Just another day at the Shame Corner– or was it?
Inside the Golden Griddle, nestled in a tiny booth that could fit two or perhaps three children or small species across from one another, directly next to the swinging kitchen door and entrance of the curving serving counter bar top, sat Avalon. The Echani was dressed cozily and casually as ever, and sipped at a cup of tea with a Holo cracked in front of her. To one side was a datapad, but her ever-present earpiece and comm were absent, or at least stowed. It seemed she wasn’t actively on-duty.
Rather, she awaited a quite rare guest.
An invisible hand pulled the chair across from Avalon backward just enough for Bril Teg Erinos to plop down into it with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then looked up to see that she was already watching him with a look that he couldn’t quite read – was it curiosity or pity?
“Hey,” he said dryly, forcing a smile. Hopefully, she could sense that he was genuinely happy to see her despite the obvious exhaustion.
“Hello, Envoy Erinos. Shall I order you some tea or caf?” A pleasant smile was directed back at him, and her Holo was pushed aside.
“If you have any tea recommendations, I’d appreciate it,” he replied, looking at her with a bit more attentiveness than he had before. He paused, and quirked an eyebrow. “You know, every time I see you, you’re practically glowing. What’s your secret?”
“That’s very kind of you,” she replied with an arch of one perfect silver brow. She waved a hand, and one of the servers came over.
“Oh, hey, you again,” greeted Ray, nodding to Bril and holding himself well away from Avalon’s electronics. “What am I doing?”
“A cup of drüki please, dear. And, what was it? The fish cakes?”
“That he got last time? Yeah.”
“Well that, and all my secrets, it seems.”
Silver eyes crinkled as she sipped from her own cup.
Avalon smiled back at him, seeming genuinely content. “Yes, we’ve mostly cleaned up, and Ira has recovered after her sabbatical. It’s never easy when such an incident happens though, and while some of our staff knew firsthand what to expect, many were only aware of the possibility and protocols; it wasn’t something they had ever anticipated to actually happen.”
“Good,” he said, gazing down at his hands that were currently clasped together. “Has it always been like this? The three of you together, watching out for each other?”
The Echani hummed, regarding him a moment as he regarded his hands. The mildly penitent pose and her promise already given to provide a talk moved her enough to reply.
“Not always, but for a very long time now, yes. We were disparate forces once, in our own time. Eventually we found one another, and found that we were more balanced and stable together. We kept each other more…shall we say, for the metaphor, Human.”
“You bring out the best in one another. The way family should,” he commented, “and you all do seem very humble. I wouldn’t have guessed you were as powerful as you were had I not sensed it.”
“As I told you…it is I who keeps us safe. Humble, as you say.” She stirred her drink with a tea spoon, the soft, screeing susurrus of metal on ceramic a high, faint song. “Were our power advertised unmasked, we could not have built a family like this.”
A flick of her eyes indicated the station around them.
“If you indicate humility in nature of temperament…that is, I think, more something we owe to everyone around us. The friends and lovers and children we have had through the ages. The people like you who come through here each day.” Her grin was wry. “How is one to feel like some god, when on a daily basis someone will shout at you over their cold caf, or you can watch a child drag their parent on their last wit to a candy machine, or get a guest falling asleep in their porridge and another destroying the biggest toilet we have?”
Bril wrinkled his eyebrows at the thought of having to deal with that all day, everyday. “You’re more patient than me, that’s for sure,” he admitted, “Though, I suspect that comes with age and experiencing life.”
He held her gaze, watching her expression and the gentle warmth that radiated out through the shared phenomenological space between them – the space where those with even middling sensitivity in the Force could access. She loved this life she had made for herself, and the people within it, that much was clear. He smiled before shaking his head.
“In some respects, yes,” Avalon acknowledged. “Though there is some quality of personality to it as well, to persevere in such, as you might see in some of our longer serving employees… There is also our desire to remain humane. Having a goal so important helps mitigate the daily… annoyances.”
His food and drink arrived then, streaming hot, and the Echani politely leaned back with her tea in order to indicate to Bril the atmosphere was an easy one.
“Please, enjoy your food. Your due may wait, if you wish.”
Bril nodded politely when Ray came over, disregarding the fact that she did not reveal the secret of her perfect skin.
Her comment about her secrets forced him to look away. The doggedness with which he’d approached learning about her and her sisters was a detail he’d preferred to forget. Things between them were better now, of course, but it still made him cringe inwardly when looking back on it. Not all questions needed to be answered, nor was it necessarily his right to answer them, too many of his family had reminded him.
Looking around the Griddle for anything that seemed out of place, he found nothing. “Looks like things are getting back to normal after the last time we met. Some of your staff still feel on edge, though.”
Bril nodded and pulled the tray of food closer to him. Although he didn’t need to, he flexed his index finger to wrap one of the fish cakes up in the Force and, once it was floating in front of him, he siphoned away some of the heat, causing the faint wisps of steam to dissipate. This little display, though casual for him, caused a passing child to guffaw at the sight. But by the time the little twi'lek boy got his parent to look over, Bril had already finished eating it.
