Forced Somewhere New

Open/locked?: OTA
Who: Anakin and whomsoever he encounters
What: Arrival
Warnings: It's Anakin. Episode III.

The doors hissed open and Anakin walked out into the....

He blinked, this wasn't the hall. He was... outside? Somewhere. Stormy skies. Seemed... apt. He tried to stand and found his cloak snagged. He looked back and saw it was stuck on a number of thorns. He had apparently been sitting against a wall of thorny vines. None of it made sense. It was all like a bad dream.

A... bad dream?

Could the last few hours really have been just a bad dream? His bad dreams always felt so real, and that had all felt so real.... But he was unsure. And he needed to know. Desperately. His dreams about his mother came true. His dreams about Padmé... He would not let those be real. But a dream about Master Windu and the Chancellor? A dream in which one of the Masters he respected broke the morals he espoused and the Chancellor who was a trusted friend was really a Sith?

That... That couldn't be real. It couldn't.

Nor could his panicked choice that led to Master Windu's death. Or his vowing himself to the Dark Side, knowing he'd never be forgiven the line he'd crossed... and that the Dark Side offered the way to save Padmé.

No. That all had to be a nightmare. And like the one of his wife dying... he would not let it become true.

Settling that settled his shoulders some, though fear and doubt roiled hidden within. For now, if that was the dream he had to figure out where he was, how he arrived here, and how to return to Coruscant. To find out what really had happened and what had not.

He reached up and unclipped his cloak, letting it fall from his shoulders. He turned and carefully worked it free of the thorns. As he did, his Lightsaber fell off of his belt. Somehow. He hadn't noticed yet that it was broken in a great many ways. Including the restraining clip.

As he got his cloak free of the last thorn he stumbled back. His foot landed on his saber. He went flying back, it went flying into the thorn wall, and impaled itself.

He pushed himself up slightly on his elbows and stared at his useless saber on the thorn wall, his cloak on the ground beside him. "He is never going to let me live this one down," he groaned.

And somehow the thought of Obi Wan's reaction was the only thing in the last few hours that actually felt real. It was relief enough that he tilted his head back, chuckling as it began to rain on him.

Because of course it did.

And that would be the first impression he gave to whomsoever found him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As it happened, Foulques found him first. Coming up from the path that led to the beach, he paused to observe the newcomer with mild bemusement for a moment. His first thought was that at least it wasn't another child. His second was that the man looked as exhausted as he had felt upon first arriving, his cloak having apparently gotten tangled in the brambles blocking the one exit to the courtyard that none of them had yet touched, laughing tiredly at the rain because what else was there to do in such a situation?

Finally, he approached, offering a greeting. "Well met, stranger," he said. "Or at least as well as can be in this place. It seems you're having some difficulty with your cloak." He hadn't yet spotted the smallish device impaled on one of the thorns.

"My cloak, my lightsaber," my life, my mind. "I think I am lost more than simply physically." He leapt to his feet. It was harder than it was usually, and he wasn't sure why. It seemed too much to just blame on the mud. Well, he'd figure it out. Harder was figuring out what to do when he got home, if this wasn't a dream. And trying to figure out if what happened back home was one. "I don't suppose you could point me to the nearest place where I could rent or purchase a ship, as I rather doubt I flew my intercepter here without being aware of it." Though stranger things might have happen. It would have been easier to accept that he flew here without awareness than that Master Windu would break the Jedi code, or that Palpatine would turn out to be the Sith lord they all sought, or that he could have so easily in a moment betrayed all he had worked for.... So no, he supposed it would be easier to believe that he did in face fly here. Wherever here was. "Then again, perhaps it might be possible that my ship is in fact here." In which case... he reached into the layers of his clothes to pull out his communicator. He'd simply call R2, and if he was in range, then so was his ship. He frowned when he couldn't find it. Patted himself down, then muttered under his breath as he looked at the ground. That... was a lot of mud to search through.

