“General!”
The call came from across the stretch of ground, between booths for sciences. Jax Erinos Settgré turned, his lupine ears perking at the salutation. Blue eyes spied a familiar form sashying in approach, a glass of wine in hand that she saluted with.
The hybrid tipped his head back in a bark of laughter, whooping back the crisp cry.
“General!”
They chuckled to themselves at the classic greeting. Towering over the curvaceous Zeltron, Jax gave a sharp salute with his only arm, grinning close-mouthed down at the Emissary. She quirked a smile back at him, the light breeze that permeated Uskil today stirring her crimson locks.
“How’s it going over here, Jax?”
“Quite well, I think, so far. All the volunteers are prepared, and we have several mops ready.” He chuffed in amusement, thinking of all possible spills of demonstration projects, chemicals, or food and drinks. A career officer, he knew well about the clean up that went into managing any event, and so too did the Emissary, being a veteran party planner herself. She had been the perfect contact to collaborate with on this faire and their larger projects.
But those unveilings were still in progress. For now, there was this.
Each of the courtyard of the three surrounding pyramids around the central spire of the infamously poorly kept secret of the Shadow Academy had been requisitioned. Booths, tents, and tables lined the available space around footpaths. Banners and spinnerets hung from the bridges and festooned spires. Chatter rose and the smells of fried dough tantalized. If there was one way to get anyone, particularly a student body, regardless of age, interested in something, it was free food and light spirits.
The hope was to draw as much attention as possible. The Collegium needed work. Outreach. An overhaul. The new Headmaster had entrusted Jax, of all people, with as much. Now was the time to bring change while holding close and knowing well the steps that had brought them here.
- “How is everything on your side proceeding, then?”
“Well, Wine Club is winning so far.”
“It is not a competition, Erinyes.”
“Says the loser,” teased the Councillor, and sipped her drink.
Jax narrowed his eyes at her, carefully smoothing his carefully styled hair and lifting his chin.
“It is not a competition…ᴮᵘᵗ ˡᵃⁿᵍᵘᵃᵍᵉ ᶜˡᵘᵇ ʷᶦˡˡ ʷᶦⁿ.”
“Hah!”
Flyers flew all about – another advertising stunt that was going to be painful to clean up, but one did not simply litter. They listed various event details, contact information of the professors and club leaders, and of course, the clubs on display themselves:
(Subject to change)
“If it’s any comfort, I’ve been told I’m a cunning linguist. And I have had to learn a few languages in my time.” Erinyes sipped from her glass again—Wine in Everything represent!—and surveyed the crowds milling about, trying not to get too distracted with the bevies of young women. She’d already promised herself she’d stay away from the sororities.
“But seriously, Jax, you’ve done a great job. Rhylance should be glad he hired you for PR.”
“Oh, you too?” Jax mumbled to himself, hips wagging and lips twitching mischievously at the cunning linguist comment. Lupine eyes also searched the crowd, though they only had anxious interest for one in particular. “Thank you, my friend. I appreciate the vote of confidence. I confess some nerves…mmm, say half of the performance variety, half as to whether or not someone tries something with nerve gas.”
They both, after all, knew of the particulars of some audiences in the Brotherhood. Experiments like that were just one of the many things to address. Not to eliminate…but to address.
“You worry too much. Everyone here knows their jobs. If anything goes wrong with the fair, it’ll be something we couldn’t have planned for.”
“As for the other part…” Erinyes sighed. “Nobody affiliated with the Academy, or who wants to be affiliated with the Academy, would try a stunt like that. Those kinds of people are more interested in pursuing knowledge than making political statements, and would rather use us for their own ends than antagonise us for no benefit.”
“Besides, in the worst case, it’s a chance for the medical students to practice. Or Rhylance will neutralise it himself to show his chemical superiority, or however scientists settle arguments.”
Walking almost silently up from behind the Emissary, the Headmaster responded to her assertation.
“I settle arguments the same way each time. Detailed analysis proving my viewpoint with factual evidenciary support. Anyone arguing with less than that is not worth the time and effort of such trivialities. As for the use of nerve gas here…if anyone attending this event had such a desire, they would find themselves spending a well earned lesson with me.”
He walked past the talking pair before stopping and turning to face them, a slight grin forming on his face.
“Whether or not they enjoy said lesson will depend on them of course.”
Rhylance began to turn away before stopping and addressing Jax.
“I certainly hope your experiment today produces results. I will be monitoring.”
Jax lifted his chin, staring down at the red eyes behind those spectacles unblinkingly.
“May you find yourself satisfied, Sir,” he demurred, tone at odds with his challenging posture. “Certainly, we shall ensure your lessons are unnecessary and spare your attentions to important investitures.”
Or in other words:
You don’t scare me, and I will fight for them.
Such was the line he walked, now. To not only bring the Academy into the light, to admit and correct their wrongs past, to make safe and responsibly contained the most dangerous and horrific sciences and pathways of thought that would inevitably be explored…but also to do so while managing Rhylance’s own goals and not drawing overmuch of his suspicion or ire.
That was fine. Jax had undermined several tyrants before.
Of course, he’d been younger then. Angrier, stupider, so much yet to learn. Now he had his husband and their soon to be baby girl and their dog.
And less an arm. And leg.
And gray hair.
But he let none of those stresses show, leveling his stare with his superior officer, placid and usurping.
A fine form clad head-to-toe in various shades of tan and brown leaned forward from behind the front table of the Anthropology Respectfully club booth. Burly, somewhat hairy arms perched on the table for support peeking out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of a khaki button-up. At waist level, a cordoba brown belt secured with a shiny silver buckle cinched tight a pair of chocolate brown pants, framed behind a variety of artifacts and items displayed along the table in see-through hermetically sealed containers. The matte black boots trimmed in gold of a suit of Mandalorian armor were planted firmly on the ground, providing a stance of power. Beneath a slightly rumpled brown fedora, intense eyes were pointedly staring across the table.
“I assure you, all the artifacts collected here were gathered through ethical means and are treated with the utmost of care and respect in their research,” Alex’s easy drawl slipped forth from deep in his chest, the rumbling tones simultaneously comforting but carrying just a slight hint of menace. The young Zabrak student he was addressing gestured at one of the containers which held an extremely elaborately decorated tablet inscribed with what seemed to be a list of names. The tablet itself was large, and a cursory inspection would make it clear that many of the names were repeated, albeit with usually dozens of other names between them.
“That is an ancestral family roll! There is no way you could have gotten that through normal means! A family would never part with it!” The horned young adult shouted in retort to the still-calm Mandalorian.
“There is quite a simple explanation, my young friend,” Alex leaned forward a bit more, causing the table to creak a bit as he pressed down on it and locked eyes directly with the other. “No member of the family is still alive.” The Zabrak started as the man’s tone deepened and his face flushed. Nostrils flared as his jaw began to work but after the briefest instant where Alex’s gaze did not waver, whatever the student intended to say was swallowed back. Thinking better of further confrontation, he quickly turned on his heel and stormed away from the table.
“Have a nice day,” Alex called after him jovially, waving enthusiastically as he retreated. Standing back up straight, if one had not witnessed the exchange there would be no hint that there had been any sort of conflict at all. “Enjoy the rest of the fair!”
