SHIRAYA'S SANCTUARY
NABOO
Rik was propped up in the doorway of the quarters he’d occupied these few months, tapping out the remainder of a message he’d been mulling over since returning over an hour before. He had stalled himself there, from just beating a path right to the people in charge.
After the Jedi Coalition more or less dispersed, and the Foundation wound down its operations, Rik took the time to think it all through, began to address the matter of
his own continued development, and started to shift the training of his padawan as well, by taking the opportunity for some more
in-depth forays and discussions.
He could never have predicted what he and Ceri encountered on Ruusan, or that he would be leaving the historic world without her. The Valley of the Jedi was a site that for centuries remained undisturbed, but now housed a
fortress well-guarded and nigh-impenetrable by a single man, Jedi or not. He could remember the statues clearly, the features of who he could only guess was the resident of that place. Every bit of memory was vivid, and matched what images were acquired from a distance before it all went sideways.
Rik could still hear her screams as she was grabbed, before a hand was clapped over her mouth, and she was carted off beyond his reach. He knew there was nothing he could do then, warned off as he was, from dodging more than just
blaster fire. It would be wise to bring this to the attention of the Shirayan council, not only for the sake of his padawan, but because of what such a thing in the southern systems could mean. And he had been meaning to meet with at least the Grandmaster, anyway.
Coming around to the idea of being part of the structure of an Order again was an easier thing to swallow this time around… the only issue was one of the people running the show: after
getting into it with one council member the other month, over her perception of his being around
Briana Sal-Soren
, he could only hope there weren't going to be any further issues with his presence, or misconceptions about who he was. Or jealousy, for that matter. He intended to stay for a while. Probably a long while.
“
And attach images,” he uttered under his breath, finishing up the message, “
and send.” His head dropped back against the doorframe, and his arms dropped to his sides, leaving the ‘pad to dangle from his hand. “
Ball’s in your court now.”
Words spoken to no-one. Rik stayed like this for some moments, listening to the low din of the active temple, distant conversation, activity, and the coming and going of a ship at the landing pad. He stared, unfocused, down the corridor, his thoughts drifting to the small number of times he was before a council in the past, typical and atypical markers in the life of a Jedi. Each one either a point of ascension, or a matter of loss. Ceri was around the age Rik had been at a difficult juncture of his own life as a padawan.
He didn’t know what, if anything, that meant, or if it was just a coincidence, but it wasn’t a line of thought he dwelt in for long, when something began to draw him out of it. His head lifted and his eyes refocused on the corridor, and his senses refocused, reflexively.
Rik blinked, and he lifted further away from the doorframe, “
Can’t be,” he whispered, pushing away completely, tossing the datapad on the bed, and stepping out of the doorway, letting the door slide shut behind him. “
Y’gotta be fuckin’ with me.”
He started making his way towards that familiar presence, half-suspicious and half-surprised, only picking up the pace when it became evident that he’d find her on the way to the landing pad, and when he heard the whistle of that droid of hers. And the very moment the pair of them came into view, he didn’t smile; it was only delayed in pulling one corner up. Just one, with all that was swimming in the background of his thoughts.
“
If I didn’t know better,” he started, mild humour in his tone as suspicion faded, “
might think you two were following me.”
He knew that was bullshit. Nothing but a string of coincidences.
