(an expansion of events leading to Haldir receiving Willa's message, requesting an audience with Jedi Councilors regarding her disappearance, and his subsequent search for the heartbroken Star)
”Time of death: 1:26am.”
The words hung heavy and mechanical amid the deathly silence, faint echoes bouncing against concrete walls and wooden floors. He had no need for them, feeling the string of life that connected him to the other half of his soul snapping before the monotone delivery reached his ears. Pale blue eyes remained transfixed over the concealed visage of one of his relatives, ivory hands clenching into fists.
He was a million light years away from the place he called home – the one place where his Padawans waited for his return. The emergence of the Killiks had kept him preoccupied– no, he had had his hands full before that. Life had taken him away from Willa and Elidan, and when he found himself free of Knightly responsibilities and on the cusp of finally returning to them, Chie had waylaid Haldir and dragged him home. Never had the Knight seen the former Sector Ranger looking so grim, and it reminded Haldir of the time when his dark-haired cousin told him about Hyarantë's fall.
Booted feet dragged the Knight towards the morgue and moments later he stood before a mortuary table, staring down at the familiar face of his twin brother, one hand still clutching at the cloth that previously covered the latter’s face.
Hyarantë looked so peaceful in death, untroubled; brows smoothed and relaxed, a faint smile on his pale lips. He looked like he was sleeping, pleasant dreams flitting from one scene into the next in his slumber.
Haldir had promised to bring him back, but when the Knight had his back turned, attention torn between his Padawans and his duties for the Order, Hyarantë slipped through his grasp and went into that good, good Night.
One warm hand settled gently down, palm meeting cold skin as Haldir cupped Hyarantë’s cheek. Leaning down, his forehead pressing against his dead brother’s, snow white hair clashing against the other. Pale blue eyes slid shut as warmth pricked at his eyelids, one tear falling on his brother’s cheek followed by another. There were so many things Haldir wanted to say, so many accusations to throw, and promises Hyarantë knew not to break and yet here the older twin brother was, body cold and stiff as rigor mortis had long since set in.
His brother, the half of his soul, was now well and truly out of Haldir’s reach.
Hyarantë’s passing marked the formal announcement with regards to Hasebe’s successorship as clan head. As much as the youngest Erennor brother had no care for the ceremony given the eldest’s funeral, Haldir found it distressing that a celebration – no matter how small and brief – was to be held as soon as his twin brother’s remains were laid to rest. It proceeded even if Hasebe himself hadn’t been present, still grieving over the loss of their sibling, and Haldir found himself angrily demanding for Chie to announce his presence in his Father’s office.
”Honorable Nightspider, the Vulptex, Haldir Eressëa, wishes–“
Haldir didn’t wait for his cousin to finish, pushing Chie aside a little too harshly than intended, icy glare settling on the figure of his Father. The Erennor patriarch sat in seiza, cold golden eyes glued to the datapad on one hand. Laid on the tatami before the man were a few of Haldir’s most precious belongings – lightsaber, a journal, and one of his commonly used vulpine mask.
”Have you no feeling, no compassion,” Haldir spat, voice dripping with mounting anger, as he approached the man he called Father, footsteps thundering with each step he took, ”for your youngest son?! Hasebe is still grieving, how dare you–“
In the end, Haldir was still too steeped in his clan’s culture, the teachings still too ingrained in his mind that when his Father raised a fist to silence him the Knight obeyed, teeth clacking loudly as he slammed his mouth shut. Fingers unfurled, hand lowering flat and palm down, and both Haldir and Chie lowered themselves on the floor, kneeling on one knee and head bowed low before the patriarch of the clan. Jaws clenched the Jedi Knight balled his fists, gaze now trained on polished wooden floors. He felt Chie shot him a wary glance before the dark-haired Erennor’s gaze was summoned back to Haldir’s Father.
The patriarch’s voice soon cut through the silence, glacial and unfeeling.
”’Master. I’m leaving. I need to know what happened to Crix. Why there’s nothing brought back.’”
