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"Hello? Hellooo!" No echo, but then, it was a theatre, not a cave, no matter how long it had been abandoned.
The sky shone a white-blue above, from the force of the early summer sun, the shadows cast from the stage and the plant-covered walls around it reaching part way up the curved, tiered seating facing it. There were more plants growing through and over the stone there, as well as lichen in various shades of yellow-green, speckled white, and blue-green. The hush around it was broken only by the buzzing of summer insects and occasional bird twitters. Figured that the animals would start heading back into the shade of the trees as the light and heat grew more intense. But that quiet was exactly why Ponds had come out to the abandoned theater.
His feet patted softly over the clover and golden star plants, past soft blue bugleweed and up onto the stage, which had become home to some trumpet-flowered vines. Setting down his pack at the edge, Ponds strode to the center, spinning around to take it all in.
"Greetings, and welcome!" he said to an imaginary audience. "Today it is only myself and the flowers, though I expect the bees and butterflies will be entertained nevertheless!"
The faint buzzing did not change in volume, though the hum of a grasshopper broke through for a few moments, on and off, until it settled somewhere over to the left. Still, even without an audience, Ponds could see how being on stage would have been energizing, maybe intimidating. If those seats had been full of people looking at him, well. He had plenty of brothers and other family members, and if he'd had the attention of all of them at once, even that might've been adrenaline-inducing. But with the sun warming the stone and grass, the sweet scent of blooms drifting through the air, and a quiet hum of natural activity, the only one watching Ponds would be himself.
So, acting with many over-dramatic flairs, he brought his pack further onto the stage, removing a simple brown blanket and flapping it out wide to spread on the floor. Then he removed the two snacks he'd also brought, each getting untied and showed off before his invisible audience as he sat down with them.
"Such sweet and tart flavors, does the muja fruit provide, with the meiloorun so full of juices that young people blush to be seen eating them in public, lest they catch the eye of their beloved while slurping them up." Ponds couldn't quite keep his own amused smile from his face, especially when he leaned back on one arm, letting out a loud sigh, head tilted back. "And yet, who could resist?"
He took a small knife from his belt to cut off a slice of said meiloorun , the juices already welling up along the cut. As Ponds pretended to moan while pushing the slice past his lips, sucking at the tip of his finger, he happened to open his eyes, head at the right angle to see a man staring directly down at him.
Ponds choked.
Scrambling up to his knees, the unfortunate slice of fruit now clenched in one slimy palm, Ponds coughed and wheezed without being able to say anything at all. The man, rather tall, bald, his brown skin darker than Ponds's own, and his expression flatter than his tone of voice, spoke first. "What are you doing?"
"Me?" Ponds wheezed. He coughed a couple more times, pointing up at the man accusingly to say, "W-what are you doing? Were you just watching me?"
The man looked at the hand pointing at him, making Ponds realize it was the one with the coughed-out piece of meiloorun, a drop of juice and spit making a trail down his wrist. Kark. Ponds felt his entire face heat up, worse than when he had to lean in close to a fire.
"This is my space," the man said, slowly. "It would be difficult to ignore someone showing up to... do. That."
Which, while fair, did not help Ponds feel less embarrassed. Grumbling, he tossed the gross meiloorun slice in his hand off to the side of the stage, wiping his hand off on the blanket below him. Skin still hot with the stare this new man was giving him, Ponds opted for a distraction. He asked, "Your space? You live here?"
"Such as it is."
Ponds looked up, squinting. "...Alone? What do you-?" Eat? What did he eat? Not much, probably. With a sigh, Ponds patted the space next to himself, then again when all he got was a continued stare. "Go on then, sit down. Here."
The man moved smoothly, despite the tenseness to his face and shoulders. He even held out a hand when Ponds gestured for it, blinking down at the new slice of meiloorun which Ponds dropped into it.
"I'm Ponds, by the way."
The man looked at the fruit for a moment longer, then looked up and met Ponds's gaze. After a brief, breathless moment, the man said, "Mace Windu."
"Like the Jedi?"
"Yes."
A short pause as Ponds tried to take that in only left him with, "I guess your parents must have really liked theater?"
Mace had nothing to say to that, finally moving to eat the fruit in his hand. Taking the hint, Ponds kept cutting up the meiloorun, half the slices going to himself, half to his new... acquaintance. He was quiet, and his expression remained serious, but he didn't seem a bad sort. Out of practice talking to people, maybe. Which probably explained his rather blunt question.
"Are you from the large family, here?"
"Ah, yes, the Fetts," Ponds said, blinking. No doubt some of his brothers or cousins had wandered down this way before.
Something made Mace tense up, and Ponds was about ready to both apologize for whatever had happened and go strangle a few of those little shits when Mace jumped to his feet and stared at the treeline. Ponds followed automatically, noting that both of their hands had strayed to their belts. Ponds hadn't gotten a good look before, thanks to the multiple layers of robes Mace was wearing, but it seemed he did have a weapon hanging from his. Not that he got much time to look before the sounds of the insects and birds quieted, replaced by whirring and clanking.
"Kriff," Ponds hissed. He didn't have most of his armor, only his vambraces, and none of the weapons he normally would have used to keep battle droids off their land and away from the farmstead. He didn't have any backup either, only a stranger whose skills were unknown. "Mace, move down behind the stage, there."
But of course, of course he didn't listen, instead stepping forward and off the stage, towards the noises. As the first couple droids emerge from the trees, only about 50 meters away, Mace commanded, "Stay behind me."
Then he drew his weapon, a shining cylinder of a grip, and from it sprung a vibrant, humming purple blade. A lightsaber.
Ponds almost didn't draw his own blaster up in time to help, shocked as he was at the sight and sound of the weapon swiping through the air, catching and reflecting the bolts from the droids right back. Still, Ponds was familiar with their patterns, so forcing himself to trust Mace--a real Jedi??--to keep the fire off them both, Ponds crouched lower and sniped several which had tried to come from either side of the main force. Luckily it was only a handful of them, maybe 12, because his mind was whirling so fast he couldn't remember most of the fight itself. Instead, as the last droids fell and stopped moving, and silence returned to the stage, Ponds's eyes were drawn back to the 'saber, watching as it vanished back into the unassuming metal grip.
Right. Okay. "You're... a Jedi?" Ponds asked, feeling and sounding breathless.
Mace turned, just enough to meet eyes with him, something in his expression more pinched than before. A few things came together at once, for Ponds: the abandoned stage, left alone for years without use, the Jedi having become more like myth over the last decades, the increase in people sending droids to harass nearby towns. But all that... well, it was something to discuss with Cody or Fox, maybe. For the moment, feeling somewhat awkward, Ponds put his blaster away and gestured limply at the tiny picnic still sitting on stage.
"More, um, more fruit?"
There was the slightest twitch there, just at the corner of Mace's mouth, as he, too, put his weapon away. "Thank you, Ponds."
Reaching out a hand automatically, Ponds felt his stomach flutter when Mace took it, the callouses obvious where their palms and fingers met, the strength clear as he used the leverage to easily hop back up to join Ponds. Watching the man, clearly a warrior, gracefully sit himself down and accept a handful of berries, was surreal. Though, perhaps, not as much as feeling his own looks reciprocated.
He'd need to report what had happened to the others, to make sure everyone would stay safe. But no one could ever, ever, find out how he met Mace. They'd never let him live it down.