Poe very rarely called himself the best pilot in the Resistance, but at the same time he never argued when someone else said it, though he did draw the line at 'best pilot in the galaxy', but just because he rarely said it himself didn't mean he didn't believe it. Though his personal brag was that he could fly anything, and it had so far proven true.
That only worked, however, if the ship he was in was actually flightworthy, and the borrowed A-wing was becoming increasingly less-so, between the dogfight and the solar flare and the last half-calculated jump to hyperspace, he was fairly sure it was coming apart around him, and BB-8's near-panic only added to that assuredness.
By the time she reached where he'd landed, and it was a landing as far as he was concerned, because even though the ship was wedged between two trees, it was still upright and he'd managed to get bot himself and BB-8 down and had gone back up for his emergency kit, talking to the worried droid as he did so: "I know, buddy, looked a lot softer from up top, trees usually do. But as soon as I get the chart scanner set up, we can figure out where we are, and that's the first step to figuring out how to get home, right?"
[ooc: figuring one of his pre-TFA scouting missions, just so she gets the happier, less-dented version.]
It had been quite a while since she'd last done any extensive running, her body so unused to it now that her lungs burned when she reached the site of the crash, the downed ship nestled among a cluster of trees that hadn't survived its landing. The design of the ship reminded her of the fighters that had been used during the Clone Wars, but ships had always been Anakin's area of expertise and not her own.
With that fresh pang in her heart, she stepped closer to the pilot and his droid (when did astromechs start coming in that design?) and called out, "Do you need any help?" Everything about her says average backwater woman, with her plain dress and hair pulled back into a simple tail, and she has to hope that if he is an agent of the Empire, he won't think twice about her.
BB-8 squealed in surprise, wheeling towards her only to roll away behind the nearest tree, as if it could actually hide. It was the droid's squall as much as the woman's voice that startled Poe, not badly enough that he lost his footing, but almost, certainly enough to have him giving a half-sheepish laugh even as he leaned against the ship for support, "Hi, sorry, didn't expect anyone to be out here."
He snagged the strap of the emergency supply kit, along with the case for the starmap projector before swinging himself back down to the ground, "Not totally sure where 'here' is, even, which is... not how I usually do things." It was only once he was actually looking at her that he recognized her, or thought he did at any rate, though he couldn't quite place why, and he wasn't going to ask outright, at least not yet, anybody out this far probably didn't want to be found, though he offered a hand all the same, "Poe Dameron, surveyor."
It had been so long since she last regularly interacted with a droid, only two of them existing in the village to help with the farmlands, that the little thing's antics remind her of R2 so strongly that it nearly took her breath away. She was grateful when the man drew her attention away from the past, and she watched him descend with both curiosity and caution.
A surveyor. Right, because that was so believable. She wasn't going to ask, though; asking questions would only bring her more problems, even though it went against her very nature to stay silent. Keeping herself hidden so her children remained safe was all that mattered. "My name's Eirtaé," she lied smoothly while setting her hand in his. It took effort to keep her grip weak, nothing like the firm handshake she'd perfected during her career. "Do you have any injuries from the crash? My home is just outside the forest."
Strictly speaking, it wasn't a lie, he was surveying for a new location for the Resistance to call home, and it was a cover that worked even if that wasn't what he was doing.
He did, however, give her a warm, open smile, clasping her hand briefly between his own, shaking his head at the question, "No, nothing that'll need attention, couple banged elbows and knees, but you kind of have to expect that with a landing like that one."
He turned back towards where the astromech was hiding, however ineffectively, "Bee, come say hi, she won't bite, promise." The grin was turned on Eirtaé again, "I mean, probably presumptuous of me to say so, but it's usually a good bet."
That smile of his could melt hearts, and she didn't doubt he knew it. This man, Poe, likely used it to his advantage every change he got, the same way the many politicians she'd known over the years had. But she did want to believe that he was genuine, even if she couldn't let herself act on such a belief.
