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It’s not every day that an angry padawan comes storming into the council chambers to yell at them, but it’s certainly happened once or twice before, and Plo tends to find it rather funny when it does.
But this morning it's different, because the young man who’s come blazing into their chambers isn’t just a padawan. He’s a darksider, with two young (and visibly confused) barefoot children in his tow.
The three of them are the same species. Humanoid, and with horns a bit like zabrak, but colors more akin to devaronians. Their features don’t really line up with what Plo knows about zabraks, so he isn’t certain if they're hybridized in some way, or if he’s just scrounging about for comparisons.
They're brightly colored, like different shades of autumn leaves, and their horns aren’t clustered, but coronated, with the arrangement varying slightly from boy to boy. Their markings are also far bolder than any Iridonian's would be, and the effect ranges from sharp and intimidating, to rounded and kindly. None of them have hair, which they would if they really were zabraks or devoronians-- but he supposes they may just have cut it.
The oldest one, the darkside teenager, has a force presence that is entirely shielded, and if Plo didn’t know what he was looking at in those unnaturally yellow eyes, he wouldn’t have realized he was force sensitive at all. It's a strange contrast to the littlest boy's naturally golden ones, warm and owlish as he stares up at what must be some very strange aliens looking down upon him.
Both of the younger children are clearly force sensitive, but it's the smallest who bears the strongest presence between them. He’s barely old enough to walk, staring big eyed at the few council members here who are present, and chewing on his hand in quiet concern, a warm aura of the force surrounding him.
It's a strange aura. Sparkling and playful, with a mind of its own. A companion of the living force, manifesting less as a tool, and more as an imaginary friend in one so young.
The middle child on the other hand has a muddy presence, clumsily shielded, but still detectable through his attempts. He appears somewhere around eight standard, assuming he ages at the same rate as a human or a zabrak would, and it's his clumsy use of shielding that makes it clear he's untrained. Had he been raised in the temple, he'd already be well versed in shielding.
Normally the force atrophies without use, or grows strong enough that training has to be utilized, but some species do carry more innate connections to it, so it's possible he's not even an outlier amongst his people.
He's visibly frightened as he takes in Plo, and all of the other strange aliens present in the room, but he doesn’t try to hide or flee. Simply corrals the smaller boy a little further into his shadow and watches in silence.
His markings give him the illusion of seriousness. Casting stern shadows across his features, and hiding the natural softness of his young, worried face underneath.
Master Windu, alternatively, actually is just that serious, fingers steepled as he takes them all in and finally asks, oh so dryly, “You want us to train them as Jedi?”
The red-skinned teen gives a haughty tilt of his chin, yellow eyes flashing against the sunlight as he sneers-- like he has any control here at all, “That’s what I just said.”
"I heard. But forgive me for pointing this out. You’re one with the dark-side. Why bring them to us, and not train them in your own beliefs?”
“I’m a sith --” He corrects irritably, as a few of them resist laughter, but Plo can sense the rising danger in the air and sees no reason to have this escalate. Raising a gentle hand to interrupt the dispute in advance,
“Easy, dear. I suppose we’re just confused is all. Are the Jedi not your enemies?”
The boy offers him an irritable, put-upon sigh. As if this were the most inconvenient thing he’s ever had to explain-- and that in and of itself is so achingly teenage that it hurts.
“My only enemy is the man who tore me from my clan. And these two can’t be trained in the darkside. They're weak. It would kill them." A thoughtful frown. "But perhaps when they're older.”
Master Koth snorts nearby, clearly not taking this very seriously at all as he muses, “Ah yes, I have also found that children do tend to die quite easily.”
The boy scowls, but he does at least seem to realize it's a joke. Which is good, because they really don't need to start a fight over Eeth's morbid sense of humor right now, “Are you people taking them or not?!”
Eeth just shrugs, agreeing rather casually, "Sure."
Because sure? Why not? It isn't as if they exist as a council specifically to overdebate decisions such as this one.
