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[Kyra Perl]

Kyra knew how to break into the kitchen now. One could thank Asaraa Vaashe for that. It was remarkable how easily the girl could pick up skills that benefited her. It only took a few sessions and now psychometry felt as easy as talking. She simply had to close her eyes... breath deep... and residual images came flooding forth-- fingers tapping on keypads, giving away door codes.

Tapas still remained another matter altogether. Along with practically everything else.

She wasn't here to think on that. She wanted cookies. Stat. The later hour was no deterrence, in fact she was sure it only made her pantry-raiding task all the easier. The only problem was, the old code wasn't working. She frowned at the data pad she stood before, her brows furrowing as she tried to unmix the disorienting images flooding her.

"One, five, two, six?" She muttered to herself. She tapped out the code. The light flashed red, giving out a soft denial chirp. She cursed under her breath, hitting it. "How many times have they changed you?" Her voice slipped through the quiet hall, echoing off walls.

 

[Kei Amadis]

“Invading….. Wookiee Top Hats.” Kei mumbled waking up from a very fashion-conscious dream. Shuffling from inside the kitchen, a cupboard door shutting and someone waking up. He could hear someone outside, so he blinked a bit, cleared his throat, sat up and got up.

Swwwwwwish the door opened.

“One Six… Eight… One Eight.” He rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his head. “Master Hilbatosh’s birthday.” Or was it, “Master Kirande’s?” He yawned.

In the doorway facing her, she’d see one Jedi Master, green jacket, black t, black jeans and combat boots. There was as always a white holo locket under the t-shirt around his neck. He was blinking his eyes, having fallen asleep in the kitchen. Good thing the order's cook wasn’t around this time of night, she was worse than the old groundskeeper’s broom, only with a spatula for stray hands in the biscuits. He'd bought the biscuits too!

Behind him if Kyra looked. The Jedi Master seemed to have been making what looked like cereal, only it was green, blue and purple. Sweet though, very sweet. Apparently he’d put away the orders last remaining box of cookies before she had entered, though there were some crumbs on the desk, a floating cookie or two in the mix of the bowl. A bowl that looked so sweet you might break a tooth inhaling it. He’d not touched it, raising the question whether it was for him. Beside that was a thick black Sunrise Caf, which also hadn’t been touched before his slumber, a fatal mistake in timing.

A vague recipe was on the table for children’s deserts, it looked to have flour, coloring and someone’s sleeping chin print on it. However it resembled nothing like Kei had managed in the bowl.

“Can’t sleep either?” Amadis asked. Having two young children was no picnic, nobody taught you Jedi Meditation capable of standing up to that onslaught to the senses. "I recommend the caf." Which probably wouldn't help thinking about it. "Or some meditation." He added in a very Jedi Master-y way, but this time of night pulling that off was difficult.

Kyra Perl

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra froze in place, clearly not expecting a master to be awaiting her on the other side of the door. Never mind to find one baking.

"...But you were just sleeping," she concluded wearily, stepping in and allowing the door to swish shut behind her. She took careful steps in, her shoulders high, braced for the chastising.

It never came. She slowly relaxed, her wariness turning to curiosity as she came up across the counter to eye the monstrosity he had created. "...I hate meditation-- why are you trying to bake. It's like 2 in the morning."

She walked over to him and sniffed his coffee.

Ugh. She pulled a face. No sugar.

 

[Kei Amadis]

You were just sleeping.

Amadis rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. Sleeping involved actual rest not comatose bake induced slumber, he rubbed his chin to get the sugar off, half succeeding.

“Mercy nap. To prepare me for victory with...” he looked at the mess. “Whatever this is,” he scratched the side of his cheek.

A little known fact among Jedi parents, failed baking daze is what you do at 2am when the padawans are trained for the day, all the sith have gone home to rest, the kids have gone to sleep, and you have a child’s birthday tomorrow. Sadly no holocron existed to teach you that, only life.

There were a selection of candles hanging out of his pocket, which he realised he had and laid them on the table. “Most people hate meditation to start.” He cracked his neck letting some tension out, and resumed stirring the ingredients. “Pass me the…” he turned to page 5 of the ingredients and squinted, “sugar would you.” The mix really didn’t look like it needed more sugar, if anything more sugar might cause explosions or some giant alchemical cookiee monsters to burst forth out of the broth.

