Saga Purple, Rose, and Gold (2024 Kessel Run anthology)

Purple, Rose, and Gold
by Findswoman

Era: Probably mostly Saga, with possible incursions into other eras
Characters: Anyone and everyone, OCs and ECs

Notes: An anthology of stories written for @ViariSkywalker ’s 2024 Kessel Run Challenge. The three colors in the title are ones that have played leading roles at various points in my fanfic output, in their relationship to specific characters, specific settings, or both. The combination also highlights the eclectic nature of this challenge and of my responses to it.

Acknowledgments: As always, many thanks to my good friend @Raissa Baiard for beta-reading, as usual, and to Viari for being an absolutely awesome challenge hostess for the third year in a row!

Contents
1. Useless Bay (Prelude to “The Rains of Scarif”) (Jyn Erso)
2. In That Big Somewhere (Squib OCs)
3. Knight and Survivor (Kanan Jarrus, Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios)
4. I Only Play (Gand music box)
5. Higher and Drier on the Endar Spire (Female Revan, Trask Ulgo, Carth Onasi, Revan’s OC dad)
6. The Reflecting Pool (Zeb/OC)
7. Dreams, Lies, and More Befoggèd Lies (Zuckuss, 4-LOM, various others)
8. Will of Kyber (Orson Krennic, Chirrut Îmwe, Brendol Hux)
9. There Was One in the Bed (and the Cupcake Said) (Carth Onasi/Female Revan)
10. From a Holomessage Found in a Uniform Pocket on Eadu (Galen Erso to Orson Krennic)
11. In You the Roses Speak (Zeb/OC, other OCs, various EC mentions)

 

1. Useless Bay (Prelude to “The Rains of Scarif”)

Prompt: Write a story between 100 and 1000 words that begins with this sentence: “The rain hadn’t let up in days, and all I wanted to do was scream.”
Characters: Jyn Erso, mentions of Cassian Andor
Genre: Angst, introspection, AU
Summary: What life was like for her after the superlaser hit Scarif. Yes, you read that right!
Notes: AU, prequel to The Rains of Scarif. Many thanks to @Raissa Baiard for beta reading on short notice.

---

The rain hadn’t let up in days, and all I wanted to do was scream.

Yes, that was all I wanted to do. Not check my broken, waterlogged commlink for the n-thousandth time. (Useless!) Not tinker with my broken, ruined blaster. (Useless!) Not pick the umpty-umpth pebble or piece of seaweed out of my hair or pocket or from between my toes. (Also useless!) And definitely not eat another sandcrab, ever. (Eeewww.)

No, all I wanted to do was scream.

So I did. A few times, in fact. No one heard me, of course, and it didn’t make the rain go away. It definitely didn’t bring Cassian back. (At that point I was trying not to think about him.) Again, useless.

But it was something to do.

Oh, don’t judge! Tell me what you would have done if you had been you! Trapped in the rubble of the Citadel Tower in the driving rain—and not even in the interesting part of the tower, just in one tiny conveniently cave-shaped space that may have been a window archway or something once. (Did a pretty shavitty job of keeping all the rain out, too.) Tell me what you would have done if you had been the one who jumped (yes, literally jumped: Cassian? Is that you?) every time you saw the tiniest motion out in the rain—only to venture out and soak yourself in the process of discovering it really had been nothing more than a shadow. (You see why I was trying not to think of him.)

Tell me what you would have done if you had been the only living sentient being left on-planet, with no possible chance of help arriving—and no, I’m not exaggerating! If you knew you were going to spend the rest of your life crouching in a cave of rubble picking seaweed off your person, watching shadows-that-aren’t-Cassian dodge in and out of the rain, and eating nothing but kriffing sandcrabs!

You would have screamed, too.

And it would have been just as useless.

But Jyn! you say. Don’t you know how lucky you were? At least you survived! Easy for you to say now that I’m talking in past tense with most of it (I don’t say all) behind me. No, quite frankly, I didn’t know how lucky I was, and I was not lucky. I kept thinking back to the moment the laser struck, when the sky went white and the tidal wave and great terrible hot light went hurtling toward us together.

I often wished we’d just been burned alive then and there. At least it would have been over, like it should have been when I finally got the plans sent. At least there would have been no doubt what had happened to us. (And at least we would have been together.)

But no. The explosion boiled the seas dry before the tidal wave ever reached us. It was still an explosion, of course; it’s the reason Cassian was thrown far away to who knows where. I only stayed where I did because I had dropped face down on the beach, holding on for dear life to what looked like a boat securement.

But because I did such an incredibly stupid thing, I ended up with the indescribable privilege living out my days as the only sentient being on Scarif! Never being able to leave, never being able to know whether the transmission Cassian and I struggled and fought to send ever even got through! Never being able to know whether any of it turned out to be any use to them at all!

Just sitting there nibbling my sandcrabs, watching the rain fall, useless!

