notallofus: (hera)
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notallofus: (meditating)
It's a long haul to Demiloch, which means there's been plenty of downtime. And waiting. There's always something that needs to be done, something that needs to be fixed or cleaned or otherwise attended to. But Hera had insisted that everything was under control, and that she didn't need his help running a systems diagnostic, that she and Chopper have it well in hand, leaving Kanan to retreat to his room.

He knows how he should be spending the time, how Hera would want him to spend the time. Still, he delays before eventually opening the compartment under his bunk, and taking out the holocron. He takes a seat on the bottom bunk, and holds out the holocron, turning it over in his hand. It's dark at first, but then a blue light begins to hum within it, and the holocron lifts itself from his fingers, floating out, bathing the room in blue light.




Sometime later, the holocron is still floating, spinning in a slow circle, a holo illuminated above it. The image in the holo is of a woman, with dark skin and black hair tied into two looped braids along the back of her head. Her eyes are closed, and she speaks, softly –

"- ignorance, yet knowledge –"
notallofus: (facepalm)
This... has not been the easiest haul. It would have been enough of a pain without Zeb and Chopper complaining from start to hopefully-soon-finish. What's worse was that quite a few of those complaints were right. The cargo bay was a mess, the noise was constant, and Kanan was skeptical about whether they'd ever get the ... strong smell of nerfs out.

On the other hand, he has to admit, the group of calves licking the block of salt left out for them are pretty cute.

Which might be why he calls down, when he sees Chopper rolling up behind them -

"Chop, you scare them one more time and I swear -"

Chopper blats, waving his arms, but reverses and resumes his makeshift 'herding' path around the bay.
notallofus: (Default)
There are days when Kanan wishes the detection capabilities of the Imperial fleet were a lot less good than they are. Those days usually coincide with missions that involve a lot of sitting around in a dead ship, with a deactivated Chopper and a lot of time to kill until contact is made.

Like today, for instance.

Probably all day, too. Hopefully not into tomorrow.

"So," Kanan says, voice pitched low and not quite sibilant enough to be a whisper. "How do you feel about another round of I Spy?"
notallofus: (smile)
Thune City is a pleasant enough place, if you can ignore the oppressive heat in the day, the canals filled with stinging insects, and the crisscrossing lines of crime families that stalked the streets and made off-world smuggling as difficult as when they had Imperials breathing down their necks.

Still, their shipment had been made, they'd been paid in full, and Chopper was running maintenance that was going to take the night. The sun had nearly set, which meant that the heat was leveling off, that shadows were cutting across the yellow stone towers and domes of the city, and lights were starting to appear in windows.

Not to mention the bartender in this place could mix a Corellian Twister, so overall, Kanan isn't feeling much to complain about.
notallofus: (a bad feeling about)
For someone raised in the Jedi tradition, sometimes Kanan feels like he should be bothered less by the clinical nature of his current surroundings. But everything in this pharmeceutical lab is so medical, it's almost like he's waiting for droids to swarm out of the woodwork threatening to give him shots.

Which is painfully ridiculous, not least because what's likely to come swarming out of any currently-closed doors is a patrol of stormtroopers. If he and Hera start tripping alarms, that is.

Which they won't. This op is going smoothly so far, and with any luck and no judicious use of the Force at all, that trend ought to continue until they pass the supplies they're carrying -- well, pushing -- off to their contact here on Sesid.

Sometimes it's nice visiting a planet that has its own homegrown rebellious population.

"Lab 31. We're almost there."

Just two more doors. Then a run through a series of underutilized storage spacees and out by the docks. Piece of cake.

Sure.
notallofus: (Default)
Kanan doesn't join Hera in the cockpit as she makes the jump to hyperspace. He mutters something about checking on the Phantom, he makes little effort to focus on the maintenance calculations, and before he knows it Chopper is shooing him away, leaving him to wander back to the lounge.

He takes a seat by the Dejarik board, leaning forward and resting his palms on his knees. His mind goes, unbidden, to his old breathing exercises - the enveloping silence of space, his eyes set, unfocused, on the metal floor, and their cool, familiar voices rush back to him, even as he tries to push them away. Kanan feels like a thirsty man refusing a drink of water, a strange feeling, since for so long pushing it away, ignoring it, had come so easily. There had seemed to be a mutual apathy.

But it didn't feel so apathetic anymore.

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notallofus: (Default)
Kanan Jarrus

June 2017

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