Revenge of the Gray: Chapter 24

Description: Operation Ilum begins. 

Chapter Twenty One

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Prologue

Star Wars: Episode 3.5

“The Revenge of the Gray”

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As I look into the square of glass I use as a mirror and into my own gaze, I can see how empty I have become with time. It makes me wonder how long I have looked like this, if there was anything I could’ve done to slow it or stop it. There’s no particular reason anyone should really look this way. It does not take long to accept it. 

The hazel in my eyes is brought out by the taupe shade underneath, and the paling skin surrounding it. My chapped lips are emphasized by the weather. I can see the oil in my hair, the grease. And the skin, the same paling skin, is dry and looks almost painfully stretched over my body. If the people of Coruscant saw me right now, I think most of them would faint. And while I personally don’t care about this, a part of my brain conjures up what I’d look like standing next to one of them. 

There’s so many people inhabiting Coruscant that my mind keeps changing exactly which one I’m sitting next to in this scenario. One of the politicians? A model? A traveler? Someone from the underworld? Who’s to say. In my mind, the specifics don’t matter. I already know my own point. So why have I been sitting here like this for however long now?

The voice in my head tells me to get up and go hunting. Ilum sunshine after a long night guarantees the appearance of the wildlife. Even the fish at the lake swim closer to the surface in an attempt to feel the heat on their scales. This makes it easy for me to gather them into my netting. Besides that, panthers will make for good meat and snowfeather birds provide hearty supply. I am in no theoretical rush. 

So, why does it feel otherwise?

The days have been blending together recently. Perhaps it is because of the Ilum rotation schedule, or the weather which has fallen harsher and quicker, or even simply my own poor timing. Three sunrises ago, I rolled from my bed and onto this very wooden floor. The sudden surface against my body had blood running from my head, my nose. It had never happened before that. And fourteen days before that, every fish in the lake bobbed to the surface, dead. The next morning, they were fine. 

I purse my lips at my reflection in the mirror like I’m going to kiss myself silly. I angle my head left, right, up, and down, staring at myself. Then I breathe out, and stand up.

For the Ilum climate, humans will need to dress appropriately. Around my waist, I wrap burlap material. I also apply this to the skin that my top and bottoms do not cover, such as my forearms down and my calves to my feet. Then I drape a light coat over me, along with socks. Fur boots I modified myself, a fur coat, and hunting gloves follow. Finally, I wear a mask that keeps the lower half of my face warm. My hood will keep the rest of my head in working condition. As for the Ilum fauna, I hold both a spear and a spearhead attached to a chain that wraps around my palm snugly; to hunt and defend myself at the same time.

As I secure the buttons of my coat, a glint of silver draws my eye. It is across the open layout of the cabin, under a heap of cloth that is under the pail I use to gather water. Not terribly strong, but obviously enough to steal my mind from the moment. My brows crease. Hadn’t I tossed it out?

My hand moves both the pail and the cloth to wrap around the silver cylinder. I stare down at it, confused, feeling the weight settle in my hand. Truly, I could’ve sworn that I’d thrown the thing out a while ago- into the lake, over the cliff, anywhere but in my place of living. But now that I think about it, I can’t find the memory of me actually doing that. Thus, it remains in my hand. 

It’s not my lightsaber. It’s too simple, too delicate, too light. When I roll it in my hand, something clicks around on the inside as if it weren’t put in place properly. Dust has already begun collecting on every side of the hilt and handle, although I can’t say the exact day that I had stripped this from one of the temples near by. I also can’t say why. There’s nothing inside myself that reflects an urge to remember anything from life as a Jedi. I hardly find it within myself to to think of it unprovoked. So why does it catch my eye now? Why is it here? 

I let it sit in the dip of my palm for another minute, listening to my own mind grow quieter and quieter. Then it is silent. Not even the wind outside, nor the snow, the weather, dare grows louder than the silence I conduct.