Those Long Gone And The Ghosts They Leave Behind

[Barton Henning]

It was a strange time aboard the Wheel. Little more than two days ago, a great many of the Jedi had departed the convoy aboard the freighter Layla bound for the Core. What they had left behind was a ship that felt far emptier than it should have, given how few in number they were to begin with. For those who had been left behind, for whatever reason, it was a strange and sobering experience.

Barton had stood on the observation deck, looking out at the stars and wondering what would become of Navaria, Loki, Daria and all of the others. Well-meaning, Solomon had opened the invitation to Henning to come along, but he'd reasoned that someone had to stay behind. He was duty-bound to the Wheel and perhaps now, more than ever, he felt that this was where he was supposed to be.

There was only so long he could stand and do nothing, however. Before long, long strides were carrying Captain Henning back to the cargo bay of the Whaladon where he knew there would be – as ever – Jedi taking in training. For the young Jedi whose masters were temporarily absent, this was a particularly trying time as they tried to adhere to their life of discipline without the whip-crack of their masters voices to keep them in line. Yet as he strode onto the deck, it was not the sight of padawan's in the midst of their daily exercise routine that greeted him. There was a huddle of bodies clustered in one of the hangar bay's corners, in the shadow of a little-used shuttle. Barton cocked his head to one side and started towards them.

[Cleo Némain]

"Dun botha'"

Sitting along one of the walls was Cleo, seemingly keeping to herself, fidgeting as per normal, a small bag in her lap. She'd watched the Captain enter and start to approach the group of Padawans, the questioning look he carried being obvious and rather than perhaps clamming the group up or sending them scattering off trying to look busy, Cleo thought she'd stop him.

"Only gonna make 'em think they should be doin' somethin' they aint. Nah you're faul', they jus' think ofya assa some sorta 'thority."

Her hands lifted from her lap, revealing that she was holding two small metal sticks, and trailing from that was fabric with stripes in colors that may very well have been visible from nearby ships, if not planets.

"They're alla kin's of upset anyways. Anna tis nah 'bout their Masters goin' and leavin' and maybe ne'er comin' back."

[Darth Acera]

"I bet it was a space slug!"

"Nuh uuhhh, I heard that it was a vampire rancor, and it sucked all his blood out!"

The huddle of padawans was a tight affair, the small group circled around one of the older students - Jamis Kerr - who sat cross-legged in the middle of the gaggle of children.

Jamis shook his head at the two voices who'd spoken up.

"Wasn't any of those things," he corrected, his voice dropping in volume and his eyes narrowing. The younglings all leaned in, eyes wide, mouths open, desperate to know what Jamis knew.

He paused a little for effect, then went on.

"I overheard one of the other knights say that it was a space pirate. An undead space pirate."

One of the younglings, a little togruta girl, stifled a yelp, clamping her mouth shut. Jamis snapped his head to look at her, and his hands came up to make rings around his eyes.

"They said 'e had glowing green eyes - "

Another muffled squeeal, as the girl clapped both hands to her mouth. Jamis leaned forward, coming a little closer to her.

" - and claws for fingernails so that he could get to the brain easier and eat it!"

That was the last that the poor togruta youngling could take, and throwing her arms up in the air, she latched onto the padawan beside her, wailing in fright.

[Barton Henning]

They were all so wrapped up in Jamis Kerr's tall-tales that not one of them noticed Barton's approach until his shadow fell over the group. One of them yelped. He glanced back at Cleo, who was watching him with a look that screamed: I told you so. The boy Kerr was frowning up at him in typical adolescent defiance.

“What's all the commotion over here?”

[Darth Acera]

Jamis looked up defiantly at Mr. Henning, and slowly he crossed his arms over his chest.

"We were just talking."

The boy shot a frown to the others, more notably to the little Togruta before craning his neck back up to meet Mr. Henning's eyes.

"Nothin' wrong with that."

[Akasha Khan]

"They're talking about the ghost," Akasha said. She sat on a crate in the deep shadows behind the gaggle of younglings, a shade of slightly darker black except for the burning yellow-green of her eyes. Her Echani staff was in her paw, opening and closing, opening and closing, like a bored tic.

"The one that eats younglings. The one that killed Merran Threl and Lucentia Pavan."

She looked squarely into Barton's eyes, knowing full well that the Jedi didn't want such things spoken in the open air. Her staff opened and closed again, like a breathing creature.

