Work Text:
It started about a month ago.
-
ruins of deep water-dark. impressions of stone and carapace and whispers of ancient song riddled with layers of intelligence and rhythm and memory and discourse. a ripple disturbs that blue-green so far above - and yet the slumbering awake.
soft murmurs in the gloom.
a great and terrible sound of something vast and despairing, careening and burning.
the husk of a ship, a massive structure, already subsumed by creeping vines and thorns of silver-red. huddled masses and quivering beacons echoing long, long into the empty night. the air is filled with their calling, and the forgotten song is the same.
an eye unneeding of sight is open above the waves.
it follows.
it hasn't fed in many years.
prey moves inland.
the sea is churning, the temple-voices quake and static is drowned and metal is torn and panic arises as land becomes marsh becomes still sea.
an ancient thing makes careful work of rich food before considering: caution or hunt?
trail is cold, space is vast and empty and distortion. the risk had been great and now--
sleep
sleep, and wait in the ambience and siphon the permeating drops of those that persist.
cold shadows pass and thaw the ice of asteroids and disturb murmurations and rattle bones of long-dead free floating things.
with static comes new scent
in the yawning black a mass of metal swims and leaves its trail. a familiar taste. unseen jaws open wide.
the hunts renews.
-
Ezra Bridger was sweating in his bed. Awake now, pulse throbbing and head following suit. Images and sensation and inhabitance of the past few moments lingered in his body a few moments more before he could gasp and come to terms with his surroundings. The same ones he'd been in for many weeks now. What was it - closer to three months? Four?
He sat up and groaned. Whatever the fuck that was all about would have to wait: he'd overslept and he was meant to be helping in engineering today. With system maintenance underway his skill at sensing mechanical faults was quite handy, he'd been told.
"A useful exercise and serviceable use of your abilities" had been Thrawn's words, though. Which was much more pretentious and long-winded. A simple "please and thank-you" would've been nice, but Ezra knew better by now than to expect that. Even if Thrawn wasn't much of an asshole as he'd first appeared to be, he still was one. Tardiness would be met with snide remark. Thrawn's patience was always thin when it came to him. Ezra couldn't possibly wonder why. It's not like he'd caused this mess with the engines - the actions of a pod of purrgils was no fault of his own.
He arrived with 28 seconds to spare and a grumbling stomach. The technician shot him a smile and tossed him a snack packeted in foil. Ezra loaded a copy of the schematics of the hydraulic section he was meant to be looking at on his borrowed datapad and gave it a once-over. Then he closed his eyes and set to work.