"Not lost, precisely," Foulques said. "Though likely rather farther from home than you may realize. Unfortunately there are no ships on this Isle, at least, none that we can yet access. That includes your 'interceptor'; it would have been impossible to miss a ship of any kind landing here."

"And while the mainland certainly has ocean-going vessels, I'm far less certain about airships." Up until then, there really hadn't been any reason to ask. "Tis possible that it ended up there, I suppose, though I frankly doubt it. But I can inquire after it the next time I speak to those who reside there, if you wish."

He looked down at where metal glinted through the thorns. "That device is the 'lightsaber', I take it?", he asked. It certainly didn't look much like a sword. Perhaps a hilt, though one without a pommel or guard, and it was a bit oddly shaped even for that from what he could tell. "I doubt it will be of much use to you as it is now, but I can attempt to retrieve it for you; my arms are long enough that I should be able to do so without injury."

An air ship? He found himself chuckling and shaking his head. "An island is a start I suppose. The name of the planet might help a bit better. As for my Saber..." he put his hand out expecting what was left of it to come flying to him. He frowned when it failed, and turned to face it square on, putting his hand out again. Nothing.

Frowning, and starting to sweat, he drew off his gloves, exposing one normal hand and one that was... not. Both hands out, he focused. He couldn't feel the Force for some reason, but that was impossible. He simply had to... try harder.

The stranger was forgotten for a moment in his desperation to draw the remains of his Lightsaber to him. At the least he wanted the Kyber Crystal back.

Well, no, at the least he now wanted some proof that the Force had not deserted him utterly.

Edited Date: 2026-07-05 07:17 am (UTC)

It only just now occurred to Foulques that he didn't know the name of the world that was perforce his new home. Another detail that hadn't seemed at all relevant until just then. But thinking back to try and recall if it had ever been mentioned allowed enough of a pause for the stranger to remove his gloves, revealing that one of his hands was in fact an elaborate prosthetic. Though for the moment, that seemed less important than what he was attempting to do with his hands, and how he was looking distinctly more alarmed the longer it went on.

"If you're attempting some form of magecraft, then you needn't waste the effort," Foulques said. "This island is surrounded by a barrier that prevents any manipulation of aether or similar abilities. Inconvenient for us, perhaps, but a prudent measure considering that it was intended as a prison with a number of its original inmates being mages of note."

"The Force is not magecraft. It is simply tapping into the natural energy of the universe. I've been studying the ways of the Force since I was small. Something this simple should be easy for me," he said, and then narrowed his eyes, focusing once more and trying again.

"Aether is much the same, then, as I understand it," he said. "The natural energy that flows through the star, the life that calls it home, and the great expanse that surrounds it. 'Magic' is simply the name given to the various arts that deliberately make use of it. So while I've no reason to doubt your words, however powerful or skilled you may be, your Force will not answer you here."

"It can't simply just... not answer me..." he said, taking a few deep breaths. I will make it answer me."

Foulques gave the young man a look of mild exasperation. "You will find that nature and the forces within it can and will do what they please," he said. "They have existed long before you. They will continue to exist long after you and all you know are dead and dust. Even outside this Isle, they are not servants or familiars that can simply be ordered about as if you own them. And here they will not hear you even if you try."

"But while some would be content to stand here and watch you continue to make a fool of yourself, you'll find I have little patience for such things." And with that he crouched down, carefully reached into the briars and retrieved the broken device. Getting back to his feet, he offered it to the stranger. "Here. If you see nothing else of yours lying about, then come inside. Tis near dinner time, and you look as though a meal would do you a world of good. As well as some dry clothes and a full day or more of sleep; you look as exhausted as I felt when first I arrived here, and that's saying a great deal. But food first, I think, as that's likely the quickest to manage. And while you eat I can explain the situation properly."

He took back his hilt from him, and collected what was left of his cloak. "I will figure out what is wrong," he assured him. "And then I will show you the power of the Force, and of the Jedi. That I can assure you." Though food sounded good. As for sleep... well, he could practice instead. There was nothing good waiting for him if he slept.

