Happy Landings Bar Palioxis Station Kiast System
Turel had always been impressed at the sheer variety of people who passed through Happy Landings. As the regional trade hub and one of the main ways into the Kiast system, Palioxis Station saw all kinds from well-dressed Sephi merchants, long haul freighter pilots, to an unusually high number of Mandalorians and other assorted guns for hire. Some were here to do business, some just passing through and some, like Turel, were waiting for something.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” an Ongree in a suit so bright and colorful it burned most species eyes remarked from behind the bar counter. “The usual?”
The human Jedi looked up from his datapad, which displayed updated status on all incoming arrivals to the station, “Oh Khar you say that to all the girls. Besides if I were your favorite you wouldn’t have banned me from the sabaac tables.”
The bartender gave an awkward chuckle, trying to maintain his customer service demeanor, “well we can’t have your Jedi tricks at an on-the-level sabaac table.” He started pouring a Corellien whiskey into a glass without Turel asking. “Here, I want your opinion on this. Just got a case of these from Coronet city the other cycle.”
Turel cocked an eyebrow, “I’m supposed to meet some people but sure I can lend you my expertise.” He took the glass, swished it around for second, taking a whiff of the aroma in an exaggerated manner before taking a sip. “Hmm yes, fine vintage,” the human replied in his best impression of a Vatali noble. After an awkward moment of Khar staring at him expectantly, Turel continued, “Smooth, I like it. Not the best I’ve ever had but you could probably pass it off as top shelf to someone who doesn’t know any better.”
The Kalevalan Star Yacht Aidana dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the Kiast System, greeted by an honour guard of X-Wings from the Odan-Urr Unified Space Command. The squadron was there in a show of welcome and solidarity, of course, eager to greet any representative of the Brotherhood like the friends—nay, family—they’d always been.
Yeah, right.
Erinyes only had superficial knowledge of Muz’s acceptance of a group of Jedi into the Brotherhood, nor for Pravus’ subsequent attempts to reverse that decision by purging anyone who… well, didn’t look like him, frankly. She did, however, understand psychology. Odan-Urr was one of the most fiercely independent Clans of the Brotherhood, so much so that they’d probably bristle at being referred to as such. The greeting they’d sent was a sign of wariness, not warmth. The Odanites would never make the first move—Jedi pacifism was predictable, if not always practical—but it was no coincidence that the Aidana’s escort could more than handle any trouble the Brotherhood yacht might cause.
On the bright side, according to radio traffic, the X-wings were from Raava Squadron. Fewer demises would be more fitting or ironic than an alcoholic Sith fighter jock stuck aboard a whale of a yacht being shot down by Jedi X-wings named after a liqueur.
Fortunately, Erinyes wasn’t here to make waves, just to check out the surf. She’d never actually been to Odan-Urr’s homeworld or interacted with any of that Clan’s leaders, on account of her absence during most of their association with the Brotherhood. Now seemed like as good a time as any to remedy that.
Alethia, despite being a sourpuss, had helpfully offered Erinyes the name of a less official contact than the High Councilor. She’d also informed Erinyes that this “Turel Sorenn” was partial to meeting at bars, a fact which immediately gave Erinyes hope for the trip. It also meant she’d come prepared, armed with an offering from Kasiya Estates that she hoped would match Sorenn’s tastes.
And thus, the Emissary set foot on Palioxis Station for the first time, decked out in casual vacation wear and with a messenger bag slung across her back. She soaked in the lively bustle as she strolled along to her appointed meeting place. “Happy Landings,” the neon sign read. Her contact was in plain sight from the entrance, chatting with the bartender.
“Turel Sorenn?” Erinyes waved a little as she approached. “I’m Erinyes. Alethia pointed me your way.”
<@185939710005215232>
“Oh yes, that would be me, ” Turel stood up from the barstool, “Alethia did make arrangements with the council for you to have more a ‘self-guided’ tour than the usual pomp and circumstance…the Odan-Urr council…sorry.” He glanced down at the datapad for a second before resuming, “is there anything in particular you want to see?”
