A Second Respite

Laeonas Tannaras

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He’d used the force to sustain his walk for the many, many miles he’d traveled from Mos Eisley. Such an effort would have resulted in most breaking down from exhaustion hours before. Clad in mostly black and with a face covered in makeup, the boy should’ve dropped in less than a mile-- yet he’d worked to keep himself hydrated through sheer force of will.

His connection to the force had felt stronger on this world. In spite of the fact that most of its surface was devoid of life, there had been something about it that had caused Laeonas so much… confusion?

No, that wasn’t it.

He’d last stepped foot on this world seven years ago. He’d spent so much of his time trapped on Dantooine that much of the galaxy had felt unfamiliar to him. Memories of this dead world had faded overtime; but now, he was trying to comprehend what he had found on this pit that intrigued him so much.

Reaching down, a clawed hand would sink into the sand. Pulling it back, he’d look down at the fistful of sand.

Slowly, Laeonas would sit on the dunes, slipping out of the long jacket. He kicked off his boots, allowing his toes to dig into the sand.

Than, he’d begin to concentrate.


 

Laeonas Tannaras

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For awhile, he'd struggled to quiet his mind. What had happened back at Mos Eisley was fresh in his mind, even if hours had passed and the twin suns of the backwater desert world had set beneath the horizon. Laeonas had been planning to do this just for the purpose of exploring what had drawn him to this world, but that wasn't the only reason now. It was probable that whatever authorities existed in Mos Eisley would be searching for him right now...

...but they wouldn't be out here.

Barebacked, the rough sands of the world's dunes were pressed against his skin, grated in between his joints, and found their way into the lower mesh that wrapped around his legs. His skin was pale, drawn taught around a frame that wasn't built for a world like this. Laeonas was going to chafe, and his skin would burn raw-- but he wouldn't leave.

The boy's focus was disturbed between the uncomfortable environment, and the memories from Mos Eisley. The hold the planet had gripped him with on his first trip to this world had been totally absent so far, yet the boy wasn't ready to leave. He hadn't come back to this world just to beat a few people in a cantina, wander into a dsert, and leave.

He'd close his eyes, and reach out with the force.



 

Laeonas Tannaras

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Hours had gone by without even a hint of a stir of change.

Tatooine's winds blew against his skin, and the sand carried across and grated. He paid attention a bit more than he ought to have, but that was partially thanks to a complete lack of subjects to keep him occupied. Nothing-- nothing had gone by to grab his attention. The winds blew, and that beautiful ocean of stars unique to Tatooine due to it's position in the galaxy shown down on him, but he wasn't overwhelmed. Nothing gripped him.

To say he was frustrated would be overplaying his position-- rather, he was disappointed. Laeonas hadn't just come to this world on a whim. Traveling without your own ship meant boarding passage, preparing, and waiting with a bunch of strangers until you wound up where you wanted to be. Coming out here was a literal chore, and it took him out of the way. He'd last visited his mother before he'd landed on Dantooine-- she probably thought he was dead, yet he'd come all this way to a dead world.

He'd been hoping-- perhaps foolishly-- that the trip could unlock something within him. That whatever it was he'd felt the night he'd nearly died in sandstorm, it was something that could be replicated. His feelings had to have mattered; he'd resolved by now that true coincidences were exceedingly rare-- that luck was mostly a myth, and that the force helped to create situations that caused experiences that could impact any sentient being.

And yet this boy, who stood on this world in hopes of finding what it was that the force was trying to tell him, sat and wondered if it really just had been a coincidence.



 

Laeonas Tannaras

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When the sun shown over the horizon for the first time, Laeonas had let out a long, drawn, and ever so slightly exasperated sigh. The heat would be upon him again soon, and so, closing his eyes, he’d enter the familiar trance he’d developed to avoid the consequences of a hostile environment.

Extending out before the boy was nothing. His awareness peered out over the dunes he sat on, and sand was all he could register. Endless, non-life extending outwards in all directions-- but for him. The only traces were deep below him, bones of long dead creatures, sentient or otherwise. They were hard to make out, but even their bones didn’t echo life-- buried and worn by sand and wind and time.

