Mister Blue Sky {Open}

[Ghostie]

“Zhar, come ‘ere.”

The voice was loud, resounding, and yet familiar and comforting all at the same time. A face started to coalesce with it at once, pictured from nothingness. There were narrow, intense eyes that shared Zhar-Khal’s own green color. Deep laugh lines, accompanying a wide and open-mouthed smile. Stubby facial hair, grey with splotches of what used to be a sort of auburn. The all too familiar face of Zhar’s Grandfather, Kazar, was framed in a hood of muted green, the same green that they always wore as Jedi from Corellia. All that Zhar could see for the moment was the man’s face, smiling at him. Kazar beckoned for him to approach, and called for the boy once again. Zhar wanted to join his grandfather, but his legs wouldn’t let him move any closer.

“C’moooon, Zhar...”

It was this third call out that made the young man finally stop and pause. Something was wrong with the older man’s voice. It was twisted, and changed. Zhar was about to ask what was different, before the answer was provided for him. A flash of red light separated his grandfather’s face in two, from one temple to the opposite side of the jaw. As the face came apart, instead of a gory mess it would have usually left in the mortal realm, here it trailed off into wisps of grey smoke. The smoke started where the blade had passed through until it quickly consumed all of Kazar’s face. In its wake was a another hooded individual, and once again Zhar-Khal could only see the man’s head. He was robed in black, with a dark grey mask in hanging where a face would normally be, it’s single wide slit foreboding and fierce. A lit by the red blade, Zhar could feel the man reach out for him through the Force.

“COME TO ME!”

---

“Good morning! Today’s forecast calls for blue skies!”

It was not the usual call of a radio host, but rather Zhar-Khal knew the soft words as the start to a popular, upbeat song. Though the song was a few decades old, it still had it’s fans. In an instant, the words were followed up by a loud, upbeat tempo as a man started to sing. It all seemed to start on cue, as if ushering Zhar-Khal back to the land of the living, and out of the same dream he had been having for the past few weeks. Reaching for the alarm clock that was playing the music, Zhar yawned a bit and stretched his jaw, rolling in bed. This dream sure was making it difficult to sleep.

After all, it wasn’t like seeing a reenactment of his grandfather’s murder every night was Zhar’s preferred choice of entertainment.

The young man simply laid in bed for a moment, and thought about what he had seen, Laying in bed and thinking about it was becoming as routine as his reoccurring dream. He dealt with all the feelings and attachments left from Kazar’s death. At the very least, Zhar thought he had. There was no sadness, no anger. No rage. There was nothing but a big, empty spot in his life. A feeling of nothingness. His grandfather and master being gone was simply what it was, and he had to keep moving on to the next thing. That was what Kazar would have wanted. Truth be told, Zhar-Khal was more upset that he didn't feel anything, than that his mentor was gone, but he supposed in the end, that was simply what being a good Jedi was all about. He knew that trying to go after that Sith Lord was near impossible. So why did he keep seeing the same scenario over and over again, anyways? It was a question that he didn’t have the answer to, that was for sure. Perhaps if he could finally corner one of the Masters who sat on the Council, he could explain the issue and they would have some insight.

“... it’s a beautiful new day-aaah! Running down the avenue...”

To that end, Zhar-Khal looked down at his alarm clock that was still playing music. It was morning. Late morning. Almost past time for breakfast in the cafeteria, late. It only took a moment for the time to register in the young man’s mind before he tossed the clock across the bed, the covers along with it, and jumped out of the opposite side and onto the floor. Since his’ grandfather’s death, Zhar-Khal didn’t have a teacher. And he had been abusing the absence for an excuse to sleep in. But from what he had heard, catching a High Councilor with a question was best done at breakfast. And not only had Zhar slept past most of the scheduled breakfast times in the past few weeks, but he didn’t know his way around the Jedi Temple just quite yet.

In less than fifteen minutes, the young man was leaving his assigned quarters in the Jedi Temple, dressed his in customary green robes and complete with his lightsaber on his belt. His hair was a bit out of place, but really, it seemed like it was always a bit out of place. Trying to smooth it out some as he walked down the wide halls, Zhar-Khal ran into no one else wandering around. He assumed everyone was either eating, or already participating in lessons. That was just fine for him. Finding a bank of turbolifts, the young man stepped inside, and keyed a floor. What he both thought and hoped was the correct floor for the cafeteria.