“Something a little more casual than the usual ‘visiting dignitary’ stuff. I’d love to see a Harakoan polecat in person, and I’m a sucker for food and drink tours.”
“Oh, speaking of which.” She unslung her messenger bag and produced a bottle of amber liquid. “A thank-you for the tour. It’s a bit young by Corellian standards, but I think you’ll like it.”
Turel took the bottle, holding it up to the light to examine it. “Is this…Corellian Whiskey?” he inquired taken aback. “Thanks, I’ll have to find you a good Kiast souvenir to take back to Arx.”
“Corellian-style, anyway. It’s from a distillery on Kasiya. We’ve only been open a few years, so we don’t have anything long-aged.”
Turel set the bottle on the counter and gestured for Erinyes to take a seat next to him. “Ill have to definitely get that a try sometime. I’m waiting for a few others to arrive before we set out so we have some time to chat for a bit.”
“Wonderful.” She slid on to the stool. “I’ve heard so much about Kiast, but it’s all boring datafile stuff. Where would you take me if you wanted to show off the best things about this place?”
As she spoke, Erinyes saw the bartender approach from the corner of her eye—not that it was easy to miss an Ongree in a shirt loud enough to drown out the din of the bar. Between the long flight and the cardinal sin of bringing her own alcohol into someone else’s bar, she could use a drink or three. “Could I get a Bespin Breeze? I’ll cover what Turel’s having, too.”
“Coming right up ma'am,” Khar replied as he began preparing the drink order.
Turel knew better than to argue with a Council member about who’s paying. Besides, a free drink is a free drink. “Thanks, I’ll have to get you back sometime.”
He stroked his beard for a moment. “I suppose I’d start with the Praxeum on Kiast. You’re from Tal right?” the Sentinel asked knowing full well Erinyes had been Supreme Chancellor at one point, “I supposed you’ll want to compare ours to the one yall have on Kasiya.”
“MASTER SORENN!” came a sudden exclamation of jubilation from the entrance way.
Certainly, there had once been a time when the Human would never have heard that level of enthusiasm from his former Padawan; not because Corazon lacked it, but because he had been trained to express himself so much more formally, politely, and demurely, such that his glee was always fit with austerity and his exuberance a rare privilege of lapsed decorum. But it had been years now he’d been partnered with and married to Ruka, raising his own children, and living his own Jedi Way, so much more Jedi than many claiming the title.
The Pantoran that came pirouetting across the room was dressed in beautiful white and gold robes of a layered design evocative of the folded petals of a lotus emerging from the mire. It matched the black and gold worn by his husband, the Mirialan trailing close behind him and grimacing slightly – a far cry from his old visible gag of disgust – as they entered the bar. Even if it was a cleaner and more upright bar than many.
A third young man, the youngest of the lot, walked with Ruka, Cora having darted ahead. The nobleman pulled up slightly short of his near all-out hug when he noticed the Zeltron seated beside his former teacher and manners returned to him.
“Oh! Erinyes!” he greeted, their multiple social encounters and inter-system trade dealings when he had shared Proconsulship with Ruka having informed him of her preferences against both surname and titles. “I’m terribly sorry for interrupting, my excitement overtook me when we sensed you nearby, Master. It of good to see both of you.” He dipped a princely quarter bow.
“Yo, Turel. Erinyes,” his husband echoed much more plainly, his grimace pinching its way towards a genuine smile and a crinkle of fondness around his bespeckled, milky lilac eyes for their oldest and first ally. There was an old, tired warmth in his accented tone. “Izbice ey vidijr, tetiko.”
Uncle, Ruka called him.
Turel waited for Cora to finish his bow then swooped in for a bear hug that nearly lifted the Pantoran off the ground. “It’s so good to see you Cora! Vorsa and Nay send their regards from Shili.” The human’s tone was warmer and more openly affectionate toward his old padawan but shifted to be a touch colder and more formal when he turned to address Ruka not due to any less affection on Turel’s part but because the Jedi knew that Ruka was more comfortable with that level of expression. They exchanged a firm handshake, “good to see you too Ruka.”