And useless was my everyday, and that was my everynight, and day and night were the same anyway because of all the blasted rain falling and falling and falling and falling (and yes, I know now it was from the massive steam clouds the explosion had kicked up, but didn’t know then and didn’t care). And hours and days would go by, and again something would move through the rain, and my heart would give a little leap…

…and I’d venture out of my little cavelet to find that it was nothing more than the wind, or some piece of rubble, or a bird, or yet another sandcrab.

Then, one day—

The something moving through the rain seemed bigger than usual. Yet again I gasped a little and went out to look. I walked toward it, slowly, carefully, as usual; to my surprise it didn’t disappear back into the rain like all the other shadowy moving things had done. In fact it became bigger, and as I walked closer (picking up my pace), I saw that it was much bigger and had… lights?

And one of the lights led me to a window, and the window showed me two shadowy figures standing, looking out…

A ship? Here? Why? Who? Was this a chance? Was it not? And what about the tiny, timid voice in my head gasping Imperials…?

But to speculate was useless.

So I went up and knocked.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

Useless Bay is a real place on Earth, located off the southwestern end of Whidbey Island in northwestern Washington. According to Edmond S. Meany, Origin of Washington Geographic Names (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1932), 322, “the name refers to its exposure to storms.”

 

I do like the very frustrated, exasperated, and bleak voice you have created for Jyn in this story, and the use of the parenthetical asides really works well to underscore the frustration and sense of futility she is experiencing.

You do a great job providing heartbreaking and realistic details like Jyn jumping every time she sees a shadow that she thinks looks like Cassian (and having that feeling of hope that he survived as well and she isn't alone after all), and I absolutely understand why she therefore tries not to think of him at all. Because the hope being followed by renewed disappointment is just so hard for her to bear. A big strain on her rattled nerves.

I do love how you have integrated the rain throughout the piece as a mood setter. Sort of understanding the grim hopelessness that Jyn is feeling.

I appreciate how the doubting questions provoke a throwback to the word "useless" that was such a big part of the opening paragraph, and then we have Jyn overcoming her doubts to take decisive action. Almost like she is pushing past her feelings of futility to take definitive action at last.

 

Yay! I am so excited that DRL let you take part in the challenge! You're already off to such a great start, and to stunning effect!

Rains of Scarif - and, if you don't mind me promoting you even further, Gem of My Beaches, which I imagine must be related - are the only post-RO fix-it fics I need, and they are still part of my head and heart canon. As such, I was so thrilled to see you returning to them for your opening parsec in the Run, so to speak!

That said, let's dive right in . . .

FAIR!

Honestly, I can't imagine Jyn feeling any other way, you know? She's lost and and bereft and trapped - while having no idea where or not Cassian survived too, or whether or not anything they did and sacrificed ever made a difference, and that's even before you factor in the physiological factors she's dealing with, on top of the psychological! It's . . . a lot. To say the least.

I WANTED TO HUG JYN THROUGH EVERY WORD OF THIS

Oh, those shadows-that-aren't-Cassian got me. (And, on a personal note, I have to thank you! Reading this really made me want to hunker down and work on my own on-hiatus Andor Olympic collection come June, which I am so happy for - I do love how inspiration sparks and takes off for our community being . . . well, a community. That's the truly special thing about the boards. )

Also: eugh, flash-boiled sandcrabs!

This truly is the crux of the story, and it broke my heart. After being everything for the Rebellion, and being willing to sacrifice everything, just to be stuck in this state of not-quite-death but not-quite-living, either, is . . . it's a lot.

I like how you kept working in the past-tense of the original prompt throughout this story - which was tricky, and purposefully so, I'd wager, as part of the challenge - instead of trying to subvert it, which made for some darn fine writing - and reading, too!

I commented on this, way back with the Rains of Scarif, but I loved it then just as much as I do now, how practically you thought about what a super-laser from the Death Star would do to a watery world like Scarif. Flash boil the seas, and you'd get absolutory nothing but rain - yes, that makes perfect sense. This clever bit of fanon still gets me.

And now I'm going to go re-read Rains of Scarif again and delight in all of the fix-it-ness.


Your Run is off to a fantastic start, and I can't wait to see what you have to share with us next!

 

Thanks so much for the reads and comments, everyone!

Thanks! As you know from that previous story, I definitely don’t see why she couldn’t have made it—and Cassian, too! (He’s still out there… it’s time to bring him home! ) But between the explosion and being found, what then? That had to have been a lonely, desperate time of uncertainty and just-barely-survival, and I could totally see her having doubts about whether anything she had done turned out to be any good. But now that she’s been found, she’ll be able to see that it most certainly did.

Thank you, glad that came through well! This is how it goes when you are all alone on a near-destroyed planet.

Oh gosh, poor Jyn’s nerves have been through multiple meat grinders multiple times by this point. She is clinging to every last little iota of hope that she can, but it keeps getting blown away in that neverending rainstorm! And the constant loneliness—that’ll rattle anyone.

