maskormenacelogs

Entry tags:

OPEN

WHO: Captain Rex (ordinarily

ct_7567), all aged up to Grandpa Rex & YOU
WHERE: In his home in Maurtia Falls, generally around Maurtia Falls!
WHEN: Throughout the Feywild Event
WHAT: Rex is all aged up physically & mentally and, somehow, tries to carry on his normal life.
WARNINGS: Probable canon-appropriate discussions of war, but nothing much! If you'd like a dedicated starter, please feel free to wildcard it up or plot with me through PM/chat with me on plurk @ wisdombitch!

o1. home.

[ Rex winds up spending most of his time at home. It seems easier that way, where he can get his bearings and choose who comes in and who comes out. Anyone who sees him will see that he's changed, of course. He's put on weight, his unnaturally skinny frame good and filled out by now, skin dark and covered densely in freckles from too much time left in the sun, but his demeanor's different too. More comfortable in some ways and less comfortable than others, but people have rarely seen him kick his legs up before.

At least now he's figured out how to cook. If you come to visit around mealtime, you might even come to the smell of bacon crackling merrily away on the stove, Rex standing before it and poking it around with a fork. He might not be so nice to look at - not that anyone considered him as such except for Andy - but at least you'll get something to eat from him other than bacon burnt to a crisp or under-rendered and flabby. It's a trade-off. ]

o2. gossip.

[ The last time Rex was here - last month, in fact - he had been the subject of some gossip from some of the bored househusbands and housewives he'd gotten to know at Martin's soccer practices, gleeful over that brand new ring on his finger. Now, it's something else entirely as he stumbles upon them having coffee outdoors together, heads simultaneously turning to gawk unashamedly at Rex, now much, much older. When he confirms that he is indeed Rex, he takes one look at their faces, plants his hands on his hips and lets out a sharp bark of laughter, more mirthful than most get the chance to see him. ]

Hah! Not so interested now, are you? And here I'm more age appropriate for you now than I was before.

[ He even winks at one before he walks away, chuckling to himself at their scandalized expressions. ] Ladies. Gentlemen.

[ He really didn't enjoy this enough when he had the chance. He's aware that he's probably a sight, mouth twisting underneath that snow-white beard, still stubbornly wearing that old, scratched up chestplate and gauntlets of his, evidently too secure in them to even play at trying to fit in more the way he did before. He can't quite bring himself to care. ]

o3. headbutts.

[ Rex technically looks like an easier target now, especially on the mean streets of Maurtia Falls, but he's far from harmless. Which is why when he gets approached by a motley group of muggers (there really aren't enough of them to take him on, he thinks), one of them hooking his hand into the divot of Rex's armour and tugging him towards him, sneering, give it up old man, Rex operates on instinct alone.

What this means isn't that he punches the man. It doesn't mean that he reaches for his blasters, hidden underneath the coat he's wearing over the whole ensemble. It means that he rears his head back and headbutts the man as hard as he can. The man goes down and Rex grimaces, rubbing at his forehead. He's really got to stop doing that. It's not good for what brain cells he's got left. ]

o4. coffeeshop.

[ It's one thing to be on the move. It's another entirely to actually slow and take in where he is and how different it is from where he's been. To become used to this when he was still a young man had been an upward climb after the life he'd had. Now, he may be better equipped to exist in public as a concept but after years of relative solitude, of being on the run, of scarcely being able to show his face for fear of what would happen next save for in the seemingly endless bunkers and ships of the rebellion, it's hard. Maybe it was never destined to be easy for him.

He finds a corner to sit in facing the door as he sits and watches the people come in and out, not a care in the world, gaze distant and faraway. It's not so odd, seeing someone sit and quietly drink their caf, but his knuckles are white where they're gripping onto the handle of the cup. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He'd escorted Padmé to Maurtia Falls but she's requested to finish her errands alone. After making sure they could contact each other and promising to, they'd split up.

Anakin might only be a Padawan but he'd felt...something strange here. A disturbance in the Force. So he walked, letting the Force guide him, trying to understand it.

As it was then he saw an older man ram his head into another, the group surrounding him looking (feeling) like they were going to turn violent. Anakin rushed over, saber hilt in his hand, concentration tight and pushed shoving them away from the man they'd surround.

"Disperse!" He attempted to bark the order, as he'd seen and heard Obi-Wan do, but his voice was his highish and squeeky. There was still some weight to it however.

Rex stiffens as soon as he hears the sound of a lightsaber behind him. You'd figure after all this time - after all this time working with Jedi in the rebellion again - he would get used to it, but for some reason it always puts him on edge until he can get his wits about him again.

No. Not for some reason. For damn good reason. He's seen people wield it poorly, has faced lightsaber wielders in battle before (not that he ever had a chance of winning or ever really tangibly won), and knows what butchery they can inflict if the person holding it knows nothing of kindness, of honour. But quickly after hearing the sound of the lightsaber, he hears a squeaky voice and realizes it's a kid.