It's also clearly not the answer the teen was expecting, gaping in a mirror to Mace's own stunned expression as the reality of the situation sets in.
Amusingly, it's the teen who shakes some sense back into himself first. Shoving both of the younger boys forward, closer to the council members, and crossing his arms like they're meant to peruse a sale.
The serious looking one gives a small growl, teeth snapping-- very like a zabrak-- and the littlest one casts both of them a highly offended look, as if in disbelief of their manners.
But that’s really only the calm before the storm, because when said teen doesn’t apologize for shoving him, and the serious boy doesn't acknowledge him, the toddler’s face scrunches up into visibly staged tears, and he oh so gently sinks to the floor in his offense.
Earning a look of bafflement from the teenager-- and a look of panic from the tween, whose alarm becomes much more understandable once the littlest boy flops himself the last little bit across the tiles and then bursts into an equally dramatic wail of unhappiness.
His force presence splits into two. One chaotic and very young, the other soothing and somewhat protective, as if the force itself were trying to mother him.
Mace is perturbed by this, but Plo’s seen it before. The living force tends to show up in highly force sensitive infants, as it's easier for them to connect with.
Generally ones who were once in some sort of danger, or needed protection that nobody else was around to provide.
It's unclear if it's the infants themselves that call the force in for help, manifesting it like a surrogate caretaker, or if it's the force that decides to intervene, for sake of maintaining some kind of balance in the world.
Sometimes it sticks around, but it always fades as an individual presence once the child learns to control it.
The teenager now bears an expression of indignant irritation, demanding in rather obvious embarrassment, "Feral! Get up! Nobody wants to train a crybaby!"
The middle boy, alternatively, rolls his eyes and walks over to give the toddler a nudge with his foot.
This predictably makes the toddler-- Feral, apparently-- screech in even more offense, swatting at him in staged fury, but the tween does it again, jerking his leg back when his littlest sibling tries to grab it.
It seems ill thought out at first but when he does it again- and then a third time, the toddler begins to shift from furious, to equally confused. The fourth time earns a weak little blink of curiosity from the kid, and the fifth time makes him laugh, sitting up to try and catch his brother.
At which point the boy scoops him up with a dramatic whoosh and then tosses him into the air to catch. Shrieks of delighted laughter contrasting greatly with the overall austerity of the council room's stone furnishings.
And while all of this was happening , the teenager apparently ducked from the room entirely.
They should probably make sure he isn't stealing temple secrets (or whatever the heck it is that darksiders like to do these days), but they're now preoccupied with a couple of children and probably shouldn't leave them unattended at the moment.
--
Their collective knowledge of the Nightbrothers is limited at best, and Plo is genuinely appalled to hear Agen’s recounting of it from his brief stint there as a padawan. During the Toli-X outbreak, when he was distributing vaccines.
But they are zabraks as it turns out, and the tween boy, Savage, speaks a creolized version of Iridonian to prove it. Slightly harder to understand, and mixed with Mando'a, but not entirely indecipherable.
Unsurprisingly, both Feral and Maul are his brothers-- though he admits that this is the first time he's seen Maul since he was very very little, even as Feral has been in his care since birth. Bottle fed, as it were.
The temple younglings are delighted when they’re introduced into the group. Enjoying time spent with Feral, who they baby immensely, and trying really hard to befriend Savage, who's much more wary and unsettled by them than he even was of the adults.
Unfortunately, even the best intentioned kids can be a bit mean at times, and Savage is more than old enough to get his feelings hurt when they tease him about his Iridonian (or act scared because they think his markings look mean).
A togruta biting him on literally the first day hasn’t helped this matter in the least, and it’s becoming clear that this might not work out as well for him as it has for Feral. He's certainly growing very wary of all the different species around here, and it's quite obvious that he's never actually been outside of his home planet before. His wariness around the female masters is something to be concerned about as well, and when trying to parent an already parentified boy, the conflicts are frequent.