I do love how you have integrated the rain throughout the piece as a mood setter. Sort of understanding the grim hopelessness that Jyn is feeling.[/quote]

Thanks again. “The Rains of Scarif” was also based on a prompt about rain, and there are few things more grim than rain that just falls and falls and falls. The kind of weather that makes us feel useless!

That is exactly the idea! Maybe she’s finally seeing that the feeling of uselessness is, well, useless, and that it is time to take the plunge.

Spoiler

And if you’ve read “Rains,” you know it pays off!

Many thanks as always for reading and commenting and just being here!

Awww, thanks so much, I appreciate that! I am very grateful that things worked out after all so that I could take part; I’m having a great time so far! (She says as we’re only onto week two! )

Gosh, wow, thanks so much! That means a lot to me right there. I’m honored these stories mean so much to you, too! They do hold a special place in my heart as well, and I think that’s probably why I jumped back to “Rains” as soon as I saw that rain prompt.

Absolutely—can one really blame the poor gal? She has been through more than pretty much any sentient being should have to go through, all in such a short time (though right now, with the rain blurring the boundaries between day and night, it feels much much longer than that).

Then I know I’ve done my job!

Glad to be of assistance! I have heard such good things about Andor, and I’m sure you will ace the events you have left in that. I’m glad this story could provide some inspiration and impetus!

Yeah, no, you said it!

Yep—she’s gone from saving the rebellion to being stranded, alone, and unthanked, never being able to know if her efforts paid off. It is, once again, more than any being should have to be able to take.

I’m so glad you picked up on that, because it was indeed a conscious decision on my part and it really was tough to maintain! There were a few times I toyed with switching to present for that very reason. But I figured consistency would probably pay off, so I did my best to stick with it!

Well, gosh, thanks! First Law of Resurrection, and all that. I admit I wasn’t at all trying for any kind of scientific plausibility here—more like reaching for a fanon Hail Mary of sorts—and I am just glad that it came out halfway convincingly!

Thank you again, and I do aim to please! I appreciate so much that that became a story that stayed with you—once again, that’s how I know I did my job.

Aw, shucks, well, I do try! Thank you so much again for all your support and your awesome compliments—they really do mean the world to me.

Thanks so much for the comment, I’m so glad you enjoyed! I wanted to fill in a bit of a gap: if indeed she had survived (not at all out of the question! ), what would the first few days of that survival be like, before anyone else in the universe knew about it? She would be all alone, that’s what, with no acknowledgment or gratitude or “fireworks” of any kind to honor the good she accomplished. She would probably even begin to doubt whether any good had actually been done—so easy to do when you’re completely alone and cut off like that. Now as for whose ship it was, you will be able to find that out in “The Rains of Scarif,” linked above!

Ah, again, for that, you will have to read “The Rains of Scarif”! This story was mainly a matter of filling in the time between R1 and that. Thanks as always for coming by to comment!

Wow, that is a compliment I appreciate very, very much—thank you tons.

Yes, in the moment of this story, she really is totally alone, with no hope of being found, with no hope of any kind, with nothing to keep her any kind of company except those sandcrabs and those shadows. It’s enough to make anyone want to scream—multiple times!

Thanks so much! It wasn’t easy to write a scene like this (never having been through anything like this myself—thank goodness), so I am glad it came off effectively.

She’s got nothing to lose anymore by that point—and sometimes realizing that is the key to conquering those feelings of uselessness!

Thank you so much, and I really mean that—it gives me a special kind of joy when I learn that what I write resonates!

Thanks so much! Yep, it is back to the RainsVerse once again! With this prompt I just couldn’t resist. We readers really are pretty blessed that we don’t have to live any of the angst being described—all we have to do is enjoy it!

It’s that having and knowing nothing that is one of the worst parts of it for her. It’s scary to be in that position, and it’s understandable in that position to long for finality, in whatever form. But where Jyn is right now, there is no finality, and that is a scary thing too.

Hah! You don’t have to be sorry; I am an appreciator of good puns (and even bad ones). Definitely not the sort of diet anyone would envy, I agree—those tiny things with barely any meat, that don’t taste like much, flash boiled, seasoned with all the dirt and crud that gets into the oceans… again, really can’t blame her for screaming!

Absolutely—that is one of the biggest insults added to this injury. Right after that fateful moment of bonding on the beach comes the absolute opposite—he’s thrown far away by the balst, and she has at once no hope of ever seeing him again and too much hope of seeing him again—the kind of too much hope that manifests as jumping at every passing shadow. (In other words, the useless kind of hope!)

She definitely always seemed the sort to speak her mind frankly: “I rebel.”

There is really something about a pervasively rainy day that just embodies despair like nothing else! Which is part of why this was such an excellent prompt, of course (and the related one that helped inspire “The Rains of Scarif”).