His eyes squinted at the twin, burning lights that would very quickly begin to scald his skin. Laeonas had been burned before, and on Dantooine his skin had taken on a leathery appearance, the result of burning and tanning under a bare sky. His skin had returned to the pale it had once been following the years of traveling across the galaxy that had followed; now, the boy’s body was paying for a lack of specialization in protecting his skin.

The day passed by. His meditation continued, taking in the world, staving off the hunger and dehydration that had nearly killed him on his last journey out here. By the time the sun set again, his skin was pink-- raw, burnt as if he’d been scalded by hot steel, or boiled in a pot like he was part of a stew.

The next day, the sun rose again, and his skin began to flake. The destroyed flesh peeled ever so slightly, blowing away in the winds that tore across the sandy surface. He was able to ignore the hunger pangs and the dryness of his cracking throat, but he couldn’t ignore the agony of his flesh flaking and burning off under Tatooine's suns.

This increasingly felt as if it wasn’t worth it.



 

Laeonas Tannaras

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This didn't fit most people's description of a vacation-- though the tan was something plenty looked forward to. Aquamarine eyes were still strained beneath the beating sun, and skin still flaked, but Laeonas had barely moved over the past few days.

Living off the force was taxing in conditions such as these, but it was necessary if he hoped to survive. The emptiness of the desert brought him no food, and the lack of water would've left him dead by now. He'd learned how to do what he was doing from years of near-starving conditions on Dantooine, but over that time, even he hadn't been taxed for such a period as this, and to such a great extent.

Yet even with the constant drawing on the force, Laeonas was still unable to pick up on what it was that had once drawn him here. Though, over the past few days, nothing was a stretch; sure, that grasping, that insufferable grip he had endured while striding across the sandy dunes of tatooine wasn't there. He had been looking for it the entire time, and it had not yet presented itself. Perhaps the world was no longer interested in him, or whatever it was in the force had faded in the years since.

Yet Laeonas didn't accept these justifications. He'd heard of worlds that had odd presences in the force-- Korriban, Tython-- any of them were perfect examples. Tatooine was a world he hadn't even known existed prior to his arriving there, yet he wondered what significance it could carry.

There was still the possibility that Tatooine wasn't special at all. What he had suffered from could still be the result of his own mind-- or an extension of his abilities when he was near death. He'd been able to pick up on Tatooine's presence in the force-- barely alive, drawing in peoples and making sure they never left-- but that might not have been a uniquely strong world's presence. Rather, it could've been heightened awareness.

What had brought on that awareness was now becoming more and more clear as Laeonas tried to figure out the solution to this unique problem. There were plenty of memories from his first trip to tatooine. The one and only time he had held a lightsaber came to mind. The odd conversation he'd had with the Sith in a cantina. The plan to hunt a Krayt dragon that had simply turned into drinking for a whole night before everyone had left, leaving Laeonas half naked in a cantina the next morning. The near death experience in fighting with the sand people... and the rest of his escapade out into the desert.

What stuck out to him in these memories of the desert, more than anything, was the pain. It was the pangs of hunger in his stomach, the cracking tongue begging for water, the boiling skin and the blistering soles of his feet. Tatooine's environment was hostile to his very presence-- and yet he'd counterbalanced that hostility with the force. He'd fed on it, using it as a reserve of energy, like a mammal with a humped back full of water.

The boy had to immerse himself in this world-- all of this world, with all of it's consequences.

He stopped sustaining himself-- and than, he waited.



 

Laeonas Tannaras

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For the first few hours, the shift was gradual. The shift back to being thirsty, being hungry, was gradual; like a rising crescendo, approaching the inevitable climax. When it hit him, the boy's eyes would widen under the sun. His muscles began to ache, his flesh realizing that it hadn't received basic sustenance in days. His mind throbbed, a splitting headache breaking all concentration. His fingers would crack as he scooped up sand; and than he began shoveling it down his throat, desperate to fill his mouth with something.

He broke from the madness seconds before it overtook him. Reaching out through the pain, the force opened up to him once again. His mind could steady slightly, and his awareness didn't slip away from him.

