notallofus | (no subject)

They finally depart the crawler at sunset, just outside Mos Taike. The Jawas settle in for the night, planning to make their rounds among the moisture farmers and the town's small market in the morning. Tsedec leads them out, shaking each of their hands and bowing quickly before heading back into the crawler. In the distance, the twin suns burn white and orange, the sky now dusted in purple and gray, the shadows of the dunes and of the small farm homes that dot the landscape cut darkness across the bright sands.

No more than a klik away is Mos Taik – compared to Mos Elrey, it looks rather run down. It's also surrounded by walls, but they're lower, and clearly chipped and crumbling in places. There are fewer earthen towers, most buildings also low to the ground, and while there had been plenty of activity outside the walls of Mos Elrey, here there's only one other vehicle, a speeder just at the wall, two figures piling sacks into it. Beyond the city, much, much farther in the distance, a cliff rises up from the sands, and perched on it the dark, miniscule outline of what must be the Hutt's palace.

But Kanan only glances over this, before turning back, out to the desert. Something about the color of the suns, the shadows, the wind rising over the desert makes Kanan pause. He looks out to the horizon, to the twin suns, one gleaming white hanging high above the other, deep orange and already beginning to fade as it dips deeper in the sky. The wind ebbs, but then picks up once more, whistling around them, chilling the otherwise warm evening. And beneath it – Kanan can hear it, like a voice, familiar yet changed somehow, calling out to him across the dune sea –

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"Probably my tattoos," she answers, not looking up from the controls. "The pattern's from my part of the world. That's why I chose it."

"It's pretty," Kanan says, and immediately refrains from facepalming.

That would only call attention to . . . everything, so.

"The pattern, not -- "

Stop, Kanan. Stop.

"I'm kind of glad you hit him now, though. Not just because we're going to be making a Hutt's life harder."

Hera finally relaxes her grip on the controls. They're en route to wherever this cargo must be located. There's not much for her to do at the moment but keep alert, and make sure they don't run into anything they'd rather avoid.

"I'd heard about him since I was a child," she says, more softly now. "It was - startling, to actually see him."

"Is he . . . "

Kanan trails off again, looking for the right concept. There's not much from the temple, but from what he's heard from people with children since . . .

"Is he like a scary story people tell children? To warn them of something to be careful of? Or -- "

"For my parents, maybe."

She almost huffs out a laugh and she says it. "I also got the standard stories about lyleks and gutkurrs. But for my family and... for everyone with us, it was the worst thing anyone could do, selling out their own kind."

Kanan licks his lips. This might come out wrong, and he knows it, but --

"Shouldn't it be that way for everyone?"

Hera looks over to Kanan, regarding him for a moment.

And then she answers, with a small shrug, "I'd rather not sell out anyone, Twi'lek or no."

"I'd rather not, either," he admits, shrugging back. "Though I think I almost wanted to, a couple times, back . . . before."

Anyway.

"It just seems like something a lot of different clan groups hold especially important. Within a species, I mean. Or a planet."

"No, you're right," she says, turning back to the controls.

"But for Twi'leks - plenty of us were sold out by others. And for others, the most important thing to do is survive."

Ryloth could bring that out, too, and to an extant, Hera couldn't really blame them. "But I don't think it's either, really, for Fortuna's clan."

"They want power?"

He falls silent for a second, looking out from the cockpit at the bulk of Tatooine gliding by beneath them.

"Or . . . to be as close to power as they can get?"

Maybe it's just money. But from the way Fortuna reveled in the other beings' fear of him, that seems . . . like it can't possibly be all of it.

"Probably something like that."

Having never seen the appeal of so much money or power, it's not easy for Hera to understand. "That clan's been running spice and slaves out of Lessu since the Hutts, but he's made the biggest name for himself recently."

After a beat, "Though he did have a cousin who used to work with us."

A light flashes along the controls, and she tightens her grip on the yoke. "We're approaching."

"A cous -- " Kanan shakes his head before he can finish the thought. Now is definitely not the time.

"Do we need me on one of the guns?" he asks, already moving to stand.

"Or do I get to do the part with the digging?"

"Scanning for lifeforms..."

She lets that trail off for a moment, before, "Doesn't look like there's anything nearby. And if it's not buried too deep, the magnetic locks might be enough to pull it out."

Hera doubts the Quarren put too much effort into this. "Want to check how Chopper's doing?"

"Good point," Kanan says, not trying to hide his feeling of relief, but not making too much effort to telegraph it on his face, either.

"I'll hopefully be right back."

He brushes the heel of his hand against her upper arm as he turns to go.

"Chop! I'm coming down there, and if you try to shock me I'm going to be really annoyed."

"Don't try to shock him, Chop!"

She can always try to give him orders.