Yes, she finally takes the plunge—and what happens next is indeed another story! (I know you know the one! ) Thanks once again for the awesome comment, my friend—it always makes my day to see you here.

All righty doo, next installment inbound shortly… many thanks to you all once again for being here!

 

2. In That Big Somewhere

Prompt: Write a story between 400 and 800 words in which a character admits a secret to another character without directly speaking to them. Indirect means of communication are fair game.
Characters: Squib OCs
Genre: Family, drama with touches of both humor and angst
Summary: At a family-unit gathering to celebrate her elderly mother’s milestone birthday, a Squib scavenger must share with her—and no one else—a piece of important and devastating news.
Notes: Takes place at some point after Somewhere Out There, Sai-Perimetry at Gleebaloola’s, You Bet!, and Turn Your Head and Cough; or, The Checkup; those are my previous stories featuring some of these same characters. This story’s title comes, once again, from the song “Somewhere Out There,” from An American Tail (1986). It came out to 794 words, and once again I thank @Raissa Baiard for beta reading.

---

Today was M’ma’s lifeday!

And not just any lifeday, you bet!

Marjoreenietta Okonomoboodle-Flhaskhalhoosa, grand matriarch of the ancient and renowned family unit of the Upper Rubble River Flhaskhalhoosas, was turning the venerable age of seventy. Seventy was considered extremely respectable for a Squib, and it was nothing short of miraculous that M’ma had come this far, as her health was no longer tip-top: walking trouble, getting-tired trouble, heart-beating trouble, remembering trouble. Some said she wasn’t long for this universe, and they were probably right.

But in a way, that made it specialer— because you’ve got to celebrate every journey around the Standard calendar that you’ve got, right? And at the family unit’s Imperial City compound in the Blastersmiths’ District of Level 232, there was going to be a party like no party ever partied before! Everybody in the family unit would be there, from every corner of the Squib Polyanarchy, from the old homeworld of Skor II to the fringes of Wild Space! There would be mounds of scrumptious grub, singing and dancing late into the night, and dear old M’ma would be roasted and toasted like no Squib was ever roasted and toasted before!

And Gleebaloola Flhaskhalhoosa, Marjoreenietta’s second-oldest daughter and proud owner of Coruscant’s finest antique depot (Gleebaloola’s, in CoCo Town), was agog with excitement as she donned her fanciest, clinkiest bangles and necklaces, combed her red-orange fur till it shone, and closed up shop for the day before catching the 1635 to Level 232. Right?

Well, normally, she would have been agog with excitement. But things weren’t normal. Not after the package that had come earlier that day, and the letter inside it.

It bore no return address except the cryptic initials Aurek Herf Cresh, but Gleebaloola knew what that meant. As to what was inside…

It was devastating. Gleebaloola had gone numb just seeing it. And she remembered a promise made long ago: something she wouldn’t tell anyone, not even her family unit.

And yet— M’ma was so old, with not much time left in this galaxy. She, if no one else, deserved to know…

Gleebaloola stuffed the package into her big patchwork satchel. It wouldn’t be easy at the big party, but she would find time alone with M’ma to break the news.

Until then, she would celebrate as hard as she could. Because seventy was no small topatoes, you bet!

*

The party was everything Gleebaloola knew it would be: a true Squib bash, with tasty treats aplenty, songs, dances, and general revelrous merriment. M’ma, though frail, was in happy spirits throughout, feasting heartily, joining merrily in the songs (if not the dances anymore), and receiving the traditional family roasts with a beatific beam on her grizzled orange snout.

Then it came time for the toasts. They all toasted M’ma, and then other family members, as was customary. And then Gleebaloola’s youngest sister, Rosareeba, rose to her feet, double Whyren’s in hand, and spoke:

“Let’s raise one to our long-loved-’n’-lost brother Deebs.”

Silence fell over the group as they readied their glasses. Gleebaloola’s heart pounded. Deebs: to the rest of the family he was long-lost, but not to her. An accomplished medical doctor, he had left his successful practice on Thyferra to join the Rebel Alliance (yes, that Rebel Alliance) as a medic.

And she had promised him she’d tell no one, not even the family unit…

“Deebeeneebeedee Bubalocephalinus Flhaskhalhoosa, we miss you,” Rosareeba continued. “Wheresoever perchance you are, from the dark, dank deeps of the Unknown Regions to our final rest-home atop the Great Junk Heap, we grok you true, and we are less without you. You bet!”

“You bet!” echoed the assembled family members, clinking their glasses.

“You bet,” Gleebaloola repeated, quietly, and one hand drifted down toward the satchel at her side.

*

It was late at night when things wound down. M’ma, thoroughly but contentedly tired from the evening’s festivities, retired to bed with the help of her two eldest pups: Gleebaloola and her older brother, Abadabanabadoo. Once she was well tucked in beneath the heirloom quilted coverlet Great-Great-Gran’M’ma had scavenged from the Royal Hapan Auction House decades ago, Abadabanabadoo kissed her goodnight and left. Gleebaloola kissed her mother, too, but stayed. It was time.

