Chapter Text
The specks of dust lazily float in the dim flickering of the status lights. His mind floats with them, drifting from sleep to wakefulness in a leisurely manner, that is quite unusual compared to the past few weeks. He listens, lets his consciousness expand as his room and the world comes to focus.
Something is humming.
It’s always the humming—of the music he likes, of the ship’s engine, of his lightsaber, of his twin crystals, of his droid (his friend), the humming of the Force.
Cal’s life is a song of sympathetic resonance.
He thinks, in a way, he's similar to an echo chamber. Multiplying and harmonizing what he’d been left with, what he’d recovered, and what he’s discovered since—and lately, tentatively, all those new hums and trills that had found him on their own.
It’s still early, but he had a peaceful sleep, at long last. His healing injuries and bruises seem to be dormant, and he has a feeling that today might turn out to be a good one.
This is his favorite time, this short strip before the day starts; where it hasn’t turned into opportunities and results already. Right now, it doesn’t have to be anything yet. He’s grateful for it, and for his solitude. Like a tablet wiped clean, and a stylus laying beside it, prepared for writing.
He longs to remember this warm feeling he feels now, curling around him. It fills the Force and hums in his ears with a faint melody, the beginning of a new song. Who knows if it will be written—yet the wonder, the awe over its beauty is already present.
He quietly hums as he slips into the fresher. The Cal in the mirror is a bit crumpled from sleep, hair in a copper mess, a patchy stubble conjured during the night and green eyes squinting slightly, but he doesn't have to hurry. He washes his face, shaves, combs his hair, pulls on his clothes, all the while straining his ears and stretching his mind. He’s trying to catch the tune, gently coaxing it to life as he tries to recreate it, tries to make it his own. You have to let it come to you.
The kitchen is still empty and shrouded in soft shadows. He glances at the paravan, behind where the Nightsister sleeps. The wisps of snoring he catches bring a grin to his face.
He settles to work.
He gathers the morning essentials with as little noise as possible. His fingers take over and quietly drum on the surfaces as the melody ebbs and flows in his mind, his head following in small swings and bobs. He prepares the caf-maker, the tea filters, their mugs. Collects the sugar, the honey, the creamer, the milk, the spoons—mental note: avoid the clinking. The plates and utensils can wait till the others settle around the table, later.
He feels out into the space of the Mantis. There is no day cycle to follow in outer space. But time flows just the same, and he’s familiar with its impressions. The ships morning is approaching—the others still slumber, but it’s no longer the deep sleep of the night. The air gets lighter, less thick as the moments stumble over themselves.
The melody flutters around, teasing him gently, flipping from his grasp again and again. He’ll never get tired of this kind of hide and seek—and his tune finally unfurls. He marvels as it solidifies against his mind and takes form. He’s thrilled, and just so unashamedly carefree.
While he gazes over the cooking plate, lost in his thoughts, the pitter-patter of tiny mechanical feets arrives at his knees.
BD nudges his head against his calf, and he helps them up to sit on the counter. The droid chirps for him excitedly, mindful of their still sleeping companions.
Cal leans closer to him: “You’ve got a recipe for today?”
“Trilll-bop!” And with that BD proudly displays the holo of their choice.
“It’s perfect! They’ll like it.”
The droid takes pride in his praise.
“I couldn’t pull this off without your help, buddy,” Cal confides.
BD likes when their human is affectionate with them. It’s understandable, they’re a hard-working droid after all. But still. It’s nice.
The droid settles in the side of the yet-silent caf-maker, and carefully projects the recipe for today's breakfast onto the cutting board.
Cal gently hums as he follows the instructions, and the crew of the Mantis starts to wake.