongly to poppy seeds.”

“You should have told me!” Orson snarls.

“Why should I have? You were the one giving the potent kava to her, not I.”

More darkness swirls into the room. Large shades of crimson.

“Master?” asks a metallic sounding voice.

“Help Krennic to get her upstairs and fetch a bucket, just in case!”

Orson nestles me against him, his heart beat fierce. “I got this. This is my call only!”

********************************************************************

To carry me upstairs is not easy for my self-appointed white knight, but he is determined and forbids every discussion on it.

“Stay put!” Orson begs me and I vaguely wonder if he is worried for me or for his white uniform.

I can see that the two Imperial guards march after us, leaving their large energy pikes leaned against the dinning table.

In the middle of the staircase I peek over Orson's shoulder to wave Sheev good-night. His skin is translucent. The hollows of his eyes are sunken, the bones of his skull are too prominent. He is cloaked in darkness, but there is the ghost of a smile on his thin lips.

“At last I am off to bed,” I squeak, shaking a closed fist. “At last you shall peace!”

My uncle snorts.

I start singing for him.

“It's funny how the dark side seem everything make small,
And the younglings that I've murdered,
can't get to me at all.
It's time to see what I can do.
The Empire's here, the Republic it is through.
No right, no wrong, no rules for me.
I´m freeee”

While Orson hisses my name and gives me a slap on my backside, Sheev shakes his head and mouths fondly, “My impossible girl!”

“Let it flow, let it flow
I'm one with the dark side
Let it flow, let it flow
This is the end of the Jediiii
If you're not with meeee
Then you're my enemyyyy
What you ask of meeee”

I can see that my uncle shakes with silent laughter. His eyes gleam blue and bright in the twilight.

Sheev is so very like his old self, that I want to wind myself out of Orson's grasp. I long to scoot into his arms instead.

If anybody needs love and compassion around here it is my uncle.

“Whoa! Stay put!” Orson complains, the cords of his neck sticking out. “This is difficult enough already.”

I kiss his cheek and giggle, still ridden by the currents of my Force experience.

“No kissing! And no wiggling, Ina!”

Colours dance by me like speckles of dust. I feel as light as a dandelion seed.

At the top of the stairs I reach out to one of the Red Guards and let my fingers wander lovingly over his helmet.

“Hi there!” the man greets me and laughs softly. And it is that very chuckle that makes me recognize Kir Kanos immediately.

“Oh hello!” I beam back over Orson's shoulder.

Kir Kanos strokes my head with his gloved hand. “Never seen anybody getting so high on kava. You are a miracle, milady!”

“Oh yeah?” Orson, already sweaty and grumpy, grumbles. “Well, are we not all glad that she is still breathing?”

The second guard cuts in, “Irony is not conductive to her healing.”

A smile darts across my face as I recognize the speaker despite the microphone in his helmet.

“You think your real cocky, don't you mate?” Orson pants at Kile Hannad with rage and kicks against the half-open chamber door. “Just get me a damned bucket, would you?”

Unnoticed by him Kir Kanos touches my foot in a supportive way.

Red Guards do not give their loyalty to another living being so easily. I am fully aware of that. They pledge themselves to my uncle with body and soul. But it seems that I am popular with those two. Since I know them they always managed to find kind words for me.

“Blessed be!” I say in a soft tone.

“Well, are we not all?” fumes Orson.

********************************************************************

The pillow is soft against my cheek and Orson has drawn the sheets up to my chin, still fussing about me. He cannot see that I am already wrapped up in spherical sounds.

“So beautiful,” I purr.

Due to the kava I can perceive whistles, cracks, pops and hums that my human ears are not tuned to under normal circumstances: Charged particles from the hearts of suns encountering the magnetic fields of planets. Asteroids crashing together. Sun winds travelling. Black holes nourishing themselves.

It is most tragic that Orson does not believe in the Force around him. Otherwise he could hear kyber crystals singing their wonderful songs. He would understand that they should be left where they are. In the company of their crystalline siblings. Only wise people like the Jedi or the guardians of the Whills have the right to form a union with them.

