[open to anyone, but be aware that dantooine is imperial space]
The winds were warm here, the skies clear and rich, a luxury to the locals. A poison to Sol. Regardless, he could not help but marvel at the life beyond the sleek viewing port of his Interceptor. There was a beauty here, undeniable, despite the ruthless scars of war that carved it's once peaceful surface. The port he landed upon was a smaller one, isolated, but not entirely out of reach of Imperial connection. He preferred the quiet on such occasions, where gloomy thoughts yearned for serenity, the clarity that only nature could provide. And of course, a good book. To some, traveling so far for little more than dusty reading materials was mad, but Sol cared little for the opinions of others in that regard. A scholar at heart, many would say. Even his former teacher, Xuleel. In any case, it was not entirely out of the way. Sol had been passing through the system anyways, so why not toy with rumors about so called forbidden knowledge?
A smile slipped behind his mask as his Interceptor silenced with a hiss, and Sol was greeted with the echoes of the port, alongside the eerie sensation that every one of the personnel in the building had so suddenly turned to peer at him. His star-fighter was of Imperial make. They knew who he was, but they did not know what.
He's quick to insure the integrity of his ship, passing payment for refueling to the staff that approached, and then he was off, dark robes billowing behind a muscular frame, a lightsaber nestled amidst ebony cloth. Sol had not come to disturb the peace, but there was a wariness to the locals as he slithered through the port nonetheless. Eyes tearing into the back of his head. Mutters that rose like whispering gales through the echoes of the building. Sol paid them little mind. Through the doors with a whisper of gears, and he stepped foot upon Dantooine's earth. There was history here, more than could ever be spoken in a day. And a weight in the atmosphere that seemed grim, like the haunt of a traumatic memory. Still, he found delight in the scenery, despite the stoic expression he wore upon his face.
Sol made his way deeper into the streets of the small farming town, the whirl of machinery a near constant hum in his ears. There, a block ahead, he saw the holo-sign that he had been searching for. The Kel Dor seemed to draw immediate attention the moment he stepped inside. The room was empty, other than himself and the human fellow across the counter, who eyed him with as much suspicion as he did curiosity. The offer of assistance was waved aside by the Sith, as he turned to browse chipped shelves with a thoughtful hum. Old books, a rarity, and the more commonly seen Datacards. Here and there, a few old antiques laid scattered about, and though Sol gave them a glance, he had not come for keepsakes.
"Do you recall a Rodian in your shop a few days ago? Blue skin. A scarred snout." The words slipped softly past the Kel Dor's tongue, and the shopkeeper contracted a look of surprise. Those brown eyes narrowed warily, then. Contemplative. "There is no problem." Sol assured, plucking a datacard from it's place to peer at it's title curiously. "He mentioned you had something special here. Something very old." The Rodian hadn't been too specific, but that might have simply been due to ignorance. Sol had not sensed a lie, nor would he had expected one. Two travelers conversing on a shuttle was a common enough occurrence, after all. He turned to peer toward the shopkeeper as the sound of shuffling feet drew silvery eyes. The man seemed a bit more relaxed, now. Perhaps even excited at the prospect of an off-world customer, drawn to his business by word of mouth.
"I recall. Here, look at this. I've had it in my family for... well gee. As long as I can remember. Can't make hide nor tail of the contents, though. My pa used to say it was found in the rubble of a great temple, right here on Dantooine. Figured someone would be interested in buyin' it, seeing as how I've got no use for it now." Ah, there it was, that friendly tone of conversation that he would expect from a merchant eager to sell their goods. With Sol's intent seemingly figured out, the tension appeared to melt. "We don't get many of you around here. Figures you'd be interested." Sol knew that the man was referring to his race, not his occupation. The lightsaber was still hidden beneath his robes, tucked away out of sight, an always present and comforting weight against his hip. A weapon that felt more akin to a shield.
Sol stepped up to the counter, peered at the offered Datapad with interest. It was cracked, old, and he wasn't entirely sure that he could find a terminal that would read it, but regardless, such an artifact belonged with him. If it was truly scavenged from what Sol suspected to be a Jedi temple, then all the better that the Jedi do not reclaim it.
"How much?" The Kel Dor finally spoke once again, that soft spoken voice laden with curiosity. There could be a number of things on the datacard, ranging from useless, to entirely devastating to the Order as it was today. Either way, Sol would seek to claim it, and perhaps repair it, if needed. He was quick to hand over the requested currency, and then it was his, held light within taloned hands like a trophy, smooth like film and far bulkier than the datacards of recent days. What a compelling mystery indeed. Sol offers his thanks, before he heads out of the shop. He doesn't return to the space port immediately, however. No, he slides the artifact into a leather pouch at his hip, and heads toward a park he had passed on his way in.
Soon enough, his boots had left artificial earth, and now crunched through dry grass. Before him towered an old Blba tree, clearly well cared for by the locals. The Kel Dor settles into it's grand shade, and allowed himself a quiet sigh, a moment to relax. Rolling hills, endless farmland, and sparkling lakes dotted the surrounding landscape. While the chaos of the galaxy swelled like a raging torrent, Sol would sit in silence, would hear the rush of the wind through the grass, and the sound of insects. Would watch the farmers go about their day to day in the crop fields that seemed utterly endless. Life.
He could not stay in the quiet of nature forever. But for now, he would rest.