“Taldryan had barely started building our– well, their Jedi temple when I left for Arx.” Old habits were hard to break. Plus, she wasn’t exactly not part of the Clan anymore, right? She might not be serving their interests directly, but she still carried the title. “I’d love to see the Kiast temple, though.”
During the gap between sentences, Erinyes sensed a few familiar presences, none of which she’d expected. She didn’t have much time to ponder the situation before Cora burst into view and practically leapt on to Turel. A bemused smile crept across her face as the other three exchanged greetings.
“Fancy seeing you two here. Are you the other guests we’re waiting for?”
<@244244163002892288>
The third of their group, Bril, stood in the background with his hands folded in front of him. He smiled while watching Cora’s reaction to seeing old friends, more than content to let him enjoy this moment before inserting himself. He made note of how Ruka reacted, as well.
“You too,” Ruka replied, grasping the hand firmly back while Cora had enjoyed the hug and was expertly dotting at his eyes with a lacey handkerchief. The Pantoran beamed. “All our love to them, too. We love the holos. Shili looks beautiful, and Nay is getting so big.”
“Noga and Leda are waiting on the ship,” Ruka contributed, nodding his head back at the door with a squinting look at Turel. “Figures we’d find you here.”
Cora subtly fanned a hand at his husband’s small rebuke.
“Are we interrupting a meeting? We can head back and wait if you were hosting, Master. Miss Erinyes certainly deserves all your attention.” He smiled to them both. “But afterwards you must properly meet this young man here. Master Turel Sorenn, this is Bril Teg Arga, our dear student and a wonderful knight and hero in his own kind. Bril, this is Turel. He was my Master when I was a Padawan at the Praxeum here. And our first officiant!”
“Long story,” Ruka muttered.
“Oh, I’m not here on official business or anything.” Erinyes nodded a greeting to Bril, and noted Ruka’s sourness that Turel had been found at a horrible location like a bar. All the more reason to make friends with Turel, in her mind; knowing the local watering holes was just as critical as knowing the dignitaries across the table.
“I’ve never really explored Kiast before, and Alethia suggested I talk to Turel instead of getting bogged down in all the formalities. He said we were waiting for a few others before the tour started, but he didn’t mention who they were.”
<@185939710005215232> <@1056685516441006091>
Ruka’s previously pleasant expression pinched further. “Not worth exploring,” he muttered in Mirialan, but roused himself enough not to be that guy spreading his opinions before she’d even seen the place. “Yeah, ay, we was taking our family visit and thought Bril would wanna see the ‘Jedi’ Clan and get some…culture.”
“The system can be quite the interesting study,” Corazon breezed in far more diplomatically. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Erinyes, but Ruka and I are Kiast born and raised. Of course Master Turel will be the better guide for the Praxeum and Odan-Urr’s delights, and likely knows the current landscape better than we do these days, but we’d be happy to advise upon it all as well.”
Turel paid no mind to Ruka’s momentary disapproval; he knew where it came from. There were plenty of things to judge the human for but having a drink while waiting at a spaceport was hardly one of them, at least in Turel’s eyes. “Yes, we were justing passing the time. I hope you don’t mind if Erinyes accompanies us for a bit, as she said, it was Alethia’s idea to get a less formal and more authentic tour.”
He turned to Bril, “a pleasure to meet you Bril. Fair warning if you’re the boys’ student then you’re practically family now.” He grinned wide and earnestly.
<@1056685516441006091>
“We wouldn’t mind at all,” Cora soothed immediately. “Just let us run it by Noga and Leda– they wouldn’t have expected a plus one.”
Ruka didn’t say anything because he didn’t have to, just softening into an appreciative look for his husband.
After nodding with a smile to Erinyes, Bril turned to Turel next. He bowed, the same greeting he’d given the General and everyone else when they met.
“Well, you know what they say,” he grinned, “you can never have enough family. It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well, Master Turel.”
And then something hit him.
“Wait. Did you say Alethia? Like, Headmistress Alethia?”
Mocha skin went pale, like he’d seen a ghost.