“The crystal is the heart of the blade,” I say under my breath.

“You are not making much sense, Ina. I should request a doctor from the main base.” Orson lays one hand on my brow and fumbles around to feel the pulse in my wrist with the other. “Sleep! I'll will be right here.”

Before he can draw back from me, I catch one of his hands and stroke it. “But you need to hear this,” I protest gently. “It will help you to understand the kyber crystals that you work with.”

His eyes darken. “Since when are you a crystallographer?” His tone is dry. “Do I have the wrong person on the case?”

“Listen!” I beg. “The heart is the crystal of the Jedi.”

He stares at me with parted lips.

“The Jedi is the crystal of the Force.
The Force is the blade of the heart.
All are intertwined: The crystal, the blade, the...”

“Stop! Stop there right now!” Orson regards me with one of his unreadable looks.

I breath, slow and deep. There is no way that I can make him understand.

“No more kava for you! I made a real blue.” He shakes his head. “My old man once had a nerf cow very much like you. A cute beast, but silly. He had to shoot it. It was a mercy kill.”

I smile up to Orson, who is utterly overtaxed and helpless. “My poor baby boy!” I babble.

“Your hurt wrist should also be checked. I fear it is not healing as well as it should.” His fingers stir in my hair, his face open and vulnerable in the light of the bedside lamp. Faint freckles are scattered across his face. “Boy, I really feel buggered! I drink kava since years and I never had a breakdown like that. I wish there would be a manual for you, Ina. I badly need one.”

It is a pity that he does not listen to my advice. He also stopped to care about music.

Suddenly, Orson makes a funny gesture with the fingers of his left hand. As if he measures a distance. “I am this close to gathering a team of scientists and doctors around me. Just to find out what goes on in your head.”

I frown, asking myself if he means to preform a dissection on me. Alive!

“You exhaust me more than Galen, I must give you that.” A hand descends on my right shoulder. “Just tell me when you need to chuck up here!”

I nod dreamingly, content with the universe around me. With the good and the bad things going on in my life. In the end it does not matter which side of the Force reigns the scale. My choices do. And chosen, I have.

********************************************************************

(To be continued!)

 

Yeah, I got three likes!

And when earlybird-obi-wan finds this update, I might even get a comment.

By the way, Chapter 24 & 25 are finished. Real life events that costed me a lot of strength on all fronts made me write quiet a bit the past days. So this story will continue!

 

You don't have to wait for him/her!

The way you plugged in bits of Let It Flow..... Love!

 

The bird is a Dutch woman and one of my RL friends, dear Cowgirl Jedi 1701. But she moved places recently and from my own experiences with moving boxes I know it takes ages to settle down again.

As for the comedy version of "Let it go" from Box Step Productions (published 21st January 2015) I stumbled over it quiet recently and before I posted the beginning of Chapter 20 I HAD TO add it. NO way around it!



The children of my current kindergarten group are used to me doing something crazy now and again. This is why poor Nagina had to sing under the influence of kava kava. She is highly Force-sensitive and a sort of "truthsayer"/ "clairvoyant" now and again.

Orson is of course taken aback by her behaviour, but her uncle Sheev loves her being funny and unpredictable. He finds her refreshing.

 

That video is brilliant, and I love how you've adapted a version of it to add to Nagina's Force-drunken ramblings.

 

Kahara: Please give the makers of that video a like on youtube. They deserve that!

As for the Force-drunken ramblings... spoiler alert from Chapter 24... there are reasons for Nagina acting badly on intoxicants of any kind and why Sheev mentions poppy seeds.

But that Disney "persiflage" just suited for my scene on Scarif and I also wanted Nagina to break out into spontaneous singing like Ben Mendelsohn did on the set of "Rouge One".

 

Yes moving and with whacky internet I cannot access a lot. But this was a nice update

 

I hope life gets sorted out for you soon, earlybird-obi-wan. Especially your moving boxes and the internet.

