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The lights of the base flicker overhead as the storm outside worsens. Ferus had little doubt that the base would hold; the asteroid was surprisingly hospitable, and there hadn’t been any major concerns since he founded the safe haven with Raina and Toma, despite the base being stationed in the middle of a continuous atmospheric storm. They would be fine; Ferus could feel that suretly in his bones. It’s just no one had been expecting the storm to have such an uptick in activity so soon after Trever dropped off their newest Jedi in need.
Tae Diath was, in all honesty, more than a slight mystery to Ferus. He was so rarely at the Temple, and with the six years between them, Ferus had no reason to pay much, or any attention really, to the younger boy on the rare occasions he and his Master were there.
Looking at him now, Ferus finds that he still isn’t sure how much the other has changed. His silver braid had been cut, but Ferus couldn’t tell if it was done organically or out of survival. He doesn’t twitch or fidget like most of the younger survivors Trever had found, but he still meditates. Mainly, he meditates with his back against a large window, the atmospheric storm still raging on the other side, a metal disk wrapped in leather with a snake and wind motif embossed cradled in his hands like something precious.
“I’m looking for someone,” Tae had said to him the second he had gotten Ferus alone, hidden in the shadow of Trever’s ship, their bodies pressed with less than an inch of space between them, a shared breath lingering between their lips. “Someone important.”
They were both aware of the fact that his someone was likely already dead and that he was still one of the most well-adjusted Jedi who had stepped foot into Ferus’ safe haven.
“There is a traitor,” echoes a voice that isn’t his across his mind now, soft, like a voice lost on the wind. Tae doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t even more other than the slow circlaur motion his thumb is rubbing into the metal disk.
The thought of a traitor is enough to make Ferus’ breathing hitch, the coldness in his bones growing with fear. They’ve seen so many survivors drift through their halls, some haunted, some itching for a fight. They didn’t have to numbers to anything substantial against the Empire, barely had enough to keep themselves alive, and a traitor would ruin it all in a single instant.
“I will find them.”
How he can stay so calm is beyond Ferus. Perhaps it’s just an Outer Rim Jedi thing. Regardless, Tae is giving them time. That has to count for something. Ferus crosses the space between them and sits on the floor beside Tae, letting his eyes fall shut. He can feel the strange warmth curling around his mind, a dry desert heat chasing the coldness of space from his bones until he almost feels comfortable. He doesn’t meditate, but he can feel the twitch of Tae’s lips pulling into a smile despite his eyes remaining closed, and it feels right.
After all, both of them had their entire worlds turned upside down with grief long before the galaxy went mad. What a shame it would be if they were the only well-adjusted pair left in the galaxy.