Ruka snorted. Even Cora looked amused and touched his fingertips to his lips, hiding to with that handkerchief.
Turel looked confused, “Yes?” He glanced at Cora and Ruka’s reactions. “I feel like there’s a story here.”
As quickly as Turel had answered, Bril was already standing off to the side with his back to them all and his hand planted on the wall.
“I worked for her at the Shadow Academy,” he explained, “Got into a bit of trouble in CSP territory. She was not happy. Haven’t spoken to her since.”
“Ah,” Turel nodded knowingly, “Alethia can be quite the old battle-axe when she wants to be, but she holds people to high standards because, quite frankly, in our line of work it keeps them alive.” Seeing Bril’s change in demeanor Turel continued, “but we need not dwell on such things. I understand you wish to learn more about Jedi traditions?”
The young zabrak’s expression lit up at that question. He turned, and nodded with comically pleading eyes. “Absolutely!”
Nearby, the two husbands shared a smile.
“Well, we’ll make the temple our first stop then,” Turel replied with enthusiasm. “But while our ships are getting refueled we can sit and catch up for a minute. ” He turned to Ruka and Cora, “Unless Noga and Leda need you.”
<@244244163002892288>
Both men shook their heads.
“They were always independent,” Cora hinted with a sad smile, fondness in his eyes. “They were just reading when we left.”
Ruka stepped past his husband and pulled out one of the barstools with his hand, half-bowing him towards it. The Pantoran cooed at him, taking the offered hand to step up into his seat as though into a carriage. The movements were all deeply rehearsed and formal, much more naturally flowing on Corazon than Ruka, but the Mirialan managed rather well to any uncritical gaze. He summoned a seat on the opposite side for Bril, gesturing the Zabrak there, then took a seat himself.
“Well then,” Cora began. “Erinyes, dear heart, would you be so kind as to select something to drink for me? I haven’t the fanciest what any of these are. Non-alcoholic, of course.”
“Water, please,” Ruka told the tender, not expecting any spiceberry juice to have made it this far if Erinyes was just starting touring.
<@645466919415054357> <@1056685516441006091>
“Hmm… what tickles your fancy, Cora? Bright and breezy? Dark and mysterious?” She leaned back and sipped from her Bespin Breeze. “What about you, Bril? Sounds like you could use something to calm your nerves after thinking about Her Grumpiness, alcoholic or not.”
<@1056685516441006091> <@185939710005215232>
“Something so sweet n fruity you can’t taste the booze, ay, at all,” Ruka opted in, earning himself a smile from his partner.
“Her Grumpiness … that’s a good one,” he replied with a smirk, knowing he’d have to use that one later. “Uhh, I don’t really have a preference, to be honest. I usually just drink whatever Minnie orders for me.”
She was the boba lord, after all, and that came with the right to voluntell him what drinks he’d be trying at any given outing.
“Good thing there’s plenty of fruity to go around.” Erinyes winked at Ruka, then laughed when she heard Bril’s answer. “That’s very trusting of you. I’ll try not to let you down.”
After a moment’s thought, she waved to Khar. “Two Sunrise Punches for these gents. Just singles,” she said, gesturing to Cora and Bril. The red, orange, and yellow drink was basically a mix of fruit juices with sweet syrup, like Ruka had suggested—it would only hit Erinyes later how weird it was that Ruka had suggested alcohol—and mild enough to sip all afternoon on a beach without getting completely wasted. Perfect to ease into a vacation.
<@244244163002892288> <@185939710005215232>
“Sunrise Punches. That sounds good! Should probably bring one home for Minnie,” he commented before looking at Turel.
“So, grand-master Turel, you must be pretty strong if you trained Master Cora. Which is kind of hard to imagine, but people keep surprising me.”
<@185939710005215232>
That time Cora couldn’t hold back his giggles, especially once he had a sip of the drink. Ruka chortled himself, and smiled as the Pantoran’s cheeks warmed with violet.
“Bril, dear, please. You boast of me,” he demured delicately. “My ability is only thanks to teachers like my Master and the will of Ashla.”
