He did not want to let her go. To let her go meant goodbye. Arion never wanted to say goodbye, he wanted to be with his mother, to be with her forever. He never wanted to break her warm embrace, to feel her tight squeezing arms let loose of him, he wanted to hear her gentle, soothing words, to hear that everything would be alright. He needed her, she was everything to him.
Every second passed by too quickly, far too quickly. Why did he have to go? Arion did not want to lead a huge, glorious life, he wanted to rest down, harvest bacta, raise a family. Why did he have to go? There were so many others who were just as deserving, probably moreso, and who actually wanted to go.
His mother's shoulder was wet with his tears, dampening the cloth a bit, to which she simply lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, trying to find words to reassure her son, though she knew there were none. In all honesty she did not want him to go either, he was her whole world, ever since his father died he'd been the only one who cared.
And now he was going. But she knew she could not be greedy, the galaxy needed him, they needed his power, his good heart. She could not withhold him.
With her other hand she ran her fingers through his dark brown hair, trying herself to be strong, but finding it unbearably difficult. What an odd sight they must baveen, to stand right off the side of the road, in the middle of a walkway, clutching each other so tightly, standing in so obvious pain.
But neither cared. This could be the last time iether saw each other, they wanted to relish this.
"I don't want to go Mom," Arion said at length, finally pulling back to stare at her. "It's not fair, I don't want to be a Jedi." It was for that reason she knew he would be a phenomenal Jedi, maybe even the best. She had to let him go. It was for every reason she wanted him to stay that he had to go.
"I do not want you to go either, Arion," she responded quietly, "but if this is your destiny then who am I to stand in the way?"
Arion had come to accept this. He wanted more than anything to stay, but he also understood that it was not his choice. He also understood that people needed him, needed his power and his heart more than his mother did. But why had the Force chosen him when he wnated to stay home? When there were so many others who wanted this power?
But he had accepted that this was his destiny, no matter how much he hated it.
"I'll come back to you," he said quietly, "I promise." His mother smiled and nodded.
"You should go now son, before you miss your flight," she responded. Though she could not see him she knew the man who'd found her son, Rars Ktarik he'd called himself, was staring at her impatiently.
Arion nodded and stepped back, looking down at the ground. "I'll miss you," he said quietly.
"I'll miss you too Arion," she said in return. With that Arion shouldered his pack and walked alongside the gruff man, eyes stuck on the ground. Rars placed a hand on Arion's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
NEither knew what to say. Arion was being overcome by grief and Rars with guilt. Both wanted to say something, but were afraid it wuold only add to the agony.
So they walked down the streets in silence, Arion only looking up now and again to see where he was going or to stop from hitting himself into a post or something. All thoughts were bent on the home he was leaving behind, on his mother, on his sudden feeling of emptiness. The cold, yet burning feeling of total emptiness. He was alone, and he felt as though such a thing would never go away.
How could such monumentous pain ever go away? He felt like it would be with him forever, eternally, haunting him, the cold, damp pain. His life felt hollow and empty now, missing something eternally important, the one piece that made him whole, and without it he was nothing.
The trip was shorter than he'd expected, or maybe it just seemed that way. When he Arion looked up he was in a rather large hangar, an old Coreelian Arcrunner straight ahead of him, no doubt the ship he would be travelling in. It was not much to look at, just like most other Corellian Freighters, but he'd heard about their speed. They could be impressive.
Rars removed a small device like a remote control, pressing one of the buttons. The ship's entry hatched hissed and whined, then began lowering. It hit the permacrete with a loud bang, though neither person jumped.
"There she is, Rars said bostfully, "the YT-510 Arcrunner Maiden Phoenix." Arion did not need the Force to feel the man's radiating ego at the sight of the ship. He was not impressed.
"How long of a flight to Naboo?" he asked, as though Rars had said nothing at all. Rars shrugged.
"Week maybe, it's a long trip," he said. Arion sighed, wanting only to get there and get it over with. The sooner the Jedi evaluated him the sooner he could go home, or at least visit home.
"Not a particularly fast ship is it?" Arion said distatefully, defiantly. Rars knew he was looking for every possible way to be difficult, that was, apparently, part of b eing an adolescent being ripped from home. He tried not to let it get to him, the young man was only seventeen and he was being torn from his mother's hold, from the only person who loved him, the only person he had.
Rars di dnot respond to the remark and boarded the craft, Arion close behind. He pressed a button on the wall to shut the ramp behind him and made his way for the cockpit.
Even in ARion's current mood he wa sunable to deny the beauty of the interior of the craft. It looked as though it were more designed for high-priced luxuary cruises than quick voyages like this one. Its lavish rugs and furniture would have led ARion to think the man to be some kind of noble or politician.
But then it struck him: He really didn't know what it was this man did, though he appeared to be a typical trader or smuggler if anything. He narrowed his eyes as he followed the man, trying to piece it all together.
The cockpit was no less splendid than the rest of the ship, with a scarlet fabric over all the pieces of furniture, with blue and gold trims. Most of the original hardware had been remove, replaced by some upgraded or exotic piece of equipment. Everything was exotic about this ship, it was like the stories he'd heard about the Lady Luck.
THe two took their seats next to one another and Rars got to starting the ship's primary features. The engine started with a roar and he punched in a few features on his commlink, receiving clearance to exit the starport. Moments later they wer eleaving Thfyerra, flying up into a blue and purple sky.