A buzzing sigh sounded from behind Alex. “Really, sir, was that entirely necessary?” Steven, Alex’s oft-beset-upon majordomo KX droid was continuing to carefully take anthropological artifacts from crates and set them up on display.
“They said I had to be here as part of my departmental faculty obligation, Steven,” Alex picked up a case containing what appeared to be a defunct, ancient Sith holocron and spun it idly on the tip of one finger. “They did not say I had to put up with self-righteous pricks trying to start a fight.”
“You could have just explained that it was the family roll of one of your graduate research fellows, though.”
“I could have, yes, but where is the fun in that?” Alex laughed as he tossed the holocron-case into the air from behind his back, over his head, and into his other hand.
Long legs, with short steps, yet the tall Sith weaved between stands like a swift, slithering serpent. Anyone that had their backs facing her felt a pang of fear as she passed by. One could think that someone dressed in a shining, sleek second skin like hers would stop at the dancing club booth, but she went right by. The fashion booth would have been the next expected one, but that domed face-mask was a bit out there.
With an imposing and graceful swing of her tail, Aphotis came to a smooth standstill at the alchemy booth. The mischievous tail flicked from side to side as the students gathered and turned their heads upon the last of her heel clicks. A gentle pop preceded the sharp hiss from the oxygen regulator as she exhaled.
Her clawed hands gestured for the demonstration to continue.
“Please, do not let me distract you,” her commanding, modulated voice was laced with high class and etiquette.
Twitching heads turned back to the display with great unease, too craven to disobey her. The shimmering, black-clad woman was a living product of alchemy, genetic experimentation, Sith power, and soul transfer herself. Eagerness to learn ebbed away from the pupils around her, replaced by fear. She could taste it, despite being veiled by the black visor. Sweet youthful anxieties, salt from their pores, and a shot of umami from the older reptilian teacher, now very afraid to mess up their presentation. She swallowed it down eagerly as the instructor’s hand trembled.
’They should know better than to dabble in these dark arts with such innocence.’ .
There was an amulet on the table, with an assortment of crystals. Tir’eivra’s electric blue eyes were eager to see what the Falleen was planning. Somehow, before anything at all happened, the juniors were enamored. Any trepidation that the Sith had caused, ebbed away. There were various sparks of light, but she felt no fluctuations through the Force as it happened.
A wicked smile formed on her face, pressing her cheek against the rubber nose-cup of her mask. To test out her theory she let her tail coil around the neck of the female student in front of her. The girl did not even react, even as she applied gentle pressure.
’What a fraud, pheromones, no doubt.’
Erinyes raised her glass as the Headmaster turned to leave. “Have fun, Doc!” They might’ve been co-workers, but they were hardly on a first-name basis. Truth be told, Rhylance didn’t seem like the type to be on a first-name basis with anyone.
“See? No problem,” she said to Jax. “If there’s one thing all this diplomatic work has taught me, it’s that people hate being upstaged or made to look bad. Rhylance would never let that happen, no matter how little he cares about the attendees themselves.”
<@206692046424113152>
“P-pardon this one, Mistress,” came a voice Aphotis had heard before, tremulous yet sweet. If she deigned to turn her head, she would see the familiar hybrid to her right, his saffron eyes fixed on the tail wrapped around the student in front of her, his own tail tip lashing back and forth, a basket in his arm full of flowers and a satchel on one shoulder that was very literally overflowing with every possible club pamphlet. “This one believes that Mistress previously was very sure that one’s limbs should be kept to one’s self, was she not?”
“Everyone likes making exciting discoveries, making a name for themselves and standing out amongst their peers, but I believe the true reward in this precarious galaxy of ours is the opportunity to learn about people of the distant past – what stories they told, how they lived,” the Zabrak, dressed in a more casual yet nonetheless professional-looking tunic of Iridonian design, a medley of earthen tones and traces of bright crimson and yellow in homage to his home planet’s sunkissed landscape, picked up a small woodem effigy carved with funeral charms in a ancestor of many modern Togruti dialects, “…and died. We look to the past to help contextualize what we see in the present, and to preserve the history and culture that some people would rather us forget.”
A charming smile belied the hint of displeasure present in Bril’s voice toward the end of his address to the small gathering of prospective Archaeology club members, to whom he passed out brochures. Today was the first day of his found-brother Jax’s tenure at the Collegium, and he wanted to make sure he supported him and played his part in making sure things ran smoothly leading into the new academic year.
Multicolored and bold font printed flimsiplast papers fanned out like a deck of sabacc cards by a clear silicone-gloved cyberhand. The still-images and aurebesh painted exactly the description and context of the different clubs. Clubs…heh…
A cold wet nose nudged the half-Selenian’s other hand, a brief touch where three faint scars scored the back of it. Kobign Settgré looked down to unwavering attentive brown eyes staring at him. The lanky, short-furred cythrual was sitting and waiting beside his master as commanded and ignoring anyone that passed by. Several more pamphlets had been gathered in his mouth, careful of teeth and only slightly crinkled but thoroughly drooled on. Kobign blinked and couldn’t help but chuff at the canine’s continued antics of ‘being helpful’. It shook out a sigh as he folded his own stack, shoved them in the back pocket of his pants before crouching and giving the hound a good scratching.
“Good boy, Canchi. Here.” Taking the flimsiplast, he offered an award and a redirection of the displacement behavior, ie. the gathering of pamphlets to aid in whatever mixed signals or overstimulation he was getting. The tube stick was received eagerly with an allowed singular squeak. Smiling, Kob stood back up and idly fixed his burnt orange jacket sleeves, rolling them up. He glanced down again to Canchi connected to his hip both with the leash clipped to his belt and the cythraul’s harness, but with loyal attention too. “Alright, let’s go find Jax.”
‘Mmyip!’ came the muffled bark before Canchi dropped his head, toy firmly held, and led the way. .
It wasn’t long till they spotted their target. Kobign could pick out his husband from any crowd, and him being nearly three meters tall certainly helped. Jax was with Erinyes, he recognized the Emissary from brief encounters and the General’s stories of her. His gaze followed to whom they seemed to be conversing with and stiffened, half-halting in his step as recognition kicked in. Doctor Rhylance, now Headmaster from what he heard.
Feeling Canchi press against his side, Kobign stepped off the pathway. Briefly pretending to check his wristlink and severely missing having long forfeited weapons on him, he assessed the situation. The raise of a chin, a pointed stance. He couldn’t help but stare, enamored by Jax’s strong sense of morals and conviction everlasting. Seeing Rhylance was on the cusp of departing, Kob ran his metallic fingers through salt and pepper curls with an exhale, deciding to press forward and join.
He came here to give support, damn it.
Rolling his shoulder and sticking his cyberhand in his pocket, he approached with a smile and a raise of his still organic hand. “Jax!” He came to a halt beside the group. Canchi circling to sit between the couple, staring at the taller hybrid expectantly. Kob continued, replacing an old nickname with new. “Professor. And Erinyes, good to see you again. ”
<@645466919415054357>, <@206692046424113152>
Kirra Aarave-Tyris looked on with excitement at all the different species gathered in one place. It made her heart flutter with joy at seeing them all getting along. At least from what she could see from her low vantage point. Despite her wishing, she had yet to get her mothers height, but one day, she would have it.
Her mismatched eyes, despite their childlike wonder, drank in the details of each club’s set up, the names etched onto the banners, and who was operating them. Memory was important, Papa said, and she was supposed to always be thoughtful and aware of her surroundings.