“You’re amazing, babe,” Ruka rebuffed. He drank his water, clearly eyeballing the rate at which Cora’s drink went lower in the glass and surreptitiously summoning over a bowl of snacks that got slid under the Pantoran’s hand.
Turel chuckled “I can assure you Cora taught me as much as I taught him. The light burns brightly within him in spite of having me as a master, not because of it.” He beamed with pride for a moment, “in many ways Cora could be my master.”
<@1056685516441006091> <@244244163002892288>
Corazon made a noise like a squealing coo, flapping his hands delicately. “Master,” he plead.
He pondered that for a moment. It made sense, that a teacher could learn from their student. Had Ruka and Cora learned anything from him? And what would he learn from Morra as her training continued?
“I would love to hear a tale or two when you have time. Of your adventures together.”
Erinyes leaned against the bar, content to listen and sip her drink. It was a refreshing change of pace for her to see the familial bond between mentors and apprentices, the kind of legacy that stretched over generations—one that she’d never really had.
Was she jealous? Maybe a little.
Turel took a drink as he pondered which story to tell. The obvious one that ended up with him marrying the boys in a hospital ward sprang to mind but then he glanced over at Ruka’s scars and decided against reliving old trauma. Maybe something funnier.
“Oh, I’ll have to let Cora tell you about the time he "saved” a rancor from a Hutt cartel boss.“ Turel glanced over at Ruka with a smirk, "I’m suprised your house isn’t a zoo with Cora’s unending affinity for all Ashla’s creatures.”
<@244244163002892288>
“He tries,” Ruka drawled, smirking back, while Corazon blushed again and hid in a slightly large sip of his drink.
“It was chained up. I thought it surely should be free or the least better cared for,” explained the Pantoran. “Master Sorenn was trying to teach me to be more…subtle, shall we say. He is extremely adept at blending in and maneuvering with the more untowards elements of society. I needed to learn to, well…stick out less like a nobleman.”
Another sip, and some encouraged pretzels that somehow floated into his hand, and he continued.
“We had a visit with this Buganga the Rolling Vast. And they had a rancor in a pit…well, I could not simply leave it there! And we had a connection in the Light. So I encouraged it to walk out.”
“‘Walk out’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence,” Turel laughed. “It certainly created some new doorways in that palace”
“A ‘connection in the Light’? What exactly does that mean when a rancor is involved? Do they get all warm and fuzzy?”
Cora half-glared, half-giggled with his Master, focusing on addressing Erinyes’ question. “Not quite. But they are NOT some terrible beast…they can be quite lovely too! I connected to her, and we felt each other, and she knew I wanted to help and could listen. I cannot speak for all rancors, of course, but the lady I met that day was very wise…and very sad. She missed being able to stretch her limbs in the light.”
Ruka hugged his husband from the side, as he suddenly looked emotional.
“Animals should be able to be free,” Bril commented, “Unless they’re endangered, of course. Or if they’ve fooled you into thinking they’re your pet when really, they run the show. Like my tooka, Femi.”
The Mirialan snorted so hard at that he might have pulled something. Cora giggled.
“No wonder you wanted to come on this trip. Between your tooka and your girlfriend, you hardly get a moment’s peace.”
Bril laughed and shook his head. “I love them both. With everything I’ve been through since I joined the Brotherhood, Minnie has been there almost since the very beginning. In a way, she is my peace. I don’t know how I’d manage without her.”
Cora cooed, and his hand found Ruka’s, gripping as the pair looked at each other adoringly.
“We know the feeling,” Ruka commented, accent thicker with emotion, and huffed. “You want stories with Turel, should tell him about marrying us.”
“Oh, Angel,” the Pantoran leaned in and kissed his most scarred cheek.
<@185939710005215232>
“Oh? This, I have to hear. None of the marriages I’ve done have ever stuck.”
<@185939710005215232>
Turel didn’t know how to start the story. It was a bittersweet memory to be sure. Ruka asking for the story helped alleviate his concerns over trauma. The Mirialan had certainly courted death several times after.
