D a u g h t e r o f A s h y r a
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Anneliese sensed him before he spoke — that bright, untempered spark in the Force threading softly through the hum of the hall. She turned toward him with the fluid ease of someone long practiced in stillness, curls brushing against her shoulder as she did.
The young Jedi bowed, earnest and a little uncertain. She let him finish before she spoke, her expression calm, her voice warm but measured.
"Padawan Larsen," she greeted, inclining her head. "You've arrived at a good moment. The ceremony's ended, yes — but its spirit still lingers in these walls. I am Knight Anneliese Koahal-Delaine, this is Knight Lorn Reingard.”
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Lorn beside her, an unspoken acknowledgment of his presence, before returning fully to the Padawan.
At the mention of Aiden, a faint, knowing smile curved her lips, the glint of a canine catching the light for the briefest heartbeat. "Master Porte - Aiden…," she echoed, soft amusement threading her tone. "Yes, I know him — though I haven't crossed paths with him yet. I imagine that won't take long."
She studied him quietly for a moment — not with the sharpness of scrutiny, but with the patience of intuition. The Force moved differently around him, bright and alive, and though she said nothing of it, the recognition lingered in her gaze.
"It's good that you've come," she said at last, her words carrying a quiet sincerity. "Fresh eyes, eager hearts — they remind the rest of us why we began. They give places like this their light again."
Then, gently, her tone softened.
"Tell me — your master. Is he here? Or are you still waiting to be placed?"
Her voice carried no command, only interest — an open invitation, grounded in calm strength. The air seemed to settle again around them, as if even the hall itself leaned closer to listen.