…which was exactly how she had managed to sneak away from her ‘handler’. And by handler, she meant her fathers BD-unit.
Biddy would be beside himself and distraught, but Kirra would make sure he didn’t get in trouble. It wasn’t his fault, after all. Kirra was terribly clever. Fela would likely keep Biddy busy for a while before Papa found out.
That meant she had a limited time to explore before she was discovered.
Blend with the crowd, Uncle Wyn would say. Kirra folded her hands behind her back and tipped her chin up, trying to make herself seem taller and more important. She padded forward, determined, and to her surprise, no one stopped her or even paid too much mind to her.
She made her way to one booth that had caught her attention. It said: *Cultural Connection Through the Core *
Kirra’s pointed ears twitched excitedly. There was an older looking Twi'lek woman with pale pink skin and bright green eyes with a young Shistavanen standing beside holding some flimisplast fliers. She had white-gray fur, a thin build, and was only a few inches taller than Kirra. Younger than Carr, possibly? She made a quick mental comparison to the youngest Cinteroph.
Fortunately, Kirra was quite cultured.
“Greetings friends,” Kirra faintly growl-spoke in Shistavanen. “Could I learn more about your club?” She swayed back and forth while keeping light on her feet.
The soft saccharine voice she heard was humble enough to be soothing. The Sith pried her eyes away from the Falleen and studied the hybrid to her right. Then her electric-blue darted from his tail to her own.
“Oh, Rue, you mean, ah of course, do not worry, all it did was add some color on the girl’s cheeks, as you can see,” a muffled laugh came from the mask.
The tail first released tension and then unfurled from around the student’s neck, causing the girl to stumble. The pupil’s limp body fell forward over the table and was bumped back by the inertia, the back of her head heading toward the floor.
Aphotis made a calculated step back, just enough to synchronise the clack of her heel with the bop of the girl’s occipital bone. The slick black tail whipped by Rue’s ear fast enough to whoosh and snap with nonchalant sass, causing the hybrid to flinch.
“I’m okay! What happened?” A gentle voice said in a confused tone from below. .
The instructor squinted his golden eyes at the black-clad menace that had just invited herself to ruin his carefully planned presentation. Tir'eivra felt his judgemental leering, heat bubbling up in her palms. The irony was palpable as the tensor tympani muscles within her ears tensed.
Golden eyes widened as an invisible grip tightened around the Falleen’s neck. Alaisy’s fist was clenched as controlled vexation dripped from her aura.
“Do you feel the difference now, charlatan? This is the power of the dark side! Students, pay special attention to the strain around his neck!” There was a hissing laughter mixed with Aphotis’s intimidating voice.
The group of students snapped out of their trance, even the girl that had fallen stopped rubbing the back of her head as they collectively watched his neck compress.
“Wear a mask around these fools. Their skin secretions are interesting for alchemical purposes, perhaps we can all ask this man to give you a sample for your studies.” Aphotis’s voice had a hint of kindness in it, that seemed to attune to the loosening of her grip.
<@244244163002892288>
The Emissary watched the brief staredown from behind her wine glass. She’d been surprised to hear Jax had agreed to work for Rhylance, after what she’d heard of the two men’s differences in principles. This, though, made sense—and with it, the rumoured changes in some of the Academy’s policies. Jax was the counterweight. He must have taken it upon himself to minimise the damage Rhylance’s “science before morality” approach could cause to the students, and the institution as a whole.
A new arrival caught Erinyes’ attention, and his identity clicked into her mind: Jax’s husband. “Hey, Kobign! Same to you.”
But then…
“Oh my goodness, you’re adorable!” Erinyes gushed at the cythraul, setting her wine aside and crouching down. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
<@244244163002892288> <@206692046424113152>
The little Shistavanen’s face lit up, and she smiled at Kirra, excitedly replying in the same language a she shook from tail to big ear tips, “Hi! Another enthusiast, huh? That’s so great. Yeah we can definitely tell you more. Do you speak Basic too?”
The Twi'lek woman, meanwhile, also smiled, but seemed to be at least scanning the crowd behind Kirra for…well, maybe someone that looked like they were accompanying the young lady. Maybe a Shistavanen, given how the two were talking?
Jax’s posture immediately loosened even as it perked, shoulders spreading with ease and ears lifting while his foot stomped in quick, rapid succession. His head whipped away from the staredown with the retreating Headmaster to meet crinkled hazel eyes.
“Kobign!” his yip was as happy as Erinyes’ squeal over Canchi, whose patient form was full of being very good tension, torn between nudging Jax before his other parent reached out to him and going for a Erinyes. Jax eased his suffering by running his hand down his ruff and clicking in a free signal to the cythraul, then leaning to stoop down and kiss his husband. “Professor, hah! I am not used to this thing yet. But I like how it sounds when you are saying it.”
<@645466919415054357>
As the Falleen’s veins popped in his face and eyes, skin turning a shade duller green from oxygen deprivation, that colorful form suddenly stepped in front of Aphotis, effectively breaking her line of sight to the the man and her hold on him. The reptomammilian fell to his knees gasping, and one of the students went forward to check on him while the others looked back and forth between both he, the Sith, and the interloping hybrid.
“Stop hurting him!” Rue snapped, trembling head to toe. His saffron glare skirttered around her helmet, not sure where to look and having difficulty still looking anyone in the eyes regardless. But still, he put himself in the Falleen’s stead.
“Blasted– impatient, speciesest– it is an experiment, witch!” the instructor was regaining his feet, waving at the crystals. His voice was hoarse and reedy from the near crushing of his windpipe, but he seemed nothing but an indignant scholar exasperated by his fellow alchemist. “We are exploring the ability of kyber variations to disrupt mental intrusions and displaying how those protections do not apply to pherochemical impulses!”
If anything, Rue’s vivid shape was distracting. The immediate mental reflex became the hypothesis of what colors the hybrid would shift into without air flowing through his lungs. One day, he would beg for such treatment, like so many before him. Of course, the true pleasure was skirting desire and fear, avoiding too much or too little of either.
The real interference here was spending any mental focus on a repto-mammalian windbag like this one. A wave of satisfaction caressed Aphotis’s second skin as she realized that she had moved Rue to action, something she knew he was reluctant of.
’One more thing.’ She added the note to her mental list.
“Look, kids… these protections also clearly do not apply to Force-based impulses,” the Sith rolled her eyes behind her visor, her voice filled with venom and sarcasm.
The feeling of letting the Falleen have the last word irked her like skittering Sith pincer-bugs itching the back of her head, taunting to bite. She filled her mindscape with formulas and complex ideas so that she deafened herself to another attempt. Her electric-blue eyes, however…
… they were fixed on Rue’s honey-sweet globes.
The click was all the tawny-grey cythraul needed. He sprung up off his hocks and approached Erinyes. With a sniff-lick of her hand, he sat down close to her with a couple shuffle steps, tail sweeping the stone path as he eagerly awaited pets. The friendly pooch was looking more like a youthful pup than a retired military canine that’s jumped out of and repelled from spacecraft.
“Will make sure to break it in then,” Kobign murmured back, smiling after the brief kiss.