God save him from Padawans. They always manage to worm their way into his heart, every single one. It's because they do this. Jump into things half-cocked. The muggers do take a step back, rightfully worried about a lightsaber and a kid capable of telekinesis.

"You heard the kid," Rex says, planting his hands on his hips. "I could finish up with you lot with one hand tied behind my back. And now I've got back-up. With a laser sword? You ever see what happens to someone hit by one of those things? Because I have, and it's not pretty. Go on. Scram."

What Rex lacks in the Force, lightsaber acumen and other extraordinary powers, he makes up for in a quiet confidence. Maybe it's his words that makes the others run. Probably not, he thinks. It's probably the terrifying laser sword.

He turns to look him over, taking measure of him. He does look awfully familiar, doesn't he? Mildly, he says, "I did have it handled, you know."

Anakin's saber blade is a pale, pale blue target than the rich, bright blue of adulthood. The emitter is similar but not the same. But otherwise it's difficult to tell it apart from the of he'd wield as an adult. Really he's just dressed in lighter colors, more like Master Kenobi.

But he keeps it lit until the men scram, powers it power and replaces it on his belt. Anakin shrugs at the comment. "Doesn't mean it was fair of those slemmos to jump you."

"Ah, well. Life's not fair."

Rex surveys the kid. He looks familiar. Rex has at least an inkling of what's going on -- but then again, even the Anakin that's here normally feels so painfully young. It's different now. He knew then what he knows now, but he didn't experience it, didn't live the enormity of what his general had yet to do, had yet to become. He should probably hate the kid in front of him.

He doesn't. It just makes him sad. There is good in General Skywalker. There always has been, and there always will be. It makes him want to take the kid in front of him, whisk him away, let him grow up happy and free outside of the war, outside of everything that would push him towards falling. Away from Palpatine, at least.

He can't do that, of course. Instead he just crosses his arms and says, "Let me guess: your name's Anakin. Am I right?"

"I know." Anakin makes an attempt, however failed, to just say it matter of factly. But with a near-decade in the Outer Rim and mostly Tatooine behind him - he was all too very familiar. And it carries in his tone, in the shadow in his eyes. He knows. Too intimately and too well for anyone who can only count thirteen years, no matter the species.

But for all that is there, it fades back quickly, replaced with a shrug. "That's why we should help other people." And there is just as much conviction in that. Something as shakable as any foundation to his world could ever be.

But Rex's posture does make Anakin just a little wary, stepping back as if to give him space, but it's really about putting reaction space between them, Anakin watching Rex's hands and arms as much his face. Making sure there's little risk of a blow coming. It's not personal, just a lot of experience. "Yeah. I'm not sure I know you." He knew he didn't.

"Ah, don't give me that look," Rex says, crossing his arms and leaning one shoulder against the brick wall beside him. He looks more relaxed than he feels, seeing Anakin so worried about him, but there's nothing like a little display of nonchalance to help others - especially others who happen to be equipped with lightsabers - see that he's no threat.

"Even if I meant you any harm, you could slice me in two with that thing before I even blinked," Rex says mildly. "I've seen it myself enough times. You must have caught onto the fact that something's strange here. You're on a world you don't remember coming to, after all. You ever hear of time travel, kid?"

He does look more relaxed than he feels but Anakin is not only very adapt at reading body language - slaves had to be - but Force Sensitive as well. So he knows very well the older man isn't relaxed.

"Probably yeah." There's more false bravado to it than Anakin will be willing to admit. He's not sure he could. Maybe he could. Maybe not. Qui-Gon's own words and death proved that. "There's a lot strange here." Like Padmé being younger than him. "The Masters says that's a myth."

"I would have agreed with them, back in the day. But I'm not the sort to turn my nose up at proof when I live through it. People here, they come from different times in each other's lives, for better or for worse." Rex snorts. "Usually for the worse."

What he wouldn't give to just be at the right time as everyone else, for everyone to know each other, to keep from being caught up in the impossible tragedy of their circumstances, unchangeable as they are. "In our case, you'll meet me a few years down the line, when you're nearly old enough to have a Padawan of your own. And I'll be your right-hand man, I'm proud to say." He pauses, glancing down at himself with a little scoff. "Hard as it may be to believe it looking at me. I was a young man then. Less white. Less beard, too."

It's difficult for Anakin to believe the mythical Jedi don't know all the answers or are flat out wrong on some. But he knows they are. Wrong to ignore the suffering on Coruscant. Wrong to hold his past against him. Wrong to believe something he decided - then immediately grief to back out of - at nine should decide the rest of his life. But if what's he's being told is true... "What's you're name?"