"I've already told you exactly what is wrong," Foulques said. "You simply refuse to believe that it applies to you, despite both my word the evidence of your own senses. The truth, however, has a stubborn habit of not changing to suit one's desires, as you are certainly old enough to know." About his power, he made no comment. He'd seen plenty of powerful people, plenty of mages of various kinds; if this fellow ever had the opportunity and wished to show off the skills of his trade, he would gladly observe, though would likely be far less impressed than expected.

"In any case, naught will be accomplished by standing about in the rain. Come." He gestured for the fellow to follow as he headed back to the so-called school. As they walked, he spoke again. "I neglected to introduce myself when I first approached. I'm Foulques of the Mist, though my given name suffices for most purposes. And you?"

HE followed, because there was little choice. He would have pulled his hood up, but given his cloak was now carried not worn, and muddy to boot, even he didn't have that much love for the needlessly dramatic. It was a near thing, anyway.

"I'm Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. Jedi." He had to believe he still was. Had to. He needed to know for sure that that other... had been another nightmare, one he could still fight to keep from happening.

Foulques nodded as they headed back to the school. "Well then, Anakin, I bid you welcome- such as it is- to the Isle of the Lost," he said. "Tis an island off the coast of the Kingdom of Auradon, that as I said before was converted to a prison some time past. All manner of the kingdom's undesirables were sent here, and as I'm certain you can tell, tis not a pleasant place. I imagine it was little better even before these unnatural briars took root everywhere, though on that I must take the word of the few locals I've met."

He pulled open the doors to the school, allowing Anakin to enter first if he wished before entering himself. The hallways and lockers were, as ever, covered in graffiti, and the floors badly in need of a good scrubbing, but everything was free of trash and the nooks and crannies surprisingly free of cobwebs. Foulques continued speaking as he led Anakin down the hall. "If neither of those names are known to you, as I suspect they are not, then tis likely that you, like most who currently reside here- including myself- hail from another world. And I do not mean simply another star, though from my perspective that would be remarkable enough. I speak of an entirely different reality, separate from but existing alongside those that we have always known."

"As to how we both came to be here, the answer is magic twice gone awry. Some time ago, someone- who is not presently known- made a foolish wish to a powerful entity called a genie which caused much of this world's population to vanish. Those few who remained naturally attempted to correct the situation, but in the process of doing so the spells of two different mages clashed. Thus, instead of returning those who belonged in this world, the magic began pulling people here from many other worlds and times. As a result, the few remaining locals have taken to calling us the 'Misrecalled'; unflattering, perhaps, but accurate."

"Some arrive here on the Isle, others on the Auradon mainland where tis far more pleasant. The only means of travel between them, at present, is by a boat that periodically arrives from the mainland bringing supplies to suppliment what we can grow, forage, and craft ourselves. Thanks to one Doctor Ian Wright, however, we at least have a reliable means of communication now, so we need not go for extended periods with no news." As that was a fair bit of information, he paused there to allow it to sink in and to allow Anakin to ask any questions he may have.

Edited Date: 2026-07-07 07:32 am (UTC)

He walked with him, though much of what he heard sounded fantastic. And not in the good way. The last thing however, was something that Anakin could work with. "We have communications? Good, then maybe we do not need to wait for the people from this Auradon to get us out of here. The concern is if this is indeed a prison that we do not release genuine criminals alongside ourselves. That is, if I can presume that you are here as wrongfully as I, which seems to be what you were saying."

He gave an amused huff. "I know not what authority being a Jedi might grant you in your own world, but I'm afraid that here it does not grant either you or I the ability to have Auradon's young king and his cohorts come at our beckon call," he said. "Nor will it grant you passage to the mainland without so much as a by-your-leave. I will certainly inform them of your presence, but should you wish to go to Auradon, you will need to plead your case to the young king and queen yourself when next they come, just as anyone else here would."

