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Batuu was a nice planet, but it had been better before the First Order arrived.
Scar had seen the changes happen. When the First Order arrived, he had been young. Too young, really, to see the amount of violence. They’d executed people, officials who Scar had grown up under, replaced them with their own. The officials before had been kind. One of them had helped Scar design his braces for him. Another woman had always taken the time to check in with everyone in the town. When they had died…when the First Order had murdered them, the people they implemented had no such kindness. They were cruel. They were far more interested in getting a promotion off of Batuu than caring for the people in its settlement. The Black Spire Outpost had never been the same.
Of course, Scar could only do so much. He had a cane and braces he was barely allowed to use and constantly getting searched for having, because somehow a disabled man like him had to be some sort of secret Jedi? He didn’t know the theories. They were ridiculous no matter what they were. In the end, it barely mattered. He didn’t think he even cared. He just wanted to make sure that they didn’t mess with his harvest. He only had so many grains he could grow on his small plot of land. He only had so much space, so many seeds, he just—
There was shouting in the Square.
Most people would ignore it. Normally, Scar would ignore it. But when he glanced over, the stormtroopers were bullying a shorter man dressed in red. He was practically rammed up against the wall. Head ducked, trying to shrink against the wall, he was clutching something to his chest desperately. The stormtroopers were getting agitated. One of them, ST-702, was beginning to wave his gun around. Kriff, he’s always been too trigger happy! Scar thought.
Hurrying over, not knowing when his feet started moving or even why, Scar just started talking. “Hey, hey! I was wondering where you are.” He grabbed the man’s arm. Play along, he prayed. Holding onto the man, he met his gaze. Wow, he has pretty eyes.
They really were pretty eyes. At first, Scar had thought they looked black. While he was staring into them, he could see hints of violet-purple in the black, where the light hit them just right. His hair was somewhere between light brown and dark blond, wavy and hanging down in front of his eyes. Blinking, he looked up at Scar. A smile crossed his lips. Also very pretty lips. They were a very nice pink color. Just a little too much red in them. With the surprised look on his face, Scar could see his left brow raised just a little bit higher than the other. Not a perfect face, but close, and very handsome.
“Do you know this man?” ST-702 demanded, nudging him with a gun. Beside him, ST-809 crossed her arms and stared at him. The blank face of her mask hid what had to be a scowl.
“I do—I do!” Turning to the troopers, Scar gestured, “Meet my husband.”
“You’re single, Goodtimes.” ST-809 growled.
“It’s a new development! Farming’s been getting harder and harder with these legs of mine, you know how it is. I'll be trapped in my wheelchair constantly soon enough," Gesturing to his legs, Scar continued, “so I found someone who wanted to escape a Rebel-occupied planet. You know how they are. Terrible things. Always so wrecked by fighting.”
Trailing his fingers down the man’s arm, he tangled their fingers together and shared a smile with him. Play along, he thought desperately, hoping that the message would come across. If we don’t, we’re both going to face the consequences.
Somehow, the man got what he was saying.
“There’s been rumors of a Jedi on my old planet. I wanted to get out. I’d hate to turn out the way that Alderaan did, truly an awful thing. So many lives lost, and for what? Some silly, ancient religion?” Wrapping an arm around himself, he shrugged. As he did, he managed to slip what he was holding into his robes. Scar himself just barely noticed. The stormtroopers, from the looks of things, didn’t notice at all. It helped that the man turned to him and added, “It helps to find someone so…sweet, to open up their home to what’s essentially a refugee. We met through the online forums. I’m just glad that I got to know my Plumeria before I had to come here. Some people don’t get so lucky.”
Getting up on his toes, the man kissed Scar’s cheek. Face flushing, Scar looked at the ground. Thankfully, the stormtroopers all shifted uncomfortably. ST-809 waved her gun. “Just go, get out of here. I don’t want to see this. And quit the public displays of affection. No one needs to see you and your lover kissing.” She glanced at the man, then turned to Scar, “Though I’d watch this one, Goodtimes. Maybe get yourself a new husband. One who doesn’t come from…where was it?”