"You're not wrong," she assured him with a small smile that brightened considerably as she turned to the droid, addressing it with the same dignity and kindness she'd always used with droids, even the ones that could be trying like C-3PO. "It's been quite a while since I've had the pleasure of meeting a new astromech droid. Are you alright after that landing?"
He definitely knew, and didn't use it as liberally as she feared, mostly because he only liked using it when it was genuine. He couldn't help but smile -if somewhat softer- when she addressed BB-8 herself, biting the inside of his cheek briefly to keep from grinning outright, as he knew that the droid was going to play up any imagined damage now that there was an audience.
He wasn't wrong, either, as the little astromech trundled out from behind the tree, somehow managing to limp, its dome wobbling every couple of rotations, as if sticking. It made a forlorn noise once it was close enough, dome dipping as if to show her where it had been bumped.
If she was familiar with -what for her would be a newer style- companion therapy droids, BB-8 was similar, though with a dome in place of the squarer, more blocky head of most therapy droids.
There was, in fact, a smudge on the back of the dome, probably either from hitting the rubber of the socket in the ship or bumping something on the way to the forest floor, but there was no dent and no chipped enamel. Poe, for his part, was practically vibrating with amusement, trying not to laugh as he knew it would upset the droid, thinking he was making fun of what was very clearly some serious damage.
After all those years of working with 3PO and being around R2, she was completely prepared for the performance of the adorable little droid, who did seem somewhat similar to various models she'd encountered in her previous life. Nothing had been quite like this though, and she couldn't help but wonder what else had changed so starkly since she'd gone into hiding. Aside from the obvious, of course.
"Oh no, that must have been horrible," she sympathized with a sincerity borne from her lifetime of political dealings, stepping nearer to lean in and get a closer look. "I could take care of that for you, if you'd like." Turning to Poe, she added, "My home really isn't far. You could both get your bearings there before deciding how to proceed."
It was stupid to offer, she knew that full well, but where so much of her had died that day on Mustafar, this one piece lived on. She couldn't deny her need to help, to make someone else's life better as she was able. So she made the offer and prayed to the gods of far away Naboo that this choice wouldn't be the death of what little she had left.
Poe just nodded once, glancing down at the droid as that dome tilted back as if to ask him what he thought, "Okay." And then to her, just as warmly as before: "Thank you. Truly. We weren't expecting to find anyone out here."
Though that was mostly because by all reports the planet was no longer inhabited, and that was something he was going to puzzle over later, hoping that he'd just managed to find a different planet than he'd been aiming for in that last desperate jump.
"I wasn't expecting someone to crash their ship next to my home," she replied easily, a bit of humor slipping into the words. "It seems a day for surprises."
She never had visitors out this way. Once, from one of the older women at the nearby farm who had seen her light in the distance one night, but she'd carefully made the woman aware that she preferred her privacy and had since been left on her own. Any concern for the widow on the far edge of the settlement was now expressed solely during her days in the village, for which she was always openly grateful.
Gesturing in the direction she'd come, she added, "It's just this way." It would be nightfall soon, and it would be better for everyone if they were out of the forest by then.
That was something that most forests had in common, Poe had come to learn. Even on Yavin 4 even though it was technically a jungle, perhaps a rainforest, it was better to be inside once the sun went down and before planetrise, as the gas giant itself did provide enough light to see by, though it wasn't the same as the actual sun.
"Lead the way." He replied, gesturing and shouldering the bag of supplies and the projector once more, though once they'd started walking he added: "Though maybe you can at least tell me how far off my calculations were, we were aiming for D'Qar."
"D'Qar?" The name made her falter, her attention diverted enough from where she was walking that she stumbled slightly, catching herself against one of the trees. She hoped he didn't notice the higher pitch in her voice, the planet he mentioned one very familiar to her. It was so near to Naboo, it couldn't not be.
"We're a few dozen parsecs from Dantooine, D'Qar is practically on the other side of the galaxy." How had he possibly managed to get so far off course? Had his ship been that badly damaged even before the crash?