“His name’s Canchi. And yeah, he thinks he’s pretty cute,” the half-Selenian answered for the cythraul, shifting to watch the exchange. He looked between the Emissary and his husband, “So, how goes everything? With the event? And how have you’ve been, Erinyes?”
<@645466919415054357>
“Mental impulses!” the Falleen stressed again, continuing his rant-cum-lecture in more detail about the stones and the possible differences in attunement and suchlike. Clearly a hypothesis he was proud of.
But with the man well enough, that left Aphotis’ attention squarely on Rue, and the tall, willowy creature now shrank back down like a wilting flower. He clutched his basket of herbs and plants even closer, the satchel seeming too big for him, then, like all that flimsiplast alone could crush him.
“Mistress…” was all he murmured, not outright questioning what now but still servile to a cue. His tail curled tight around his leg now, but the tip still lashed with lingering agitation in the defense of another.
“Aww, hi Canchi. I bet you’ can smell what’s in my pocket, can’t you?” Ever since meeting Bico and Alk, Erinyes had gotten in the habit of keeping some kind of animal-friendly snack around. Technically they were for her—Zeltron metabolism and all that—but four-legged friends were still friend-shaped. “Can Canchi have some nerf jerky?”
“I’ve been pretty well, thanks. It took me a little while to get used to the new job. Lots of travelling and socialising. How’ve you been? Keeping Jax from doing too many headstands?”
<@244244163002892288>
Jax looked mildly affronted, in a good-humored way. He grinned as he protested, “Now, I am very good at head.” The slightest pause. “…stands, I will have you know, when I am not deeply inebriated by wonderful drinks.”
“I do indeed,” Kirra said in Basic with a bright smile to match. She found herself appreciating and curious about the Shistavanen’s movements. Similar, but different than Carr’s. So cool!
She did glance at the Twi'lek and realized what they must have been looking for. Kirra tried not to panic and made a quick curtsey.
“My name is Kirra Aarave-Tyris” she said proudly as she bowed her head but then tilted it up with as much regality as she could muster.
Hopefully her surname would lend weight to her being on her own…a calculated risk, but one she knew she needed to take to avoid being sent back to the boredom of whatever “kids” room papa placed her in.
“I think your husband would have to be the judge of that.”
<@244244400488710155>
Jax’s foot did another set of stamps at the words, ‘your husband.’
Indeed, a look of utter panic flashed across the Twi'lek’s face like oil bouncing in a too hot pan. She quickly almost elbowed her fellow out of the way in an effort to…handshake? Bow? Salute? A child?????
She was not trained for this.
“Oh, Tyris, like the FORMER VOICE and stuff Tyris.” Desperate green eyes went to her companion, who gulped and stumbled, having been elbowing back and snapping teeth before she caught herself.
“Oh right, riiiiight, um. Well hi Kirra! If I can call you Kirra? Uh, um, I’m Amee, and this is Jek'ayla, we’re roommates, and we’re starting this club as our residency anthropology project, um…”
Kirra held her hands together in front of her, eyes wide and starry, clearly unaware of the fact if she had made either of them uncomfortable with the name drop. At the very least, they didn’t ask why she was alone. So there was that.
“Anthro…apology,” she said, but then immediately realized that was incorrect.
Biscuits.
She tried to remember her lessons. She had to show she wasn’t a child. She read a lot, because Papa said it was important. And it made him happy which made her happy.
“Anthrop is…people. Logo.. reason… you study people?”
“Sure,” Kobign nodded, giving permission to the proffered treat. Canchi’s pointed ears perked straight up at the mentioned of ‘jerky’, tilting his head at Erinyes with his tongue stuck out the side of his muzzle.
The half-Selenian was about to answer the inquiry when his lovely dear husband did so so candidly. He choked, twice, with the farther commenting. Clearing his throat into his still intact fist, he gave Jax a look and a bemused shake of his head. He then hooked both thumbs in his pockets and rewound the conversation in his head.
“Imagine the job involves a lot of that, traveling and socializing. Good to hear you are well,” Kobign commented on the Emissary’s position and accounts. He considered his own response, the brochures in his back pocket shifting as he did. “I’ve been well, picking up a few new skills and hobbies” – like twenty of them, a new or different one near bi-weekly. The pace of which only slowed when – “Oh! Has Jax shown you?”
His cyberhand pulled his wallet out of his other backpocket. It flopped open and unfurled a series of staples together flimsiplast printed holo-pics. Each depicted a newborn infant with already a thick mop of hair on her head, two perfectly folded ears, and faint stripes. One or two captured her vibrant blue eyes open, and the last had Canchi laying gently beside with his nose as close as possible without waking. Kobign sheepishness had been replaced with absolute beaming fatherly energy.
“Our daughter, Marrien Moon.”
The Doctor Professor General Nuisance made a whining-whimpering noise, almost dancing in place now between foot taps and hip wriggles. His smile matched his husband’s, though it was his turn to be the smallest bit sheepish.
“I promised myself I had to do work for at least two hours before I started showing everyone with eyes or without,” he admitted, ears folding and flicking. But there was no hope for his administrative attention when those pictures were out and that name was presented. The couple radiated melty, paternal, happy domestic bliss to the Zeltron.
“She’s just the sweetest!” Erinyes, too, fawned over the pictures, giving each one at least a bit of attention. After all, babies were cute!
Then she was interrupted by a quiet, pointed wuff.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Canchi.” The Zeltron retrieved a piece of nerf jerky from her pocket and broke it in two. “Can you do a sit? That’s a good boy.” She fed the cythraul his prize, then scritched behind one ear while she returned to goggling at Marrien Moon, absently snacking on the other piece of jerky.
<@244244400488710155>
Satisfied in showing off their absolute pride and joy, Kobign carefully folded up the holos with practiced ease and returned his wallet to his pocket. He leaned in and gave Jax a one-armed hug and squeeze, with an apologetic smile that was less than so. “Sorry, couldn’t restrain myself. I’ll vow to refrain until,” he checked his wristlink, “two hours from now.”
He released Jax. He looked to Canchi who had finished chomping on his jerky and was leaning into the ear scritches, which pulled slightly on the leash clipped to his belt but he didn’t mind. A sigh escaped the half-Selenian, his gaze returning to the pair. “Well, I don’t want to keep you both from said work. There’s a few…clubs? I might check out.”
<@244244163002892288>
“Of course. Nice to see you again, Kobign. And nice to meet you, Canchi.” She booped the cythraul’s nose, because why not?
<@244244163002892288>
Boops were always The Way.
(With permission, of course.)
Just so, Jax mirrored his husband’s utterly unashamed and put-upon sigh, staring down the great and despairing abyss of the hours ahead that was doing anything but squealing about their daughter and kissing her cheeks and looking at his husband and squealing again.
Alas, duty called. Minds to be opened, hearts to be won, various ethical and moral battles for the soul and all the lives around them to be fought to uphold a brighter future with more solid societal foundations…
“Any in particular?” Jax asked, poking at the pamphlets in hand. “Bril is running one of the archeology booths, Mister Draconis another. And of course, Erinyes volunteered for the wine.”
<@244244400488710155> <@645466919415054357>
He stepped out into the light, dark eyes adjusting slower than he would have liked. It had been a few days since he had been planetside anywhere, having taken a few long cruises between worlds to reset himself. The ship was more his home than his ancestral home any more these days. Forge folded his arms behind his back, moving forward with his head carried high, head pivoting as people moved near them.
