Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head...

[Ira Yahff]

Dismal sky coated the heavens. Frown arced the gray, sad clouds above as they peeked down into the world they sent into turmoil. The dust ball mug coil under the weight of the falling pressure, contorted into a clump of soggy grounds. Brown scatter about splatter of greenery, while imprints of the past pasted onto the land's floor. Time had healed many scars to an invisible, but these wounds ran so deep that scabs could not birth.

Tears from the observant sparsely azure above busted onto the floor below. Allure had faded, and the landscape had forgotten it's sparkle. Shine was a foreign word to the planet, and the sky's glum knew that too well. Disaster flashed across the world in sudden sparks of electricity, igniting the world.

Not a repulsor engine hummed, allowing only the beat and thuds of the sobbing heaven hitting the floor give the landscape a music. Few animals fester in the blister mistaken for a planet , and those that did rested in hide from the dirty weep of the blue.

Rain splashed over clothe rarely on such a world. People did not drift under such distress and snivel. Albeit dither steamed from the livings pores, they could never swallow the anguish supplied back without choking. The day was different though, despite the routine of the sorrow.

A man's foot sloshed through the flush of wet mud. Stale was another word that few knew on such a land. Barren fields ran rampant over the once lively land. Never had the planet herald tall buildings like Coruscant, or fresh crops of Naboo, but it was still worth it's stay before.

"Jabiim."

The man whispered, his words overwhelmed by the clamor from the heaven's whimper. A wet hood grappled onto his moist scalp. Stench trickled off his body, his aroma submerged in the rest of the assorted stink. Not even a dewback's breathe could rival the agony reserved abroad. Jabiim just was poodoo all around.

An inhale dispelled the null foul as the lone ranger's head lifted to catch a better view through the tirade of tear drops. On his face sat a frown, but his eyes were intent. The silver and blue of his view were unparalleled. The typical white of that came in clumped, sticky threads from his scalp could only be Echani. No one else in the universe wield such youthful, strong features as this man.

Jehkran Dmath...

[Ira Yahff]

Barren wasteland rampage over the land. Sludge of distortion sled across in wet mud, carrying the lull echo of repetitive cadence. Beats from the dropping rain swept over the traveler's ear a long with the slush of his ever moving feet. Anguish coated his eyes under his soaked strands. Pocket and sectors of land painted forgotten pictures, and horror remained before him.

The joyous occasions that riddled his childhood were no longer, and in replacement was a world of waste. A dark figure purged his mind, crossing the roads until turmoil laid behind him. The void of the young explorer could only capture the image of the armor man. Not even light could strangle the being's unparalleled gloom. Dusk could not play synonymous, nor the skies of Jabiim.

Agony tarnished the hope once in the voyagers orbs, supplying only compressed exhaust in his iris in return. Step after step left the man in a stagger amble. Limping through the slide of mud kept his stride at a struggle, but Jehkran did not care. Movement was a remedy to his infected mental. Hopelessness took residence in his heart, but his feet could not decode the message. Instead Jehkran's appendage moved with angst and impulse of the land.

They had been there before...

Every shift gave a reminder, and no longer could the futile blunders control his body. Jehkran moved in the matter, not the mind, and came closer to an erased goal.

"Home..."

Jehkran wheezed. Heave after heave skid from his lungs, but restraint went unnoticed. Jehkran's body kept moving forward through the contorted land toward shambles that he could only remember in structure. Architecture had been torn by war, but his eyes could not cultivate the details. Derail by a blur, his eyes simply pointed ahead in concern.

Then he came to a halt. One of only a few structures in the distraught, barren city stood before him. Once again his tongue slither with an exotic, foreign word.

"Home."

[Ilias Nytrau]

The cure. The search was always for the cure. It never ended. Wherever there are people, there is illness. Wherever there is illness, a cure is needed. Wherever a cure is needed, there is work for a doctor. And for this most prestigious medical professional, that work was never done, especially when considering that work was under edict of the Empire. The skills of Doctor Falcon Gyndar were always in high demand, by the government, by private investors and by those who had the connections to be close enough to at least ask of him to work his magic.