That revelation had both Poe and the droid drawing up short, a series of expressions crossed Poe's face, confusion and disbelief followed by a sort of puzzled resignation, glancing at the droid who'd made a concerned hoot, "Yeah, I guess we might have gotten that wrong. We were kind of in a hurry, might have transposed some numbers in the jump calculations."
Though that wasn't the kind of thing he did even when he was distressed. He supposed there was a first time for everything.
Transposing numbers for jumps to hyperspace wasn't something that happened, especially not when a droid did the calculations. Not to this degree. There had to be other factors involved, otherwise it just didn't make sense.
Glancing between the two of them for a moment in concern, she tried to come up with an explanation and failed terribly. "That could have ended very badly for you. I'm glad you're both alright." And despite having just met them, it was true.
It didn't, not really, mostly because that was a surefire way to drop oneself into a black hole or the middle of a planet, though most automated hyperspace engines and calculation systems knew what coordinates planets were at and to avoid them, but there were plenty of other mishaps that could easily have happened.
Mostly because Poe didn't think his calculations had been wrong, but that still didn't explain how he'd ended up here.
"Guess we got lucky." He said, sounding a little puzzled, almost as if he were going over the calculations again in his head, and he might well have been, but there was an equal chance that he was trying to puzzle out where he'd seen her before.
"It would seem so," she murmured in agreement, wondering absently what Obi-Wan would say about such luck. Her old friend likely would have offered some wisdom about the Force and then added a quip that would have made them all smile. She missed him.
Continuing along the path, she quickened her pace slightly as the sky began to steadily darken above them, and a minute later the trees began to thin until they emerged at a clear stretch of land with a tiny stone cabin near the treeline. There was a small garden at the side of the house with a variety of herbs, a lean-to covering a pile of firewood prepared for the winter ahead, and despite clearly being old, there was something cozy about the little house. She'd worked hard over the years to make it somewhere she could find a small amount of solace.
The softer, more genuine smile returned at the sight of the homestead, it suited her in a way he couldn't quite quantify, but it was obvious that it was something that a lot of work had been put into, and it reminded him of his family homestead even despite the fact that the two looked nothing alike.
"Looks like you've been here a while." He said by way of observation, because while he wasn't positive that she was from somewhere else, the house seemed too new for her to have grown up in it, which didn't necessarily mean she wasn't a native, but was usually a good indication.
"A few years," she confirmed as they reached the front door, which she opened without the use of a key. There was no point in locking doors here, and she had little of value to be taken anyway. "After my husband died in the war, I needed a fresh start. A quiet life seemed best."
It was a patchwork of truths that were easy to craft into not quite a lie. Luckily, few of the locals had ever inquired too deeply into her past, the pain she still felt over Anakin's loss aiding in the deception. She let it show now as well, a weariness in her expression as she stepped into the house and then moved aside for her guests.
There wasn't much to the house. One large room that held a dining table chairs and a cluster of worn armchairs in front of the fireplace. A kitchen was off to the side of that room, herbs drying at the window, and there were two doors at the far end - one for the fresher and the other for a bedroom that was hardly more than a closet. It wasn't much, but it was more than many had, and just like the outside, she'd done her best to make it feel like a home.
He nodded, because he knew better than to ask questions about a statement like that, though mostly that was because it didn't even occur to him that her war and his -while essentially stemming from the same sequence of events- weren't the same war.
The first thing he said was: "Thank you. Not a lot of people would do this." That said, he set both the bag of supplies and the projector case down just inside the door, digging a cleaning cloth out of the supply bag, ready to wipe the smudge off of BB-8's dome, when the droid snatched the cloth with a manipulator claw and trundled over to Eirtaé with an entirely too forlorn hoot.
It was something that made Poe have to bite the inside of his cheek again to keep from laughing, though the smile was threatening to break through all the same.
The fact that other people wouldn't do it was exactly why she felt she had to. There had to be some good left in the galaxy, even if it was only of her own making. In times such as these, everyone needed reminding that there was something worth fighting for.
