Paila Dalle
Patience is a virtuous path
The first instinct had been to dismiss the conversation as little more than another encounter with someone convinced they possessed the answer to the galaxy's oldest questions. But the thought refused to leave her.
It lingered while she tended the garden behind her cottage. It lingered while she repaired a neighbor's moisture pump. It lingered while she sat alone one evening watching the last light disappear beyond the fields. The armored Imperial had spoken with a certainty she had encountered before. Jedi possessed it. Sith possessed it. Politicians possessed it. Yet his certainty had been different. It had not been born of conquest, nor vengeance.
It had been born of grief. That disturbed her far more. Paila had met enough people to know that conviction forged through suffering often proved far more resilient than conviction inherited through doctrine.
He did not merely hate the Sith. He believed that the galaxy itself could never know lasting peace while Force traditions continued to shape it.
She found herself wondering whether anyone else had heard him speak. Not the Jedi Order. She had left that life long ago. If she sought them now, the conversation would likely become about strategy, alliances, and ancient obligations. Those things had their place. They simply were not what she needed. She needed another person who had chosen to walk away. Someone who still listened to the Force without allowing an institution to speak over it.
The inquiry she left was deliberately modest. It contained no mention of holocrons, no mention of Imperials, nor of threats. Only a simple request. If there are others who walk apart from the Order....I would value a conversation.
Sometimes an understanding began not with agreement, but with finding someone willing to ask the same questions.
Tag:
Prosen Dibs
It lingered while she tended the garden behind her cottage. It lingered while she repaired a neighbor's moisture pump. It lingered while she sat alone one evening watching the last light disappear beyond the fields. The armored Imperial had spoken with a certainty she had encountered before. Jedi possessed it. Sith possessed it. Politicians possessed it. Yet his certainty had been different. It had not been born of conquest, nor vengeance.
It had been born of grief. That disturbed her far more. Paila had met enough people to know that conviction forged through suffering often proved far more resilient than conviction inherited through doctrine.
He did not merely hate the Sith. He believed that the galaxy itself could never know lasting peace while Force traditions continued to shape it.
She found herself wondering whether anyone else had heard him speak. Not the Jedi Order. She had left that life long ago. If she sought them now, the conversation would likely become about strategy, alliances, and ancient obligations. Those things had their place. They simply were not what she needed. She needed another person who had chosen to walk away. Someone who still listened to the Force without allowing an institution to speak over it.
The inquiry she left was deliberately modest. It contained no mention of holocrons, no mention of Imperials, nor of threats. Only a simple request. If there are others who walk apart from the Order....I would value a conversation.
Sometimes an understanding began not with agreement, but with finding someone willing to ask the same questions.
Tag:
Prosen Dibs