The Academy.
He hadn’t really spent much time at the new facility, despite his familiarity with its predecessor on Lyspair. The broadwave transmission from the new Headmaster had piqued his curiosity, and it was as good a reason as any to take a more relaxed tour, he supposed. Knowledge, the preservation and furtherance of were true to the more violet parts of his heart. And what he had to offer was far beyond mere credits, although those certainly would be needed in the endeavor.
He took a moment to let the layout of the fair seep into his awareness, absorbing it as best he could. He would take a walkabout to further lock in where everything was, but first things first. He tilted his head at Forge, half a smile reaching from his lips to his eyes.
“Do they still have the Saberist’s Guild?”
A slight commotion in the distance had caught Alex’s eye, and he had come out from behind the table at the Anthropology Respectfully booth. A couple of the undergraduate student members of the club had shown up for their shift, so he left them to watch over things along with Steven as he casually strolled about - seemingly aimless but keeping an eye or an ear tracked toward the tall Sith and quivering hybrid having a heated interaction by the Alchemy demonstration. By now, he wasn’t even surprised - these interactions seemed to have become commonplace. He also wasn’t going to interfere directly while it seemed like Rue had things in hand. But he was certainly staying poised and ready for action if things started going south for the timid hybrid.
His attention so focused, he didn’t have sight downward and he slightly bumped into a young girl excitedly chatting with a couple students he had already picked out as go-getters in the Anthropology department.
“My greatest apologies there, young lady. My mind was elsewhere!” A beaming smile spread from within his well-groomed circle beard. A slight turn of the head and glinting eyes took in the pair of students as well. “Amee and…Jek’ayla, if my memory serves correct, yes? I eagerly await to see what insights you may uncover as to the cultural history of the Core and how those cultures interrelate. There is ever so much to learn through anthropos logia,” a slight wink toward Kirra, “the study of people.” <@244244163002892288>
Kirra, despite her diminutive size, seemed to dance lightly on her toes as her balance was tested by the larger, albeit slight, mass of unexpected force. She did not stumble, and knew that there was likely a reason she had been bumped into. No sense in getting upset, accidents happened.
When she looked up, recognition flickered not from the bearded man, but from the droid hovering behind him that had approached.
“Oh. Hello Steven,” she greeted with a curtsey. She glanced at the older man, who seemed to follow her line of thinking, and also offered a curtsey, as was proper. “Mister Alex? That’s okay, I should have been paying attention better.”
She looked between Alex, Steven, Amee and Jek'ayla. So many friends all at once. So exciting!
Much more exciting than waiting with the younglings
As if summoned into being by some mysterious forces remembering this is a great idea and would obviously be there, Ashen would find his eyes drawn to one of the many pamphlets scatter around and notice that there was indeed a Saberists’ Club.
“Oh, hi, Professor,” Amee piped up towards Alex, though there was, hilariously, faaaaar less reverence in her tone than she had just stumbled through addressing the former Voice’s daughter with. “We were just…uh…”
She fished wildly, looking to Jek'ayla. The Twi'lek jumped in.
“…explaining to Miss Tyris here, who knows anthropology is the study of people, that we’re starting this club for our term project. Do you know what an ethnography is, Miss Tyris?”
<@102435651189743616> <@189568236201705472>
Kirra thought really hard, and tried to piece the words together and break them down. Nothing clicked. She frowned, more at herself than anyone else, but then quickly smiled and looked up at Jek'ayla with bright eyes. “No, what is that!?” she bounced very lightly on her toes.
Jek'ayla smiled. “It’s a specific study about a group of people, like a specific tribe, or a sports club, or maybe like your class at school. Whatever unites them and gives them an identity, a culture of their own. You study that culture. So, say, Coruscant has its own particularities as compared to other Core Worlds. And so do a lot of different communities on Coruscant compared to each other.”
Kirra processed what was being said with a mechanical memory that was not apparent on the childlike look of wonder on her face as she envisioned all the different possible cultures. “Wow,” she said, eyes sparkling. “So, that would be…different than studying a Twi'leki Kal..ikori?” she asked, then quickly covered her mouth with a hand and looked down shyly. Hopefully she didn’t mispronounce it and offend Jek'ayla.
“Quite right, young Miss Kirra,” a prim voice rang out as it approached the group. Alex turned and shot a look at his droid companion, the meaning of which was deeply inscrutable. After a just-too-long beat of silence, the Mandalorian returned to his cheery composure and picked up the lead.
“Studying a kalikori on its own merits would primarily be an archaeological pursuit,” the gentle drawl slid into a steady rhythm, one which Alex used on the oh so rare occasions in which he actually showed up to teach his classes. “There can be a great deal of knowledge gained just from studying an artifact, for certain, but it is a different kind of information. An ethnographic pursuit may be, for instance, speaking to the owner of the kalikori about what it means to them and their family or attending and observing the ceremony at which a kalikori is added to and passed down. It is the study of the current, living culture of a people and what makes them unique - though often a great deal of that is rooted in ties to their history - as opposed to just the historical aspects of a culture. Fascinating field, to be sure.”
As he continued to speak, Alex caught the look he was receiving from the two students. A slight cock of his head accompanied the flash of a grin as he turned to address them.
“I know I carry quite a reputation for being a ‘shoot people and take their stuff’ sort of artifact of the anthropology of a bygone age myself, but I do actually have a doctorate in the subject.” <@244244163002892288>
Kirra listened three times. She blinked, but then smiled politely and then nodded.
Back in his day…
Nope. That didn’t work. That was another one scratched off of the list of his jokebook. Snaz retrieved the smll, tiny notebook hidden within his robes, grumbled lightly, and crossed the idea out.
Seriously, though, back in his day, the Brotherhood was a much different place. Hell, the idea that tenants of the Light Side could exist in the same space as Lords and Darths was, quite frankly, the greatest joke of all. A punchline Snaz never saw coming.
He was glad for that. It made it all the sweeter. He was pleased to see the amount of varying clubs established. The Shadow Academy, or the Aurora Collegium of Sciences, or whatever new Force-forsaken name the next Headmaster calls it, was primarily an avenue for education, to learn. Not just from books, but from real experiences. The point was to prepare students for life in the Brotherhood.
In that regard, he was rather proud of what he had managed in his time here as a professor before his retirement. Would anyone recognise him? Would he recognise them?
Only one way to find out. Now, where to first?
Kal Arias approached the area of the club fair cautiously. He had never been to the Shadow Academy before, or rather, the Aurora Collegium of Sciences. He’d heard things before from Reiden, though. He didn’t know what the place offered. He had finished his standard schooling years ago and realized he could learn more by doing or finding mentors rather than by being in a classroom. Nevertheless, he had to make a trip to Arx to find a part that he needed to finish a droid repair job. The Collegium was just a short shuttle ride away and he had time to spare, so why not check things out?
He consulted his datapad once more and smiled. There seemed to be a booth for slicing and another one for robotics and droid engineering. Then the investment and entrepreneurship one may be interesting as well. He did have a small business himself, but it was almost exclusively word of mouth so far. His friend had been able to convince him to help out with slicing and such during various armed conflicts. He wouldn’t have normally gotten involved, but it was a friend, and he wanted to help if he could. And it allowed him to save up some credits since housing had been arranged for him as well in exchange for his services. Luckily, it had enough space that he could have a small workshop. But one day, maybe he’d have his own separate workspace.