Haldir swiftly raised his head as soon as that one familiar name slipped past Soi Erennor’s lips. Pale blue eyes locked on the older man’s form, widening with disbelief as soon as he recognized the datapad the latter was perusing. It was Haldir’s–
”’I’m doing this alone. I have to. Good luck with your other students; the Order needs you.’”
Though it was his Father speaking, Willa’s warm and kind voice soon melded and took over the icy tone, Haldir hearing her voice instead of the clan patriarch’s as the latter read aloud words that were solely meant for Haldir, words only he had the right to read. The Knight was so used to his privacy being invaded by the people he was cursed to call his family, but hearing his first Padawan’s words being read aloud by the person that vexed him the most was something Haldir would not let pass unpunished.
Paintings hanging on the walls shook, lamplights overhead swaying as the Jedi Knight made his anger known through the Force. Glacial fury took over the pale blues the longer he glared at his Father, anger rising as the man took no heed of his son’s feelings. Instead the man read on, unaware that it wasn’t his voice Haldir was hearing any longer.
Don’t worry about me; if you ever want to know how I’m doing, listen to the music. G. Wiz is still in the stars, but Willa Kanz is no more. Don’t try to find her. She’s already gone.
Had he done something wrong? No, that couldn't be it. Haldir had to be logical about this. Willa had already lost Maxims Tionson. Something must have befallen Crix, and she felt– no, Crix was her best friend, it would not be so unexpected of her to search for him. But she talked about “nothing“ being brought back, and it usually meant one thing. The Knight's eyes widened in realization, breath caught in his throat as reality came crashing down to crush the initial tides of anger he felt for having the privacy of Willa's message read aloud against his will.
Willa had lost Crix.
The reality of the half-Zabrak's passing (How? When? Why?) fell in dissonant, sour notes of a piano being played by heavy, unsteady fingers through the Force. They did not know how, why... did he fall by the enemy's hands? Or by someone else's? Crix had been Haldir's friend, one out of three who have seen what the Arkanian Offshoot looked like behind the bandages and masks. And with the half-Zabrak's death, Willa had come to a decision to leave, to take matters into her own hands in finding out what had happened to her best friend.
In a way, Haldir understood why she did what she had done. Though his friendship with Crix didn't share the same depth he had with Willa, the white-haired Knight would be lying if he denied sharing Willa's desire to find out what had truly happened. Haldir understood Willa's plight – she had lost a father figure when Master Tionson fell, and now she lost her best friend.
It stung, though – her leaving without telling him face to face. It hurt that she didn't talk to him. Perhaps he hadn't made himself clear enough when he told her and Elidan that he would always be there for them if they wanted to talk about their problems. Wasn't it one of his duties as their mentor? Did he somehow miss something – an assurance, sincerity, reaching out at the first signs of shadow hounding their footsteps? It hurt that she sent a message instead of telling him the words herself, and it angered him that the words intended for him alone were now being read aloud for members of his family to hear.
The Knight momentarily shoved aside the pain he felt for his Padawan's – his friend's – decision. He rose to his feet, propelling himself forward towards his Father in an attempt to strike the latter for his audacity to intrude on something so personal. Anger rolled off of him in waves, aimed for the man he called his blood. Sadness and pain followed, tinged with frustration aimed both at himself and Willa. Haldir launched a fist towards that impassive visage, only for his attempt to fail as Chie dashed forward to intercept him. The former Sector Ranger grabbed Haldir by the back of his collar, pulling him away from the patriarch with excessive strength that belied his laidback nature. Momentum halted, Haldir had no choice but to follow the direction of Chie's pull, his scowl morphing into a pained expression as the dark-haired Erennor struck the backs of the Knight's knees, forcing the former back to a kneeling position. The hand on his collar vanished, and Haldir wasn't swift enough to evade Chie's grasp finding the back of his head.