There's a reason they try to adopt younglings before the age of three, and it's rapidly becoming obvious that Savage might just be far too old (and far too damaged).
There's so much that he should already know about the force as well. He spends his days in class watching the other children float objects, glaring and brooding, rather than practicing. Pouting rather than meditating, and refusing to cooperate when the masters sit with him for lessons.
So when Plo arrives to check in on him today, he isn’t surprised to find the boy in an impeccably bad mood, sitting in the reading corner with a picture book open in his lap, but glaring at the other children instead.
Odds are he's gotten himself put into time-out for fighting (normal Nightbrother behaviour as it were) and is probably why Plo's been called down in the first place.
It looks as if hh's working on his writing, but only a few lines have actually been created on his paper.
Savage can’t read Iridonian, but he can write in his own language. So the masters have been having him write down the names of the things he sees in the picture books, and using those to compile a database for the library. Confirming or denying whether they’re pronounced the same as the Iridonian or Mand'oa versions, and then writing any changes down in aurabesh if they aren't.
He’s been enjoying the task, but he’s still a child, and a zabrak at that. So sitting all day has begun to make him moody and listless, eager to get up and run around or play a game-- but fretting over all the rules and new things that he doesn't yet understand. It also doesn't help that his idea of play is a lot more aggressive than what most Jedi younglings are into.
Plo thought he’d try taking him out to the kata teacher today, since Agen says nightbrothers enjoy martial arts, but before that plan can even be put into motion, Savage notices him. His eyes go wide and he jumps up to his feet, book clattering onto the floor as it seems for a moment like he's about to panic--
But then he races over, beaming and excitedly asking something in a rush of confusing Dathomirian that Plo doesn't understand.
He’s normally very nervous around Plo, and many of the other alien species in the temple. Never having seen anything besides other nightbrothers before he was brought here.
Even females are a bit of a confusing concept to him-- although the visibly female instructors have had an easier time telling him what to do than the males.
Fortunately for Plo, the youngling master comes over to translate. A rodian woman named Kay-Veta, who gives him a friendly bow in greeting. “Master Plo! Welcome. I was just telling Savage about some of the things we have in the temple. He was hoping you’d be able to show him around today.”
“Oh?" Now that's progress. "And which things would you like to see, Savage?”
She repeats the question to the boy in careful Iridonian, and he falters, lifting his chin a bit, to ask back, oh so softly.
“Stars?”
And it’s clear that he barely knows what the word means, that he’s been practicing it with the master (but that honestly makes it all the cuter).
“The projection room? I think we could manage that.”
She nods and repeats this to Savage, who smiles happily, saying something else, which she translates as well. “Oh yes, of course. Feral told him about the fountain room, so he’d like to see that as well.”
“Feral told him?”
It's been a few months since Plo visited with the younger boy, but he at least knows well enough that zabraks-- even the Dathomirian ones-- don't speak until nearer to four or five standard.
”Memory projection. He went on a walk with the nocturnal crechelings last night.”
“A child of many strange talents, it seems.”
She snorts, “He’ll outgrow it. You know we've seen far stranger around these parts."
Which is true, most of the time. But perhaps he’ll become talented in psychometry. He’d be old enough for a padawanship right around the same time that Quinlan would be old enough to become a mentor-- but, of course, it’s a bit early to be considering all of that (Plo has found time becomes so much faster with age)-- but right now it's time to focus on Savage.
One thing at a time. One child at a time.
--
Plo expects more confusion once they actually reach the projection room, but Savage seems less phased by it then he'd expected. Delighted, as children usually are-- but apparently quite accepting for the very same reason. Technology is like magic to even the best of younglings, so he supposes it's not actually that big of a stretch for a sheltered one to be just as sold on the whole idea as a child from a technological planet.
He starts selecting stars and landmarks like a pro, including Coruscant, which he cheerfully points out all the key points on, and then zooms into for a look at the temple. Delighted in turn by the strange meta of it, and explaining in broken Creole that that's where they're standing, as if Plo's never realized such a thing.