“Make sure to record any interesting footage, got it, Circuit?” he instructed the small droid. “Just don’t tell Glitch that we went out and did this. You know how he can get sometimes. I keep trying to tweak whatever is causing his jealousy, but I can’t seem to pinpoint it.”
The ID9 droid bobbed up and down and issued a few short chirps and whistles, spindly little limbs making excited taps as he perched on his shoulder.
“You are the most distracting creature. There does not appear to be a torture, or interrogation stand anywhere around here, does there?” Aphotis’s voice seemed inquisitive and curious, while her eyes were set on Rue’s.
“Perhaps I will go see what poison the ‘Ancient Philosopher’ followers spout instead.”
Her tail turned with her, waving in a motion that could only be compared to a ‘goodbye’, followed by a beckoning curling of the tip into a hook.
It was up to Rue if he wanted to follow her, but everything about the tall woman was mischievous, from the way she tapped her heels to the way her cheeks pressed against the mask in a grin.
The idea had popped into his head and honestly wouldn’t let him go. Natural defenses were, after all, an easy thing to take advantage of and the Force itself knew that there were always dangerous minds in need of new dangerous lairs to do who knows what in, and who knew, maybe there’d be something for him in it. If Hoth had been made useful, surely this place could.
If nothing else, the reports that would be made of attempts would be fun to read.
Walking into the crowded fair, the silver-haired man glanced at the list of attending parties and quickly found himself a bit at a loss - some sounded perfect, others could work, he wasn’t sure which one would be Goldilocks’ ‘just right’ and, well, that left one solution to his mind.
Striding to as near the center of the area as he could, the man waited for a few moments for a clear-ish space around him before lifting up an arm from which his hand dangled a multi-legged, dead, creature.
“Out of curiosity, which of you lot would be interested in investigating a dangerous species of spider that may prove a potent natural defense force or possibly even a useful weapon?” Azler lets the question hang in the eye, blue eyes flicking around him to see if any interested parties rise up. “I have both a deceased specimen and combat data on them.”
“Ah, so they have a master in their mist,” Kobign winked at Erinyes in regards to the Wine club. He fished the brochures out of his pocket and thumbed through them, some he wasn’t entirely sure he would check out but were a bit curious on. “I’ll have to pass by the archeology booths, catch up with Bril if he’s not busy. But uh, a few.”
“Composition, sounds like instrument related. Somewhat interested. Same with crocheting, Marelai’s been teaching a little of that though. Uh, Grandma Lore?” He scratched at his stubbled chin, uncertain exactly what that entails but figured it related to oral history passed by elders or something. “Gutter Chatter, Writer’s Guild, Language in Business; seemed like interesting things. Thought there was a journalism club, but these might have some relation to it. Speech and Debate, and Law Club too.”
Kob shuffled the brochures back in his pocket before hooking his thumbs in the front ones. He puffed his cheeks and continued to the last ones, “I probably will pass through the fitness ones, stop at Sports Anthology, DiverseAbility and Rock Climbing ones especially. Yeah, just a few.”
The half-Selenian had looked to Jax when he mentioned DiverseAbility, seemingly seeking a source of additional Physical Therapy or activities for his hubby. Finished listing off the long list, he chuffed and reached down to ruffle Canchi’s fur. “Right, well, should get going then. It was good to see you again too, Erinyes, and Canchi seems to liked you.”
Kob gestured to Jax to bend down, giving him a quick parting kiss before leaving. He waved, mouthed good luck, and proceeded to jog off with a little hyping up of the eager and attentive cythraul.
Kobign made some ground in their light jog with ease. He might no longer serve as a soldier but still keeps himself somewhat fit. When they neared a larger area in the courtyard, Canchi suddenly startled, pulling on the leash attached to his belt and nearly tripping him if not his quick reflexes. Pausing and reaching down to assure the canine, he glanced around to spot possible things the cythraul could have spooked at – a rare occurrence.
What looked like a dangling dead insect certainly could.
“Come on, bud, it’s nothing to worry about.” The human hybrid called out to the white-haired man holding it, a cyberhand raised for attention as much as greetings, “Hey there, do you mind helping me desensitize Canchi here to, uh, what are you holding there?”
Rue did not want to go after her.
She was. A true Mistress. An avatar of God. Worse, perhaps– a challenging diety.
But. But if she was going to go hurt someone else.
He had to go.
Ducking in a bow to the Alchemy group, he clutched his bag and basket close, spilling precious, painstakingly collected blooms and fliers alike, and scurried after to follow her. The hybrid gave a wide bearth, not wanting their tails to touch again, hers snapping and swaying behind her while his curled and cinched tight around his leg anxiously, her heels clicking while his bare feet barely made a sound, daring not impress so on the world, her a slash of baleful, shining black while he was a splash of sunrise color.
Jax’s entire expression just grew more and more besotted the longer Kobign spoke of his possible interests and hobbies. For Erinyes, it would probably be akin to being wrapped up in the softest, heaviest blanket, with a warm drink, tucked up next to an oven, with boxes of kittens and puppies and possibly warm cookies but also another warm body oh my– it was a lot. (No one would judge her if she took a step away from that gay tangent).
“Those all sound wonderful, I will miss you, come back to me, be kind to yourself,” the professor mumbled out in a rush between bending down for the quick kiss and his husband running off, Canchi at his side. He stared at the retreating Human hybrid a looooong moment, before his ears picked with someone calling out about weaponizing dead spiders, causing him to sigh.
Blue eyes sliced to Erinyes, half pleading, half exasperated, as if to say, your turn, or mine?
“I will…handle this side,” he sighed. “If you do not mind making a circuit. I was also just informed Grand Master Ashen’s craft arrived, so you may find him somewhere here…”
<@645466919415054357>
As he was surveying the crowd during this lamentation, he also caught sight of a vaguely familiar hooded individual. They had not had a chance to delve deep into conversations about ur-Kiätt last time…
“J'Kast? Is that you?”
<@131481261867794432>
Both ladies slowly closed their mouths as any explanation they’d been prepared to give the little girl died on their tongues with Alex’s approach and lecture. The tiny Shistavanen was practically vibrating, though one might be hard pressed to tell that it was with rage, while her Twi'lek roommate put both hands on her shoulders and dragged her behind the table they’d been presenting from.
“We wouldn’t think anything like that of you, Doctor Draconis,” Jek'ayla managed with a smile so wooden it could’ve housed a Wookiee family on Kashyyyk. “Thank you for coming by our booth. Miss Lady Tyris, did you want to ask the Doctor any questions too? You’re very bright.”
<@102435651189743616>
The Priest snapped his head to the approaching voice, a questioning look on his face for the moment before a chuckle leaves his lips. “Oh, sorry about that.”
Smiling with an understanding grin, he lowers the thing next to the animal so it can investigate at its leisure - though keeping just a little tense, incase its curiosity included a taste test.
“To be honest, aside from the whole ‘multi-legged thing’ and being capable of firing off some kind of webbing, I’m not too sure if it actually is a spider. Figured that was one of the things someone here may know better than I,” Azler explains, eyes looking back to the individual. “So far no biters yet, but even if this doesn’t pan out, at least I get the fun of looking insane to a whole bunch of people.”