Hours passed under the baking sun. He maintained his hold, waiting for the night. If he let go entirely with the sun still baking him, his hunger and thirst would drive him mad. The desert would take him, and he would die, forgotten in the sandy dunes.

...the desert would take him.

He felt as he slowly sunk into the sand. The grains against his skin, gradually covering him as he lay motionless. The hair's breathe of wind that blew it over him was subtle, but over the course of hours, he could feel a bit of weight forming above his torso. He could've, at any time, stopped the process; but he wasn't interested in doing so. Not yet. Not when he could see what was in store for him. AS the sand rubbed against still raw skin, he knew that these sensations would pass. All of it would.

When the twin suns sank beneath the horizon, the truth opened up to him. The ocean was stretched out before him, a blanket as thick and as all encompassing as the sand itself. Every glowing dot in the sky was a twinkling star, in the same weight class as the two this world orbited. Those two stars had scorched this planet for uncountable years, an eternity the boy wasn’t privy to, and whose state of being was only known to academics who had the time and resources to dedicate years of their lives to understanding this world.

Laeonas had come to this world for a reason that had differed from the various academics and scholars who might be interested in the study of deserts. His wasn’t just for pleasure-- and though a respite from the galaxy this was, it was part of what was necessary for him to become complete. Understanding why he had felt the way he did was necessary for him to to understand himself.

That was the justification he told himself at the very least.

Bright aquamarine eyes were closed, but he saw the world all the same. He felt as the sand, composed of the tiniest bits of stone, or bone, or dirt or refuse or waste tore across his skin. He could feel as the pale flesh that covered him were scraped, and he could feel the raw, pink flesh burned after days under the twin suns were left to throb and experience pain unfamiliar to a boy who’d spent most of his life indoors, or under smog covered skies-- or, in the case of Dantooine, under a singular sun.

And for the first time in over five years, Laeonas Tannaras could see.



 

Laeonas Tannaras

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Answers, clear and present. No longer was his understanding limited-- not by the mundane, or by his own physical limitations. He’d looked, he’d seen, and he could comprehend.

What he’d been feeling in the force wasn’t presence in the force-- but a lack of one. This world’s life was scattered, drawn together in small clusters where survival was possible. The force was strongest in the places where it’s energy was gathered.

But out here, the only presence within the force that he had felt was his own. It was his life, surrounded on all sides by nothing. There was no death here; this place was devoid of even the lack of a presence in which life had once been. The bones he’d sensed didn’t contrast due to having once lived-- they were unique because they simply weren’t sand.

The boy had never felt this before. There were worlds that teemed with life in the galaxy, where living beings went about their daily lives in peace. They existed within the never ending pool that was the force, and that couldn’t be changed. When they died, there was a leftover presence-- a sense that something had once been present, but no longer was.

Absence didn’t describe what this world had to offer. This wasn’t death that pulled on him, or a warped desire to return to the force.

It was nothingness. The complete lack of presence, of existence, of ever having been. In this desert, he would die; but that wouldn’t be his ultimate fate. His presence wouldn’t leave a mark, there would be no persistent sense of death. That feeling of death, of having once been, would diffuse; it would slowly be sapped from the tattered remains of his clothing, the dried strands of flesh, and the cracking, whitening bones of his skeleton.

There would be nothing left of him but matter. Matter, like the sand-- the endless, all consuming dunes of tatooine would return him to the nonexistence that preceded his own birth. What had once been Laeonas Tannaras would be as a statue in the desert; bleached under the baking sun, worn away by time. The dune sea would consume him, until at last there was no him-- Laeonas Tannaras would be no more, and then there would just be the sea.

Anyone who stayed on this world would suffer the same fate. There would be nothing left in the mundane world… only the force could carry what had once been. But even than, one was doomed to lose their identity, to become but a drop in the sea of life.

There was no escape. His body would be consumed, and his self would lose its identity in the force. There would be nothing.



 

Laeonas Tannaras

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As he stared up into the sky, stars twinkling in yet another ocean, parallel to the one that slowly engulfed him, the boy’s expression was blank. The realization had come slowly, and there was terror in this; but he no longer had the energy to lash out. His senses were spent, and his body was weak. He was tired, thirsty, and exhausted. Even if he did have the energy to move, he wasn’t sure if he actually would anymore. After all, it made no difference; it would all end the same way, no matter what.