“Down.“
Chie's distaste rang like funereal church bells through the Force as he was forced to shove Haldir's head on the floor, unable to go against the patriarch's command. Back bent, forehead ground against wood, his cousin's fingers trembling as he fought against the Jedi Knight who struggled to raise his head just enough to glare daggers at the man he called Father. Through gritted teeth, Haldir spat to his cousin,
“Chie. Let me go.“
The words hung heavy and mechanical amid the deathly silence, faint echoes bouncing against concrete walls and wooden floors. He had no need for them, feeling the string of life that connected him to the other half of his soul snapping before the monotone delivery reached his ears. Pale blue eyes remained transfixed over the concealed visage of one of his relatives, ivory hands clenching into fists.
He was a million light years away from the place he called home – the one place where his Padawans waited for his return. The emergence of the Killiks had kept him preoccupied– no, he had had his hands full before that. Life had taken him away from Willa and Elidan, and when he found himself free of Knightly responsibilities and on the cusp of finally returning to them, Chie had waylaid Haldir and dragged him home. Never had the Knight seen the former Sector Ranger looking so grim, and it reminded Haldir of the time when his dark-haired cousin told him about Hyarantë's fall.
Booted feet dragged the Knight towards the morgue and moments later he stood before a mortuary table, staring down at the familiar face of his twin brother, one hand still clutching at the cloth that previously covered the latter’s face.
Hyarantë looked so peaceful in death, untroubled; brows smoothed and relaxed, a faint smile on his pale lips. He looked like he was sleeping, pleasant dreams flitting from one scene into the next in his slumber.
Haldir had promised to bring him back, but when the Knight had his back turned, attention torn between his Padawans and his duties for the Order, Hyarantë slipped through his grasp and went into that good, good Night.
One warm hand settled gently down, palm meeting cold skin as Haldir cupped Hyarantë’s cheek. Leaning down, his forehead pressing against his dead brother’s, snow white hair clashing against the other. Pale blue eyes slid shut as warmth pricked at his eyelids, one tear falling on his brother’s cheek followed by another. There were so many things Haldir wanted to say, so many accusations to throw, and promises Hyarantë knew not to break and yet here the older twin brother was, body cold and stiff as rigor mortis had long since set in.
His brother, the half of his soul, was now well and truly out of Haldir’s reach.
Hyarantë’s passing marked the formal announcement with regards to Hasebe’s successorship as clan head. As much as the youngest Erennor brother had no care for the ceremony given the eldest’s funeral, Haldir found it distressing that a celebration – no matter how small and brief – was to be held as soon as his twin brother’s remains were laid to rest. It proceeded even if Hasebe himself hadn’t been present, still grieving over the loss of their sibling, and Haldir found himself angrily demanding for Chie to announce his presence in his Father’s office.
”Honorable Nightspider, the Vulptex, Haldir Eressëa, wishes–“
Haldir didn’t wait for his cousin to finish, pushing Chie aside a little too harshly than intended, icy glare settling on the figure of his Father. The Erennor patriarch sat in seiza, cold golden eyes glued to the datapad on one hand. Laid on the tatami before the man were a few of Haldir’s most precious belongings – lightsaber, a journal, and one of his commonly used vulpine mask.
”Have you no feeling, no compassion,” Haldir spat, voice dripping with mounting anger, as he approached the man he called Father, footsteps thundering with each step he took, ”for your youngest son?! Hasebe is still grieving, how dare you–“
In the end, Haldir was still too steeped in his clan’s culture, the teachings still too ingrained in his mind that when his Father raised a fist to silence him the Knight obeyed, teeth clacking loudly as he slammed his mouth shut. Fingers unfurled, hand lowering flat and palm down, and both Haldir and Chie lowered themselves on the floor, kneeling on one knee and head bowed low before the patriarch of the clan. Jaws clenched the Jedi Knight balled his fists, gaze now trained on polished wooden floors. He felt Chie shot him a wary glance before the dark-haired Erennor’s gaze was summoned back to Haldir’s Father.
The patriarch’s voice soon cut through the silence, glacial and unfeeling.
”’Master. I’m leaving. I need to know what happened to Crix. Why there’s nothing brought back.’”
Haldir swiftly raised his head as soon as that one familiar name slipped past Soi Erennor’s lips. Pale blue eyes locked on the older man’s form, widening with disbelief as soon as he recognized the datapad the latter was perusing. It was Haldir’s–
”’I’m doing this alone. I have to. Good luck with your other students; the Order needs you.’”