“Thank you kindly,” Kirra replied with a faint curtsey. “No questions. It was nice to just listen. Papa always says that ‘knowledge is power’ but sometimes it’s just nice to share with others.” She beamed up at all three adults.
Distant at first, but then growing louder, mechanical pitter patters could be heard approaching.
“Biscuits,” Kirra murmured as she slowly turned to see a somehow-out-of-breath looking BD-droid approach.
“Oh no, Biddy, are you alright!?” Kirra’s voice pitched with sudden concern.
A series of exasperated beeps.
“Apologies, I thought you were right behind me.”
Another set of accelerated beeps
“No, I was just visiting the fair. We can return to Papa now, though.”
She turned back to face the trio of adults. “Thank you again for your time,” she smiled, waving and following her father’s Droid through the crowd, disappearing.
Alex smiled as the young lady excused herself in company of a furiously beeping droid. The situation with Rue and Aphotis seemed to have mostly settled itself, so he no longer felt the necessity to be on high alert. Nodding and tipping his hat toward the two students who had retreated to their booth, he began to turn.
“Have a good day, you two, and I hope your club attracts the interest you seek. Please do keep me apprised of your progress, as I do find that no matter how many times we think we have learned all there is to know about the societies of the Core Worlds, new perspectives can always provide some startling insights.”
With that he headed back toward the Anthropology Respectfully booth, gathering Steven along the way to be ready to assist with any of the artifacts which still needed to be sorted or unpacked.
Seer J'Kast, returning to the Shadow Academy’s campus from an ill-advised trip to a mining moon that turned partly catastrophic, strode into the hall and lightly lowered his robe’s hood. His pale, fading eyes made a slow scan of the room as he catalogued the names of the societies present. The sounds of chattering voices and the bawdy displays hung on the tables of the Shadow Academy Club Fair grated on his senses.
He slowly navigated the crowded hall with his hands folded in front of him. He always appreciated the Shadow Academy’s resources and frequently returned here to seek arcane knowledge and a deeper understanding of the Force’s dark currents.
A smaller, unassuming table draped in black caught his eye. Its banner, a faded tapestry decorated with ancient glyphs, proclaimed it the “Ancient Force Philosophers Club.” A handful of students lingered nearby the table or passed it slowly, glancing over weathered texts that were open on display. J'Kast approached, his slight but demanding presence casting a palpable and slightly morose shadow over the nearby group. “Ancient philosophy,” he mused – his voice soft but low, with distinct diction. “A neverending and noble pursuit.”
He picked up a worn scroll; it felt brittle but had many fewer tears and blemishes than it seemed to have deserved for its age. “Transcriptions of the Early Teachings of Sorzus Syn - A Groundwork,” he murmured, recognizing some of the familiar passages. “A foundation upon which true power was built, to be sure.” He glanced at the students near the table, a flicker of genuine interest present in his usually cold eyes. “Have you read her early lectures? And truly understood the meaning?” he asked. Sighing quietly before placing the scroll back on the table, he continued, “There is such beauty in its early simplicity.”
Before he could receive an answer from the strangers, he heard a voice call out behind him. “J'Kast? Is that you?”
J'Kast turned to face the speaker and recognized him from a recent social gathering. “Ah,” he paused and cocked his head slightly in thought, “Was it…Jax? I recall meeting you at the…” – he took another moment to search for the right memory and the right words at the same time – “hat…soiree.”
J'Kast chuckled lightly at that before continuing. “I had to leave the Galactic History table because no one seemed to be hanging about.” He turned back to the table and placed a finger on the scroll he had just put down. “I believe our last conversation and this scroll had something in common – specifically regarding the script in which this was penned and the tongue in which it would have been spoken. I recall you seeming uncomfortable with that recognition, and I hope I did not offend you.”
“Oh, not at all, good fellow,” Jax replied, shaking his head gently as he approached. He nodded encouragingly to the few students manning the booth and gave them another closed-mouthed smile before turning that smile on J'Kast. “ur-Kiätt, or Ancient Sith as is the common parlance, is a tongue like any other– perhaps with a more sinister history than some, but that too is chiefly in the eyes of the beholders. All languages have been used at one point or another for nefarious purposes…and it is equally through them that we shall seek peace, understanding, truth.”
He chuckled.
“Ahh, forgive me for philosophizing. Tell me, is your interest more in the language? Or in the Sith studies?”
J’Kast pointed to the embroidered banner on the table next to them. “Oh no need to apologize. Philosophizing is… why we’re here.”
“How true about language being the vessel for meaning rather than having any inherent value itself. My interest in this one in particular, ur-Kiätt, is to be able to read and learn from what is typically written with it — some of the ancient arcana the Sith forefathers were investigating.”
He looked down to the table and picked up the scroll again. “I believe we have lost some of the genuine curiosity that drove them further into darkness — or, in fact, to madness at times. It is dangerous but so valuable to chase what passion drives you to desire.”
J’Kast leaned back to the table and hovered over a data pad that was propped up against a few cracked and wrinkled bound texts. “Well. I suppose I better register my interest in this club here with some contact information.” He laughed softly once, “Maybe they’ll have a book club meeting soon.”
Finishing entering information on the datapad, J’Kast turned back, putting his hood back up to rest on the top of his head for comfort.
“No, I think your imperative is to let them lose themselves to the extent they wish to, indeed, so long as it is only themself being lost to any extent. Personal agency and responsibility is a foundation of ethics; if one cannot be wholly responsible for their own action, they also cannot be morally culpable for it”
He folded his hands in front of his robe, the arms slightly enveloping them as his skin became lost in the folds. He shrugged. “Then it would all fall apart. So that won’t do.”
“This is why I always relish the chance to come back to the campus,” he continued. “Eagerness for knowledge is never in short supply here. And that’s a comfortable place for me to be. I feel I am always spread too thin as I branch out to try to research and discover the secrets of our ancestors’ power. But coming here always makes me feel solid again.”
“I am glad you have such a refuge to return to. Coming to one’s home often may have that effect, whatever or whomever they find that belonging in.” His gaze strayed to where his husband had disappeared into the crowd. “Now, I would be perfectly amenable to further debating moral culpability and, foremost, what we owe to each other, however I shall not unduly burden you with such untowardly. Why do you not tell me more of your studies and aspirations? I seek to find the most equitable path here for the Academy’s future between discovery and responsibility.”
Sensing Jax’s attention darting into the crowd and hoping to avoid anyone hearing more than a few words of their conversation at a time, J’Kast began a slow walk through the hall past the decorated tables lining the way. He made a slight motion with his head entreating Jax to walk alongside before answering.
“It would be no burden. Ethics and the strange morality we often find ourselves tangled within are fascinating topics indeed.”
His voice dropped lower, retaining the same sharp diction, but Jax could feel that the Sith’s voice was directly toward him alone with some strange precision. “To your question… I have spent some time addressing a fear of mine. I am, simply put, afraid that I will stop thinking one day.” He raised a hand to rub his forehead as they walked together before chuckling at the absurdity of that understatement—“Death, of course.”
“It has consumed all my efforts to try to find a solution to the inevitability of that day. To think there must be some way…by some arcane secret or alchemical pursuit…” J’Kast’s voice quickened before he caught himself and returned to some stability. “To find a way for one’s consciousness to survive the destruction of their mortal form… The pursuit of that secret and the drive to achieve it may, ironically, be what has kept me alive thus far.”