“Tatooine, darling.” The man said, dropping Scar’s hand and drawing his own over Scar’s chest. Glancing down, Scar swallowed. Then, he paused. The man definitely wasn’t human, or at least not fully. He didn’t have normal nails, not like Scar did. His were almond-shaped, sharp, like…talons.
Scar rested his hand in the small of the man’s back. Something shifted under his hand. I wonder if he has wings. If he sticks around long enough, I guess I may have the chance to find out.
“We have better things to do than just watch these two be gross. Move on.” Waving a hand, one of the other troopers shook their head. “Go. Before I change my mind.”
“Come on, home’s this way, remember? Did you get lost again?” Taking the man’s hand again, Scar dragged him off. They walked away from the troopers, back towards Scar’s home.
Once they were out of the troopers’ hearing range, the man leaned over, “Thank you for that. Your name is…?”
“Scar. Scar Goodtimes.” Tapping the bridge of his nose, Scar laughed and said, “I guess it’s kind of obvious as to why.”
The man glanced him up and down. A history of growing up needing multiple surgeries and unlucky accidents trying to relearn how to walk afterwards (or a number of other things), and the occasional fight when he got lost…Scar had a lot of marks. A lot of history painted on his skin, really. It was livable. Not pretty, sure, but…livable. That part was more important, honestly.
Glancing him up and down again, Scar plucked a flower from a nearby bush. Then, he presented the bloom, a bright red thing, to the man with a wink and a half bow, “And what’s your name, my lovely flower?”
“Grian.” The man replied, taking the flower. Glancing him up and down again, Grian frowned slightly. “Do…what’s your opinion of the Jedi, Mr. Goodtimes?”
“Just call me Scar.” Glancing over his shoulder as they walked towards his home, Scar shrugged, “I think I’m pretty neutral on Jedi. After all, I’ve never really met one. Can’t say I’m a fan of the First Order, but is anyone on Batuu?” With a shake of his head and a sigh, he gestured, “I barely manage to grow enough Surabat grain as it is. With them taking so much of it to feed their troops, I barely get enough credits to get by. It’s a kriffin’ mess is what it is. So, anyone fighting against the Jedi—the First Order, I mean—well—I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Grian prompted as they came into view of his home. It was a small thing, square-shaped and made of mud bricks. The door was wood, the window frames were wood. The roof had holes in it and was really just scavenged scrap metal. “Is this your home?”
“And yours, too. For now.” Looking over, Scar added, “I’m sorry. Pretending you were my husband was the only thing I could think of at the time. It means you’re stuck here for a little bit, though.”
“Well,” Grian pulled something from his cloak, holding it on a flat palm. Scar glanced down. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re neutral on Jedi.”
Scar stared down at the lightsabers. Not one. Two, plural. They were both silver, designed ever so slightly different in the handles but similar enough that they were almost twins. Blinking, he reached up. His gaze met Grian’s. With a nod, Grian turned back to the sabers. Scar traced his fingers along the edge of one. “They’re beautiful.” He said. There was something, a sort of thrum, when he touched one. “They’re yours.”
“One of them. I don’t know who the other belongs to.” Glancing back up, Grian smiled and added, “Or maybe I just found out.”
Leaning in a little, Grian glanced down at Scar’s mouth. He tucked the lightsabers away. Scar stared at him, wide-eyed. Grian started to lean in—
Pulling back, Grian said, “Why don’t you give me a tour of your house, there? I will be living here for the next while, right? Can’t fake a death this quick, they’ll get suspicious!” He strode off towards the house.
Staring after him, Scar opened his mouth. Then, with a sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck and followed. This is going to be an interesting few weeks.
“I hope you like Loth-cats, Grian! I don’t know where they came from, but Jellie, Mr. Finnegan, and Katy Bee are very cuddly!”