"And lest you think of- if you'll excuse the pun- 'forcing' the issue," because he can already picture exactly that having spent all of five minutes with Anakin, "I must point out that such will do you no good. Indeed, there is likely no surer method to ensure you remain Islebound than to try to bull your way onto the boat like some great aurochs or attempt to persuade the young monarchs by more... aggressive means than with your words and display of your good character. For good or ill, this is their world, not ours, and we must endeavor to respect that."

"Regarding my place here though," his expression became more thoughtful, "I expect they would have allowed me to return with them to Auradon some time ago, had I asked. But for the present, at least, I feel my place is here. I have been endeavoring to improve the general conditions of the Isle- an uphill climb to be sure, and a steep one, but some progress has been made-, and I find I have... other reasons to be reluctant to leave." Reasons named Chell and Chara. And possibly Sun, if he returned to the Isle repaired.

"The Jedi council is respected on all worlds from Coruscant to the Outer Rim. I am certain whoever rules here will recognize my position. But I was not counting on speaking to them directly, at least not at first. My intention, since you say that we have communication equipment is to call out to any Jedi in the sector and have them inform the young couple you mentioned of the situation. I would get a ride back with them, I am certain, even if not directly. If you wish to stay here, then that is your choice. But I have places that I need to be. I am certain that negotiations will be swift once they are duly informed of my presence."

Foulques stopped a moment, turning to Anakin with a raised eyebrow. "...It seems that you are vastly misunderstanding the situation," he said. "You are in a reality entirely separate from the one you know. You are not in a 'sector'. There is no Coruscant nor Outer Rim here. There are no other Jedi nor their Council. In fact, at present, the only beings in this entire world are our own small group here on the Isle, and King Ben and Queen Mal's small group on the Auradon mainland."

"In short, sir, we are on our own, and currently have no way to return from whence we came. We are but strangers in a strange- sometimes very strange- land and must act accordingly."

"I hope you will excuse me if I find that very hard to believe."

"I admit that tis an incredible tale," he said. "But as I have found in my time here, it is still the truth. And whether you believe it or deny it, that truth will not change. You have been removed from all you know and brought here. You are in another reality whose natural population has largely vanished, and here you will remain for the foreseeable future. That is the reality of the situation, and we can but make the best of it."

He shook his head. "I cannot be away for..." he shook his head. "I must return home. It simply is not an option for me to stay here. There has to be a way to return, and I will be expected to find it."

"You have pressing matters to attend to back home, I take it?", he said, continuing down the hall again. "In that, at least, you need not fear. I have it on the authority of several who have undergone a similar... transferences before that if and when a method is found to return the Misrecalled from whence we came, any who wish to return will be restored not just to the place from which they arrived, but the time as well. To those who remain in your own world, it shall be as if you never left."

By now Anakin would likely be able to smell not only wood smoke, but also scent of cooking food, indicating they were approaching their destination. "Not that such is of any great matter to me, however. Naught but death awaits me should I return to my own world, so for good or ill, this one is now my home."

Edited Date: 2026-07-11 03:18 am (UTC)

"At the same time? How is that even possible?" he asked, more focused on that than most of the rest. Though what Foulques said about his return he filed it away for later, misunderstanding. He thought that meant that the other man was found guilty of some crime and facing execution, that was... concerning. But the other was more important.

He shrugged. "I fear you're asking the wrong man on that score," he said. "I'm a lancer, not a mage; I can tell you what certain phenomena here do, but not how they function. Perhaps you could ask the young Queen Mal when you eventually speak? She a native of this world with some knowledge of its magic, so if anyone would have an explanation, tis likely her."

They entered the room that served as their makeshift kitchen. The central feature was, as always, the cookfire, surrounded by a ring of stones. A cauldron of stew hung over it, perpetually bubbling away, its slightly too large lid rattling faintly. A hole in one corner of the ceiling had been turned into a makeshift chimney with the application of some pieces of sheet metal, so the smoke could escape while the room was still largely protected from the weather. Another fire circle sat a short distance away from the cookfire, though it was currently not lit.