He didn’t usually allow himself to speak this much of the obsession with this study at length, and he seemed to straighten and tense back to a slow walk after realizing he had become too animated. “Forgive me, this time. It is easy to lose myself in this work. Needless to say this quest is not exactly officially sanctioned here, but the groundwork available in history and the Force has been incredibly valuable.”
He had made it. Titius Osseus, known for a list of misdeeds longer than a capital ship, had arrived to the convention with only a black medical uniform. “I knew we would be late but apparently its part of my portfolio as a Magistrate to show up. Now if we had a designated spot that would be great…”
A K2 droid loped beside, pushing a supply cart bearing warning symbols. “Magistrate, concidering you were not invited or on the club list officially, I do not believe there is any designated spot.”
Titius glowered at the droid. “Less voice box, more stickers. Hopefully someone will grab a brain and assist.”
Jax shook his head, smiling carefully again and raising his only hand in a there there gesture. “Please, J'Kast, not only are you perfectly fine expressing such enthusiasm, but I am both glad to hear of it and did ask you to speak,” he assured. “The fear of death, more specifically the fear of the consciousness ceasing to be, is a common one. It is understandable you may seek some alternatives to its eventuality…and many more open to you, as both history and the soft science of the Force tell us, as an invigorated User. You are correct that some avenues of research are not sanctioned here, and that some would not be tolerated,” lupine eyes, towering so tall, gave a sudden and grave warning look, “however, several are, and some, I would think, you may even find more successes in. Have you at all perused the tales of the Jedi in which old Masters were able to become projections of the Force, more legendarily termed ghosts, through deep study of the Light Side? I could recommend you some contacts in this here. There are some very old Jedi in the Brotherhood’s domains.”
The hooded Sith nodded his head downward and sunk further into it. His hands wringed together with nervous energy. “Yes, of course. There is something disquieting about fading into a mere projection of one’s self, but I am familiar… I believe several similar practices share something in common; something about being able to protect the consciousness from perishing, whether it’s through some sort of storage, projection through the Living Force, or transfer to some other vessel. The real trick is where that consciousness lives next. Chasing the key to that secret has been my–white purrgil–if you will.” His voice trailed off, catching himself and realizing he began to ramble.
“But you have been too kind to listen to me for so long. What is the basis of your interest, and what brought you to that particular society’s table?” J'Kast turned his head slightly to the side to indicate polite interest as he tried to quiet his mind. “Do you have a particular research project or endeavor you’re pursuing at the moment, as well?”
“Hey, no worries, and thank you,” Kobign nodded in appreciation. He signalled to the cythraul to approach and examine the creature. Canchi did so tentatively, pausing and checking with his handler for confirmation on whether this was a ‘sniff the thing’ thing. Soon the nose was doing just that with only a slight recoil when he touched the carcass and it moved, but before long those red-brown ears were perked forward curiously. The canine took a seat at Kob’s leg and yawned, letting his tongue lull.
Satisfied that his companion was good, Kobign listened to the stranger. He scratched idly at the stubble on his chin. “Hah, surely this isn’t the weirdest they’ve seen?” He chuffed, “Afraid I’m not an expert on creatures but there’s probably a group that is.”
He found himself once again pulling the stack of brochures from his pocket and rifling through them till he found a folded flimsiplast master sheet listing all the clubs attending today. A quick pan through highlighted a few that might work. “I’m not sure if any of these might be helpful? Bioengineering? Alchemy and apothecary? Uh, probably not wise to take it to the Animal Activists of the galaxy…here, might be some I didn’t consider.”
He offered the list over. “So what was it you wanted to use them for again? Researching the webbing they shoot? Oh, sorry. I’m Kobign. And you?”
Jax chuffed gently, again reassuring, “Truly, I am delighted to listen. As to what brought me to the table, I recognized you and came to welcome you to the fair, as I am responsible for organizing it. My baby, as the expression goes. Though not my literal baby, who is the most magnificent and wonderful creature to ever grace this galaxy, she is precious and perfect, but, you understand the metaphor. Not that I do not enjoy the studies of Ancient Sith. It was particularly useful to learn the language upon joining the Brotherhood, to better be equipped to communicate and study and to navigate various threats during my active enlistment. But, no, my purpose now is to refine the Collegium itself. The society suffers under the institutions and practices of decades past, and needs to change if it is going to better serve the future of both its students and all of the Galaxy. The Headmaster has been receptive to my visions for that future. I sought to start at the ground level…with bringing students together based on their interests.”
He gestured around at the fair, then smiled.
“Now, who can ramble?”
“Actually K9, lets try the mobile route. Maybe we will run into someone we know and in the meanwhile, we will complete our mission.” Reaching into a pocket, Titius produced a stack of stickers emblazoned with neon green lettering yelling “HAVE YOU CHECKED YOUR RESPIRATOR TODAY?” over a comic rendition of an Ewok wearing a stormtrooper mask. Stepping overto the nearest crowd, the magistrate began distributing the paraphenalia to attendees winding through the throng.
“Sticker? Anyone for a sticker? Stick them to anything except me!” “No no, breathe easy. Its a sticker not a threat.”
K9 meanwhile used his height to affix several stickers out of reach on various corners and poles in flagrant educational vandalism.
J’Kast smiled coolly and nodded. “Then you have my congratulations on the event. We will only thrive and advance further in knowledge and power when we have the benefit of doing so together.”
He took out a small datapad from a pocket in his sleeve and made a few gestures on its screen, telling his shuttle crew to prepare for his arrival and a quick flight.
“I am glad to have run into you again,” he said to Jax and a slight bow at the neck. “Perhaps I will see you at that book club meeting or the next scholastic gathering you organize. Farewell for now.”
Wilder watched the interaction with a light smile, one creature examining another for a few moments before the word’s caught his ear.
A chuckle leaves his lips. “If you mean the spider, probably not but you never know what fears some people may have. If you mean me, well I’ve only gotten started.” Blue eyes flick over to the individual as he glanced through some of the papers and accepted them as they were handed over.
“Azler, a pleasure,” he says with a light nod to Kobign. “And nothing to be sorry about, its a hectic place.”
Raising the unmoving creature up and glancing it over again, the man gives a light shrug. “Found a mountain absolutely infested and quite literally crawling with the things by the thousands. Considering some of the best defended places in history had natural defenses that barely needed improvements, I figured maybe it could be worth looking into its usefulness. Worst case, maybe these creatures themselves would prove handy in some way, I don’t know.” Lowering the creature back down as it dangled in his hand, he looked back to the man. “But as the phrase goes; you never know till you try, and never knows best.”
Azler turns his head around to the people abound in the area before returning to Kobign. “How about yourself? What brings you here? One of the people ‘recruiting’ so to speak, perhaps here with a project all your own, or maybe just curiosity?”
“Huh, interesting. Capitalizing on natural defenses,” Kobign uttered, thinking on it. With the inquiring switches to himself, he smiles lightly. “Ah, curiosity mostly. A few folks I know are either helping organize the fair or the clubs themselves. Came to support them, but I enjoy learning new skills and things. No particular project of my own though.”
“Well, I was heading towards the Society clubs,” Kobign jutted his chin the direction he had been heading earlier, absentmindedly giving Canchi some scritches. “You’re welcome to join us and see what might fit what you need.”