At the beginning of the Clone Wars, Moatia Rhaden is granted padawan status, made a Commander, and shipped across the galaxy. Nothing seems to make sense, and Moatia is lost at every turn.
But at least she has her Master and her men beside her.
~ T...
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*trigger warning* aphobia! please proceed with caution if this is an upsetting topic for you. and please now that, no matter your sexual orientation, you are still loved, and you still matter and you are NOT broken
All Cinnamon could see was pitch black. He didn't see a sky or ceiling above his head nor walls or horizon surrounding him. There was no floor to anchor him, so he floated alone in darkness.
Oh, how Cinnamon hated to be alone.
Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he began to look around for someone, or something. Surely he wasn't sitting in just darkness. That would be ridiculous.
Cinnamon smiled when he saw Moatia standing to his left. But, despite there being nothing to stand upon, she had found her footing when Cinnamon could not find his. But it was no worry, he did not need to stand. He turned towards her with a smile already forming on his face.
"Hey, Moa!" he called out, waving.
He had expected her to be as happy to see him as he was to see her. They had spent a lot of time together, and Cinnamon knew he enjoyed her company and had thought she felt the same.
But when she saw him, Moatia scoffed. A disgusted expression formed on her face; her nose scrunched up, her eyes narrowed, and she curled her lip.
"What do you want?" she asked, taking a step back from him. Where Cinnamon felt like a bumbling space-baboon in how he awkwardly floated about, Moatia contained all the grace and elegance of the Jedi Masters in the olden tales. It only made him feel worse.
Cinnamon slowly lowered his arm. "I thought you'd want to hang out?" he had been so sure before, but now he hesitated.
Moatia laughed, and shattered Cinnamon's soul into a million pieces while she was at it. "Why would I want to hang out with you?" she asked. "You're just a medic. I'm a Jedi Commander and you're beneath me, CT-****."
The use of Cinnamon's number felt like a slap in the face. He had never told it to Moatia as it was frankly none of her business. Other brothers may like their numbers, but Cinnamon only wanted to be referred to by his name. The fact that she would go out of her way to look it up and remember it in order to use it against him stung deeper than he would care to admit.
Tears pricked in his eyes, but Moatia ignored Cinnamon's distress and turned away.
Off in the distance was the General. As Moatia walked over to her, General Lowh shook her head.
She didn't say a word, but rested a hand on Moatia's shoulder and turned away.
And Cinnamon was abandoned in the dark abyss.
He wasn't sure how long he floated there, chest heaving, before he heard another voice call out to him.
"Cinnamon!" It was Lyss, coming from somewhere behind him.