Deep breath, Gleebs ol’ girl, get this over’n out with, you bet…

“Erm… M’ma?” she began.

“Yeh, Gleebles, whadizzit?”

Wordlessly, Gleebaloola took the Aurek-Herf-Cresh package from her satchel and placed its contents one by one into her mother’s gray-streaked orange paws:

A stethoscope.

A code cylinder.

An empty hypospray.

A standard field medpac, nestled inside a colorful knitted pouch bearing the swishy cursive initials “DF, MD.”

With shaking paws, Marjoreenietta Okonomoboodle-Flhaskhalhoosa rubbed each object on her fur, then gathered everything close and closed her eyes.

And the room was very quiet.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

Marjoreenietta is named in homage to Marjory the Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock, introduced to me by @Raissa Baiard —thanks for that! It seemed appropriate given that a Junk Heap of the Ancients is a revered location from Squib mythology as well.

Marjoreenietta’s age: According to SW alien guidebooks and RPG sources, 65 and older is considered “venerable” for a Squib (see the age chart posted here).

Squibs rub objects on their fur to taste them or test their value and authenticity (see their Wook entry).

Aurek Herf Cresh of course stands for “Alliance High Command.”

Finally, note that the story from which this one most directly continues, Somewhere Out There, was also based on a prompt having to do with telling secrets.

 

Thank you all so much, as always, for the reads and reviews.

Yes, definitely not the easiest way to celebrate such an occasion at all! Gleebaloola had no idea the news about her brother would come right before her mother's big birthday; that took her by surprise. She does the best she can under the circumstances, though. Thanks as always!

It was fun to return to my Squibs again, even with a somewhat sad story like this! It was a tough position to put Gleebs in (heck, it was an even tougher position to put Deebs in!), but as you say balance was key: despite the rough news Gleebs has to share, M'ma's milestone birthday is still worth celebrating, you bet.

Ohmigosh, no worries at all! I am grateful and delighted to receive reviews of any length and level of detail; the fact that you’re here and that you enjoyed the story is more than enough!

Thanks so much! I appreciate that you took the time to read “Rains” as well, and I’m so glad the complementarity of the stories worked for you—that was definitely what I was trying to go for as best I could, and as soon as I saw the “rain” prompt for week 1 I thought back to “Rains of Scarif.” As to Mon, Tynnra, and Jyn coming together, you are right that they are unlikely allies, but these unprecedented times can have the effect of brining people together that way, and that’s a good thing! (Also, with “Rains” I was partly setting the challenge for myself of writing a Rogue One story with an all-female cast, since there were so few female characters in the film!)

I’m so glad you enjoy Gleebaloola! Writing her always brings me a lot of joy, too, even when it’s a pretty heavy, dramatic situation like this one (and I won’t lie, it was hard to put her through this ). The Squib talk is always a fun exercise, and in a way it’s easy—I can just slap down whatever crazy turn of phrase comes to mind, without worrying about whether it sounds “right,” because it’s not supposed to sound “right”!

Thanks so much! The earlier story that establishes that Gleebaloola and Deebeeneebeedee are sister and brother, Somewhere Out There, was also written in response to a prompt relating to telling secrets, which is how I got the idea of using the same characters for this prompt. (Kind of like what happened with the two Jyn stories!) Gleebs figures that her mother deserves to know what happened to her son, even if she (Gleebs) still is charged with keeping it a secret from the rest of the family. It’s such painful news that she prefers to pass it on wordlessly, and that gets the message across all the more so in some ways. Rubbing the objects on her fur is the way Marjoreenietta knows it’s really true—those really are Deebs’s things. So her response is wordless, too, and that silence speaks volumes. Again, it was difficult to do this to Deebs and Gleebs and their family, but I figure at least that Deebs would have gone down honorably, and that the Rebellion—and his own family—would have been more than grateful for his service. Thanks so much as always for reading and reviewing!

Oh, thank you so much! So glad you enjoyed this story even if the character was new to you. Those hidden corners are definitely some of my favorite corners of the GFFA, so I am delighted to hear that you are enjoying visiting them along with me!

If I do say so myself, no one can out-enthuse Gleebs!

He does—there’s more about how that happened in Somewhere Out There (shameless plug, I know, sorry!). All the family knows is that Deebs is “long lost” and much missed; only Gleebs knows why, and knows the real situation, so this toast hits her especially hard, especially with the fateful news she has just found out.

Thanks! Yes, I guess this story traverses some extremes of mood, going from a merry celebration with food, drink, music, dancing, and camaraderie, to a moment of realization that is literally as quiet as death. Again, it was difficult to do that to these characters, of whom I’m very fond! But I’m glad that it came off effectively and that you enjoyed the results. Thanks very much again, as always, for being here!