But even with the twlight beauty Arion still had his suspicians, he was not exacly enthralled by the canvas of colors that was Thyferra's dusk as his pilot.
But he managed to supress it, for now, as the ship motioned into hyperspace.
Every second passed by too quickly, far too quickly. Why did he have to go? Arion did not want to lead a huge, glorious life, he wanted to rest down, harvest bacta, raise a family. Why did he have to go? There were so many others who were just as deserving, probably moreso, and who actually wanted to go.
His mother's shoulder was wet with his tears, dampening the cloth a bit, to which she simply lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, trying to find words to reassure her son, though she knew there were none. In all honesty she did not want him to go either, he was her whole world, ever since his father died he'd been the only one who cared.
And now he was going. But she knew she could not be greedy, the galaxy needed him, they needed his power, his good heart. She could not withhold him.
With her other hand she ran her fingers through his dark brown hair, trying herself to be strong, but finding it unbearably difficult. What an odd sight they must baveen, to stand right off the side of the road, in the middle of a walkway, clutching each other so tightly, standing in so obvious pain.
But neither cared. This could be the last time iether saw each other, they wanted to relish this.
"I don't want to go Mom," Arion said at length, finally pulling back to stare at her. "It's not fair, I don't want to be a Jedi." It was for that reason she knew he would be a phenomenal Jedi, maybe even the best. She had to let him go. It was for every reason she wanted him to stay that he had to go.
"I do not want you to go either, Arion," she responded quietly, "but if this is your destiny then who am I to stand in the way?"
Arion had come to accept this. He wanted more than anything to stay, but he also understood that it was not his choice. He also understood that people needed him, needed his power and his heart more than his mother did. But why had the Force chosen him when he wnated to stay home? When there were so many others who wanted this power?
But he had accepted that this was his destiny, no matter how much he hated it.
"I'll come back to you," he said quietly, "I promise." His mother smiled and nodded.
"You should go now son, before you miss your flight," she responded. Though she could not see him she knew the man who'd found her son, Rars Ktarik he'd called himself, was staring at her impatiently.
Arion nodded and stepped back, looking down at the ground. "I'll miss you," he said quietly.
"I'll miss you too Arion," she said in return. With that Arion shouldered his pack and walked alongside the gruff man, eyes stuck on the ground. Rars placed a hand on Arion's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
NEither knew what to say. Arion was being overcome by grief and Rars with guilt. Both wanted to say something, but were afraid it wuold only add to the agony.
So they walked down the streets in silence, Arion only looking up now and again to see where he was going or to stop from hitting himself into a post or something. All thoughts were bent on the home he was leaving behind, on his mother, on his sudden feeling of emptiness. The cold, yet burning feeling of total emptiness. He was alone, and he felt as though such a thing would never go away.
How could such monumentous pain ever go away? He felt like it would be with him forever, eternally, haunting him, the cold, damp pain. His life felt hollow and empty now, missing something eternally important, the one piece that made him whole, and without it he was nothing.
The trip was shorter than he'd expected, or maybe it just seemed that way. When he Arion looked up he was in a rather large hangar, an old Coreelian Arcrunner straight ahead of him, no doubt the ship he would be travelling in. It was not much to look at, just like most other Corellian Freighters, but he'd heard about their speed. They could be impressive.
Rars removed a small device like a remote control, pressing one of the buttons. The ship's entry hatched hissed and whined, then began lowering. It hit the permacrete with a loud bang, though neither person jumped.
"There she is, Rars said bostfully, "the YT-510 Arcrunner Maiden Phoenix." Arion did not need the Force to feel the man's radiating ego at the sight of the ship. He was not impressed.
"How long of a flight to Naboo?" he asked, as though Rars had said nothing at all. Rars shrugged.
"Week maybe, it's a long trip," he said. Arion sighed, wanting only to get there and get it over with. The sooner the Jedi evaluated him the sooner he could go home, or at least visit home.
"Not a particularly fast ship is it?" Arion said distatefully, defiantly. Rars knew he was looking for every possible way to be difficult, that was, apparently, part of b eing an adolescent being ripped from home. He tried not to let it get to him, the young man was only seventeen and he was being torn from his mother's hold, from the only person who loved him, the only person he had.
Rars di dnot respond to the remark and boarded the craft, Arion close behind. He pressed a button on the wall to shut the ramp behind him and made his way for the cockpit.
Even in ARion's current mood he wa sunable to deny the beauty of the interior of the craft. It looked as though it were more designed for high-priced luxuary cruises than quick voyages like this one. Its lavish rugs and furniture would have led ARion to think the man to be some kind of noble or politician.
But then it struck him: He really didn't know what it was this man did, though he appeared to be a typical trader or smuggler if anything. He narrowed his eyes as he followed the man, trying to piece it all together.
The cockpit was no less splendid than the rest of the ship, with a scarlet fabric over all the pieces of furniture, with blue and gold trims. Most of the original hardware had been remove, replaced by some upgraded or exotic piece of equipment. Everything was exotic about this ship, it was like the stories he'd heard about the Lady Luck.
THe two took their seats next to one another and Rars got to starting the ship's primary features. The engine started with a roar and he punched in a few features on his commlink, receiving clearance to exit the starport. Moments later they wer eleaving Thfyerra, flying up into a blue and purple sky.
But even with the twlight beauty Arion still had his suspicians, he was not exacly enthralled by the canvas of colors that was Thyferra's dusk as his pilot.
But he managed to supress it, for now, as the ship motioned into hyperspace.