First Reply After the Rain

[Isobel Serraris]

AFTER THE RAIN​

Location — Naboo, Theed.
Objective — Gift the people of Theed bouquets of flowers. . .
Tags — Open
Paraphernalia — Double-bladed lightsaber, Jedi Robes

Petrichor, the unique scent which lingered whenever the rain fell down upon the Nabooan soil. It was pleasant, almost as if the flowers expressed their delight through it. Even the bouquets Isobel held within her grasp seemed to shimmer a little brighter upon the lightest blessing of the skies. The vivid colours of the composition of roses, millaflowers and orchids appearing to pop amid the bleak day. A glimmer of hope, of life amid the gloom that may consume it otherwise. And that was exactly why the girl had been sent to the streets of Theed on this day, why she was pacing through the cobbled streets towards the main square.

Every few days, often once a fortnight, the House Serraris would hand out a handful of flowers and bouquets to its civilians and even foreigners. Meant to bring a smile to their face, a light if their day was shrouded in darkness. It had become a habit that some of its civilians seemed to look forward to, for the bouquets may otherwise be too expensive or--a luxury they simply could not afford yet. Hence why it brought the young Jedi Padawan a sense of fulfilment, to be able to aid others when they were unable to aid themselves. Yet, despite the honourable motives she held behind the tradition, she could not turn a blind eye to the economical and political machinations that fueled it. If civilians saw their mercy, their generosity, they may declare their support more easily for the house, and promote the floristry business to others.

Nevertheless, Isobel paid those flaws little mind when she arrived at the square, standing amidst the large puddles as she watched for anyone who might catch her interest... Someone who might need a gift, her gift. Yet as a handful of weary workers passed by, none stirred that necessary spark within her. Her brown eyes proceeded to wander over the serene city, still searching, still waiting for the moment that might ignite the flame once more.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Isobel Serraris

To Lysander, it felt like an eternity since he last trod the streets of Theed, but in truth, more than a year had passed. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, that was little more than a blink, but this place had seared itself into his soul like a brand. In the crucible of war, time had a way of easily slipping.

Along the cobbled streets he moved, hands folded behind him, posture straight, shoulders squared. The scent of stone and blooming gardens rose like incense. So, he drew it all in. For the first time since he could remember, he would admit that he missed this place.

Naboo was a jewel in the galaxy, a soft place in a path that demanded life be hard, where so much of his own path was shadow and death.

Like a blade sheathed, his Force signature was buried. The skill came easy these days, a combination of measured breathing, and the tightening of will. Allowing it to ripple out into the city would be dangerous.. unfortunately.

And unlike most days, he was not wholly wrapped like a wraith. Garments were a tapestry of indigo, charcoal, and wine. A silver clasp glinted at the collar. Not the stark black of the Order, but hues of mourning.. somber, yet capable of commanding in some reaches of the galaxy. Not here.. not in Theed.

The rain left the city glistening, and had he glanced down, he would’ve seen familiar domes in those puddles. Before long he came to a corner, eyes narrowing slightly, observing the square. His sisters were here now.. or so he believed, though contact had been sparse lately. And yet the bond of blood refused to be severed so easily. The thought stirred a primal feeling in Lysander's chest; not longing, but a heavy weight that reminded him of the importance of family.

He missed Corazona von Ascania , and he missed Fatine von Ascania ; in truth, he missed more than a few souls scattered across the Mid Rim..

His gaze shifted amidst the crowds. Workers.. merchants. The sight of children darting between the puddles prompted a faint tug at the corner of his mouth. Then, there was color.. bouquets in the arms of a young woman.

It was easy to spot on a gray day. Light and shadow. Beauty and gloom. He stood between them for so long now.

Instead of lingering in curiosity, he let his boots carry him forward. His gait was unhurried; his hands still clasped behind his back as though he were strolling the halls of his own home.

“It’s rare to see someone give without asking anything in return. Most people I’ve met want credits.. or favors, or names to remember them by. But you..” Lysander gestured toward the flowers, offering a half-smile “you make it look as if hope itself can be handed out. What’s the occasion?"

 

[Isobel Serraris]

AFTER THE RAIN​

Location — Naboo, Theed.
Objective — Gift the people of Theed bouquets of flowers. . .
Tags — Lysander von Ascania
Paraphernalia — Double-bladed lightsaber, Jedi Robes

The mercy of men was but a scarcity these days, an anomaly among the wrathful and cruel. They would rather battle their foes, live for the rush than to take a second to appreciate the beauty there is in life rather than in delivering death. So as some civilians ignored her and her flowers, it became not a question of who was worthy, but more of who would listen to her offer. Who would even see her? She was a stark contrast with her environment, her clothes were a light pink, adorned with floral embroidery upon her puffy sleeves, whilst most was hidden by the brightly coloured bouquets she tried to hold. It was not oft that she would have to stand there for so long, and now the weight of the items was slowly beginning to have its effects on her arms--but she refused to let it diminish her smile.

So as a taller blonde man approached her, Isobel shuffled a bit on her feet to adjust the weight of the flowers. "Not everything needs to be a purchase..." She began, trailing off lightly as she studied the darker garbs. Did he favour such robes or was he mourning something? With the amount of hours she had spent in her family's memorial gardens, dark clothing was often a sign of grief of some form... So with that rushed deduction, she handed him one of the bouquets. "My family gifts the people of Theed flowers to bring them some sunshine on a cloudy day." The girl corrected with a smile, before her brown eyes darted around the square, the skies were still dark, and more civilians began to draw back to their work or home. It would no doubt rain once again in mere minutes.