She very nearly laughed herself at the droid's dramatics, the performance utterly endearing. "I didn't forget," she offered as an assurance before kneeling down and taking the cloth. Getting right to work, she decided to share a little story that the droid might appreciate.
"You know, this isn't my first time cleaning up an astromech. That was almost two decades ago, when one saved my ship during an attack. I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for R2, and I've had a fondness for astromech droids ever since." She leaned back, studying that spot on the dome that had been 'damaged', then smiled. "You're good as new."
Poe straightened at that particular designation, and BB-8 chirped a query. Certainly there were other R2 units out there, not just the one that the General had more or less in storage, hoping that Commander Skywalker would come back and claim it someday.
He was sure that some of those other units were likewise referred to as 'R2' with that same sort of fondness, but something still pushed him to ask: "R2-D2? White and blue? Silver trim? Likes setting things on fire?" That one he didn't know from personal experience, only from stories, but it didn't surprise him any given as how astromechs only had limited defenses to work with, it was part of why BB-8 took an arc welder to anything it perceived as being a threat.
Padmé was so at ease with the two of them that she didn't notice her slip until that inquiry was posed, and then-- Her facade slipped, the mask cracking to reveal affection at the pyrotechnic antics she remembered hearing about, followed quickly by a wash of fear across her expression. If he knew R2-D2, what else did he know? Who else? Had he known Anakin during the war? Had she been right to worry that the Empire had finally found her?
Standing, she stiffly turned toward the kitchen, her usual abilities completely abandoning her as she tried to convincingly explain away the misstep. "Yes, that's the one. I was fourteen at the time, and it's been years since our last meeting."
That just left Poe even more confused, having fallen still himself, running over mental calculations again, how old he thought she was against how long he knew R2 had been in low-power mode, hidden away and none of it was quite adding up.
What he finally said, a little quieter, genuinely confused, the kind that started to border on concern was: "I... get the feeling I'm a lot more lost than I first thought, and I realize that this is going to make me sound like I hit my head, but what year is it? Galactic standard, not local."
She'd been about to move into the kitchen proper and use the distraction of making tea to pull herself together when he... Well, when he asked what he did. And yes, it very much did sound like he'd hit his head, which left her worrying over injuries she couldn't possibly treat on her own.
"It's been four standard years since the formation of the Galactic Empire," she answered, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a concerned expression. It seemed the best measurement to use when she wasn't sure of his allegiances, and most of the village spoke in those terms regularly, leading her to believe the rest of the galaxy might as well.
He made a startled, choked little noise at that, and BB-8's dome spun around to look at her, giving the impression of reeling back in surprise just briefly before the droid rolled quickly to Poe's side, as if the pilot needed support due to the shock, "But then that's... but I'm... but... no."
It wasn't that he didn't believe her, the problem was that he did, and he knew that he wasn't going to live this down if it was some kind of prank orchestrated by Snap and Jess and the rest of them, but he didn't think it was that, either.
Very quietly, a moment later, he said: "I think I need to sit down."
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That only worked, however, if the ship he was in was actually flightworthy, and the borrowed A-wing was becoming increasingly less-so, between the dogfight and the solar flare and the last half-calculated jump to hyperspace, he was fairly sure it was coming apart around him, and BB-8's near-panic only added to that assuredness.
By the time she reached where he'd landed, and it was a landing as far as he was concerned, because even though the ship was wedged between two trees, it was still upright and he'd managed to get bot himself and BB-8 down and had gone back up for his emergency kit, talking to the worried droid as he did so: "I know, buddy, looked a lot softer from up top, trees usually do. But as soon as I get the chart scanner set up, we can figure out where we are, and that's the first step to figuring out how to get home, right?"
[ooc: figuring one of his pre-TFA scouting missions, just so she gets the happier, less-dented version.]
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With that fresh pang in her heart, she stepped closer to the pilot and his droid (when did astromechs start coming in that design?) and called out, "Do you need any help?" Everything about her says average backwater woman, with her plain dress and hair pulled back into a simple tail, and she has to hope that if he is an agent of the Empire, he won't think twice about her.