Okay, here is my next update, folks:




********************************************************************

“Bucket!” I mumble feebly in the grey hours of morning, my eyes closed. There is immediate response from Orson. My mattress sinks under the weight of an additional body.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes before I open them.

Sweat is running down my face. I can feel it everywhere: on my back, on my legs. Even my hair is wet.

But what is worse is that there is a chalky taste in my mouth that will not go away.

Orson holds my head with one hand and the bucket with the other.

We wait for the retching part, but nothing happens.

“False alarm,” I offer carefully.

“Right...” He lets go and puts the bucket down, his eyes narrow.

“Sor...”

My heartfelt excuse dies on my lips, silenced by the pointer finger of his left hand. “No hard feelings, Ina! I owe you. As usual, I owe you big time.”

I look straight into his hooded eyes that tell me that he defied sleep.

“Take all the time to get better. I won't go anyway,” he promises somewhat tender.

“But your project?” I blink.

“Can wait,” he ensures me. “I seem to be in the Emperor's favour still. At least I had the impression two days ago.”

Uncertain I echo, “Two days ago?”

“After the military doctor gave you a thorough check, you slept like a little mammal in hibernation.”

I try to jump out of bed, but he rests a hand on my chest and causes me to sit down on the mattress again.

“And where do you think you are going?” he requests in a too polite manner.

“Toilet?” I beep as innocent as possible.

He relaxes visibly. “You need a hand?”

I look alarmed.

“Just to bring you to the toilet,” he sighs. “Of course I won't come inside. Ina, please!”

********************************************************************

Of course I need to have breakfast in bed. From Orson's point of view that is. He is really trying to make up for the kava incident.

He rushes downstairs and returns with an overloaded silver tray. Every waiter on Coruscant would envy him for the flawless delivery.

It is a very generous breakfast: muesli with acai berries, egg crepe, flat bread with various dips, brown rice amazake with chia seeds and, my personal high light, lots of iced chrysanthemum tea.

Too much for one person really.

Hesitantly, Orson offers me his help to finish it.

The more food vanishes into his mouth, the more relaxed he seems.

Soon our conversation babbles like a river through its stone bed. Easy, unforced. It almost has the quality back it used to have in our childhood.

********************************************************************

After breakfast Orson walks me to the bathroom, where I am left alone for my morning toilette. I suspect he is talking to my uncle or to an important person of his secret project. He seems to be slightly concerned about something, but I know that I am forbidden to ask.

Taking strength from a source deep inside me, I focus on my tasks ahead.

I cannot change the dreadful state the galaxy is in, but I can gain back control over my own life to a certain extend.

The kava helped me to realize an essential truth: I can laugh the dark side of the Force right into its vicious visage. My uncle even encourages me to do so. His visit made that clear. He does not want me to get a depression, but to live life to the fullest.

I reach out for my toilet bag and rumble around in it.

Between my scrunchies and hair clips I find the item I have missed most since I left Lothal. It is a braided bracelet, worked into it are colourful wooden pellets. Lor gave it to me as a token of his love.

His tribe on Jedha is full of traditionalists, faithful to the ways of the Force. This special bracelet, made by his mother when she was pregnant with him, tells others on his moon who he is and what his roots are. Now that he is a grown-up man, he is free to give it as a token for his future bride.

I fondle my engagement present with strokes and kisses, before I put it around my fully healed wrist.

Then I start to take care of my hair. It is unruly after two days of comatose bed rest. Therefore it takes me a while to figure out the famous 'battle maiden hairstyle'. Padmé wore it during the liberation of Naboo so many years ago. It seems fitting for the things that I have in mind for today.

“It is said that love is a battlefield,” I say to myself in the mirror as I wind my hair in unaccustomed ways. “Let's put that assumption to the test, shall we?”

********************************************************************

(To be continued!)


DarthUncle, Kahara, Sith-I-5: I did some linking of all my chapters in so far. I hope page 1 of this thread can better help now to find the right chapter & the right page.