Along the opposite wall from the chimney there was a stack of firewood. Or rather, a pile; the uneven shape of the pieces of vine wood kept it from stacking entirely neatly, but it was clearly all put intentionally into one spot. Along the walls sat a number of mismatched tables and desks that served as shelves and work surfaces. Equally mismatched was the collection of bowls, plates, utensils, and cooking tools available. Bowls, cups, and a few plates, many clearly handcrafted out of wood or ceramic, but some that had clearly been manufactured by more modern methods, though those tended to show significantly more wear. Spoons and a few forks were similarly a mishmash of modern and handmade. No knives were visible, though a few slabs of wood were clearly set up as cutting boards.

And on the far wall, a few shelves sporting odd-sized jars that held what looked like coarse salt and a small collection of dried herbs, with seaweed hung below to dry. Fully dried seaweed was laid out on another shelf as well as a wooden tray with a slightly raised edge, holding a number of small red berries that also seemed to be drying. The smallest of the jars held what looked like the fully dried berries. Beneath the shelves sat a second cauldron- this one with no lid-, and on top of it a plastic tub that contained a few scraps of cloth, a small and rather tatty-looking scrub brush, and a bottle of dish soap.

Foulques moved to retrieve a bowl, spoon, and cup for Anakin. The cup he filled with water, before moving to ladle up him up some stew. "Chell seems to be elsewhere at the moment," he commented as he did so. "Usually at this time of day he'd here tending to the food and the fire, so I suspect he'll return ere long." Once both cup and bowl were filled he offered them to Anakin, a spoon in the bowl. The stew wasn't much to look at, being mostly fish and potatoes with a bit of seaweed and some herbs, but provided you had nothing against fish, it actually smelled pretty good. "If you enjoy your food a spicier, feel free to add a pinch of the dried berries. Though I'd recommend only a pinch; a little of them goes quite a long way, I assure you."

Anakin was used to such a rustic setting when camping out perhaps, but this had a look more of permeance. It reminded him of his childhood and not in a good way. But some measure of politeness had been drummed into his skull - his thick head, according to Obi Wan - so he just nodded his thanks as he took both.

"Then perhaps I should eat elsewhere, to not be in the way of this Chell." Everything about this place so far spoke to him of cages, of cramped small spaces. The only saving grace to his mind was that there seemed to be no sand.

Well, no sand and none of the confusion of what had either happened just before he arrived or... that he had dreamed. He knew not which, and that disturbed him. He knew he wanted it to be a dream, but what he wanted was no proof of truth. If it was a dream he knew he could not let it come to pass. But that too required quiet and meditation.

Also he needed to think on if he could believe this information about being returned to the moment he left. It was again something he wanted to be true, but again that did not mean he could presume that it was.

Foulques actually gave an amused huff at that. "I doubt Chell would be bothered by your presence," he said. "In fact, I've never met anyone more perennially unbothered." There was warmth in Foulques' tone when speaking of Chell that replaced the somewhat matter-of-fact note that had been there before. Clearly, Chell was someone he knew well and liked. "But if you'd rather not, far be it from me to stop you. I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough; he's rather difficult to miss." Not quite as much as Sun, if only because he wasn't as brightly colored, but still...

"There isn't really a designated dining room, however; most who don't eat here return to their own rooms to do so. So perhaps that should be the next point: finding you a place to sleep. Assuming you've no objections, of course?" And back to dealing with practical matters.

Edited Date: 2026-07-12 10:03 am (UTC)

"I have no objections to having a place to stay," he said after a long moment. Sleep.... Sleep was a whole other story. Part of him feared if he slept he'd wake to find this was the dream and that which he hoped was a dream would be the reality.

And even if this was the reality... Sleep had long since lost any appeal to him. It only made him feel small and helpless, and he hated that. It only reminded him of the risks the future held.

No. He had no intention to sleep if he could avoid it.