Magic. That's what they called it. It was a rarity for a patient to pass on under the care of Dr. Gyndar, and many years of this had earned the man accolades of great proportions. Almost as if he were a god of the medical world. His research had often paved the way to several cures for diseases and infections that would have otherwise continued to ravage bodies and leave families and populaces stripped of joy and, after a time, stripped of life if not for his intervention. Research had carried him to nearly every nook and cranny of the known [and sometimes unknown, under his own power] regions of the galaxy, to find elements that would be of use. Any manner of things that could bring a cure that much sooner. Even in a wasteland such as Jabiim, there could be use. To the naked eye, there was no worth in this place. The land stank of old battles, old death, and stale time. Time that had run out for the native people of this place. What was known now only passed between ears and mouths in the unsanitized breath of rumour and hearsay. At the least, the atmosphere was still breathable, even if it didn't stink pretty.

There was another purpose of a more personal nature in this trip for the good doctor. The man had always been somewhat of a history nut, and to see what little scrapings remained of structures on Jabiim was a delight. Therefore, a stroll through what had been left over of a former city was in order. In the midst of his wondering, he stopped to collect soil samples, then moved near to a broken structure to look for any growths along the foundations or on the bulkheads themselves. Regardless of the Jabiim's seeming emptiness, it would be given equal time for combing through, just like every other planet. No stone would be left unturned if it meant one step closer to the cure.

And it was all about the cure.

[Ira Yahff]

To bathe in nostalgia brought the youth a boundless joy. Delight trickled at the back of his head as it poked inside the barren remains. Battle torched the world and the amount that with stood the torture gave him a mix of emotion. Jedi were not suppose to cry, but he felt the tears muster behind the clench of his eyes. Silence and solitude contoured his views as he creped through the house which he once claimed.

Much had changed, but a lot had sustained its elegance. A few datapad riddle the carpet in the nearby room, once utilized to view the sling races off-world. The Outer Rim bare a whirlwind of culture, and Jabiim cultivated their own original side. Tears of the sky never dampened their day. Instead, they fester inside, prepared for their imaginations to blink at each other's unique traits. Jehkran was once one of those kids, mind fulfilled with triumphs and dreams.

Not much had changed.

The furniture was still intact, so he didn't take it for granted as he did while a child. Despite the springs worn nature, he felt the comfort in home as he splashed over the seating. Dust kicked up into the flare of his nostrils, but he ignored it all. Memories flooded his mind in a flush that the heaven's could not conquer or rival. Nothing felt like the moment he grasped with a gander about the room.

Days past danced his riddled thoughts. Juggle of jumbled feelings rested in his heart, but he kept them subsided. No one was around, but a Jedi did not cry. That behavior was realized the faithful day when Rayna fell into his arms. Harm could only come from such radical display of emotion. He had to master it, control himself.

Unlike he could control the rest. Those other beings that came down and bombarded the land with utter ignorance and hatred. Darth Vader was his name, and he was gone. It hurt, for he had no one to hate but himself.

"Flack...." He whispered. "Flack..."

[Ilias Nytrau]

A faint whisper, he was sure of it, carried on the faint breezes that accompanied the downpour. It was garbled, as each droplet distorted the sound. Then a feeling that there was someone about. And yet, that couldn't be. Not a soul that was known of had stepped foot on this rock in what could seem like an age. But gut instinct rarely betrayed the good doctor. Not when he knew it so well for all the years.

"The regrowth processes are still yet in their infancies for this world." He stated for the mic of his recorder. "Early discovery of any useful elements will help for determining if there is any use for establishment of growth here in the means of social and economical standards."

Click. Doctor Gyndar shoved the small device back in his breast pocket, and continued with gathering elements, examining, making notes, and comparing with known elements. The rain wasn't showing any hope of easing up anytime soon, but that was no matter. It had been a long, long time since he had felt true rain, unregulated by weather stations. For some reason, that knowledge alone made it all the better.

[Ira Yahff]

An angst dangled about Jehkran's eyes as he pressed against the cushion. Dazzled by the haze of images, he simply nestled in his seat. Times had past since he had retained so much in a moment. Patience had become a virtue under the diligent training from Rayna. She was quite inexperienced in the field. Beside the rather stark contrast of a Padawan teaching another, he grasped the concepts well.