“Well, it was during the first war with the Collective. Cora never loved battle but he wanted to do his part as padawans are want to do,” he smiled at his former apprentice. “Satsi and I were behind enemy lines trying to get back to them and the boys–” the emotional weight hit the human like a wave. He was so concerned about Ruka he forgot it was traumatic for him as well. He choked for a moment and did his best to power on like nothing happened, “–got surrounded. They were trying to protect some allied soldiers and a lucky grenade landed in their position. Ruka didn’t think, he shielded the others with his body.” The emotion was welling up faster than even a disciplined Jedi Master could control. “He…should have died…frak for all we know he did die and Cora brought him back and held his body together through sheer will and the power of Ashla herself. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since. I don’t know what else to call it but a miracle.”
Tears began to well up ever so slightly. Maybe it was the whiskey and the power of the memory but Turel wanted to jump across the table and swoop the young men he loved like adopted sons into a tight hug. His last sentence hung in the air for a moment, the story unfinished.
“Wow. That’s… really touching, actually.” No joke, Erinyes had started to get a little misty-eyed herself at Turel’s recounting. It was all so storybook, in a way, but that didn’t make the tale any less poignant.
Tender sentiment floated in the air between them, born from the minds of a proud master and all those with the privilege of hearing the tale he recounted. Bril smiled warmly, reaching out to give Cora’s arm a gentle squeeze and Ruka a smile.
“Erinyes is right,” he replied, “Thank you for sharing that, Turel. It’s hard to imagine these two as padawan.”
It seemed the sentiments were shared, as Cora squeezed Bril’s arm back and then threw himself into another hug with his Master. Ruka smiled back a bit, though he was evidently looking a little awkward for getting Turel choked up. It hadnt been easy on any of them.
“The good part,” he took over, letting his people hug. “Was waking up again. Turel and Satsi made sure I got to the good medics, ay, pulled some strings to toss me in bacta. Came to in medical and Cor was just. Sobbing. Was so happy to still be here. And Turel comes in and Cor just goes, ‘Master Turel, marry us!’ outta nowhere, and then looks at me with this best damned expression, like…” His smile grew now, and Cora sniffled, staring at him while still wrapped up with Turel like he would be in two places hugging at once if he could. The Mirialan’s voice cracked, “–Like he loved me. And Turel just went…okay. And I went okay. And he like, did it.”
A green hand waved.
“We didn’t tell our families…‘cept the kids a'course. It woulda been…too much too soon for Cora’s folks. We meant to, but time gets away from ya around the Brotherhood. Eventually I told his Ma I was marrying him, and we had a real big ceremony that got all turned like a politics show for the Empress with the Jedi years later… But still. That first one. I grateful, Turel.”
Well, now they’d done it. Erinyes wiped a tear away and took a sip from her drink to re-compose herself. “You made the right choice. Not that you need me to tell you that, but you know.” There weren’t nearly enough happy endings around the Brotherhood. Sometimes she forgot they happened to real people. These two had clearly been an exception, though, and the galaxy needed more of that.
Bril uttered a brief phrase in Zabraki, one of those old sayings he often heard told around bonfires.
“Love, like rain, doesn’t choose which field to nourish,” he said in translation, then added his own part, “so we must cherish it when it finds us.”
He raised his glass in a toast before taking a modest sip.
Turel raised his own glass to respond to the toast, “To the strands that bind us together…” he took a sip of his own drink.
Erinyes likewise raised her glass, both to the sentiment and not wanting to be left out of a toast.
Ruka lifted his water, and Corazon got himself together with a Noble’s grace and did similarly with his glass, clearing his throat.
“To love and Light and the Dark as well. To all we strive for in our hope of better tomorrows. To joy for us all, our fellow brethren,” he announced with an earnest charm and delicate passion.
With a bright smile, Bril tossed back the rest of his drink and promptly pulled out his handheld datapad.
“This is a perfect selfie opportunity, guys,” he said while releasing his grip on the device to hold it aloft using the Force – a trivial matter for someone who’d trained so extensively with it. “Minnie is going to love this one. Now, bunch up and say ‘Meowdy’.”
