𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.
Rylann Tetra, Shaak Ti's padawan, is stationed on Kamino to her disliking. Ry, taken from her home when she was only two, is upset that she didn't get a choice to become a jedi, wishing she was never discover...
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Crosshair felt like a champion. Rylann had yet to comment on how they were still holding hands and Crosshair took that as a win. Her small hand fit into his like a glove: comfortable, a perfect fit. Crosshair would die before he admitted it, but it gave him butterflies.
The two of them continued to rush down the hall until they reached the door to the study, slowing to a stop. Crosshair reluctantly let go of Rylann's hand and opened the door. Placing a hand on her upper back, Crosshair led Rylann into the study.
The many shelves of books looked rather unattended and dusty to Crosshair which sent his heart to his stomach. Why hadn't Zeta been upkeeping the books? A couple weeks ago, it looked like he had been his usual neat-freaky self, but now it looked abandoned.
"Zeta? Delta?" Crosshair called out, looking around the messy study, the piled books and dirty dishes sending chills up his spine.
"Has it already been two weeks, Cross?" a timid voice called out from the furthest desk by the large windows and custom fireplace. Zeta's head popped up above the pile of books, his amber eyes lighting up when he saw Crosshair. "And a visitor? What an unexpected but extraordinarily pleasant surprise."
Zeta groaned under his breath as he shakily rose from his seat, making his way over to Crosshair. Alarm bells rang in Cross's head as he watched one of his father figures struggle to walk over to him. Zeta seemed feeble... weak... sickly at best. His cheeks were sunken and mousy brown hair a mess atop his head. His rounded spectacles were smudged which scared Cross even more. If Zeta didn't have time to clean off his glasses, something was really going on.
"Zeta, what's wrong with you?" Crosshair asked, stepping towards the older man, voice cracking in worry.
Zeta's expression faltered for only a moment before he swiped a strand of hair from his forehead. "Don't worry, son. Just working on a project. Nothing new."
Cross narrowed his eyes. When Zeta used short sentences it meant he was lying. "Zeta..."
"Just tell him, Z," Delta's voice rumbled as the hum of his machine rose to Cross's ears. Out from behind the desk came Delta, slumped in his automated wheelchair. His silver hair was neatly combed and grey eyes were like arrows, piercing the gaze of everyone in the room. Delta's eyes landed on Rylann, narrowing sharply as he examined her.