 

3. Knight and Survivor

Prompt: Write a set of five drabbles with the following prompts: midnight, endeavor, inheritance, disaster, horizon. (Note: I reordered the prompts slightly, which we were given permission to do.)
Characters: Kanan Jarrus, Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios
Genre: drama, drabbles
Summary: On a planet ravaged by the Empire, a fallen knight finds and rescues the survivor who will become one of his best comrades and friends.
Notes: Thanks again to @Raissa Baiard for beta-reading.

1. Midnight

It was midnight when I debarked. Darkness was the first thing that greeted me as I descended the ramp: darkness thick as a blindhood, both starless and cloudless.

I listened rather than looked (what could I see in such midnight?). Wind rustled all around me, then was pierced suddenly by a distant raucous sound. A bird’s call? A beast’s roar?

No, a shout. Yours, but I didn’t know it yet.

The sound sapped me; I staggered. Why? I asked. Why such exhaustion after so few steps? But that would be the least of my uncertainties on this dead, ravaged world.

2. Disaster

Blaster and glowrod in hand, I set forth. For interminable hours I felt only barren rock beneath my feet (where, according to our map, should have been lush meadows). The wind keened on. Again the shout pierced it, nearer this time.

Then the rubble attacked my feet: broken glass, torn metal, coarse-crumbled stone. It was the scene of a disaster, thedisaster. I stumbled over body after body: your people, once strong and proud, now motionless in horrific, contorted death.

Then again the shout! So near now. Toward it I half ran, half stumbled—

—until I stopped, and saw you.

3. Endeavor

You were pinned beneath a fallen stone pier, struggling to free yourself, but only becoming tired from struggling and hoarse from shouting. I couldn’t blame you!

“One moment,” I said. “Let me help.”

It would be no easy endeavor, but I had to try. I gathered my strength and tried to push the pier away: to no avail. But I possess another type of strength, too. I closed my eyes and touched the Force. Carefully, now…

That was no small effort either, but it worked. The pier rolled aside. You began to raise yourself.

“Thanks, mate,” you said, then collapsed.

4. Horizon

Was it fortunate that I found no other survivors that night? It was difficult: we didn’t want to leave anyone behind, but we also had to get you to safety, and that quickly. Fortunately, we knew about the underground Alliance medcenter one sector over. That would be our next stop.

I commed the ship. It was still several klicks away, so all I could do was wait. I moved you out of the rubble (you’re heavy, you know?) and covered you. Then I sat down and scanned the horizon. Red sunlight was creeping sluggishly upward as though nothing had happened.

5. Inheritance

As I sat in the medcenter waiting room, waiting to hear the report on your injuries, these thoughts coursed through my mind.

We had taken you from your home but could not bring you back. (I’ve been there.)

Your life was saved; your home, culture, and heritage were lost, never to be handed down to future generations. (Been there, too.)

Why? I know why— I know the Empire.

I think these same thoughts now. Garazeb Orrelios, Spectre Four, you are one of the best friends and comrades I’ve ever had.

And I will never forget what becoming that cost you.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

“a fallen knight, “a survivor”: From Hera’s voiceover to the Rebels season 4 trailer: “It was a simple story, about a boy who was lost, and a girl who was broken. They fought alongside a survivor, a war veteran, and a fallen knight. I led them into battle against an evil so terrible, it tried to black out the stars. We fought for each other. We fought for those who could not. But we never imagined it would end like this.”

 

I love how quickly you are able to establish the tone and voice of your OC narrator for us readers!

Such a relatable and heartbreaking way to describe the many troubles and pains of advancing age

I think anyone who has ever witnessed a loved one's aging will feel a tug on their heartstrings here.

You most definitely do. Preferably with something sweet

Your description of the darkness here was very powerful. Especially the starless and cloudless bit.

The parenthesis about what should have been lush meadows was very effective here.

You deftly give the reader a sense of the mounting scale of this devastation and tragedy. First you reveal the rubble, then the disaster, and the tragic death toll. Very well and movingly written.

Your asides remain wonderful and really help give your narrators distinct voices.

Excellent use of the horizon prompt, and I like the description of the red sunlight as sluggish. Also, just that sense of nature sometimes seeming indifferent to our griefs and woes. Carrying on as if nothing as happened when a tragedy has taken place.

There is so much grief and loss in that parenthesis.

And what a perfect gut punch to end the story on.

Thank you for stirring all the feels in me

 

I've read a lot of stories from you that I consider truly special over the years, but I really think that your Week Two and Three entries just may rank among my favorites.

In That Big Somewhere

I squeed out loud just that quick!

I NOTICED THAT RIGHT AWAY, TOO, AND WAS JUST SO HAPPY

I always love your voice for Geebs, and this was absolutely no exception! I could have quoted every other line as Geebaloola reflected on her mother and her family (all of her family) and closed up shop and got ready to head out for a well-deserved night of roasting and toasting, you bet!