Foulques nodded and led him back out of the room. "As this is not an inn, but rather a school- at least if one is feeling charitable enough to call it such-, sleeping quarters are as improvised as most other things here," he said. "For good or ill, though, the faculty were an... eccentric lot, to put it mildly, and those few that remain still are. A number of the offices and the like have large chairs or couches, I've found, although the state of them leaves much to be desired, as is the case with most things on this Isle. Classrooms are by necessity somewhat larger, but contain mainly hard desks, stools, and tables and the like. So tis generally a choice between having space and having a modicum of comfort."

"A Jedi doesn't need comfort." But he did still enjoy it when he could. He sighed a bit, losing some of the haughty stature that had come with his words. "Frankly though, so long as there is no sand, I suspect I can survive anything."

Foulques chuckled. If this was a glimpse of the man's true nature, he found it quite preferable to the airs he'd been putting on. "The only place I know of on the Isle that has sand is the beach," he said. "And though some might occasionally get tracked in on people's shoes, it seldom makes it much beyond the entryway. So in that, at least, you need have no fear."

"As a man born and raised in the Twelveswood, I expect that our feelings on places with an excess of sand are likely quite similar. I've no idea how the people of Thanalan in my own world deal with it on a daily basis, aside from a lack of alternatives."

Edited Date: 2026-07-21 03:32 am (UTC)

"The world I grew up on was made of nothing but sand, it seemed. I never wish to go back there again." The start was unremarkable, but there was some pain and anger he couldn't fully hide at the end. She pressed his lips together, trying to find his center once more.

"An entire world of naught but sand?", Foulques said, quirking an eyebrow. The other part was noted, but he opted not to comment, not wanting to prod what seemed to be an old wound. "I must admit, I find that nearly as fantastical as you seem to find the situation here. Aldenard, the continent upon which my homeland of Eorzea resides, plays host to a myriad of different environments, from desert, to rainforest, to icy mountains, and it is but one of the three great continents of Hydaelyn."

"And even that doesn't account for the smaller southern continent of Meracydia, nor the lands that lie across the Indigo Deep. Though I can't claim to have much knowledge of the latter, save for rumors of a 'golden city' that most don't credit as more than a tall tale told by sailors after a few pints of ale."

Edited Date: 2026-07-21 08:17 pm (UTC)

"Oh, we have worlds like that too. Some are quite varied. Like Naboo." Easier to calm himself, thinking of Naboo. Of his time there. "But a lot of worlds have become largely one thing or another. In some cases due to despoiling the world until naught of value is left, in others by covering it in sprawling city until the artificial lights make it shine brighter in the sky than it otherwise would."

"A city that covers an entire world?", he said, trying for a moment to picture such a thing and failing. "I can't imagine such a thing. And frankly, I'm not certain I wish to; perhaps tis merely a consequence of my upbringing in the Twelveswood, but such a place sounds needlessly cold, and likely gaudy as well."

"Though I can, unfortunately, easily imagine a land despoiled be war or carelessness. Not on such a broad scale, of course, but though my world is overall a beautiful place, it is not without its scars. Though even some of those sometimes find some use; the lands of Mor Dhona were scoured and rendered corrupt of aether by the Battle of Silvertear Skies and then altered further still by the Calamity ten years later, but the upheaval of the land unearthed large quantities of Allagan ruins and relics, which are of great interest to scholars and historians, among others."

"I don't know much from relics. I've studied history of course, but it was never my life's calling." How often had he been told that was a failing of youth? He wasn't nearly so young as everyone on the council seemed to think he was. "I do suspect you would come to like Coruscant of you spent time there. It is a bit daunting at first, perhaps, but the conveniences quickly become a part of daily life. It is surprising how swiftly one can become accustomed to having amenities close on hand. And it is quite lovely at night."

Or maybe it was the woman he tended to see the night skyline at the side of.

Zuko was heading back towards the school. He'd been working slowly through some vines, but the rain was a pretty convincing reason to take a break. He drew the line at being soggy.

When he saw an unfamiliar face half lying on the muddy ground he paused. Agni curse it all. There could never just be a day where nothing happened here, could there?

