Chapter Text
Jaster hasn’t been having a great day.
The official in charge only agreed to allow him into the city, which makes investigating tedious and slow.
His main witness of Death Watch activity is perhaps the flightiest teenager he’s ever met and clearly doesn’t care to talk to him.
His secondary witness is too busy making pining, mournful eyes whenever his main witness stops looking her way to come up with anything useful.
Unfortunately, he can’t just go investigate himself because the last time he did that he wound up three feet in a karking swamp.
Why Death Watch is hiding out here, stars know.
Jaster has very little faith in many of their organization’s traits but surely even they have enough self-preservation skills to know better than to camp out in what the locals he’s spoken to like to casually refer to as “The Death Swamp.”
Its official name is something much more mundane. Honestly, Jaster prefers “Death Swamp.”
It really sells the atmosphere.
The sigh he lets out as the young human gets distracted again is unfortunately audible through his vocoder.
She sighs, like he’s the worst adult she’s ever met.
Her companion doesn’t scowl, because she has some self-preservation, she looks like she wants to.
Teenlings.
“Listen,” She gives him a look. Jaster has no idea how teenlings manage to make everything sound so condescending. “It’s almost the festival. I don’t have time for this.”
And Jaster does?
“I only have three hours to get ready for the ceremony and Jen’i has been going around bragging about her outfit and saying she’ll be chosen this year and I won’t have it.”
“Festival.” Jaster feels like he was invited to that, the mayor had this look in his eye when he suggested Jaster attend.
“Yeah,” she sighs, all youthful romance. “It’s amazing.”
So… she has a date… to a local harvest festival or something.
Jaster can only pray he escapes some of this with Jango in a couple years.
“Alright.” He can’t imagine keeping her from her young love will get him answers. “Will you answer after the festival?”
She giggles, like he’s said something stupid.
“If I’m not chosen, sure.”
“Fine.”
“We’ll meet you at the central chronotower after the ceremony, it’s close and it thins out after the excitement dies down.”
“Very well.”
She waves him off, rambling excitedly to her companion about all the details she sewed into her dress this year.
“So, how’d it go?” Myles flickers in and out, the connection is bad.
“She said she’ll tell me after the festival ceremony tonight.” Jaster tries not to make his sigh obvious.
“Festival?” Myles tilts his head in question.
“Some harvest thing probably,” Jaster waves him off. “The mayor invited me.”
He can see where Myles’ mind goes.
“I don’t think it’s a trap.” He adds. “Death Watch might try something though, probably wise to watch the edges.”
“Of course, we’ll do that.” He nods. “Are you sure you don’t need backup?”
Jaster understands his concerns, respects them.
“I’d rather not get myself permanently kicked out of town for ignoring explicit instructions.”
Myles gives him quite the unimpressed look at that.
“It’d be near impossible for Death Watch to infiltrate from the outside.” Jaster sighs. “Even with this festival, they’d stick out like a Jedi in Keldabe. Our priority should be the edges, so long as those are secure I think backup can be dispensed with.”
“If you’re certain.” He concedes. “I’m letting you explain to your son.”
“Fine.” Jaster agrees and heads closer to the growing festivities as he does so.
He hasn’t heard much about the festival traditions in this sector and while it isn’t exactly his usual interest, Jaster won’t pass up the opportunity.
Jango isn't pleased, worried and unwilling to admit it but eventually accepts the delay as necessary.
Jaster settles in to wait, leaning up against a wall and watching the last frantic adjustments from a polite distance.
He can see any threats coming from his place looking out across the square.
Unless, apparently, they’re coming from the side.
Jaster doesn’t visibly startle at the sight of a tall human skirting around the edges of the pavilion and close to his position but it’s a very near thing.
He hadn’t noticed them at all.
That’s unusual.
They’re tall for a human but not shockingly so, there are few who would do an actual double take at their appearance.
They’re blonde, with light skin and clothes that mark them as an outsider just as Jaster’s armor does him.
The locals favor complex embroidery on the sleeves of everyday wear and across nearly everything at an event like this.
It’s part of the reason Jaster isn’t too concerned with infiltration. Their clothing is tailored and would look slightly off on a thief. Besides, given what he’s seen he suspects there’s a system to demonstrate family ties and perhaps social position or training in the designs.
It’s all very interesting.
Regardless, this one has nothing of the sort, clothes plain and vaguely spacer-looking.
The fact he didn’t see them coming closer sets Jaster on edge but not enough to do anything.
It isn’t long before a bright sheet of color has him distracted, blocking his view as the locals arrange the banner of bright blue.
By the time they’ve finished the other outsider is gone.
The festival itself is, unfortunately, like many of the others Jaster has attended throughout the galaxy. Not that that’s a bad thing! He’d just been interested to see what unique traditions this planet has developed.
So far, all he’s got is a lovely but frankly standard hot drink in his hands and some sort of sticky fried meat on a stick he can’t remember the name of.
There’s local handicrafts for sale and younglings games but Jaster finds himself content staying put, relaxed against a tree and comfortable watching the joyful celebrations.
The sun sets slowly in the distance beyond city limits.
“Mando!” Someone calls and he turns his helmet just enough to be an acknowledgement. “The ceremony’s starting! Come on! It’s open to outsiders! Maybe you’ll get lucky this year!”
Jaster just stares blankly, most people seem to find that intimidating enough to give up.
“Come on! We would love for you to attend.” The stranger urges.
Jaster sighs but follows after a moment. He would be lying if he said he isn’t a little interested in whatever this ceremony is, it’s amazing the diversity of traditions across the galaxy.
He stays to the outskirts of the ceremony grounds, not wanting to get in the way of what must be culturally if not religiously important.
A flash of yellow draws his attention to the blonde human, the other outsider welcomed to observe as well.
They turn as if they can sense Jaster’s attention and offer him an acknowledging smile.
“Friends!” The leader of the ceremony, unsurprisingly the mayor in nicer robes, begins. “The time is come! We are gathered once again to ask the Skies and the Waters to grant their blessings for the new year and choose those of us who will see themselves blessed by them!”
The crowd roars at this, loud and excited.
“As it is each year!” He continues. “I have read the signs of the Skies, the allowances of the Waters and they have spoken.”
The crowd clambers, whispering to one another.
“First! The choice of the Skies!”
A spotlight comes down, unerring.
The crowd murmurs, wondering what it could mean.
Jaster squints, hoping whoever this “chosen person” is moves out of the way quickly before he catches the content of the murmurs.
Oh, dear.
“Come! Come!” The mayor gestures and… yup, he’s definitely pointing at Jaster.
Kark.
“Um, well, you see…” He tries.
“You have been chosen!” The mayor insists. “Origin matters not to the skies! Their decision is not ours to question.”
Well, maybe not yours but surely Jaster can do a little questioning, right?
After all, he has his own religion and really looking at the origins it’s a…
One of the teenlings swallows their fear and takes his hand.
“Come on,” they insist. “You have to go up now, it’s how the ceremony works.”
“Congratulations,” they add, almost as an afterthought.
Jaster hasn’t been having a great day.
He doesn’t think it’s going to get any better with the absence of the sun.