exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

Date: August 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings. Now with 200% more People-Seeking lists!
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities. Now and then around you you might spot paper fluttering in the faint wind from somewhere relatively dry. It looks like a list.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

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[The question brings him back to the moment, just as surely as Luke stepping back has. He needs nothing to aide him to know that he's scared his son, worried him- And rightfully, he should have. Luke is too much like Padmé. He's naive, hopeful- completely untouched and untainted by war, the way Anakin had been- Once upon a time, so long ago. Rather than think of it as a flaw, he'd prefer it to stay that way.

The anger fizzles, pops, and goes dormant. Anakin allows the grief to take precedence. He shakes his head as if to clear it, as if in answer- and offers a small smile once more]

Yes, I'm fine- It's a lot to take in.

[He doesn't think he needs to explain to Luke, how much he loved his wife. That her loss was jarring, when he hadn't expected it. Having it on the heels of the confirmation of having a child together- Well] Your Uncle didn't know anything to tell you. I only met him once.

[It's a diplomatic answer, a small attempt at amends for his reaction. It's also honest. If Luke was to go to anyone, he would have preferred that he'd gone to Sola and her husband. Padmé's family could have offered Luke more, would have been kind, provided excellent education and more opportunities- they had also loved Padmé dearly. The Lars'- They were weak, and they weren't family. A true family would never abandon one of it's own.

They were nothing to him, and they should have been nothing to Luke. At least, it's not too late to correct this mistake as well. The eerie calm almost cracks at the mention of his Master. Of the fate that befell him- Whatever his conflicted feelings on the other Jedi, for the connection they shared, Obi-Wan deserved better than to be struck down by the likes of Vader. Luke certainly deserved more than to have to lose someone close to him, so young.

He pushes past the feeling, buries it down with the others, and steps forward to bridge the distance Luke created. There isn't even a moment of hesitation before he returns his hands to rest on his son's shoulders, tugging insistently, until he can pull him in for a proper hug]

You don't have to worry- About any of it, any more. Everything's going to be fine.

[Luke feels a twinge of guilt. What must it be like for his father to learn about not only his death, but the death of his wife and his old master? Especially coming from him - a son who probably hasn't even been born yet (from Anakin's point of view, anyway). He's relieved to feel his father's anger recede, but there's still something there that bothers him. There's still a darkness that seems to cloud some of his senses and follows his father and he's not sure what to make of it.

It's probably nothing. Just residual bad feeling.

He accepts the hug - why shouldn't he? But the way his father talks to him makes him pull back for a moment. There's a twinge of irritation - his father might be a war hero, but Luke's been doing his own fighting for the last three years. He doesn't need or want to be treated like a farm boy all over again.]

Don't worry about me - I can handle myself.

[He grins at Anakin - it's a cocksure, slightly arrogant grin, the grin of a youth who thinks (knows) he's invincible.]

I mean, we've got our own problems back home, but I can handle anything the galaxy throws at me.