Though it was his Father speaking, Willa’s warm and kind voice soon melded and took over the icy tone, Haldir hearing her voice instead of the clan patriarch’s as the latter read aloud words that were solely meant for Haldir, words only he had the right to read. The Knight was so used to his privacy being invaded by the people he was cursed to call his family, but hearing his first Padawan’s words being read aloud by the person that vexed him the most was something Haldir would not let pass unpunished.
Paintings hanging on the walls shook, lamplights overhead swaying as the Jedi Knight made his anger known through the Force. Glacial fury took over the pale blues the longer he glared at his Father, anger rising as the man took no heed of his son’s feelings. Instead the man read on, unaware that it wasn’t his voice Haldir was hearing any longer.
Don’t worry about me; if you ever want to know how I’m doing, listen to the music. G. Wiz is still in the stars, but Willa Kanz is no more. Don’t try to find her. She’s already gone.
Had he done something wrong? No, that couldn't be it. Haldir had to be logical about this. Willa had already lost Maxims Tionson. Something must have befallen Crix, and she felt– no, Crix was her best friend, it would not be so unexpected of her to search for him. But she talked about “nothing“ being brought back, and it usually meant one thing. The Knight's eyes widened in realization, breath caught in his throat as reality came crashing down to crush the initial tides of anger he felt for having the privacy of Willa's message read aloud against his will.
Willa had lost Crix.
The reality of the half-Zabrak's passing (How? When? Why?) fell in dissonant, sour notes of a piano being played by heavy, unsteady fingers through the Force. They did not know how, why... did he fall by the enemy's hands? Or by someone else's? Crix had been Haldir's friend, one out of three who have seen what the Arkanian Offshoot looked like behind the bandages and masks. And with the half-Zabrak's death, Willa had come to a decision to leave, to take matters into her own hands in finding out what had happened to her best friend.
In a way, Haldir understood why she did what she had done. Though his friendship with Crix didn't share the same depth he had with Willa, the white-haired Knight would be lying if he denied sharing Willa's desire to find out what had truly happened. Haldir understood Willa's plight – she had lost a father figure when Master Tionson fell, and now she lost her best friend.
It stung, though – her leaving without telling him face to face. It hurt that she didn't talk to him. Perhaps he hadn't made himself clear enough when he told her and Elidan that he would always be there for them if they wanted to talk about their problems. Wasn't it one of his duties as their mentor? Did he somehow miss something – an assurance, sincerity, reaching out at the first signs of shadow hounding their footsteps? It hurt that she sent a message instead of telling him the words herself, and it angered him that the words intended for him alone were now being read aloud for members of his family to hear.
The Knight momentarily shoved aside the pain he felt for his Padawan's – his friend's – decision. He rose to his feet, propelling himself forward towards his Father in an attempt to strike the latter for his audacity to intrude on something so personal. Anger rolled off of him in waves, aimed for the man he called his blood. Sadness and pain followed, tinged with frustration aimed both at himself and Willa. Haldir launched a fist towards that impassive visage, only for his attempt to fail as Chie dashed forward to intercept him. The former Sector Ranger grabbed Haldir by the back of his collar, pulling him away from the patriarch with excessive strength that belied his laidback nature. Momentum halted, Haldir had no choice but to follow the direction of Chie's pull, his scowl morphing into a pained expression as the dark-haired Erennor struck the backs of the Knight's knees, forcing the former back to a kneeling position. The hand on his collar vanished, and Haldir wasn't swift enough to evade Chie's grasp finding the back of his head.
“Down.“
Chie's distaste rang like funereal church bells through the Force as he was forced to shove Haldir's head on the floor, unable to go against the patriarch's command. Back bent, forehead ground against wood, his cousin's fingers trembling as he fought against the Jedi Knight who struggled to raise his head just enough to glare daggers at the man he called Father. Through gritted teeth, Haldir spat to his cousin,
“Chie. Let me go.“