<@244244163002892288> <@645466919415054357> <@185939710005215232>
Erinyes leaned in close and threw her arm around Bril’s shoulders, making a peace sign with the hand holding her drink. On cue, she would indeed say “meowdy”.
Ruka cringed a little like he always did at being in a Holo instead of taking it, but gamely tucked in too as Corazon cheered happily and repeated “Meowdy!” In his posh accent, it sounded even sillier.
Turel enthusiastically posed for the selfie with “Meowdy”
“Ahh, great. Great!” Bril exclaimed, “Wonderful photo, everyone. I’ll send you all a copy later.
"Is there anything we want to discuss before we begin the tour? I’m feeling a bit restless. Maybe it’s the alcohol …”
<@185939710005215232> <@244244163002892288> <@645466919415054357>
Turel surreptitiously slipped the bartender enough credits to cover everyone’s drinks plus a generous tip before standing up. “Nothing we can’t discuss on the way. I borrowed a nice shuttle for us to use on the tour. Knowing the Empress has its perks. Your ships will be well cared for here.”
The Tenbriss Ya-ir couple rose too, Corazon with more of a wobble, though Ruka was already right there, expecting it, with an arm under his husband’s in courtly fashion and a hand at the small of his back. He huffed a short sigh at the knowing the Empress bit. She had attended their second wedding for publicity, but that didn’t mean he had to like her.
“Lead the way, tetiko. We’ll just grab the kids.”
[A Plot Fitting Time Later]
The gathered Tenbriss Ya-ir family, three Mirialans and their Pantoran in tow, all decorated with markings on their faces of their families and deeds, walked along with Turel and Erinyes, Bril at their side. To some of the group, this place was familiar. To others, it was brand new:
The Odanite Jedi Praxeum.
High on the summit of the Or'ena Mountains, the air was cool and crisp, the tips of the peaks emerging from the toxic gases below that made up the planet’s surface. Ruka was familiar with those gaseous dangers, like so many of the billions of non-Sephi and ignoble denizens of Kiast. But here they didn’t reach the haven of Odan-Urr’s campus, repurposed from an old Sephi base to be an academy as close to nature and the Force as possible. The tall spire buildings of Vatali architecture sprawled across wide greens. A large lake gleamed in the sunlight. The scars of the Children’s attack were gone, much like those on Selen. New growth overcame it.
A few people could be seen walking between buildings, or meditating in classes. Ruka and Cora looked out with obviously mixed nostalgia. There was some discomfort there, a reminder of not belonging, of being hunted and ostracized. But also a gratefulness and melancholy.
“This is where we met,” Corazon remarked to Bril, gesturing to his husband. “The Jedi recruited anyone with the potential in the Force on the planet, regardless of their origins. It was a great equalizing force, for all there were also faults. I cannot even fathom how different our lives would be otherwise…” He gripped Ruka’s hand, looking teary. His cheeks still carried a Sunset Punch flush.
“Looks rich,” Noga grunted, he and Leda obviously curious but more wary.
The medley of conflicting emotions swirling in the minds of his two masters were like beacons for his acute senses. As the group looked over the Praxeum grounds, some with a bittersweet fondness and others with warranted skepticism, Bril’s eyes had taken a more distant look. It was the same look he often had when his psychometry kicked in, giving him an echo of the emotional impressions left in a location. To Cora and Ruka’s particular note, his eyes drifted directly to the spot where the two of them had sparred on that fateful day.
… Are you okay? …
… You’re fiiine–I mean I’m fine. I’m fine. …
… maybe we can be partners again tomorrow …
A smile appeared on his face, followed by him giving both Ruka and Cora a knowing look before falling back in near Noga and Leda. “Just imagine the library this baby must have in it.”
<@185939710005215232> <@645466919415054357>
It was amazing how something could be calming and stressful at the same time.