 

good she is feeling better

 

Nagina did not really feel bad, earlybird-obi-wan. It is just as Sheev said: she had an intense religious experience with the Force through kava kava.

 

The Fanon thread is not for your characters, or their lives or histories.

It is for the infrastructure of the world that you have created for them, such as, as I originally pointed out, the building blocks teaching aid that you created for young Orson.
Nagina's moon goddess religion, if you have a notebook filled with chants, and description of the MG (moon goddess).
Spaceships, planets, holoshows such as Athosian Pop Idol - things that you have created to add structure to Nagina's world because Wookiepedia could not help.

 

Sith-I-5: Thanks for pointing that out and explaining it! I will keep that in mind.

 

New update before we are off to meet a friend of our´s:


********************************************************************

Dressed in a crimson sarong, made out of finest silk, and bare feet I step onto the veranda where Orson waits for me. To my surprise he is in civilian clothing: a grey tank top and black cargo shirts.

He whistles approvingly when he sees me. “You look mighty fine, Ina.”

I turn around like Twi'lek dancer, trying to look graceful. “You promised me a day on the beach.”

“Indeed, I did.” He has a winning smile for me. “So what do you want to do? Walking, swimming, fishing?”

********************************************************************

I let Orson take me on a little canoe tour to the neighbouring island, that is way smaller than ours, but equally charming.

There we jump into the waves together, messing around in the water.

When we tire, our hand and foot soles looking much like my uncle's skin, we lie down on beach towels and dry in Scarif's sun.

But I do not name my request before we both drink from a coco nut that Orson has plucked and opened up for us.

“You said earlier on that you owe me,” I throw in carefully.

“Yes, I did.” He is on guard. I can tell that from the flicker in his eyes. The rest of his face stays calm and composed.

“May I visit Alderaan with you?”

“No.” His voice is low and pressed. “The Emperor does not wish you to speak to Senator Organa again. You know why.”

“Chandrila?”

He shakes his head. “You would find ways to orchestrate a meeting with Senator Mothma.”

“Naboo?”

“Not for a while, I am afraid. It is not safe there for you.”

I stare into the sand in front of me, acting sad.

“Name another location we could pop by on our way back to Lothal,” he encourages me, placing a hand on my right knee cap.

“Tatooine,” I suggest randomly.

“What would you want on that dust ball?” He is amused.

“To pay my respect to General Skywalker. He was a local boy, you know,” I blur out. “I used to be a big fan of his.”

He sips from the fresh coconut milk, considering his reply. Then he says, “You, the only living relative the Emperor has, wants to enter Hutt territory. For some dead Jedi traitor. He is not even buried there.”

I wrap my arms around myself and move several inches away from him. “Why not freeze me in carbonite, Orson? To keep me safe from all possible harm that might occur to me.”

“Hey,” he says, moves closer to me and gives me a soft nudge. “Just give me a reasonable location and I take you there.”

The moment, I have been waiting for, is finally there. “Jedha,” I blurt out.

Orson is startled. “Why would you want to go there? It is not even on the way.”

“I am a religious person,” I explain.

“What do you hope to gain from a visit on that desert moon?”

“Spiritual guidance,” I whisper.

He scratches the back of his head, obviously fishing for the right words. They do not come to him. My religiosity represents a great obstacle for him. But he tries to understand. I grant him that.

I raise my chin in defiance. “Ask Sheev if I am at least allowed to pray inside the temple of Shiraya on Jedha.”

“Shiraya who?” he asks.

“The moon goddess of my people, the Naboo.”

I look into his clear, blue eyes. His face is just inches away from mine. I raise a hand and touch his cheek. “Please!”

He sighs. “I'll talk to the Emperor, but I wish you would have chosen a different destination. It is awful cold and dull there.”

“We could stop on Coruscant and buy some winter clothing. I know some decent shops there.”

He grins ruefully at me. “You are terrible, Ina.”

Of course the way to Coruscant is barred to me forever more. But Orson would be alarmed if I had not even tried. He fails to see the real act of deception here. I am a Palpatine after all.


Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:
cocky = clever
blue = mistake, error
bugger = Technically means to sodomize, but most people use the word in a variety of situations, often without realizing the true meaning.

 

Chapter 19 read, presumably in full.

I feel that Sheev is pushing her towards a nervous breakdown. Dude, give her some breathing space.

Best bit was her coming down the tree while Orson was live streaming back to Imperial Centre.

 

@Sith-I-5I: I am glad you enjoyed Chapter 19. Chapter 20 will deal with Sheev coming down to Scarif in person. Because he cannot let go of Nagina indeed. There will be Red Guards, kava kava, some fun stuff & also some heart break.

 

PS: This weekend I will update the first part of Chapter 21. Which will take on Scarif.

 

PPS: Thanks for the three nominations 2017 I got for this fic! It means a lot to me.

 

Kahara: Do not worry about me updating. If you find mistakes later on, because I believe you to be busy as a bee right now, then you can beta them when it suits you best.

DarthUncle tried his best to beta all my texts the past weeks, including the vignettes, the drabbles and the Celtic challenge. But he also is not an English native speaker, just an enthusiastic husband who has me rather happy typing large text cunks than lying on the bed in tears because of my old job & the people I had to leave behind.



Chapter 21:

The desert air of Jedha is frosty, but I do not mind. I breath it in with pleasure and curiosity.

The Holy City is the most beautiful and most wondrous place in the galaxy. So many races and religions are gathered here, all in peace and harmony. As if there had never been a dire war in this galaxy in the first place.

Priestesses and monks greet each other in silent dignity. Holy men give blessings and advice to those in need.

Hymns, prayers, speeches and chants sound through the narrow street cannons.
Icons, jewellery, script rolls and other religious items are sold.

The Temple of the Whills stands silent guard over the colourful goings-on.

Cheerfully, I make my way through the hopeless overcrowded streets. A grumpy Orson, dressed as a civilian, follows me.

“I hate woollen caps,” he complains under his breath into his scarf, that I have artistically wrapped around his throat. “And I hate mittens.”

“You sulk like a two year old,” I laugh.

“You would know all about that, wouldn't you?”

“I loved you anyway. Still do,” I assure Orson.

My decision to dress up as humble pilgrims still does not fare well with him. His daunting white uniform would cause too many questions. Besides, it reveals things about him that he does not want to show off to the local community. And so he saunters through the masses with me, holding my hand firmly.

I pause at a market stall that sells religious trinkets.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but for some reason I believe that I just witnessed the flaring of a little star among the pieces of jewellery.

Orson comes to stand shoulder by shoulder with me, looking at the display of chains, ear bells and pendants. “Odds and ends,” he comments sardonically.

I am glad that the stall owner is too busy with another customer – a Rhodian woman – to overhear him.

Orson walks to the neighbour stall that offers fresh meat pies.

Scanning the displayed items, I pick up a chain, which has an interesting pendant.

My heart begins to beat faster as I fumble around with the winged symbol of the Jedi Order, which looks like a shining light.

The Force is with me today.

The Rhodian woman leaves and I seek direct eye contact with the stall owner, handing him the symbol. While I do so, I make an ancient gesture for evil. “You seem to have forgotten the price tag on this one,” I say in an urgent tone.

“Oh, thank you, Mistress,” the man answers. Then he eyes Orson suspiciously, who luckily has turned his back to us and is too consumed looking at pies.

I hold up my right wrist to let the stall owner gaze at the bracelet from Lor. His eyes move over the pattern, reading it like a book text.

After some heart-beats, the man starts smiling at me.

“I fear nothing,” I offer softly just as my fiancé has taught me.

“All is as the Force wills it,” the stall owner says with a broad smile.

Orson fails to understand what is going on between the native and me. Boredom and disinterest show in his face, when he comes to stand next to me again. “How long will your pilgrimage take?” he asks as politely as possible. “Just checking.”

I nudge his nose with a playful finger. “When was the last time you were one hundred percent relaxed?”