He also catches onto the symbols very quickly, taking note of the one that marked the temple on Coruscant, and then finding it repeated throughout the planets in the rest of the galaxy, cheerfully interacting with the holograms like he’s never known anything different, and zooming into them all to compare the differences between the temples and their environments.
Every once in a while he says a word Plo doesn’t understand, but given the overall context of his rambling, he seems to be describing the shamans from his home village. It seems they also had a tendency to create images in the air-- though Savage explains that those were smoke (and demons).
He stares at Ilum a long time, baffled by the white snow, and icy spires.
It would be nice to let him go on the next kyber trip. Perhaps they can arrange it. The force would never harm a child on Ilum, and the tests are individual, so he wouldn’t be at a handicap just because of his lack of force training-- although--
Again, Plo reminds himself to take this one step at a time.
The door to the room swings open, breaking the illusion of endless space, and in steps a new group of visitors. Four little crechelings, and initiate Obi-Wan, who keeps volunteering to do random menial tasks around the temple (like babysitting) in an attempt to impress a possible future master.
Unfortunately, crechework is not proving to be his forte.
He looks unbelievably frazzled, trying to keep track of the force sensitive little monsters, and Savage must take pity on his soul, because he starts entertaining them in his place. Flicking some of the planets around to make them spin, and rotating the galaxy in a frankly dizzying display of stars that only a child could truly find delightful.
And Savage does find it delightful, which is heartwarming.
Initiate Kenobi, however, leaves the room almost immediately, and at first Plo thinks he’s just stepping out to save himself the headache of a spinning planetarium-- not the best at disciplining the pests-- but then he doesn’t come back, and Plo can’t help but wonder why kids keep leaving him with other kids to look after.
--
The addition of the crechelings to their group proves to be a serendipitous one. Because where Savage has had a terribly difficult time with the older kids, he’s thriving with the younger ones.
An obvious concept, in retrospect, given how prone he is to parenting his class mates-- much to their collective annoyance-- and how little it matters that he doesn’t know Basic when toddlers of this age hardly know how to speak in the first place. After all, it's been confirmed that he was raising Feral all on his own before he came here.
So grownup in some aspects (and so far behind in others).
The children are also still quite weak in the force, and aside from one devaronian girl who knows how to float stones, the other three have yet to come into their abilities at all, which is affirming for Savage, who for the first time since his arrival, manages to use his abilities to lift a leaf, and earn some delighted praise for his efforts.
They ooh and ahh at his wobbly floating object, and he brinbringsup to land on a wookie boy’s snout with surprising focus, though the other child snaps it up between his teeth and growls as ferociously as his tiny vocal cords can manage.
Savage seems to get along with that boy especially, which again makes sense. If anyone is going to respond to growling and roughhousing like a nightbrother, it'd be a wookie.
The children also find Savage’s gruff and rumbly tones of speech very delightful. Bringing him things so that he’ll tell them what they’re called in Dathomirian, and even sometimes teaching him their own words for the items if they know them.
He’s proving quite fond of the word stone, his inflection of it far better than his attempt at star was, but it’s the word fish that leaves him and the crechelings giggling, because it ends up sounding more like fsh than anything.
--
All in all, the visit to the garden is successful, and Plo decides not to take Savage back to his youngling group, because it might actually serve him very well to stay with the crechelings for a time. As an assistant to the masters, but also a student, where he can learn things on a much more basic level, without the intimidation of older kids teasing him.
He's certainly far more gentle with them than he is with his actual peers.
And it turns out the boy also agrees, eyes lighting up when they enter the nocturnal creche, where he sees the sleepy toddlers batting different stuffed toys around between their cribs and nests.
Feral will benefit from the shift as well. He's been staying part time with Veta's group, to keep him close to Savage, but the back and forth has been confusing for him. Interestingly, though, Plo suspects he may do well in the older group, given how strong his abilities are.
In turn, they might be able to wean Savage's attachment to him, if they give the boy other children to attend to instead.
