Apprentices on Obredaan

[Bo Nadea]

The rattle of dishes and tinkering of silverware chimed through the main area of their small apartment. On the left side of the open space the kitchen was occupied by a rather tall woman sorting out plates, picking out which felt the least scratched. Her husband, a lean fellow of a slightly taller stature, was busy over their tiny stovetop. The food in the skillet was sizzling and the aroma which wafted through the room was mouthwatering.
“After all these years you still haven’t told me where you learned to cook so well.” she said while taking the flatware to the table. He chuckled, “I told you! I was sworn to secrecy. A simple engineer learning the most clandestine secrets of the culinary worlds, only to divulge them to a pretty face?”
Her lips curled in a mischievous smile as she set the dishes in a deliberate fashion, “Fine. Very well. Have your little secrets--I’ll get it out of you sooner or later.”
“Is that a threat?” The stove had shut off and he left the food to simmer. He ambled into the dining area cleaning his hands with a towel. She quickly bluffed a grave demeanor. Attending the positions of the silverware suddenly garnered her close attention. Letting his arms drop to his side he feigned distress, “I do all this prep work, cooking, cleaning! And you treat me like this? When was the last time I received a thanks for this grueling labor of love and self-sacrifice?” He floundered his arms in such a silly display of playful exasperation it caused her façade to break into laughter. She drew close and kissed his jaw.
“Pitir, on behalf of me, myself, and I, we thank you,” she cocked her head and raised a brow, “Just tone down your frustrations when our guest arrives, please.”
Sighing, he adjusted the third chair round the table and looking quite forlorn, muttered feebly, “Yes ma‘am...”
“Oh--get out of here. Go! Get!” She lightly shoved his shoulder and he retreated back to the kitchen with an impish snicker. Removing a pan from the oven and the skillet from the stove he added the finishing touches to both dishes and informed Amadea that supper was ready. The menu was a stir-fry of varied vegetables with three different meats, and a savory deep dish consisting of several round white tuber vegetables cut in thin slices and baked in melted strands of fermented milk curds. Pitir was proud of his creations and even commented so, only to have Amadea tease him with the idea that their guest would think it a repulsive hodgepodge of random ingredients.
“If your friend is even half the seasoned traveler you make him out to be then I should think he would know good food when he tastes it. Unless he’s an idiot or whatever. And I don’t know, he might be one! You know what they say about restless boots. If this Vino guy--”
She interrupted, “Not Vino, Veino. [member="Veino Garn"]. So he likes to travel. I travel all the time! And no, I don’t know what they say about restless boots…you hang around those brutes on the lower decks too much. I remember he used to be a little brash and headstrong (when he was young at least), but he was otherwise level-headed and responsible. I think you’ll like him. It’s been at least 8 or 9 years since I’ve seen him last. Quite a stroke of luck finding out he was in the sector.” Just as she finished setting the table the door chime rang. Quickly she donned her red leather jacket and reminded Pitir to remove his silver-grey apron.

 

[Veino Garn]

Veino stepped back away from the door after pressing the door chime and surveyed the area behind him out of habit, stretching out with the Force. It wasn't exactly intentional. The habit had just sort of grow on him over time. That certainly didn't make it a bad idea though. It was quite an excellent one, in fact. [member="Amadea Navlen"] was in there, he could feel, so he at least knew he was at the proper dwelling. No awkward instances of being at the wrong house. She seemed a little different through the Force, but that was to be expected. Nine years was enough for someone to be an entirely new person. He certainly was. The scars running down his cheekbones and along his arms were just the most visible changes.

He'd been broken somewhere along the way. That was obvious to him despite not being sure when it had happened. So be it, he supposed. The Force shaped those who walked through the universe, subtly shifting their banks and adjusting their courses away from the swamps until one day they suddenly realize they stand at the shore of the ocean, not entirely sure how such a thing happened. He hoped that would be his destination. There was no place anywhere quite like an ocean coast. Of everywhere he had been, those places called to him. They were in between places, boundaries between worlds, unending doorways to new places. Those were places he could never resist.

He shifted his pack to move the weight to another spot on his shoulder and pushed his hat back. She would presumably recognize him. He took a deep breath, suddenly nervous. Seeing old friends again was... strange. Even those he'd traveled with before. How did one explain everything had gone on? Especially with his fellow Jensaarai, most of whom had stayed on Susefvi far from the wars that had ripped the galaxy apart in the past several years and most of which he'd been involved with in some way or another?