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He snagged the strap of the emergency supply kit, along with the case for the starmap projector before swinging himself back down to the ground, "Not totally sure where 'here' is, even, which is... not how I usually do things." It was only once he was actually looking at her that he recognized her, or thought he did at any rate, though he couldn't quite place why, and he wasn't going to ask outright, at least not yet, anybody out this far probably didn't want to be found, though he offered a hand all the same, "Poe Dameron, surveyor."
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A surveyor. Right, because that was so believable. She wasn't going to ask, though; asking questions would only bring her more problems, even though it went against her very nature to stay silent. Keeping herself hidden so her children remained safe was all that mattered. "My name's Eirtaé," she lied smoothly while setting her hand in his. It took effort to keep her grip weak, nothing like the firm handshake she'd perfected during her career. "Do you have any injuries from the crash? My home is just outside the forest."
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He did, however, give her a warm, open smile, clasping her hand briefly between his own, shaking his head at the question, "No, nothing that'll need attention, couple banged elbows and knees, but you kind of have to expect that with a landing like that one."
He turned back towards where the astromech was hiding, however ineffectively, "Bee, come say hi, she won't bite, promise." The grin was turned on Eirtaé again, "I mean, probably presumptuous of me to say so, but it's usually a good bet."
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"You're not wrong," she assured him with a small smile that brightened considerably as she turned to the droid, addressing it with the same dignity and kindness she'd always used with droids, even the ones that could be trying like C-3PO. "It's been quite a while since I've had the pleasure of meeting a new astromech droid. Are you alright after that landing?"
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He wasn't wrong, either, as the little astromech trundled out from behind the tree, somehow managing to limp, its dome wobbling every couple of rotations, as if sticking. It made a forlorn noise once it was close enough, dome dipping as if to show her where it had been bumped.
If she was familiar with -what for her would be a newer style- companion therapy droids, BB-8 was similar, though with a dome in place of the squarer, more blocky head of most therapy droids.
There was, in fact, a smudge on the back of the dome, probably either from hitting the rubber of the socket in the ship or bumping something on the way to the forest floor, but there was no dent and no chipped enamel. Poe, for his part, was practically vibrating with amusement, trying not to laugh as he knew it would upset the droid, thinking he was making fun of what was very clearly some serious damage.
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"Oh no, that must have been horrible," she sympathized with a sincerity borne from her lifetime of political dealings, stepping nearer to lean in and get a closer look. "I could take care of that for you, if you'd like." Turning to Poe, she added, "My home really isn't far. You could both get your bearings there before deciding how to proceed."
It was stupid to offer, she knew that full well, but where so much of her had died that day on Mustafar, this one piece lived on. She couldn't deny her need to help, to make someone else's life better as she was able. So she made the offer and prayed to the gods of far away Naboo that this choice wouldn't be the death of what little she had left.
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Though that was mostly because by all reports the planet was no longer inhabited, and that was something he was going to puzzle over later, hoping that he'd just managed to find a different planet than he'd been aiming for in that last desperate jump.
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She never had visitors out this way. Once, from one of the older women at the nearby farm who had seen her light in the distance one night, but she'd carefully made the woman aware that she preferred her privacy and had since been left on her own. Any concern for the widow on the far edge of the settlement was now expressed solely during her days in the village, for which she was always openly grateful.
Gesturing in the direction she'd come, she added, "It's just this way." It would be nightfall soon, and it would be better for everyone if they were out of the forest by then.
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"Lead the way." He replied, gesturing and shouldering the bag of supplies and the projector once more, though once they'd started walking he added: "Though maybe you can at least tell me how far off my calculations were, we were aiming for D'Qar."
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"We're a few dozen parsecs from Dantooine, D'Qar is practically on the other side of the galaxy." How had he possibly managed to get so far off course? Had his ship been that badly damaged even before the crash?
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Though that wasn't the kind of thing he did even when he was distressed. He supposed there was a first time for everything.
