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.