Once assured that Savage is settled, Plo heads back to discuss with Veta. Walking through the corridor-- when he hears Obi-Wan's voice out by the temple steps.
He stops to go investigate (and maybe also ask him why he left all of his crechelings behind) but makes a point of traveling quietly.
A master never knows what they may learn from some well timed eavesdropping.
Plo stops when he hears the boy ask his current company, “Oh. You mean Savage?”
To which a different voice, immediately recognizable, responds, “You know him?”
“A little bit. Are you here to take him back home?”
Maul, who Plo can see in the reflection of the polished floor, just scoffs at that. “Certainly not. I’m merely checking in.”
Which is of course both reassuring, and worrying.
“Family members aren’t really supposed to visit the kids they give to the temple, you know.”
“Sounds like a rule somebody trying to hide something would set.” There’s a shifting of boots on the pavement, as he adds. “Someone’s eavesdropping in the hall.”
“Ugh-- master Plo." Obi-Wan gets up too, offhandedly snarking, "He does that.”
Sometimes he forgets that Obi-Wan isn't a child anymore (and can sense him more readily than was once the case) but he's old enough to hide how flustered he is. Stepping forward to confront the Maul. The darksider standing, arms crossed, in front of the front pillars. Looking quite a bit more ashen than the last time he was here, but not nearly as angry.
He’s glaring, but his energy is fairly low, so Plo doesn’t immediately detect trouble.
He’s also favoring his side as if it hurts, but other than that, there isn’t any indication of an injury or pain on the force.
"Hello, again, Maul. What brings you here today?"
“I want to see my brothers.”
“So I heard." He knows better than to challenge a teenager-- especially this one, with a 'no'. So instead he changes the subject. "Are you alright? You seem unwell.”
His eyes narrow, and at first it doesn’t seem like he’ll answer.
But then he does. Almost sounding embarrassed as he says, “I was in the hospital.”
Which is worrying, but he must sense Plo's concern, because he laughs, suddenly sharp and angry-- but bitterly amused. “My unconsciousness is likely the only thing that kept my master from tracking me down while I was indisposed. Don't look so stricken.”
“Your master?”
“Yes. You knew I was an apprentice."
He supposes that's true, it's just strange to think about somebody willingly training a child in the darkside of the force. Encouraging their anger and discouraging their happiness.
It goes against nature and instinct, really. But perhaps they're a member of one of the few non-maternal species. Some insectoid egg layer who doesn't brood its own offspring.
Maul makes a mischievous sound in the back of his throat, almost like a cat's chuff. "Bring me to my brothers, and perhaps I’ll tell you the name of my master.”
Plo laughs despite himself. "What difference would it make, knowing the name of a person I've never met?"
"Who says you haven't met him?" He glances back at Obi-Wan, who rolls his eyes like he can't believe how dramatic this wannabe-sith kid is. Clearly missing the genuine danger he could pose if he wanted to.
--
In the end, Plo doesn’t have to decide between leading Maul further into the temple, and leaving him to his own devices to retrieve the boys, because out pads a barefoot and bafflingly unattended Feral, looking up at him with those absurdly big eyes of his.
Then he lights up. Making a noise halfway between a shriek and a giggle, and suddenly runs to throw himself at the teen, who seems horrified by the open display of affection, but catches him all the same. Grimacing as a soggy spit-covered hand smacks him in the face, but otherwise tolerating the experience.
Maul wobbles a bit, whatever injury he’s hiding stinging, but he doesn’t voice his complaints out loud, resettling quickly as he pushes the boy’s hand away, and grabs his little wrist to frown at a small bruise on his pale skin.
“Where did this come from?"
And if any guardian’s gonna overreact over a little bump, it’d be the darksider one.
Plo hears further footsteps down the hall before he can answer, and out hurries Veta, who seems relieved to spot Feral in somebody else's arms, and likely isn't aware of who Maul is. “He woke up and just went running! Those little legs are so fast!” and then she really takes in Maul, but rather than horror she just seems delighted, “Aw, you’re the big brother! He’s told me so much about you.”
