Myriad Reckonings

"Hm." Tarkin frowned. There was only one person who might be on the Carrion at the same time as them--only one who ought to be there, anyway. He suspected he knew who it was, but it was always best to make sure. "Do you sense any volatility?"

The being seemed only curious; there was some familiarity with how they regarded the pair--at least one of the two, anyway.

"They are only watching." He sat back down on his log, forcing himself to remain still. He was restless. Vader was not used to being watched like prey. He should be the one surveilling, not the other way around.

His attention was still focused on that singular point, and the image became clearer to him. He sensed something familiar about whoever this was, but no identity was revealed to him just yet. Tarkin seemed oddly comfortable with the idea of this being watching them from the forest.

"It's more than likely my granduncle," Tarkin said, satisfied that the watcher posed no threat. He hadn't informed Jova of Vader and his expedition, and he had anticipated encountering the old man at some point. This was his neck of the jungle, after all; his cabin was about half a day's walk from here if he had his directions right. "Leave him be; he'll join us if he cares to." Jova probably wouldn't approach them during their time here. Tarkin expected that he would leave by next morning or tail them a little and then go home. He was a solitary man when he wasn't overseeing initiations, and Vader must appear as an oddity to him--something to view from afar or otherwise engage with extreme caution.

"Hm." That made sense, but did not do much to settle Vader. He trusted Tarkin's judgment- it made sense that the only one capable of finding them in these dense woods would be one of his own. And yet, he did not like the idea of someone breathing down their necks all night long.

Tarkin watched Vader with amusement. "Did he startle you?" Jova would find that amusing, when he told him later. Once Vader was off world, he planned on visiting his uncle to update him on the matter of Garoche--not that the old man would care overmuch. But he was the only one Tarkin felt able to talk to. They understood each other better than even other family members did; they both had a connection to the Carrion that nobody else had. It ran in their blood.

Spoiler

Bro someone made an edit where General Grievous is speaking in Russian during his scenes in RotS and it's pretty epic. He sounds terrifying.

Grievous really got nerfed in the movies. He's truly a terror with a pretty interesting backstory. He had the potential to be super cool. The clone wars helped with that at least.

"I will admit, I was not expecting another sentient being to join us." Vader allowed. He would never have admitted this to anyone else. There was enough trust in his friend that he lowered his wall of pride ever so slightly. Not even he was above mistakes. "Yet another example of the skill of your bloodline. Had I not felt him through the force, I would never have known he was there."

"He's good with camouflage," Tarkin replied with a measure of satisfaction in his voice. "He might as well be another beast of the Carrion at this point; he's lived on the Plateau for more than forty years." He gazed again into the darkness and imagined the rheumy blue eyes looking back at him. "I doubt he even knows what a stormtrooper is."

"How interesting." The skill was impressive. It was an effective reminder for how well trained Tarkin really was. One wouldn't know it just by looking at him dressed in his crisp grey uniform, cleanshaven face, and steady, cold gaze. He was the picture of dangerous professionalism. But out here, he was an entirely different creature. There was a smoldering light in his eyes that lay dormant for the majority of the time, but the second he'd stepped onto the Carrion the flames had leapt up. The Grand Moff of the Empire was now simply a Tarkin of Eriadu, which was arguably the more dangerous counterpart.

"Mm. He'd have been an asset in the Clone Wars, but I judge myself to be the next best thing." It was what he'd prepared for his whole life. His father had argued with him, insisting he remain on Eriadu as governor, but Tarkin had desperately needed action and he knew many of the troops wouldn't know a thing about guerilla warfare, which was most certainly a necessary tactic in the Outer Rim. He'd been a credit to his division because of Jova's mentorship. "Don't be surprised if he doesn't show himself at all while we're here. We aren't technically supposed to bring people here."

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im off today so i can write some thankfully. but i made the mistake of caffeinating so now im shooketh. idc what they say about adhd folks and it having the opposite effect because it does not do that to me

"I understand his watchfulness." Vader sensed their deep connection to this place. The ground itself spoke of their many struggles and conquests over this land. He heard their stories. Some of them brutal. Many of death, but the loudest were of victory. Tarkin had won the Carrion. Few people in the galaxy were capable of such feats. Vader himself, knowing his dependency on technology to survive, knew Tarkin could outlive him here if they had no outside resources.

Vader envied being able to live by his hands alone. There had been a time where he could, but that part of him had long since passed away.

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Ahh the jitters, we love that. Channel it into writing something cool for your story or novel!

Tarkin took the remains of his meal and tossed it into the bush, in the opposite direction of where he thought his uncle might be. Having kept the scent glands, he slid them into a vest pocket. They'd come in handy for hunting later, as they could mask him and Vader slightly from prying noses. "I believe it's time to turn in for the night. I'll take first watch if you don't mind, but we shouldn't have any trouble."

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wanna skip to the morning

"Very well."

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Yep

The night passed without incident. Tarkin took two watches and slept a little in between, but the rhythmic inhale and exhale of Vader's respirator made it difficult to drift off comfortably. He awoke early the next morning nonetheless, up at the crack of dawn and ready to break camp.

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hey sorry, my parents have a sick steer I've been dealing with most of the day. we've been having to get him to his feet with the tractor give him a ton of meds and I've been elbow deep in mud and cow crap all day long. then my brother and I tore down a section of fence and moved trees from more fencing and yeah.

but at least the animals have the courtesy to try and die on my days off so i can help out i guess.

Vader had gotten some rest but the noises had been grating. There was no predictable hum of the star destroyer's engines. His breathing was the only consistent sound, and he was so used to that he didn't notice it. He did however notice each little rustle in the woods, and while he knew it was most likely nothing important, it still stirred him from his rest.

Through the night he'd felt the eyes watching him from the jungle and did not appreciate it. There was no logical reason as to why it irritated him so. Tarkin had clearly said his uncle was no threat and Vader believed him. Still, something about a lurker in the night made him uneasy, and that on top of the constant noise and cries of savage animals far in the distance was borderline maddening.

Needless to say he was not very talkative when Tarkin stirred in the wee hours of dawn.

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Aw poor cow. I hope he'll be okay

Tarkin was content not to make conversation for the first couple hours. He boiled water for coffee over the fire and stored it in a thermos, then packed up camp without asking for any assistance. He poured water over the fire before he turned to Vader. "We're headed west for the Spike, now," he told him. "There's a river in between that we'll have to ford, unless you prefer to cross the log bridge." He expected that it would be too rickety for the heavy Sith to traverse, but he wasn't sure how durable Vader's suit was when it came to water.