He approached the figure, taking in the cloak and the sorry state of him in general. Rough day all around it seemed. Though he remembered his first day here, so he couldn't really blame the guy. When he was close enough to speak without quite shouting, but a generously safe distance in case the guy decided to attack, he finally spoke.

He crossed his arms, stance wide but casual enough, if balanced in such a way he could shift his weight to something more appropriate for fighting quickly. The laughter wasn't inspiring of the man's sanity. "Enjoying the mud down there?"

"It is better than sand, at the least," he said, a bit ruefully. "I don't suppose you saw what ship dropped me here? I'd like to have a few words with the pilot. I am equally sure he would not like to have a word with me, however."

He leapt to his feet. He almost fell again. That was odd. He couldn't blame just the mud, but likewise couldn't figure out what was wrong. Perhaps he was just shaken from the dream. If it was a dream. By the Force let it be another nightmare, and one that this time would not come true. No... it wouldn't. He wouldn't let it. Not that nightmare, not the one where Padmé.... no. No, he'd not let either come true.

"I didn't, no. I doubt it was a ship that brought you here anyway."

Zuko stepped forward as the man stumbled, lifting a hand to steady him, if needed. When it wasn't, he let the hand fall back to his side. The guy seemed pretty distracted. Agni, Zuko hated explaining things to the new ones.

He sighed and returned his arms to across his chest. "Name's Zuko, I'm guessing you haven't gotten the welcome spiel yet?"

His brows went up somewhat. "There is a welcome... spiel....? Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?"

Normally, people would give their own name back, when offered a strangers. He sighed, again.

"Yes. How familiar are you with the concept of multiple, different worlds?"

"Considering my records as a fighter pilot, I'd say I'm fairly familiar."

And fairly haughty for a man who still has mud dripping off of his back.

Zuko eyed him, unimpressed. "Right, well, easy then. I don't really understand all of it, but this world is different from wherever you came from. Currently, no one can leave it, by any means, and this island specifically blocks all forms of magic," he said the word magic with obvious disdain, "powers, abilities, and most communication technology. Basically, anything that isn't breathing, eating, and sleeping, you can't do it here."

"There is no Island that can block the Force, I assure you. Are you saying everyone here is trapped?"

It would be the Jedi way to save them, would it not? Well, all he had to do was find his ship, hopefully R2 was somewhere nearby with it all ready to go.

He sighed. This is what he'd sounded like, wasn't it? How embarrassing. "Look, I'd have thought the same about my bending, but I assure you, no abilities of any kind work here, however intrinsically linked to your chi they might be. And yes. The same barrier that blocks the 'magic' is also impenetrable to any of us inside it. Only the people over in Auradon have the key, and they only open the gate when they bring supplies. Though it's my understanding that if you can make a good enough case for yourself, they'll take you back to the mainland with them."

"A good enough case? To people who seem content to leave others trapped? It sounds like they need to be defeated, not appealed to."

"Yeah so I probably could have worded that better... Look, there's context, okay? This island used to be a prison. There was some... magical incident I don't really understand, that sent almost everyone from here somewhere else, and has been bringing back all of us from other places who don't belong. But some of the original prisoners were some of the people who remained, so the island stays locked for them, more than for us."

"Then would not the fact that we are not on the original prison roster be sufficient? Where I come from we do not incarcerate first and decide guilt later."

Which was part of what made what Master Windu had done so disturbing. If that had actually happened.

Zuko sighed, breath measured and even. Likely with what would have been some steam if he could bend. He looked slightly away, tucking the scar further out of sight. "There's some... concern. Over the power that brought us here. Some seem to think that those of us sent here, instead of the mainland, were sent so because of our pasts."

He crossed his arms. "I know for myself... though I am trying to atone for those mistakes, I have done things I'm ashamed of. Things that hurt people. So it doesn't seem an entirely inaccurate presumption. But if you think that untrue for yourself, you can always make a case to the royal couple next time they're here."

"I assure you I will. But there needs to be a way to contact them at once. I need to return swiftly. There is much that I must do."

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