He narrows his eyes. “Where you are concerned, I am somewhat on the tight side of late.”

“Don't be!” I reach out and take his head in both hands. Standing on my toes I kiss the spot where his nose ends. “I want you to have fun the next twenty-four hours.”

He closes his eyes. “Fair dinkum?”

“Would I ever lie to you, Orson Callan Krennic?” I tut. “Just one night in a lodging house with other pilgrims after a big walkabout with you will be sufficient.”

Laughter rumbles through his body. “Beauty!”

Suddenly, his comlink goes on.

“Stay here!” he curses. “I'll be right back.”

“My uncle?” I enquire.

“Damned right.”

While Orson hurries off to seek a lonely side street, the stall owner leans towards me, “It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Ton San Tekka, his third cousin once removed.”

With that brief introduction he shows me his own bracelet. It looks similar to that of my fiancé, but some of the patterns are completely different.

Lor indeed has a huge clan scattered all over Jedha.

“I am Nagina.” I extend my hand in greeting and ad in a whisper, “The niece of the Sith lord who rules us all now.”

Ton San Tekka pales considerably, but shakes hands with me anyway.

“I have come to warn all good citizens of Jedha. At present Sheev Cosinga Aurelius Palpatine is looking for kyber crystals all over the galaxy.” I look around, but nobody else is listening in. “His aim is to build a weapon that even the Celestials would fear.”

A moment of shocked silence follows my revelation.

Here on Jedha, the centre point of religious life in our galaxy, folk remember the Sith fairly well. And the atrocities they created to rule with fear and terror once upon a time.

Orson rushes back to me. “Your uncle is a bit paranoid,” he says to me in a low voice. “He told me to not leave you alone under any circumstances. As if you would be able to conspire against him in such a short time.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Then we better not tell Sheev about the major glitch that just happened here.”

He rolls his eyes. “I am not a Besalisk who has four arms with four hands on them. One hand to hold you tight, another one to answer a comlink and the rest to cover your pretty ears from hearing too much.”

I pull the woollen cap over his face. “Ace!” I rebuke him and start walking away from the stall, waving the owner good-bye.

Orson, readjusting his headdress, catches up with me immediately. “Hey, did you not want to buy anything?”

“Nay, I was just looking around,” I assure him.

“You mean messing around,” he corrects me mockingly.

Suddenly, I am trapped in his arms and my head scarf is removed. Teasingly, he works on my hair with his fist. Within seconds he turns it into a frizzy mess.

“Hey!” I yelp.

“Now I was the one messing around,” he assures me smugly.

********************************************************************

(To be continued!)

 

Congrats on your nominations for this story, they're well-earned! And I'm happy to see this updating even as I am behind here and elsewhere.

 

I like the banter between Nagina and Orson, it shows a bit more of why she put up with him (apart from her uncle, of course). And she's a real scheming Palpatine and liar in her own way; he underestimates her cunning, clearly, and he's a bit lazy, isn't he? I guess Nagina should be glad he isn't Thrawn, who would have looked a lot closer at the jewelry and things for sale!

 

Kahara: I am always grateful when people find the time to not only check out my fanfic threads, but leave a few lines plus a kind PM, telling me you are off for a couple of days.

Being in emotional uproar since many, many months (especially after the fire in our cellar last summer) does not help me to be confident in myself as a fanfic writer.

But fact is that writing helped me to survive and make some difficult choices as well. So I keep doing it.

DarthUncle: If we had Thrawn in this story than Nagina would be fiddling with her thumbs in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps inside an ice igloo on Hooth. Or a lonely space station in the Unknown Region. Orson can indeed be a bit lazy and unimaginative when it is up to her. Let us pray he never gets back to her for failing him.

Hm, seeing how busy people are, I ask myself if I am allowed to tag earlybird-obi-wan, dARTh Gangerous and Sith-I-5 as well.

 

I am very busy in my new home but still following this

 

earlybird-obi-wan: I already figured out something like this.