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Glancing between the two of them for a moment in concern, she tried to come up with an explanation and failed terribly. "That could have ended very badly for you. I'm glad you're both alright." And despite having just met them, it was true.
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Mostly because Poe didn't think his calculations had been wrong, but that still didn't explain how he'd ended up here.
"Guess we got lucky." He said, sounding a little puzzled, almost as if he were going over the calculations again in his head, and he might well have been, but there was an equal chance that he was trying to puzzle out where he'd seen her before.
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Continuing along the path, she quickened her pace slightly as the sky began to steadily darken above them, and a minute later the trees began to thin until they emerged at a clear stretch of land with a tiny stone cabin near the treeline. There was a small garden at the side of the house with a variety of herbs, a lean-to covering a pile of firewood prepared for the winter ahead, and despite clearly being old, there was something cozy about the little house. She'd worked hard over the years to make it somewhere she could find a small amount of solace.
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"Looks like you've been here a while." He said by way of observation, because while he wasn't positive that she was from somewhere else, the house seemed too new for her to have grown up in it, which didn't necessarily mean she wasn't a native, but was usually a good indication.
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It was a patchwork of truths that were easy to craft into not quite a lie. Luckily, few of the locals had ever inquired too deeply into her past, the pain she still felt over Anakin's loss aiding in the deception. She let it show now as well, a weariness in her expression as she stepped into the house and then moved aside for her guests.
There wasn't much to the house. One large room that held a dining table chairs and a cluster of worn armchairs in front of the fireplace. A kitchen was off to the side of that room, herbs drying at the window, and there were two doors at the far end - one for the fresher and the other for a bedroom that was hardly more than a closet. It wasn't much, but it was more than many had, and just like the outside, she'd done her best to make it feel like a home.
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The first thing he said was: "Thank you. Not a lot of people would do this." That said, he set both the bag of supplies and the projector case down just inside the door, digging a cleaning cloth out of the supply bag, ready to wipe the smudge off of BB-8's dome, when the droid snatched the cloth with a manipulator claw and trundled over to Eirtaé with an entirely too forlorn hoot.
It was something that made Poe have to bite the inside of his cheek again to keep from laughing, though the smile was threatening to break through all the same.
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She very nearly laughed herself at the droid's dramatics, the performance utterly endearing. "I didn't forget," she offered as an assurance before kneeling down and taking the cloth. Getting right to work, she decided to share a little story that the droid might appreciate.
"You know, this isn't my first time cleaning up an astromech. That was almost two decades ago, when one saved my ship during an attack. I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for R2, and I've had a fondness for astromech droids ever since." She leaned back, studying that spot on the dome that had been 'damaged', then smiled. "You're good as new."
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He was sure that some of those other units were likewise referred to as 'R2' with that same sort of fondness, but something still pushed him to ask: "R2-D2? White and blue? Silver trim? Likes setting things on fire?" That one he didn't know from personal experience, only from stories, but it didn't surprise him any given as how astromechs only had limited defenses to work with, it was part of why BB-8 took an arc welder to anything it perceived as being a threat.
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Standing, she stiffly turned toward the kitchen, her usual abilities completely abandoning her as she tried to convincingly explain away the misstep. "Yes, that's the one. I was fourteen at the time, and it's been years since our last meeting."
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What he finally said, a little quieter, genuinely confused, the kind that started to border on concern was: "I... get the feeling I'm a lot more lost than I first thought, and I realize that this is going to make me sound like I hit my head, but what year is it? Galactic standard, not local."
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"It's been four standard years since the formation of the Galactic Empire," she answered, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a concerned expression. It seemed the best measurement to use when she wasn't sure of his allegiances, and most of the village spoke in those terms regularly, leading her to believe the rest of the galaxy might as well.
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It wasn't that he didn't believe her, the problem was that he did, and he knew that he wasn't going to live this down if it was some kind of prank orchestrated by Snap and Jess and the rest of them, but he didn't think it was that, either.
Very quietly, a moment later, he said: "I think I need to sit down."
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only a decade late
shh shh is fine (and omfg popover menu sorry about that)