[Cleo Némain]

A small bit of tsking came from Cleo, her eyes remaining on the overly brightly colored bit of scarf she was still creating. It wasn't that she disagreed with what the other one had said, it was more of...

A finger was brought to her lips. "Spoilers..."

The younglings had looked positively horrified that anyone would even mention the name of the two missing from their brood, their eyes locked onto the black furred apprentice. Those who had glimpsed over at Cleo were only met with a small smirk before she stuck her tongue out at them.

In a sudden huff she shoved the two metal sticks and the fabric back into the small draw-string bag before getting to her feet and slinging it over her shoulder. Her steps towards Barton were as erratic as the rest of her movements.

"Bad stories, nah to'ally righ', bu' nah all wrongish." Her hand pointed over at the figure in the wall, strangely pointing directly at the Echani staff rather than the wielder. "Tha' one knows."

[Barton Henning]

It was no good telling them there was no such thing as ghosts, especially not Master Hicchoru himself was said to speak to the dead. The benevolent spirits of departed Jedi were a different kettle of Mon Cal to what the youngling's were squabbling over, however.

“And this ghost lives aboard the Wheel, does it?” Barton asked, glancing from Cleo back to the feline's gleaming yellow eyes.

[Akasha Khan]

"Or follows it around," Akasha replied, sliding off the crate and stepping into the light. "Threl was on the Whaladon when the Imperials attacked us. Then we jumped away, and he was gone. And Pavan was on Beskarn, less than a kilometer away from her master."

The Orryxian looked across the gaggle of younglings as if they didn't even exist and found Cleo's eyes. "Did they even find her body?"

[Darth Acera]

Jamis was quick to his feet, turning on Akasha with the glint of forbidden knowledge in his eyes.

"I heard two of the masters talk of finding it, but they didn'a bring it back."

His chin jutted forward, arms stiff at his sides and hands balled into fists, as if daring the Orryxian to challenge him.

"I heard them whispering about how she'd been dragged up into the trees and hung by her feet."

One of the younglings gasped, another whimpered. The rest all stared up at Jamis with open mouths.

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos had reminded himself in advance that the bay would be near deserted with so few of the senior Jedi left on the Wheel; it caught him by surprise then to discover that said preconception was false. A frown was brought to his face as he observed a small gathering of young Jedi, huddled in the corner where the deck crews had tucked his shuttle. He sighed a little at the irony that, only a few weeks after he'd agreed to the placement, and informed the technician that I do not have anywhere else to be, he of course needed to access his shuttle.

His ears picked up the youngling's conversation as he approached. A note of frustration sparked in his mind as he realised they were speculating over ghost stories; those always exasperated him, particularly when the spook or spectre left no survivors. How then did the stories propogate, if there was no one to convey the details?

He kept his thoughts to himself however, eyes meeting with those of Captain Henning as he exchanged a brief nod of greeting with his fellow adult. He listened, arms folding loosely across his body as young Jamis Kerr informed the group of where the body had supposedly been found; his eyebrows climbed up his forehead in reaction.

"Hung from a tree?" he echoed, voice deadpan. "Most intreguing. I hear that Wookiees display their defeated enemies in much the same way." His gaze dropped unwaveringly onto Jamis. "Did these two masters make mention of whether her arms were still in their sockets, per chance?"

[Barton Henning]

Henning folded his arms over his chest. It was no secret that two young Jedi had gone missing under mysterious circumstances. Barton had not been familiar with Threl or Pavan, but he knew all too well how it felt to be amongst a herd of younglings that was suddenly beginning to thin. Had they been ordinary children, he could hardly have held their fear against them - but they were not.

“Padawan Kerr, what is the second line of the Jedi code?”

[Darth Acera]

He knew that tone of voice, and the challenge in his eyes diminished somewhat while giving a suddenly nervous glance back to Mr. Henning.

"I, um... "

His arms came down to rest at his sides, hands balling into fists as he looked to the deck.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

[Barton Henning]

The desire effect was immediate. It wasn't his job, or place, to chastise the boy but if he was sowing the seeds of fear amongst the other younglings – well, Barton couldn't stand by and watch that happen. Even if there was a grain of truth in it.

“And what do you know about all of this – real knowledge, I mean. Not just bits and pieces you've cobbled together from whispered gossip.”