“How’s life,” he asked completely casually, you didn’t get much more informal than at 2am in a baking mess to take the mystery and distance away from any titles or formalities, showing someone as a person, or in this case a bad baker. That’s all any of them were at the end of it, people, with abilities.

Kyra Perl

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra shuffled forward and passed him the salt.

"I- um." She groped hard at the counter. Had a master ever asked her that before? She was pretty sure they hadn't. It was weird.

She was still ready for the other shoe to drop, and so she shrugged, answering unhonestly.

"Great. Perfect. Do my homework and meditate every night. Is why I'm up you see.Meditating." Her words squished towards the end, the girl mumbling. She grabbed at a bag of chocolate chips, plucking them into her mouth. "Makes me hungry." She chewed for a second, then remember that in normal conversation it was polite to ask back. She swallowed hard, giving him an unsure gesture.

"...You?"

 

[Kei Amadis]

Too sleepy to check what she'd given him, he put some and then licked his finger. “Not helping.” Putting the desert aside and deciding it needed a second attempt, a final salty nail in an already well-baked coffin. You? “Amelia’s birthday,” he was going to say tomorrow but at 2am it was today. Elara Amadis hopefully had the celebration in hand, he was already feeling like he'd let his daughter down not getting this done yesterday.

“Give you homework now?” Scratching his stubble again, he cleared the decks, removing some of the clutter from the table. His day you trained what you wanted to and developed your talents based on your personality, with a few key basics, of course, to survive always taught. The Epicanthix would have a word with the Masters about overburdening the students with homework they didn’t want training in. "See what I can do about that."

Off to wash his hands, “help a Jedi out.” He cleaned his hands thoroughly. Not much of a baker, this had been a mistake. Time to try for a more traditional cake. First the dough, which he already had mixed but now it needed kneading. Dropping some non-wheat brown flour down to layer the surface. After five minutes of him working the dough, he passed it over to Kyra to help out. It was tougher than traditional flour and kept its shape more readily.

Whether she helped or not to relieve some stress on the dough, he asked, “feeling confined?” The Master had known a Zeltron or two and a few nights out in his youth that were a blur. It was obvious she wanted to break free, some Jedi traveled the entire galaxy doing just that, and were no less a positive influence. "Need wings." He said almost to himself, a starfighter?

Kyra Perl

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra took the dough, giving it a cautious, careful poke and prod. She had clearly never done it before, but there was a bit of fun in squishing things. She quickly found it was a great outlet for her hands as her mind reeled at his words. Masters always seemed to see right through her. It made her uncomfortable, which was hypocritical of the empath, no doubt.

It was just hard to act better than you are around them.

Her brows pulled in, her fists churning in the dough in a manner that would leaf a chef cringing. It felt nice. "I tried flying once. Jumped off one of the trees on the Rest's edge. Thought I could use the force to keep me up. ...Hall of healing gave me a big talking to about 'physics'," she huffed. Punch-twist- knead. "I'm not stupid you know! Its just so boring!"

 

[Kei Amadis]

Not stupid. “I know Kyra.” Kei added with a firm nod, he wasn’t much of an empath, his mental abilities too almost scoring zero, flaws of an Epicanthix. Didn’t take much sense of the subtle to see she was struggling, “make it exciting, those awkward bits, that's on you to change.” He was frank with her, no hand-holding.

“Breaking routine,” he nodded, “bringing some life in, your specialty.” He was straight with her, getting the ingredients ready again. Kei rubbed his hands on his trousers making a flour ridden mess of them. Time for a fireside Amadis story, he poured her a stimcaf from the mixer and left the glass beside the flour, This one had about six spoonfuls of sugar in it, the spoon in the caf was standing up almost, Jedi Master coffee insights.

“Years ago, I was the same.” Offering to take over if she was tired, otherwise he watched and prepared what they’d need for the cake, a big bowl of icing to mix up. “All of us feel awkward, squashed, trapped, out of place. You name it, that difficulty is why you are here, fixing, helping, easing.” He shrugged, choose your verb. Sometimes it started wars, sometimes it led to peace, sometimes it led to a good cake. Mostly it was just life, and your purpose in it.

Getting a spoonful of what looked like fiery red icing for his daughter’s hair, “what do you think?” He offered the spoon over.

Kyra Perl