Maul, unphased, asks her now, “Why's his arm bruised?”
The intimidation of it is greatly lessened however when Feral reaches up and gives one of his horns a hard yank, making him squawk in pain.
Veta snorts and waves him off, still trying to catch her breath. “Have you ever spent a day with ten force sensitive children? They throw things. A lot. Usually at each other.”
Maul tries to pry his brother's fingers off his horn like some sticky sea creature, only succeeding after he tucks him more comfortably against his chest, and allows the toddler to cling to his tunic instead. Suddenly content to rest his head against one of the teen's hearts, and steal a snuggle or two, “He should be deflecting objects by now. Your teachings are lacking.”
“He's three. Besides, his strengths are empathic, not combative, you edgelord."
Feral pops Maul on the cheek with his hand again and the teen unsurprisingly loses his temper. “Feral! Quit it!"
The child does not 'quit it', and does something wobbly in the force instead, grabbing him by the horn again and patting him on the cheek once more. Maul's expression goes from disgusted, to oddly blank-- and after a moment, he yanks his head back and shakrs it with a grimace.
Veta lights up, “Awww, what memory did he show you?”
Maul scowls, pushing the boy's hands away again and briefly trying to set him down-- only to fail miserably as the urchin of a child refuses to let go. “You let him sleep in a nest?”
Feral, of course, wriggles free of his own accord the minute that Maul quits fighting him. Jumping to the floor with the grace of a mildly indestructible toddler, and then running off to say hello to Obi-Wan who he's only just noticed watching them from the doorway.
The older boy makes a face at him, and pretends not to notice when he reaches out to be picked up. Awkwardly shooing him back to anybody elsw, and then earning himself a Feral trademarked tantrum for his troubles. Fake tears and all as he slumps dramatically on the floor like the world might actually be ending.
Maul is not nearly as amused by this display as Veta seems to be. Asking rather disbelievingly, “Why does he keep doing that?!”
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because he's a baby?"
“He’s at least two!”
She clearly finds him just as ridiculous a logic puzzle as Plo does, not even humoring that with an immediate response.
Feral frowns to see if anyone's paying attention to him, prepared to wail again if they aren't, but Veta ducks past Maul to go and retrieve him before he can start.
He gives a squeaky growl of offense when she hoists him bavk up, wriggling hard to try and throw himself back onto the floor, but she holds him out to Maul instead. More than accustomed to wrestling moody toddlers and all their squirminess, even as they try to crack their skulls on the marble. (Suctioned cupped fingertips are probably also a bonus.) "See. He's a baby."
Feral, upon the revelation that he's close to his big brother again apparently likes this turn of events, forgetting he was mad for a moment, and delightedly reaching out for Maul like he wasn't just in his arms.
The teen, alternatively, is giving a stern glare, like he'd rather not be in the company of a moody child, but he really has no choice in the matter because Veta basically throws Feral into his arms as she ducks off to greet someone else who’s just snuck in. Here to investigate the wailing.
“Savage! How are you?”
And the new boy blinks big blue eyes at the question, making Plo start to wonder if that's just a Dathomirian trait. Iridonian children certainly never look so owlish.
In any event, she repeats the question in Iridonian, earning a noncommittal shrug for her efforts as he edges shyly forward to investigate Maul. Stares a moment, and reaches out a little towards him.
Maul takes this as him wanting to hold Feral, trying to pass him over, but Savage retracts his hand, clearly not wanting that at all, as the toddler makes a noise of sheer offense at the thought of being passed off to someone else. Hitting Maul in the face again- this time hard enough to hurt- and earning a genuine snarl of frustrated anger for his troubles. The teen shouts something stern at him, but naturally it's Feral who gets the last word.
Bursting into tears again-- these ones real-- while Veta and Savage both make small noises of dread in the background.