[Akasha Khan]

"Oh, gosh, I guess we don't know anything," Akasha said, putting a paw to her chin. "Except, of course, that two Padawans disappeared out from under the noses of their masters, and now the knights won't tell us what happened. Thanks, Mr. Henning, I feel safer already."

She glared back at Henning in acrid defiance.

[The Padawan Eater]

One could find shadows anywhere, even in brightly lit rooms. Things that simply seemed wrong could easily hide if they so chose, and their presence they could mask until the desire to unfurl wings of fear drove them out. They could stifle their surroundings with whatever dark emotion they wished, blotting out even the brightest of illuminations - whether natural or otherwise.

Sometimes such fears were simply imagined, brought to life by the mind's own ill-informed perceptions and what it tries to bury deep inside.

But, other times, those fears are born of something very real.

Two eyes watched, safe in the darkness provided by a far corner of the hangar. They watched, and they waited. They were ever so patient, and the fear that was spreading out from the ring of Padawans was substantial. Sweeter than Ithorian honeyflower it was. It was delightful.

The two eyes watched, and the hunger began to grow.

[Cleo Némain]

Everyone had to be so serious, and Captain Barty went and made himself seem all scary to the youngish ones again, it was more than Cleo could take. Everyone was so glum. Not that they should have been happy about two Padawans going missing, but Cleo knew that sometimes people just wandered, got lost, got misplaced.

Captain Barty was proving no fun, the snarky kitty lady wasn't much better and the youngins, well, they were young. Not like the other guy who had gone and joked and talked about Wookiees hanging people from trees. Cleo figured if bad things were happening, and she suspected they really were but she didn't quite want to admit that sort of thing, then the people who were already thinking the worst weren't going to find out anything. They'd run in circles, quoting scriptures and listening to ghost stories.

She looked back at the Wookiee-Story-Teller and then swayed back and forth just enough to make herself feel like if she did it fast enough she would soon be putting herself in circles.

"Well... why dun' we go an fin' ou'? Standin' 'ere anna lookin' a' each otha' alla dumb-like aint gonna fix nothin'."

Not that Cleo knew where to go... but one thing was for sure, leaving the hanger was going to be better than standing around. It would make that feeling like they were all being watched go away at least. Or, at least, Cleo hoped it would.

[Barton Henning]

Barton nodded at Cleo. “That's the point. What you – and I – know right now amounts to a whole lot of nothing so talking about it, worrying about it, doesn't achieve anything.”

He glanced at Akasha and hoped the girl wasn't, for some unknown reason besides the fact that she was evidently inheriting her masters candid manner of speech, hell-bent on stirring the pot. “Maybe we can find some clues aboard the ship, and you all can put together a report to give to the Council when they get back.”

[Akasha Khan]

Aha, now they were getting somewhere! Akasha grinned broadly, showing an array of undoubtedly predatory fangs.

"Great! Let's go on a ghost hunt!" Without hesitation, she looked straight at Jamis Kerr. "You seem to be the expert here. Let's team up and see what we can find."

[Cleo Némain]

She didn't say anything at first, merely clapped her hands together and let the look of excitement over the whole thing take over. While she wasn't so sure on Captain Barty's idea that you all can put together a report... He seemed the most respectable out of the lot and so he would probably be the best one to do the reporting... but it didn't matter. They were going on an adventure of sorts, right here on The Wheel!

With the younglin dubbed as their scout thing (which made Cleo question the kitty lady all the more than she already did...she was all cloudy looking anyway. Not bright like the others. But then again, it wasn't like the younglings were all shiny bright spots either. Maybe the kitty just hadn't started to glow yet like they hadn't.) and Captain Barty in the position of seemingly self-appointed fuddy-duddy, Cleo wasn't sure what kind of team they were going to be. They needed one more.

That left the more-glowy-than-the-rest-Wookiee-story-teller.

Who was looking over his shuttle and seemed to have no want to go on a ghost-hunt. Tough. Cleo had already decided.

The young woman quickly made her way over to his side, peered at the shuttle, then back at him.

"Yer comin' alsa. Four dun go an' make a team, fi' does."

She held up her hand, fingers splayed out as if that simple gesture explained everything.

"'Sides, iffin there issa ghos' orra monsta' orra somethin' else-like. Gonna need someone ta be able ta act'lly do somthin' bou' it, righ'?"