I started getting emotional right about here . . .

This, I have to agree with what other reviewers mentioned, was such a touching balance to strike between joy and grief - because, in the face of one, all you can really do is hold on to the other (and each other) all the more tightly.

I do love how you portray generations in your stories, too - if that makes any sense? M'ma Marjoreenietta Okonomoboodle-Flhaskhalhoosa is a classy dame of a matriarch, and it was beautiful to see her honored by her family here.

AND THERE WAS MY HEART

I wanted to fling a surplus of emojis or a gif of some sort to express just how poignantly this resonated with me, but all I can really say is that this resonated with me - powerfully - and I felt my eyes burn to read it for the first time and let its impact set in, just as they are again now. This was as beautiful, heartfelt, and bittersweet an answer to the challenge prompt as there could have been.

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I was emotional all over again, just that quick!

Gorgeous phrasing!

The intimacy of yours when referred to in the first-person POV just took my breath away - especially when I understood exactly what I was reading here.

The simplicity of this sentence, and the emotion it conveyed as such, was astounding.

Such a tangible sense of loss and desolation . . .

Again, the use of your absolutely gutted me.

And that Kanan uses his own survivor's gift as a knight to free this survivor . . .

"He ain't heavy, he's my brother" is the first thing I thought.

MY GOSH, THIS LINE

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What an answer to the "inheritance" prompt . . .

You absolutely knocked it out of the park with both of these updates, and I can't wait to see what you're inspired to write next!

 

Thanks as always, everyone!

Thanks so much! Yes, that is exactly the idea: he’s letting his longtime friend and comrade-in-arms know just how much that initial meeting meant, and how its memories have stuck with him even after the passage of years. (With both him and Zeb!)

That very point hit me while writing this: Zeb wouldn’t have become a Spectre and formed the close friendship with Kanan and the others if he hadn’t also suffered the terrible loss of his homeworld and everything dear to him—and I think the other Spectres, especially Kanan (who suffered a similar loss when the Jedi were purged), would well understand that. It was a terrible price to pay—but one can’t deny that something good came out of it, too. That’s so often how life goes, unfortunately! Thanks again, as always, for reading and commenting.

Thanks so much! Yes, Kanan sees and understands the totality of what’s happened on Lasan, and what that will mean for Zeb. Even though he’ll gain Zeb’s friendship and comradeship for saving him, Kanan realizes that that came at a tremendous cost. This is a scene that was only ever briefly mentioned in canon and that I’ve long wanted to expand on a bit, and these prompt words were the perfect opportunity. Thanks again!

Thanks so much! The Empire didn’t just wipe out the people of Lasan—their destructive presence there had to have ravaged its terrain too, and that irreparably, and deliberately. I have always written the Lasat as very connected to Lasan and its natural features, so both destructions make each other all the more devastating, if that makes sense.

Thanks again! That very idea occurred to me while I was writing this and thinking about how I wanted to end with some kind of reflection on the friendship between these two characters (which the show did not touch on nearly enough, but which had to be there). Their connection literally could not have come about had the Empire not besieged and destroyed Lasan. Terrible, of course—but unfortunately how so many things go in any galaxy! Once again, many thanks for reading; always glad to have you here.

Thanks so much! Writing characters with distinctive speech patterns like this is always so much fun, for that very reason!

Absolutely have been there. I imagine it’s by way of a galactic universal. It's a blessing when the ones we love live a long time, but we can't deny that with it can go a lot of hardship.

Absolutely agreed!

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Thanks! I see it both these things as being at least partially due to the environmental damage the Imps almost certainly caused in besieging Lasan (though of course the local time contributed to the darkness as well).

Thanks again. The extent of the damage is a gradual realization for Kanan, as he explores around and his eyes get used to the low light. He sees now that the disaster really was absolute and all-encompassing.

Thanks again—this particular one was based on a line Kanan actually says to Zeb in one episode of the show, while he’s hauling Zeb back onto a catwalk from which he’s fallen!

“The sun will come out. Tomorrow.” Nature does have that way of just carrying on no matter what happens—there are times when that consistency and persistency can be incredibly comforting, and others when it just rubs salt in the proverbial wound. This particular moment may be more along the lines of the latter.

Kanan truly has been there: Order 66 was a genocide as well, in which he lost his whole way of life and all the people he knew and cared for, and was left to fend for himself as a fugitive. Seeing Zeb right after the destruction of Lasan brings it home: this is someone who’s experienced that same kind of trauma and loss. (The show’s writers really missed a big boat, IMHO, in not having these two characters bond more over these similar experiences.)

I won’t lie, it was a gut punch to me to come to that same realization in the course of writing! So of course I had to share the wealth, so to speak.

You’re so welcome, and thank YOU for being here to read and review! It is always a joy to have you here, and I hope you’ve been enjoying this challenge too.

That is an immense compliment; thank you so much, and I mean so much.

It was a lot of fun to write these guys and girls again, you bet!