Not much was different from his own advocation as a child in the Echani ways. All of it was very spiritual. Intertwined with combat and resistance. Moralities throughout the galaxy normally carried symbolic idealogy. Much of it gave Jehkran's third eye a reason to blink.

Yet under the roof that he once ran about as a child, it was hard to clutch the sheer magnitude of it all. Much of his time had been spent here, raised and carved into the structure he was presently. Once before he had been told not to hold too strongly onto his childhood, depart with those emotional linkages and baggage so to prevail into the future. Always be mindful of one's own emotions.

How only a step into a building had challeneged his own duties was beyond him. He would have to meditate on it, as Master Rayna had suggested.

[Ilias Nytrau]

Once finished with the small growths against one crumbled wall, the good doctor rose from his crouched position and continued on. It didn't seem like much was about to find other than old history here. Perhaps his research teams in other sections of the planet would find more, but then again, maybe not. Survey was given two to three days on regular missions. A week at the most of he had the time to spare. Even with all the support staff he brought with him, the doctor always worked a section alone. In solitude was where he did his best work. In solitude was where he had always been, for some time now. You could say he was used to it, but every now and again, a person does feel alone. Isolated. That was the price to be paid for being in such high demand, that you would never have time to yourself. So this was a time when he knew he would get it.

Every moment that passed, Falcon could not shake the weeping of this world. He could not shake the feeling of another presence. However, being that it was not malevolent in nature, he just let it be. Let it pester him for all its worth. There was, after all, work to be done.

[Ira Yahff]

"Ow!"

The floor called back as a tumble banked against it's hardy shell. The thud sent a small tremor through the surface, but it gave no echo. Even if there was an invisible response, the loud reply of the fallen consumed all other sounds. Disdain rested in the being's eyes.

There was no room to stay nestled on the floor, so without heed the youthful spirit lifted. A grant of determination allowed the incisive nature to flood the child's eyes. Admix the blue and gray sped hope and drive. The frosted, bland, pale skin sat in contrast to his persistence that washed over him. Only a smirk cracked the fixed emotion. Confidence cater to his adorable features.

Stubby legs began their stretch outward. Exercises and practiced had riddled the small past of the boy, but he had taken them in well. Faults and uncertainty had taken him down, not fist. There was no room for shy notions in the commotion of combat. One's eyes had to be trained and absolute in their illustration of the world.

Emotions had to be harnessed, controlled and tempted for displays of attack. Every fragment of one's very being became a tool, not only the appendages and mind. Format of combat was a realm that few returned from without a suave and restraint. Echani were simply different.

"Want some more, aye?"

The familiar seasoned voice of his brother sent it's rasp through the lobes of his brother's ears. Youngest against oldest, the tradition had cultivated the households for generations. Little was different in features of the two. The frigid white hair, youthful handsome features. Only one was older, far older. Somewhere around adoloscent at least, while his opponent could be no older than seven.

"Yeah!"

Roars of brawl echoed through the living room as the two forces sped toward each other. A barrage of combative kicks and punches were dodged in mirror perfection, as the mastery of show was practiced.

"HEY! HERIM AND JEHKRAN! TAKE IT OUTSIDE!"

--------------------

A ghostly smile sail across the young man's face. The eyes lay moist as memories caressed his spirit. The comfort of the cushion enhanced as he pressed deeper into the seclusion. Not a chirp rampage the room, or liter of creeks shrieked into his earlobes. Only a delightful smile perched on his lips as he gazed about the room.

"Okay Mom...

Okay."

And the young Padawan was up and out. Back to the rain pour, back to Jabiim of the present.

[Ilias Nytrau]

Okay Mom...

Okay.

There was definetly no mistaking it. Once again, on top of innumerable occurences, his 'instincts' were right. There was no way that the wind was talking to him. No way in the seven hells. There is definetly someone else here in this sector. The good doctor, workbox in hand, stopped in his tracks.

"Alright, young man. I thought I made my instructions quite clear that I was not to be disturbed." He uttered to himself. "You'd better make your journey back to your team real swift, because I won't have insubordination under my eyes."

