#joules | how to fly faster than your dead grandfather 101

[syxjaewon]

@joules-roscoe | how to fly faster than your dead grandfather 101

when the world ends, salathiel is there.

what they won’t talk about later is the town offset by the grey stone and black dirt a few miles away from the temple of eedit, the people who lived there going to the market, playing with their children, making each other laugh or cry or hate, people who were alive one minute and dead the next. history books don’t delve into that sort of thing, don’t read between the lines of blood and guts and carnage, don’t dip long, stringy fingers into the poison of an event, into its gooey, sticky details. the history of this event will always focus on the temple, the loss of jedi, the loss of sacred ground, the burning of the newest incarnation of this ancient order.

but salathiel is there, in the town, when the tri-pointed ships scream into the atmosphere, he’s there when they lay waste to the burden of society, not giving two shits about how far away these people live from the temple, not caring that they aren’t part of the jedi order. the ships still come, and the people still die, and salathiel still runs for the derelict at full speed, primitive houses exploding all around him, everyone rushing for the treeline or the nearest starship that isn’t dropping hell on them all. escape, escape, escape.

he notes only vaguely that strangers not a part of his crew are climbing aboard his vessel, but he has no time to shove them off, no inclination to monitor their arrivals or embarkments. he speeds past them all, his boots loud and throbbing against the metal hull of his ship’s corridors, pushing people out of his way when he has to. something rocks the ship to the left and sal braces himself against the wall, only to rise again and continue on.

when he gets to the bridge, he throws himself into the pilot’s chair, ignoring whoever else has managed to come inside, quick fingers flickering over buttons and flips, praying to the void that this is the right sequence. the engine roars and coughs to life somewhere below his feet, but from the grating sound it’s making, he knows it’s not happy. the derelict is never happy, especially not when he’s driving, but there’s nothing to do about that-- he has no official pilot at the moment. something else shoves at the ship, jerking it roughly. salathiel frowns at the controls; what’s the correct take off cycle again?

shit.

#joules-roscoe #joules | how to fly faster than your dead grandfather 101