The turbolift shot off with a whir of repulsor engines and rushing air, and soon enough was at Zhar-Khal’s chosen floor. By the time he stepped off, he had finally gotten his hair to stay flat, and stay in place. Not paying much attention to where he was going as he put the finishing touches on it, Zhar was off the lift and the capsule had already zoomed away before he looked up and realised he was in a hangar bay. A bit stunned at first, he looked around, and saw only droids bustling to and fro as they prepared shuttles and speeders for the Jedi who would need them. Rolling his eyes a bit and sighing at no one in particular, Zhar-Khal called for another turbolift.

Hopping onboard and zooming off once again, the young man found himself staring at yet another hangar bay. Or the same one. He wasn’t sure anymore. They were all the same, and they were all empty.

Forgoing the turbolifts this time, Zhar decided to try his luck on foot in order to find his way to the cafeteria. He might miss whatever High Councilors were there, but at least he could find something to eat. That sounded fine in and of it’s own at this point. Marching up one flight of stairs, and then another, Zhar-Khal had to press himself flat against a wall and railing at one point a Twi’lek Youngling Instructor ushered her class along. A little Togruta girl flashed him a toothy smile with her fangs, and Zhar managed a half-hearted, half-smile back, his face feeling forced to twist into the happy expression. But perhaps the class was coming from the cafeteria. If Zhar followed their path back, then maybe he’d be in luck. Deciding to go with this plan, Zhar-Khal soon found himself in one of several of the Jedi Temple’s rooftop gardens.

“Why’s this place gotta be so karkin’ big…?” He breathed quietly, squinting in the morning sunlight.

[Rabbit]

It was a beautiful, sunny day - the kind of day that Kilia liked best. Not too warm, not too cold, with a light breeze to keep things pleasant. Her morning run through the Temple gardens had been less of a chore than it usually was, just because it felt so kriffing good to be outside. The young Jedi's time hadn't been what it usually was...but then again, she'd found herself running more for the sheer pleasure of the weather, than for strict exercise. To be honest, her "run" had been more of a casual jog, but again, Kilia was hardly eaten up with guilt over it. Sometimes, it was nice to just enjoy the little gifts that came along by being alive.

The Temple had many gardens, but this one was a favorite of Kilia's, largely because it almost exclusively featured fauna native to the Corellian system. It was known as the Green Garden - which would have seemed pretty redundant, except that it had been a gift to the Temple on behalf of the Corellian enclave. "Green" referred to the Corellian Jedi and their distinctive robes, rather than an unimaginative reference to the usual color of healthy plants. When Kilia was away from home, the Green Garden always made her feel like there was less distance between her and her roots. It was something of a sanctuary for her, and a memory of her late grandfather. Master Korbin Tharen had sat and visited with her many a time in this very garden, when she had been a younger Padawan.

The Code taught all Jedi not to form attachments...but the Green Jedi often treated that as more of a guideline than an absolute rule. When it came to Corellia and to one's family, attachment was just par for the course. It was largely expected of Corellian Jedi, truth be told. The Order as a whole didn't understand it - or approve of it - but Kilia had become adept at keeping her Corellian interpretations of the Jedi Code, and subsequent attachments she had to places like the Green Garden, to herself. It was no one's business, really, and she doubted that a certain sentimental fondness for a garden was going to lead down a slippery slope to the Dark Side. Especially not if said garden was part of the Temple grounds itself - in the grand scheme of things to form an attachment to, a garden in the Jedi Temple seemed as safe as they came.

She was laying on a patch of carefully kept grass near the entrance when her solitude was abruptly interrupted. Kilia had started to go through her usual after-run stretches, but when she sat down to stretch out her calf and thigh muscles, she ended up just flopping back into the soft grass, face up toward the gloriously warm sun. She had almost drifted off, actually, when she heard the door to the garden swoosh quietly open. That was then followed by a quiet murmur that would have been lost in any place except the absolutely quiet garden.