Doctor Gyndar started to look around for the source of the presence and voice. It was odd, but there was in fact someone other than himself in this sector.

[Ira Yahff]

Jehkran's ears claimed the call. Voices drizzled underneath the wind and rain distorted his mind. There was no way to decipher, but the frequency came clear. The youthful Jedi eyes sparked in investigation, his senses attuned. Assorted amidst the focus of his familiar friend, the Force, he left his hand to guide.

A crept dance sent him through the barren streets of the forgotten town, his hand scaling the walls as he sled across. Many times before his Padawan guide, Rayna, had spoke to him of his sense in the Living Force. Life could not escape his grasp. Everything about was swallowed whole into his senses.

It had to be.

There was no room for fault in such sensitivity of the world during combat and ideals of his Echani culture. The household he had taken refugee wield those many teachings, and even as he stepped away into the depths of the once silent city it still resonated.

Turning about a corner, the Force took command. Pulling the lightsaber from his belt, it propelled it into his tightened grasp. Ignition sparked the flare of green hue shine. A condensed snarl trickle over his features, distorting them as he prepared himself for the seemingly inevitable battle.

Before him was only one man, but one man could be a worthy opponent. There was no need to heed, but he would allow the being the first move.

"Who are you?"

[Ilias Nytrau]

A lightsaber. Something he hadn't seen...or held...in an age. Well, that was interesting. Doctor Gyndar just dropped his workbox, as it was built to withstand torment, and crossed his arms, giving the boy a suspicious look.

"Well, you certainly aren't one of my men."

He glanced at the wet ground for a moment, then lifted his eyes again, locking them with the other. There was definetly something more to the boy's presence. Something with an old, familiar quality. Falcon allowed his own presence, which he had kept dim for so very many years, to rub against that of the boy's. It was a significantly stronger one.

"I am a doctor, if you must know. And if you intend to strike me, I dare say you won't have very much success. Now, what's a young man like you doing on Jabiim? There is virtually nothing here."

Falcon had not made any move that indicated he was going to strike, or defend. There he stood. Arms crossed, shoulders squared.

[Ira Yahff]

The intensity of Jehkran's eyes were compressed, remained at a halt as he steer his procedure to a call of halt. A stutter of his movement sent his hesitation into a complete stop before there was only room for his fingers to motion free. The smudge of his thumb pressed against the red button along his hilt, recalling the extended trail of light.

A lethal sizzle zoomed back within the realm of metallic hold, remaining until the owners next command. In the dribbles of the sky sat two men, both falling into a calm. A sigh lifted the Echani's chest as his gaze reset behind eased lids. He had been too hasty.

Jehkran dropped his hand to his waist, placing the hilt back into it's rightful place at his belt. There was no room for further conversation, at least not until he retrace his calm counterparts wordage. The choice of words had shifted the Echani slightly. Such a foreign object as a lightsaber would turn any man outside, but instead this person was tranquil and nonchalant.

"This is home. What are you doing here," He asked in return. An intrigue carried his tone, but was smoothly mixed into a soothing, suave voice.

[Ilias Nytrau]

"Searching."

The good doctor freed up his arms from the crossing, and he bent down to pick up his workbox.

"I have men all over this planet thouroughly combing through for any elements that might be useful in sussing out cures for various illnesses. Even in a period where there is bare vegetation...even then, there may be promise."

He shifted from one foot to the other, and bent his knees a few times. Being on his feet all day, he was a dedicated man, practically married to his work.

"I undertook the processing of this planet myself. The government sees no value in a place that seems so desolate."

[Ira Yahff]

"And why are you so calm?"

Jehkran persisted, though his demeanor kept the tone at bay. About him exuded a confidence, sly and interest that was more innocent than malevolent. The depths of his mixed eyes spiral in intrigue as he steer his eyes forth.

The man seemed all to calm in a solitare with a youthful, brash man that the Echani had impressed himself to be. Initially he attacked, and still the man before him was instilled with a calm that could rival the most tranquil monks.

Even under the clear possibility of demise. Still the lightsaber rested at his midsection, and though Jehkran was wise enough to avoid the usage of the lethal arsenal there was no security for the stranger. The man could still be killed to his own knowledge.