A smile appeared on the Starosta’s features. “Ugh. These are just to die for,” he mused aloud, closing his eyes to better savor the taste of fried batter and seasoned fish. Then, he raised an eyebrow while looking at her. “My due?”
Avalon seemed amused by the antics, looking after the little boy a moment longer as the pair moved on before her attention returned to Bril.
“Indeed. Whether or not you can fully comprehend it, you helped prevent an apocalypse the last you were here. As I told you in my message, we intend to show our gratitude for that, and your curiosity being what it is, it seemed the most fitting way to do that is to provide you some answers.”
It was but the slightest shift, but for one double-heartbeat of the Zabrak’s, it seemed the whole station stilled. People stalled in place. A splash of soda froze mid-stream, froth spraying sideways held in the air. Sound silenced. Even the light warped, bending strangely, leaving a blur behind it, as though a long-exposure holo. A held breath.
And then it all snapped back into motion as the Echani continued her statement.
“…we would give you three answers. Anything you wish to ask or know. It may be towards any of us, each of us, however many of the three to each, so on. But I would warn you to tread lightly. As you have learned before, there is such thing as too much knowing. And no, clarifying questions or normal conversation won’t count against your total, nor need it be today; you can ask at any time.”
“An apocalypse.”
Bril paused to appreciate the weight of the word. Although he could sense the gravity of the situation when it was happening, he hadn’t considered it nearly as serious as her words suggested. But, he didn’t know Avalon to use words flippantly, either. Then, the world around them stopped for a moment, frozen like an image born from a malfunctioning holoprojector; however, this was no accident, but an intentional show of power from the enigmatic woman sitting across from him … wasn’t it?
“…I’ll need time, then, to find the right questions.”
He held her gaze, providing space for the silence that took root following his sentence’s end.
Avalon’s pale lips, petal pink on their inner edges and stark spots of color to her complexion, curved in a smile.
“That is a wise choice, Envoy Erinos. We will be here, waiting, whereupon you find them.”
She seemed equally comfortable with silences as with speaking, and after holding his gaze a moment, turned to observe the diner. Her diner, theirs. She tucked a bit of stray silver hair behind her ear, metal glinting in the cheery lights, a restful cast to her features just watching the world unfold.
“Allow me to ask you a question…when you think of peace, what do you think?”
The zabrak remained quiet for a moment or two, considered her question. It didn’t take him long to settle on a suitable answer, though.
“When I think of peace, I think of my friends and family,” he began, a gentle smile spreading across his features as he thought of everyone he loved. “When we’re all safe. The home that we’ve built together.”
Pale lips quirked in similar warmth.
“Then in this we are quite similar. I have witnessed such a heartfelt answer persist time and time again, across billions of worlds, for eons. It is oft what I bear in mind: that many of us merely wish for that peace.”
“For someone who has lived so long, have you not become … jaded?” he asked, “My cyar'ika and I have watched holofilms about that kind of thing, the immortal who has become world weary. It seems like a terribly sad life.”
Avalon gave the faintest snort. “Yes, we’ve seen such films too. They aren’t always inaccurate. A life can be quite a difficult thing to live, and living so many of them – rather, living past so many shorter ones – can indeed be…terribly sad.” She thumbed at the band on her finger. “We cope in different ways. Each of us has had periods of withdrawal. As I mentioned, we’ve had friends, partners, children and grandchildren… Having each other is likely what most keeps us sane, as much as it also continues our unrelenting journey. We are in balance.”
“The family that you’ve fostered over your lives … do you still keep in contact with any of them?” Bril asked, noting the subtle touch of the band on her finger. “Do any of them know you’re still alive?”
That drew a pause from the Echani, the slight and sudden stilling of her hand causing the tea in her cup to ripple gently. It didn’t spill over the rim, but the motion was noticable.
“Yes,” she allowed on an exhale, setting the porcelain teacup down as if it weighed more than the core of a black dwarf star. “Some do. It becomes more difficult as generations pass. Eventually contact lessens, or we become myths to our own descendents. Sometimes, small deceptions are simpler than the truth; to reach out as a friend, or a distant cousin. I have relatives living right now in town on the other side of the asteroid that call me an aunt but know I birthed their grandfather. Other times it’s in the moment– you and I, now. My current husband and I, or Vidente and her polycule. Ahem, quartet, I believe they like to call themselves? Mato changes the nominer weekly, I swear.” A fond if exasperated crease came to her eyes as she peered at Ray, who, though across the diner, stiffened and turned as if he sensed her eyes on him. He gaped, then made gestures as if to say, hey, don’t blame me, I can’t control him! Avalon laughed softly, tinkling glass. “Mmm, Janey is obsessed with that Reiden boy right now, disaster that’ll be. I haven’t seen her like that in decades. She…”
The mirth, that glittering glass, stilled on the ground in shattered pieces.
“Sometimes,” Avalon intoned gravely, “staying with us, knowing we are what we are, is not safe.”
And she left it at that.