"Why’s this place gotta be so karkin’ big…"

Kilia frowned slightly to herself. The voice was male and unfamiliar to her - though, that was hardly surprising. The Temple was 'karkin' big' and the Order even more so. There were hundreds of Jedi she hadn't met. The voice wasn't deep enough to belong to a seasoned Knight or venerable Master. Another Padawan, perhaps? Or, a very, very young Knight?

Curiosity got the better of Kilia and she sat up. There was a hedge between her and the door - said hedge was actually a little higher than her head when she was sitting down. So, the young Padawan scrambled to her knees and put her hands on top of the hedge, to bend some of the top branches down enough for her to peek over.

"Y'lost?" she asked cheerfully, her green eyes twinkling with a good-humored smile.

[Ghostie]

The immediate assault of morning sunlight on Zhar-Khal’s eyes was both unwarranted and unpleasant. Despite the young man’s wandering jog around the Temple he was, as it were, still trying to wake himself up. And the bright sun was one of the harshest ways that Zhar could think of, like a Youngling Instructor who simply flipped on the glow lamps without ceremony and screamed to jump up and get dressed. In fact, the Jedi Padawan could put a face on that mental image, recalling such an Instructor back on Corellia. Stifling a yawn with one hand, Zhar-Khal brought his other up to shield his still watering eyes.

"Y'lost?"

That was when there was a female voice from Zhar’s side. Unfamiliar, but that wasn’t unusual on Coruscant. Young, perhaps somewhere around his own age. He had not be expecting to find anyone else up here, though Zhar supposed that he was late enough to breakfast that everyone else was finished, now. Snapping around at the sound, the young man came face to face with a young woman peeking just up and over the nearby hedge, using her arms to hold it down. There was bright red hair, almost salmon in color, standing out from the top of the green shrubbery. The few strands that weren’t tied back framed a porcelain face spotted with small freckles almost everywhere, and the sunlight behind Zhar bounced off of the woman’s eyes, igniting the green inside of them and forcing them to pop and sparkle like jewels.

Holding the other Jedi’s gaze Zhar-Khal simply froze on the spot, and found that his ever quickening heart had leapt into his throat and held back any words he could muster, despite the fact his mouth had dropped just an inch or two. A thick air of silence had crept up between the two of them as Zhar found his hands sweating slightly, and not because the sunlight was particularly hot, or his robes were particularly heavy. All the young man could do for the long, Galaxy-spanning moment where he held the young woman’s green gaze was to slowly lower the hand that had been shielding his own green eyes from the light of the sun, until it hovered somewhere between his side and waist, momentarily forgotten about. Feeling like he was about to take a test that would determine the rest of his life, Zhar-Khal swallowed his heart back down and hoped that it would settle his twisting stomach.

“I, uh… Yeah…” Was all the Jedi Padawan could croak out. He could scarcely remember how to speak, let alone why he was in that certain rooftop garden that this precise time of day, or how he had even came to be there. As part of the Corellian Sect of Jedi, Zhar-Khal knew that attraction and attachments were not necessarily forbidden to him, and yet her felt hardly ready to take on the challenge of dealing with the twitterpated feelings he now found cropping up.

This was all new. Too new. The Coruscant Temple and the larger Order. Kazan being gone. And now this. The Jedi Padawan had been doing okay, or so he had thought, but at the moment he felt overloaded. Taking a deep breath, Zhar-Khal found himself prying his eyes off of the other Jedi’s green orbs with difficulty. Steadying himself, she started to talk once again, and found those every elusive words as he pushed his emotions down.

“I was looking for waffles, and instead I found…” Zhar-Khal looked around the rooftop garden for what was the first time and saw familiar surroundings. Scraggily, bent, and knobby trees of dark bark native to the area around his home of Kor Vella. Bright and colorful flowers he remembered seeing sold in a cart in Coronet at one point. The young man could feel his heart slow down, as the familiar sights and smells finally reached his senses. It wasn’t home, but it was close. A little grin coming to to his lips, Zhar-Khal swept a green sleeve of his cloak outward. “... Instead I found a garden.”