[Ilias Nytrau]

Can you keep a secret? The voice was heard in the younger one's mind. In response, a short nod was seen.

The good doctor smiled kindly. The youth had such a need to know, and Falcon somehow knew he could trust the boy with what he had kept so long hidden. In the mind of the youth, he would show it. And then all would be understood. Doctor Gyndar raised a finger to his lips, as if to say that it was between them, that it would be kept hidden.

In the other's mind, a memory appeared of the doctor, as a younger man, tending to a patient [a young learner], robed as one that the youth would consider friendly. Another young padawan in this memory asked a question of him.

Master Gyndar...Will he be alright?

The younger version of the good doctor turned to the other and replied in kind tones.

He is fortunate to be alive. But I have done much of what I can do for the time being. With a little patience, he will be well.

And that was that. Once again, Doctor Gyndar looked upon the young man.

"I hope I have answered your question."

[Ira Yahff]

The images flooded his mind until the heat of the moment sent them into a fog of steam. Underneath the skewed visuals rested a third eye. Imagination twinge with the effects and sent a tickled smile on his lips. Ghostly affairs sped his eyes off beyond the situation, looking into the depths of time.

Albeit surprising, he was unaffected. Time and time again Rayna and he took to dangers that left his mind uneasy. Wild shocks rattled his life since his venture parked himself on Nal Kreeta. Divine contenders separated him from the lifeless void of a forgetful citizen, fulfilled only by trickles of memories from amnesia to a child of the Force and Alliance Rebel.

Much had changed only a months time. Only a months time...

"Really?"

Jehkran did not question. He spoke with rhetorical cadence, his voice intertwined into a melody of smooth motion. There was no room to force anything. He felt too soothed at the thought that there were other. Others like Rayna...others like him.

"Jedi?" A smile parked itself on his lips still. It wouldn't fade, not anytime soon.

[Ilias Nytrau]

Once again, a finger to the lips and the rushing air of a shush, followed by a tapping of the imperial markings on his workbox. The young man was the only one that knew of his existance as something else. Of his other life. The one he had left behind at the scant beginnings of the Empire, giving his solemn word to the future that he would return to it.

Others may show a great deal of surprise about such a fact being linked to the most skilled medical professional in the Empire. Keep it to yourself. Tell only those you yourself would trust with your very life.

[Ira Yahff]

Adoloscent...so nonchalant.

All the youth could supply was a shrug. Certainly the seriousness of the moment spoke loud and clear, but Jehkran wasn't careless. Not a word would trickle from his lips about it. However, he did have an inquiry in his mind.

Such work for the Empire, knowing the Jedi code to be true. It was a large contradiction that even the casual Jedi couldn't oversee. Times could not change the Jedi before him that much...could it.

It had Rayna. The irony set itself in, but his pores were secure in their rejection. She had fallen to the Sith ways, and in return he understood. As not to fall to the same form, he had to stand firm on his previous feelings.

"So, what is your stance in the Empire?"

Now, that question was safe.

[Ilias Nytrau]

"I have not lied to you in the slightest. When I say I am a doctor, it is so. I only heal the sick and keep the healthy so. I am a researcher in my own right, and I only seek to heal, and not harm. The government has tried their hand at swaying me to do the antithesis of my work, but I am far too valuable in my trade. I had the liberty to refuse. It is against the very fabric of my being to do that which is not true to what I am. "

He understood well the skepticism of this youth. It was hard to believe that a shining light would plant itself in the darkness.

"I can see why you do not understand. But there will come a time when I cannot be where I am. It may very well become a threat to my existance. I have not betrayed the values of my youth."

[Ira Yahff]

The man spoke with care and meaning. Respect was meritted, but Jehkran could not proceed without the first moral stance he was learned. Or at least one of the first few...

"The name is Jehkran," he began. Suddenly the conversation had led to an off-beat commence, but Jehkran ignored the rather obscure introduction. Skewed resolve kept the Echani knowingly ignorant, and intrigued.

"And you are?"

A hand was offered in company with his query. There was much to be converse...much to be talked about. The youthful spirit carried many questions, always and forever. Jehkran just was a curious guy.