notallofus | (no subject)

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The last of the refugees have been escorted off the Ghost and onto Gatalenta, along with all the belongings and supplies that Hera and Kanan could muster for them, too. There were handclasps and some weeping, and children that seemed reluctant to step out onto a new planet after all the troubles that happened to them on the old, or on the hyperlanes. Slavers have never been anything but ruthless. Fortunately the Cloud Riders can be ruthless, too, and they'll see to it that these refugees are well-protected, at least for a while.

It's something.

There's an ache in Kanan's shoulders from hauling things around, along with a faint line of tension reflected through the Force, as no one on the ship was particularly happy most of the time. He understands, but it's . . . hard to keep all of that out, not in such close quarters.

(Time in the cargo bay with the boy was a blessing on several front, honestly.)

"Do you want me to get some caf brewing while you get us into hyperspace?" Kanan asks Hera, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

They could all use some time to gather themselves, it seems to him. But he wants to check, just in case he's wrong.

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They're safely in hyperspace by then, though Hera's still leaned over the console when Kanan enters, looking over the fuel levels, the system readings. Trying to throw together a plan that might actually include some downtime to give the Ghost a tune up.

She leans back when she hears Kanan's voice, and accepts the cup.

"Thanks." And then a sip.

"I'd just like to get us through this jump first."

"I can take first watch, if you want. Once that's done, I mean. Today's been . . . a lot. For you especially, maybe."

Kanan's quiet after that, taking his own sip of caf.

Maybe he's said too much?

"If you're sure."

She stretches, curling her lekku over the back of her seat, and just for a few seconds, lets her eyes drift closed.

Edited 2018-09-05 01:45 (UTC)

"I am," he says gently, taking his own seat in the copilot's chair.

"I was specially trained to stay awake for long hours, anyway."

"Is that the same as just having to stay awake for long hours?"

Even as she says it, she lifts one hand, covering a yawn. "Because I think we both got that."

"Technically I learned how to convince myself I wasn't tired, so that's . . . close. I guess."

His smile is crooked.

"Do you want me to keep you awake a little longer? Because otherwise I think you're going to fall asleep right here."

"I won't fall asleep," she insists.

"But we can talk."

She won't complain.

"I can do that," Kanan says. And after another sip of caf --

"It was a good call, sending me down to talk to the kid. His Twi'leki is much better than mine."

"He'll be spending a long time readjusting."

She turns, looking back to him. "I thought you might make him feel a little more confident, less..."

But as she hears the words, Hera's eyes flicker up. She takes a deep breath, and her fingers press tighter against her mug.

"He'll finally be back with his own people, and he'll feel like an outsider."

"It'll be hard," Kanan agrees, voice just a little bit quieter. And then --

"Did you feel that way, when you were a kid?"

She blinks back to him.

"Like an outsider?"

"With all your dad's work, when you were little . . . I guess . . . yeah. That."

Was that the wrong question? Maybe he's projecting.

It's not wrong. It's not an unreasonable question, she realizes, as she considers what Kanan's seen today, between Enfys and the Cloud-Riders and the refugees.

"I was different from others, but -"

But she'd had other things to think about. But she'd always been eager to run into what she didn't know.

"I grew up in the place I knew was my home. I was always with my family, even when - I wasn't taken from them. I was raised with fighters, people who cared about Ryloth, about Twi'leks, about our own history, down to our deserts and mountains."

Her eyes flicker back to him. "I knew who I was."

Kanan absorbs this knowledge, gaze meeting Hera's for a second before he looks away again, lifting the caf back up to his mouth.

He doesn't drink.

"Do you think they'll be able to give it back to him? The knowledge, even if not the place?"

Hera stay silent a moment, still watching him.

"Do you know why I told you not to ask him his name?"

"I really want to say yes, but . . . "

He's not willing to be wrong, right now. It feels like it might hurt.

She shakes her head, just slightly, enough for her lekku to sway.

"It's an old custom, not that well-known off Ryloth. You shouldn't, necessarily."

Her eyes flicker down for a moment, and then back up. "It's common in Twi'lek families that children aren't given names. They choose them, when they're around four years old."

Kanan licks his lips, looking back up to Hera.

"Was it that way for you, too?"

Hera nods.

"Before that, parents usually start with 'child.' Then we get nicknames. And when you make your choice, it's like you're choosing who you're going to be in your community."

"Who did you choose to be?"

It seems daring, but -- Hera at four, dreaming of flying -- how did she see herself fitting on Ryloth? Is the Hera he knows the one she imagined herself to be?

Hera's eyes flicker down, her fingers pressing rather tight to her cup again.

"What I already felt I was, then."

Slowly, she lifts the cup to her lips. Makes herself take a brief sip.

"Some parts didn't work the same for me, or they really come from how more ancient communities worked."

"You felt that at four?" And then he stops himself. "No, you're right. I knew then, too, that I was going to be a . . . you know."

He hesitates, seeing that tight grip of her hand on her cup.

"I can stop asking, though. If you don't want to talk about it."

Edited 2018-09-08 15:39 (UTC)

"It was thought of as old enough to be part of your community."

Maybe it was young. But then, it hadn't felt that way for Hera – and survival on Ryloth had often meant growing up fast.

"You know it's coming – at least, I remember it that way. And you can get advice, or suggestions. But it has to be your choice – not just for your name, it's also when you choose your clan, your gender –"

She lifts a hand, vaguely gesturing, and the rest.

Kanan absorbs that for a moment, because that is definitely a lot more than he knew about himself at four, but --

"Did you go to anyone for advice? Or did you just . . . know?"

"Some things I remember knowing," Hera answers. "I always knew the clan name I'd take. And my gender – if a child shares that early, it's used even before they're of age.

"But I took longer with my name. I liked asking others about it."