"Though I fear the weather shall leave my efforts in vain." She said light-heartedly, a soft giggle leaving her. As her eyes drew back to the man, or should she say boy, as he seemed to be closer to her age than any of her brothers. "Please, do take care of the flowers. They need to be watered daily or once every two days and placed somewhere where the sun can reach them, but not too much sunlight-- that is bad, they will dry out." Isobel advised him, more so praying the stranger would not plunge the flowers into the nearest canal or trashbin...

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Isobel Serraris ​

The bouquet was lighter than he expected, blooms like ghosts in his calloused hands.. a gentle force he could not refuse. For once, his grasp bore life, not death. His head inclined, fingers grazing the stems, hesitant to disturb their beauty, undeserving after what war in the Outer Rim had carved into him.

And for a brief moment, Lysander studied them.. roses, orchids, colors that seemed defiant amid today’s forecast.

Then, without even thinking, he drew them closer, drawing in the faint sweetness, which only conjured both longing and guilt.

“Not everything needs to be a purchase,” he echoed her words back, the phrase feeling foreign on the tongue. It may have been obvious that he carried the weight of someone who had seen too many exchanges where blood or credit was the only currency.

Especially back on Smuggler's Moon..

Here, on Naboo, speaking freely as a Sith came with consequences. A terrible thought it was, to think that honesty required a disguise.

The cobbles caught the tap of boots as his posture shifted, and for the first time his hands were not clasped behind the back, but occupied. One brushed a bead of rain from his sleeve. Tentative, the motion betrayed him, suddenly aware of how out of place he looked among her brightness.

But he was always intrigued by the unique customs of others.

“Your family bestows them up on others freely?” A slight tilt, his gaze lingered on her, the moment brief, but not unkind. There was no judgement. “That is.. unusual. Most families I’ve known would sooner hoard beauty like trophies.”

A wry curl bent his lips. “I tend to forget that Naboo breeds a different kind of generosity.”

Then, a sound between a chuckle and a sigh escaped.

His emerald gaze returned to the arrangement, as if seeing it in a new light. "Rain does not mar them. It reminds us they breathe.”

A touch of something indefinable flickered across his visage.

With the fall of her instructions, his expression softened further.

“Ok.. water daily, but not too much sun.” Lysander spoke dryly, as if reciting some kind of mantra from training. “You do realize you’ve entrusted me with flowers, not a bantha, right?”

Around them, civilians were drifting about their daily lives. Memories of the Mandalorian invasion flashed in his mind. Ironically, his own helmet now bore the same infamous T-visor.

“Tell me of your family,” he prodded, tone polite. “What drives them to give, when so many others only take?”

He stole a glance at the sky, then back at the bouquet. “If they drown, I’ll blame Naboo’s skies, not your instructions.”

 

[Isobel Serraris]

AFTER THE RAIN​

Location — Naboo, Theed.
Objective — Gift the people of Theed bouquets of flowers. . .
Tags — Lysander von Ascania
Paraphernalia — Lightsaber, Jedi Robes

Naboo was a unique sort of garden, while flowers bloomed in all shades and sizes, there were some pests sullying all life within, be it the petals or the roots providing them stability. Nonetheless, to stare endlessly in the abyss, awaiting each bad omen was futile. Though she had yet encountered a scarce number of nobles, she believed that even the corrupt and disillusioned, possessed a light within them, a seedling that may yet prosper in the right soil. "Flowers are not trophies." Isobel defended. "My family trades in them, but why would we keep such beauty under lock and key?" Mayhap she had not seen enough of this galaxy to know otherwise, but the mere thought of these bouquets, of gardens, not being opened to all people was a... disgrace. How else would people connect with their loved ones?

Though the raindrops tapped lightly on her robes, she continued to listen to the individual. His thoughts were fascinating, but also currying a bit of doubt about his worthiness of a bouquet. "It is a bit small for a Bantha, indeed." A soft laugh escaped the young girl, before she shook her head, her curls grazing past the bouquets still in hand. "But a life is a life, whether it is a large creature, or a small flower. We all breathe, nourish, live, so why would one life not deserve the same treatment as the other?" Mayhaps it was a tinge dramatic, but in her family flowers were taken care of in better ways than most creatures elsewhere. It was only reasonable for nature to be cherished, for we would all one day return to it and wish to be treated with care and respect.

As the skies unleashed heavier rain, the petals in her bouquet gradually closed, forcing her hand to swiftly be raised and cast a faint -- and fragile -- barrier over the flowers. The shield still permitted a handful of droplets to flicker through. . . "I would love to tell you more, but I fear I am ill-dressed for this weather." Isobel began to shift on her feet, trying to keep herself warm as her clothes absorbed most of the water. "There is a café nearby, or we could speak more at the Serraris Estate." She proposed, unsure whether the stranger would wish to delve deeper into flowers, families and Naboo. Either way, she'd rather not suffer a cold the next few days and miss the lightsaber training at Shiraya's Sanctuary. . .