I thought you might! It took a bit of doing finding an appropriate lyric that wasn’t also “Somewhere Out There,” but this one seemed to fit, given where poor Deebs’s journey ultimately took him.

Thank you! I always enjoy coming back to her, too; the balance between the bubbly enthusiasm and the real concern inside is always such challenge for her. Especially in a scenario like this one! But I guess that very duality was what suggested her to me for this prompt.

What else can I do or say but give you a big ?

Very well said.

That is a huge compliment too; thank you so much! <3 I figure this is what every elder making it to a certain point deserves from their family, and given the close attachment Squibs have to their family units, they would be especially good at celebrating such milestones. Because M’ma’s milestone is a milestone for her wholefamily!

<3

Thank you so much, and I mean that—that is quite a compliment too. I’m so glad to know that moment packed the appropriate oomph in your estimation. Once again, <3 !

Sorry-not-entirely-sorry, I guess I’ve been on a bit of an angsty streak with these first few Run prompts!

Thank you so much! There’s the environmental damage done by the Empire at work here, of course, but probably Kanan is sensing something off kilter in the Force as well, which could be contributing.

Thanks so much, I’m glad that worked! I always am a little worried about it coming off as gimmicky when I try such things, but I think the 1st-2nd combination can be quite effective when used well.

It’s so quiet and dark in this strange ravaged landscape that the sound—especially such a visceral one—jumps out to Kanan and becomes the thing that leads him to—I guess I could call it his goal, as that’s what it kind of turns out to be.

Yes, and he is quite literally feeling it, as in experiencing it in a tactile manner, as he walks.

After this encounter, the destruction has a face—a living face, and one that makes it real in a way it might not have been to Kanan otherwise. <3

That gift is part of him, and he knows he needs to give his all to help this fellow survivor. (The Jedi taught him well in his relatively short time with them!)

Hah! You’re so right! That line turns out to be based on a remark Kanan makes about Zeb’s weight at one point in Rebels S4, but yes, there is a definite element of “he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother” here too—because these two do become true brothers.

Again, nature has that way of keeping right on doing its thing despite the terrible things that happen to us sentient beings—which can sometimes be a blessing, sometimes the exact opposite. Guess which this one is!

<3 I’m glad this passage came off well for you, too! I had been afraid at first that I’d made the connection to the concept of inheritance too tenous, but I am glad it comes through. That’s one of the worst things about this kind of destruction of course: the way it destroys not only the current generation but future ones.

Once again, well put!

Thank you so, so much, my dear! Your appreciation and readership mean the world to me; it always makes me smile to see you here. I am having a great time with this challenge, so “can’t wait to see what I’ll write next” is how I feel, too!

No worries at all, my friend! These stories and I will be here. I appreciate all the more your taking the time to read and review, because I know how RL has been for you lately.

Thanks! I know I'd scream too under those circumstances, or worse! (And I much prefer my seafood fresh, too... though if you get a chance to eat crab in the vicinity of the real-life Useless Bay, that is an experience I highly recommend.) I could see a situation like this really and truly placing a person into a perpetual feeling of existential crisis. And #WheresCassian indeed! I would very much like to write that story sometime myself; let's see what the prompts bring!

Well, thank you so much, I really appreciate that compliment—I personally find that stories mixing the humorous and serious can be very effective, so if I can achieve that, I feel pretty proud. And oh my gosh, the moment you first mentioned her, Marjory sounded like a PERFECT fit for the Squibs. (SW/FR crossover, anyone? Actually, Raissa, you'd be the ultimate person to write that! ) So of course she was the perfect namesake for so fine a Squib matriarch as Gleebaloola's M'ma! Gleebs is indeed experiencing the dilemma she had in "Somewhere Out There" all over again: how much of the secret to keep? And indeed, her mother's health is very much on her mind: she feels she deserves to know, but she knows how frail she is and what a shock like this might mean. Which is why she goes about it in as gentle and sensitive a way as she can. I figure even loquacious, silly-named rodents must have an emotional life between chattering and scavenging; all sentient beings do, after all!

And that too is a fantastic compliment from such a Rebels aficionado as you; thank you so much! I know I've been turning up the angst a bit with these stories (including the one coming next), but these prompt words really turned out to be a perfect reason to write this scene of Kanan and Zeb's first meeting on Lasan, at which I've been wanting to try my hand for a long time. I'm pretty sure Kanan actually says "You're heavy" or similar to Zeb at least once in the series, too! (But as @Mira_Jade would point out, "He's not heavy, he's my brother!" ) Although the series didn't show as much of it as it could have, it's clear these two men have a close bond of friendship that's born of similar losses and traumas, and this set of prompts—especially "Inheritance," once I got there—turned out to be the perfect place to explore that.

Thanks so much, my friend—and once again, it means so much to me that you take the time to read through each of these before it's posted! Thank you for being here, and indeed for everything.