The inevitability of his fate and that of all others was a heavy weight. It was far greater than the sand that had buried much of his torso by now. He was paralyzed by it, barely able to move under the pressure of his own mind. There was nothing he could do about it. However, even if he could, Laeonas probably wouldn’t bother to do anything.

All his goals in life, none of it meant anything. Every time he’d worked to save his own life meant nothing. Every time he’d gotten into a fight over drinks or words meant nothing. His fate, and the fate of all others, was this; for their bodies to dissolve into the material galaxy, and for their souls to be overwhelmed by the whole of the force. The struggles of any individual didn’t matter; they’d all collectively face the same fate.

He had pondered death plenty in the past. It was a weekly occurrence for him to nearly die. It was only natural that he started pondering what that would mean. Pondering the possibility of dying was one thing-- but the long term had never interested him. Death from old age, or a long life, had never really concerned him. Now, however, inevitability as a concept really did begin to weigh on him. Even if the boy did everything right-- if he avoided getting shot, blasted, cut to pieces, remain untouched by AMS, and keep perfect health… he’d still die.

It would take time, but he’d seen the effects of old age in a few people. Most died somewhere in their fifties on his homeworld. After a life of inhaling pollution, and working themselves to the bone, they’d drop. The boy knew that it was possible to live longer than this, however; the Jedi had told him that the force could lead him too long life. If he mastered his abilities, and remained healthy, there was no telling how long he could live.

But what would be left behind in the end? Family came to mind; it was possible that he’d eventually wind up fathering children. Whether by accident, or by trickery, or if he simply wanted to, he might wind up stuck with a brat or two. Hell, if he got older he might have just adopted one. To an extent, he could live on in that regard; while his physical body might turn to dust and his consciousness might become one with the force, his children could continue. Hell, anyone who he ever interacted with would bear markings of him. In time, they’d interact with others, and those markings would continue.

The totality of him was not himself.


 

Laeonas Tannaras

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It took the boy longer than he would’ve expected to get up. The twin suns had begun to crest the horizons, and Laeonas had only then begun to stir. Calling the force to him once again, the feelings of hunger and thirst began to fade. His thoughts began to once again be clear. In the time it took him to begin cleaning the sand off himself, he thought about what had run through his mind.

There was more to what had happened than dehydrated ruminations. Realization-- no, revelation had visited the boy. A higher understanding of everything; the force, cosmic and material, made more sense to him now. His full strength hadn’t returned to him, and concentrating was still difficult. But whatever he’d done, he’d opened himself up to new possibilities.

None of it would come immediately; hell, he might never understand the whole truth of what he’d done. Laeonas perspective had… changed, but his immediate goals hadn’t. He wasn’t about to give up the pursuit of ultimate wealth and freedom for him and all those he cared about. All that had happened was that these goals were now put in a broader perspective. They were not the be all and end all of achievement; they were only a means to greater pursuits.

These things would provide him an opportunity. Opportunity to further delve into the secrets of the force and his place within it. He could study at any of the most prestigious schools the galaxy could offer. Returning to Ossus was always a possibility, provided he didn’t upset the Jedi.The galaxy could become his oyster, if only he seized it.

But there were things to be done. He had to find wealth, and he had to bring it home. He had to train himself more; to continue to meditate as he had here. His strength in the force and all his other skills needed to continue to improve. Eventually, he would be free to pursue any goals he wanted. For now, he needed to remain committed to self improvement.

...ofcourse, he could do with a few external changes, and some changes in his behavior. Based off what happened in the bar, it was becoming very obvious that some people just couldn’t understand him. Learning how to adjust his accent would make communication in basic a lot easier. In addition, it seemed like plenty also mistook his very basic makeup as signs of him being a prostitute. How they confused someone near completely covered from the neck down as a prostitute was a completely different story.

He began walking back towards the desert settlement, trudging across the dunes with little haste. The desert wasn’t going to swallow him today, or tomorrow. Not until the boy decided he wanted to be.



 
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