He stopped those thoughts in their tracks and settled into the Force, wrapping himself in its cool waters that washed away the emotions lingering on the cusp of spilling over. That was hardly thoughts and behavior hardly befitting a master of the Force well respected across half the galaxy. He gave a small laugh at that.That was hardly how he saw himself and would most certainly not be how Amadea remembered him. He wasn't entirely sure how she would, either, not since his rather unorthodox departure so many years before. That had been a troubled time and he was fairly certain certain parties had worked to downplay or tarnish his reputation. Not that they needed to do that. Roping another apprentice into an event that led to his death would have done that. But she had invited him to visit her and her husband over a meal. That was something at least. Friends did that. He supposed he'd have to wait and see. Hopefully he didn't look too much like a disreputable vagrant. He'd brought out his better travel suit, the one that hadn't been shredded and repaired more times than he could count.

 

[Bo Nadea]

Blocking out the visual hubbub of the station had been normal routine for Amadea, and admittedly she ignored the lightly flowing aura walking up the hall. “How did we miss that?” Asked Pitir, himself noting the stirring ripples of the Force. She walked briskly towards the door but stopped before opening it. He was stronger than he had been last she saw him, the Force gently swelling and winding around his being with a cool radiance. His countenance bore a worn yet wiser visage. She could see the indentations of scars which he had accumulated over time, those physical and those which ran deeper than flesh. She continued her observation through the metallic veil which separated them, becoming lost in her musing.
“Ya know that pack he’s carrying looks a little cumbersome, ‘Dea.” Pitir’s remark snapped her back from contemplation. She pressed a button on the keypad and the portal opened with a soft mechanical swish. With a warm smile she greeted him, “Hello, Veino.”
She ushered him in. “Hey that looks heavy! You can put it here,” she motioned for him to set his pack on a cushioned chair near the door. “Take your hat?” After he had settled in she gave him a welcoming hug, “Good to see you again.” They walked further into the apartment. It wasn’t big by any means, but it was quaint and had a comforting atmosphere to it. The sitting room consisted of a burgundy leather couch which could sit two people, the metal frame chair which now contained Veino’s belongings, and a relief of Ashla decorating the wall behind the couch accompanied by a relief of Bogan on the wall to its left. Though Amadea did not worship the two typical to Miraluka tradition, her husband held to the old religion and could be described as a mildly superstitious person. The kitchen was to the left and a round table was in the center of the room, situated under an attractive copper light fixture and on a rather bright green rug. Pitir smiled and removed his hands from his pockets to shake Veino’s, “So you are [member="Veino Garn"]. My wife won’t stop talking about you-” he felt a gentle push on his arm. Amadea had a habit of nudging him with the Force when she wasn't sure what he would say.
“All good things, of course! I’m Pitir. Pleasure to meet you friend.” He gestured to the first seat at the table, “Care to take a seat? Dinner is ready and waiting. I hope you like stir-fry.” Pitir moved to the kitchen area and began plating the food. Making sure Veino was comfortable she asked him what he would like to drink and left to go to the kitchen. As she grabbed the refreshment she watched Pitir plate the deep dish. After giving a light obscure cough she left the kitchen with a smirk on her lips. His back to the dining area Pitir bit his lip, pondering what he'd do if she said hodgepodge where Veino could hear.

 

[Veino Garn]

[member="Amadea Navlen"]

Veino gave a half smile as the door slid open and Amadea appeared in front of him. It had been a very long time. He stepped inside and slung his pack down to where she indicated. It was good to get it off. Not that it was extremely heavy, but it was a weight to carry around.

"I'm glad to see you again," He replied, taking his hat off and handing it to her before turning to return the hug, and looking over the apartment. it was nice and felt like home, even for him despite never having been there before. That took a lot nowadays. The interesting interior certainly helped. It didn't have the sterile metallic feel of most places he'd visited lately. Starports and stations for the most part. No homes, that was for sure, let alone homes of old friends. Though to be honest, not many old friends had homes. Nor did he have many old friends who weren't Jedi by this point. Not ones he could get in touch with anymore at least. The paintings no the wall were certainly interesting, although he didn't recognize what they were. Planets or planetoids, maybe? He really wasn't sure which ones they were.

He resisted raised an eyebrow at Pitir's comment about Amadea not stopping talking about him. He wasn't entirely sure why that was the case, but so be it. He'd been gone a long time and maybe things had changed. She was a few years older than him, if he remembered correctly. He stepped forward and shook the man's hand though.

"Good to meet you! Glad you two have found such a good place together." He looked around the room once more and took a seat at the table. "Stir-fry sounds wonderful. Been eating travel rations too much lately." He grimaced. "Almost a nightmare, and oh, just blue milk, if you have any. If not, anything you have works."

He leaned back in his seat. The tension in his neck lingered. Still indistinct. Still ominous. He was still being followed then, even after the netherworld chaos. He frowned slightly at that and then let it wash away through the Force .He would confront his stalker, that assassin droid, if that was the case, at a later time. Not now. Not here. Not when it would place friends in danger. "How long have you two had this place?"