Because nobody ever said force sensitives had normal tantrums, and Feral’s hardly normal even for a force sensitive. His strange secondary presence going from a sparkle to a roar, as it determines he’s in need of some kind of protection.
It’s a bit like a thunderclap as the toddler gives a shriek of anger, struggling out of his brother's arms again and falling to the floor (much to his even greater fury).
All of the hall's lanterns explode, and anything that isn’t nailed down goes clattering over, from vase stands to a broom in the corner, to Savage who goes tumbling (also bursting into tears), though he isn't injured, and seems more bothered by the noise of it all than anything.
The obvious next step is for Maul to freak out too, but in the ensuing silence, he just barks a laugh and reaches wearily down to yank Feral’s horns in fondness.
“I knew you could fight!”
Feral bites him hard on the hand for that, genuinely upset that Maul isn't taking this seriously, but his skin proves too thick for milk teeth, and he probably could've done more damage with his claws if he'd had the interest to try it.
He doesn't, anger deflating like a balloon as he apologetically bonks his horns against his brother's stomach, lip wibbling in sadness as he seems to realize after all that, that he's actually just tired and wants a nap.
Oh, to be as emotionally transient as a toddler.
Maul gives a sigh of annoyance, and sits down on the floor next to him. Scooting a bit closer to Savage as well, and wincing at the force it puts on his injured side. He reaches out toward the boy who's still sniffling nearby, but then Savage actually starts crying. Babbling in Dathomirian, and crawling over to tuck himself in beneath the teen's arm.
He's probably telling him how awful school has been, if Plo's going to be honest with himself.
And Maul starts muttering back to him in comforting Mando’a of all things, while Feral gives Savage sleepy pats on the back in his attempt at comfort. Completely oblivious to the fact that he's the reason his brother fell in the first place.
--
As they’re getting the lights back on, leaving the children to their brother for a moment, Savage makes a noise of sudden concern, and Obi-Wan chokes out a surprised, “I think he’s asleep.”
Which at first they expect to mean Feral, but it’s actually Maul who’s gone suddenly lax, Savage pulling away as the first of the lanterns flicker back on, his left arm smeared with blood where he was pressed against the teen's side.
Which is how they end up with a wannabe sith unconscious and immobile in the halls of healing. Full bacta tank treatment, because apparently somebody cut him in half.
Full stop, not an exaggeration. He’s been stitched back together like a ragdoll, some organs even replaced with cloned ones, spine cybernetically repaired, and it’s incredible he managed to leave the hospital in this state at all.
Against their wishes, Plo is sure.
The fact that he was holding a fifteen pound, struggling child, is frankly absurd in retrospect.
Over the ensuing days, Feral keeps wandering into the halls of healing to gawk up at him in the suspension tank, doing something weird and wobbly with his force signature like he often does, but now it's less clear what the intention is. Whether he's trying to show his brother memories-- unaware that he's unconscious-- or if he's actually trying to communicate with him.
It’s related to their siblong bond on the force, that's for sure, but the rest is unclear.
Padawan Vokara thinks he’s trying to heal Maul, or ease his pain in some way, and since Feral isn’t causing any harm or disruption, they’ve allowed him to continue doing so. If only so they can all observe.
Savage on the other hand has been less eager to visit, finding the sight of Maul unsettling in his unconscious state.
The mind healers are well acquainted with Savage now, but it’s only today that they’ve decided to attend to Maul and Feral as well. Finding a lot of dark interference in Savage’s mind that they suspect will also be present in their's too.
Agen says it's something to do with the Ichor on Dathomir. The same substance used to create their tattoos.
But even unconscious, Maul is somehow still shielded. And it’s easy to see why he’d have been hard for his master to find while he was in the hospital.
Plo, in retrospect, suddenly wonders why the boy didn't want to be found by the man in the first place.
It’s only with the help of Feral’s strange force bond that the healers think the connection will even be possible.
His force signature is practically humming with approval for all of this, clearly intending for something important to come out of their connection, although it's generally impossible to determine the will of the force.