'Almost old enough to have a Padawan yourself' - he'd have to have been about the age Obi-Wan is now, he thinks. "Living to be old isn't something to scoff at." He as still wary but more willing to talk. "Jedi don't have non Jedi around generally. What happened?"

Rex pushes off the wall and takes a couple steps forward, holding one hand out for Anakin to shake, as insistently welcome as he's ever been. He plays the harmless, kindly old man well. The harmless bit has already been negated - as little as it is, he did headbutt the everloving shit out of that mugger - but the kindly and old man parts aren't necessarily false.

"There was a war. The Republic called upon the Jedi for their assistance. And in turn, they got us to serve underneath you. The name's Captain Rex, of the five-oh-first. And when we fought together, I knew you as General Skywalker."

He's still wary - can anyone blame him? - but he's willing be friendly until someone prices he shouldn't be. So he takes the man's, Rex, hand. He knows his own hand is heavily calloused in a way that goes back years and he's still developing ones to make his new saber instead of Qui-Gon's.

The words feel true at least. It helps. He's learned enough history to know it wouldn't be the first time an arrangement like that has occured. "It's nice to meet you Captain Rex. The war was galaxy wide, wasn't it?"

Edited 2020-06-28 07:59 (UTC)

"That's right. Your people wouldn't be involved otherwise. I've been told that you lot don't get involved in planetary squabbles. It would interfere with your, ah..." Rex waves one hand. "Apolitical nature. But when the whole galaxy got involved, the Jedi decided to cooperate with the Republic and lead the charge. Not an easy thing, fighting for peace on a small scale while the galaxy itself was at war."

It had been their downfall, in the end. Maybe they shouldn't have engaged. Maybe they should have stayed as they were, a peaceful sort. Relocated off of Coruscant. Gotten away from all of it. Then maybe they would have survived. Rex can't say what would have happened, or if it would have been any better. There's no way of knowing anymore.

"Galaxy-wide or not, at least you managed to stay with your people." For the duration of the war, anyway. What happened afterwards -- isn't what the kid needs to know. "You and General Kenobi are the finest team out there."

"No, we're not supposed to." Kinda. Sorta. They were supposed to offer support and aide but not get involved politically. Even if they always did.

But the praise means a great deal, even if it's a little difficult to believe - he and Master Kenobi often seem at odds and that they don't get along. Or from Anakin's point of view, that Obi-Wan flat didn't want him. Didn't think he was good enough. It's a reassurance they will become the team they are supposed to already be. "Staying with your own people isn't easy either. What are your people?"

It should probably occur to Rex that, as with all people, Anakin himself at this age may have some issue with the clones. So many people do, for so many different reasons. It doesn't, though. Why would it? Skywalker's never seemed to have any moral problems with what was happening, and he'd been there from the very beginning. He, alongside the other Jedi, are the precious few who'd always treated it as normal, at least in front of the men they lead.

So it's without any hesitation whatsoever that Rex says, "Clones. We're all clones, made to help usher the galaxy back into peace. Staying with our own always came naturally to us. There's nobody like a brother. One body, one heart, one mind."

That was never true, not as much as the Kaminoans would have liked, but Rex always repeated it anyway. He'd found it reassuring. Comforting, in its own way. They tell themselves many little fibs to make living easier; why not something that connected them all despite how scattered they'd wound up being?

Anakin listens, turning the idea over in his mind, while his face is serious. On one level, the idea of never every being alone, of having someone who completely, totally, understood every experience, of not needing to carefully pick your words or mask your face least someone misunderstand what you mean, of having your family always surrounding you - there is a moment of frank jealousy on his face before he can shove that bubble of intense emotion away.

"You have your brothers with you always? That must be great. And terrible, because it's a war, and they'll get hurt." And die. "Are you lonely here? Or are there some of your brothers here too?" He wasn't meaning to pry, not really. He missed his mother terribly - but to have...that gone?

He'd be a sobbing mess for a while.

"Ah, well. You have to have something to lose it. And we've lost a great deal. It's war, kid. I can't tell you how many brothers have been lost to the war. We're the whole army, after all."

Only the thing is, he could. He could list them all off, even these days, when he starts forgetting whether or not he shut the gas tank and has to bustle back there, swearing. Some things you remember forever, either through it being imprinted in your memory, or the fact that he still says his remembrances. All those brothers, and only he, Wolffe, and Gregor got out. And now Gregor...

Well. He's not gonna tell the kid that. He seems so emotional, so fragile already. It'd be a burden. "We're grateful for the time we've got. I have a brother here, one I'd never met. And I was lonely when I'd first arrived. But life's not just about the family you're born with. It's the one you make too. I have a wife here, and a child. I couldn't be lonely even if I tried."

He still misses them, though. He misses them terribly. It's just not what anyone needs to hear.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN

03

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject