(A/N Hey guys! Sky back with a prologue to "What I Should Have Known" – so there will be spoilers for that. PLEASE READ IT FIRST! This will be a collection of one-shots from Ezra's time on the streets. I typically don't write this choppily, but as a kid with very little education, Ezra wouldn't exactly have as eloquent of thoughts as, for instance, Kanan or Sabine.
Oh, and Ezra is about… 9 y-o in this story, but that may change in later shots
You're so going to kill me for this, but… to translate what Ezra's saying with some guesswork, go to Panhead13's deviantart, and search "How to Speak High Imperial Eastern Street Slang". I'll also be doing translations for chapters where I use it so you don't have to go back and forth if you're not familiar with the slang.
Trigger Warning – will only post this once, but I'll warn you if a chapter is particularly nasty: self-harm, abuse, rape, and probably some particularly graphic content
Thoughts/onomatopoeia/particularly emphasized words
"telepathy through the Force" – probably won't happen much, but figured I'd let you know just in case
"Hey kid, wait!" I grin, running faster away from the bucket heads. Finally, I can eat! Turning down an alley, I leap onto a window ledge then onto a roof, wiggling out of sight. Flipping onto my back, I go to bite into the over-ripe jogun when it's suddenly ripped from my hands. Rolling to my right, I use the momentum to get up. Five boys, all older. Barely a scruff on them, except the leader's got a scar over his left eye. Not blind. The air changes to taste like… rum. Run! I scramble away, but another boy appears, grabbing my black, holey shirt.
"Didn't think ya'd get away that easily, huh?" the boy grins scarily. More rum. Have to run! I bite his wrist, metallic blood filling my mouth as he howls in pain. Pain explodes from the back of my head and I drop to the gravel roof. "This is our territory, ya hear? Now, I was going to let you go without dinner, but now… oh ho, now you're going to get it." Eyes wide and vision dotted with black, I try to crawl away, but a hand yanks me back. Durasteel-tipped boots slam into my side, and I curl into myself. Something cracks into my back, making my back arch as it feels like millions of daggers are tearing my spine apart. Curses fill the air and I gasp for breath, trying desperately to get anywhere but here. The frigid metal of a knife slams into my body, my breath hitches. It pulls out and rams into my side, rams into my- my leg, my hand…
Groaning, I sit up, wincing as pain coursed up my left side. Right, I carefully get up. Two broken ribs, three cracked, stab wounds all over left side, broken left wrist – at least it's not my right – and… I throw up next to a dumpster, leaning on it for support. Also maybe a concussion. The world spins, but I keep moving. They might come back. I curse, just my luck a new gang's in town. My part of town. No time to go back to my old house. Can't go, too… hospital. Gotta think! Come on, stay awake… stay. a. wake! I slap my cheek, wincing at the tenderness of a new bruise. Looking down, I stumble through the darkness, left eye now completely swollen shut. "Frag, frag, frag! You just had to get that kriffing fruit," I mutter. Feeling a tug with a light scent of cinnamon, I pick the lock of a tiny building, just big enough to hide in. for now. Stumbling into the room, I almost fall on my face. Need to stop the bleeding. How did I get here? Wait, Karablast! Need to stay focused. A light flashes on, I duck under a table, banging my head as my left leg gives way. Hearing the commotion, a figure in dark pants runs over. Cursing, I scoot back, only to bang my head against a wall. Fuzzy bunnies…
I bolt upright, rolling off the strange bed onto a strange floor. Body-splitting pain races up my side, and I suck in a shaky breath. "Ising of the being of the where?" I hiss, sensing someone in the room. (A/N "Where am I?")
"Woah woah woah! Take it easy," a voice slices through the darkness. The room lightens back to normal as the spots clear from my vision. A greenish-yellow Rhodian slowly walks towards me. Flinching back, I try to move away, but the pain explodes again. "You need rest. I can't get what you need or I'll look terribly suspicious. I'm Tsarvi." Sucking in a breath, I steel myself and hobble as fast as I can to the door. I've stayed too long already. "WAIT!" the Rhodian – Tsarvi, if that is his real name – cries, moving to block me. I wince, flicking my wrist. He… slides back a few feet? That doesn't make sense.
Shrugging it off on my bigger problems, I manage to hobble out the door. Karablast, how big can a gang get overnight! I duck into the crowd, hoping the boys from earlier won't notice me. Heart pounding in my ears, I move as fast as I can into one of the few unclaimed parts of the cities.