tea time
SHIRAYA'S SANCTUARY
MASTER BASRAN'S QUARTERS
This was an interesting line of argument, Sela thought. Promising, even. Intellectually stimulating.
"That is an interesting perspective," she conceded to her former Padawan, trying not to sound too proud. He was only back a few minutes and she couldn't have him getting a big head already. Not when there was plenty of time for him to see how impressed she was by how he had grown since he'd left into the great big galaxy on his own.
"In some ways, this is why I felt drawn to the Shirayan Code," Sela said, her tone somewhere between one she'd use in a classroom setting and the casual conversation of a friendly chat. "It is less... restrictive is not the correct word," she mused aloud, looking at the ceiling as she searched for the right one. After a moment she ventured forward: "It respects a certain -- reality -- rather than insisting that we all live in unreality and then be punished for not conforming to it."
Another sip of tea burned along her tongue, and Sela set the tea on the table. "There again, there is still structure, so -- "
She fell silent, a faint darkness coloring her cheeks when she realized she was doing it again. That very Sela Basran thing of blowing straight past the guardrails and into an intellectual discussion even when one was neither called for nor desired. She cleared her throat and took out a kerchief to dab her lips. "Itching powder, Delphis? Really, you cannot think me so uninspired. I will say the mucking-out was a punishment that fit the crime. A few of my fellow delinquents and I released three of the enclave's farm's bantha calves into the Padawan dormitories -- shaved with the numbers 1, 3, and 4. The fourth calf we stashed in seed storage shed. There was quite a to-do in the enclave that day, I can assure you."
After a sensible chuckle, Sela took another sip of the tea. "I am endlessly curious about this Living Force. I have heard of it, of course, but I cannot pretend to be an expert. Could you enlighten me, please?"