The Odanite Jedi Praxeum was unquestionably beautiful. Everything was so… tranquil. Serene. Peaceful. The crisp mountain air and farms dotting the landscape reminded her of the Mytilene agricultural reserve on Kasiya, and the personal retreat she kept there—a sanctuary from the mundane stresses of daily life. The Praxeum and Mytilene were surprisingly similar in purpose, Erinyes mused.
And yet, her experiences of the two were very different.
The group had only just arrived af the Praxeum, and the Force had already begun to ripple with emotion. Perceptive Odanites’ “darkness among us” senses were no doubt tingling because of the Sith in their midst. They were wary, which made Erinyes wary, because you never knew when some young hothead was going to decide they couldn’t abide “darkness being present in the heart of the light” or whatever. With any luck, they’d keep it to the same dirty looks Cora and Ruka’s kids had been giving her since the first time they saw her take a drink from her flask.
“It seems like a wonderful community,” Erinyes agreed. She kept her hands clasped behind her back as she examined the place’s architecture. “You must be proud of how you’ve persevered over the years.”
<@244244163002892288> <@185939710005215232>
Bril remained silent at that while he allowed his gaze to meet those curious passersby who stopped to regard the group. He kept his helmet between his forearm and hip, making a mental note of the conflicting reactions to the presence of himself and his more staunchly aligned Dark Side master and Erinyes. The varying emotions gleaned by his acute senses were mirrored by his own budding ambivalence – born from his understanding of those who regarded them as suspicious, a feeling he often felt around Sith with whom he was unfamiliar, on the one hand, and his mild frustration at his family being viewed as anything other than the wonderful people he knew them to be.
Turel walked tall as he guided the party through the Praxeum, “Yes, the next generation of Jedi continue to surprise me every day.” He looked over at Cora. “Their spirit and determination will be what allows us to persevere long after I become one with the Force.”
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“Master!” Cora gasped with the warding tone of the faint. “Do not invite such things! You will be with us and inspiring us and bettering us for a long while yet. And then, yes, it will be the care and justice you instilled in building this place for us to learn and grow that will be your legacy.” His golden eyes softened. “One you may not get to see, but that will surely be so. I believe that with all my heart.”
Ruka put a hand on his husband’s back, soothing as much as proud for the Pantoran’s small speech. He glanced to Erinyes, evidently as wary as she was but making an effort to be calm about it; she carried herself much more gracefully though. He just looked stiff.
Noga and Leda, though they lingered with an ear each turned towards their father’s paean, were looking around with a mix of curiosity and even more wariness than either their papi or the Emissary. The dirty looks they shot her carried over to the students, particularly the best-dressed and most obviously wealthy, even in the adornments of acolytes. Their pace set them somewhat behind the “adults” of the group, more in line with Bril, walking with him.
“They’re staring…” Leda muttered.
Hearing this, Bril stepped a bit closer to them both, taking his place between the siblings. Although he hadn’t the time recently to spend with them as much as he would’ve liked, he still tried to make the most of their time together. Things had come a long way since their first, mostly awkward meeting, and he liked to think of them as members of his ru, his clan, as much as he did the rest of the Tenbriss Ya-Ir family. Part of him hoped they felt the same, but he knew the siblings were far slower to warm up to people than he was. That was okay. As his father often said: strong bonds, like rope, had to be weaved carefully over time.
“You okay, j'kusa?” he asked while leaning over to Leda, using the Zabraki word for “cousin” again. It’d come up a few times in the recent weeks, but he hadn’t explained to them what it meant just yet.
Upon seeing the reactions from their high-strung merry group and the side-eye some of the more stodgy-looking Jedi were giving her, Erinyes grinned. Those who were particularly attuned to such things might notice a flicker of mischief in her mood.
That probably wasn’t a good sign.
“I hope all the instructors here are like you, Turel. The galaxy could use more Jedi—at least, the ones who go out and fight to make the galaxy a better place, instead of stealing young children from their parents and crushing the emotions out of them until all they do is meditate.”
She hadn’t specifically raised her voice so the other Jedi could hear, but she clearly wasn’t making any effort not to be overheard, either. It was time to see how the lighties reacted to some good old-fashioned Sith smacktalk.
.