Private Crazy Rich Jedi

[Xian Xiao]

Xian didn't get far before her lungs started to burn, but she didn't stop.
Not yet.
Not while her chest felt tight and her thoughts kept crashing over each other like a storm she couldn't calm down.

Noriko's presence brushed her mind through the Force—soft, reaching, calling her back.

Xian flinched.

Not out of fear.
Out of confusion.
Hurt.
Embarrassment.

Why did she always make everything worse? Why couldn't she just… be normal? Quiet? Easy?

She wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve—furious that she'd even teared up at all—and kept running until the palace rooftops dipped out of sight and the wind was the only thing answering her.

When she finally slowed, she collapsed onto a smooth stone outcropping overlooking the fields, her breath shuddering as she curled her knees up to her chest. The horizon stretched wide and golden. The longma riders moved like living shadows far below. She knew she shouldn't be here alone. She knew Noriko was right about the danger.

She also knew she couldn't go back yet, not like this.

Her small voice escaped before she could swallow it down.

"Gray hair… she keeps saying gray hair…"

She sniffed, scowling at herself for sounding pathetic.

"I'm not trying to give her gray hair," she muttered into her knees. "I just… I don't know how to talk without messing everything up."

A gust of wind rolled over her, warm and sympathetic. It made her hair whip forward against her cheeks, and she buried her face deeper into her arms.

"She probably thinks I'm ungrateful. Or stupid. Or… or just a problem to deal with."
Her throat tightened again.
"That's what everybody used to think."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm trying," she whispered, barely audible, as if admitting it too loudly would make it less accurate. "I really am."

The breeze answered—gentle, brushing her shoulders like a hand that wasn't quite there. She hugged her knees tighter.

"I just needed to get away before I said something I couldn't take back…"
A shaky breath.
"…again."

She stared at the distant line of the palace roofs glowing under the late afternoon light.
Noriko was somewhere back there—probably annoyed, definitely worried, maybe even angry.

Despite all her own frustration, despite her instinct to run from everything that scared her…

Xian's chest pinched at the thought of Noriko actually giving up on her.

"I'll go back," she murmured.
"Just… not yet."

Her fingers brushed over the pendant hidden under her tunic—the small one Noriko had given her on their first real day together. The weight of it steadied her a little.

"…I just need a minute," she whispered to the wind.

And for now, at least, the wind stayed with her.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

Noriko rolled over as she enjoyed the breeze coming from the dusky air. She rolled off of the lounge where she was and looked around. "Where's my cloths?" She said it as she stretched out. She was looking around as the empress spoke. "Hmm I guess one of the servants took them, they were thrown about master jedi." She was leggy and Noriko looked at her as she was adjusting her long hair.. it wasn't as massive as the empresses but she was looking around. "Well... I need to get back to my room. Xian might be back who knows so I should be there to eat." She said it and gave up looking as she looked at the empress. "Can I borrow something?"

The woman looked at her. "I am nearly three feet taller then you and have enough muscle for two more. I don't think anything would fit you." She said it and it was less joking and she was doing it more as a matter of fact as Noriko nodded and looked. "Fine then I shall do this the old fashioned old... push ups, sit ups and plenty of juice." She said it looking at the empress and started walking while her hair was disheveled with a look on her face while she marched out and the sun was setting... the whistles were coming while she walked and she wasn't one for embarrassment after so long so she would be able to handle it as she strode through the palace finding the room and going in as she got dressed with some food and laid down.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian had been curled on her bed, knees tucked up, trying very hard not to think about the argument… or about the fact that Noriko hadn't come back for a long time… or about the enormous palace full of strangers she didn't understand.

She told herself she wasn't waiting. She told herself it didn't matter. She told herself she didn't care.

She was lying to herself, but she didn't say that part out loud.

The door slid open.

Xian looked up—and everything in her brain stopped.

Noriko stepped in as if returning from a peaceful afternoon stroll.

And she was utterly, absolutely, unmistakably naked.

Xian's breath caught in her throat, not loud, not a scream — just a sharp, tiny, stunned inhale that felt like someone had punched the air out of her.

Her fingers curled tight against the blankets as she stared for one impossible second… then immediately jerked her gaze downward to the floorboards, face burning so hot she thought she might combust.

"…wh—why… are you—like that?" she managed, voice very small, very breathless, carefully controlled to keep from being loud again. She didn't even look up; she spoke straight into her knees.

Her thoughts spun wildly, tripping over each other.

She went outside like that? Someone could have seen— Everyone probably saw— Oh no, oh no, oh no— Xian squeezed her eyes shut, mortified on a cellular level.

"I…" She swallowed, searching for the right tone — quiet, polite, not disrespectful, definitely not shouting. "I thought you were gone. For real gone."

Her voice cracked at the end despite her best efforts.

She hugged her knees tighter.

"And then you just—walk back in—like that—"

She risked a single glance up, only for her gaze to immediately shoot back down again when she realized Noriko was still unbothered.

Xian pulled the blanket halfway over her face.

"…You can't just—do that," she whispered, ears hot, heart hammering. "People will… look at you."

A beat.

Quieter, honest in a way she didn't mean to let slip:

"I didn't want something bad to have happened to you."

She curled her toes, embarrassed by the confession, hiding deeper under the blanket.

"…you were gone a long time…"

The last words were barely audible. Not loud. Not angry. Just… small. And afraid of losing someone again.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

Noriko looked at Xian when the girl spoke and she looked around. "Like what?" She said it and was moving. "What do I have something on my face? In my teeth?" She said it looking around for a moment as she walked with her arms coming out. "I was working out. Stamina pain management and mental focus." She said it finding some of the clothing and getting it on for the night. She grabbed some food and moved as she sat down to eat putting her saber staff on the table with a stretch. "Oh that was fun." She said it while holding the plate. "Feel better now?" She asked it while taking some bites of the food while she haad a drink with a nod of her head. "Got to hydrate the empress had me busy all day."

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian paused in the doorway when Noriko finally looked at her, the question catching her mid-step. For a moment, she didn't answer, just watched her move around the room with that easy confidence that always seemed to fill whatever space she was in. Her dark eyes flicked briefly over Noriko's face, as if actually checking, before she shook her head once.

"No," she said quietly. "Nothing on your face. Or your teeth."

She crossed her arms, leaning her shoulder lightly against the wall while Noriko finished getting dressed and settled in with her food. The lightsaber staff on the table drew a glance, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she waited until Noriko had taken a few bites before speaking again, her tone more measured than it had been earlier that day.

"I just meant… You seem different," Xian said, choosing the words carefully. "Calmer. Like you actually enjoyed yourself instead of pushing through it because you had to." Her gaze dropped for a second, then lifted again. "I wasn't criticizing. Just noticing."

She stepped farther into the room, moving to sit on the edge of the opposite chair rather than pacing or hovering. When Noriko asked if she felt better, Xian hesitated, then gave a slight nod.

"A little," she admitted. "Things make more sense when people stop talking at me." A pause, softer now. "I didn't mean to make things harder earlier."

At the mention of the Empress keeping Noriko busy all day, Xian's brow lifted slightly—not judgment, just curiosity—but she didn't pry. Instead, she folded her hands together, grounding herself.

"I'm glad you had a good day," she said. "Really."

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

She gave a shrug of her shoulders while she continued eating. "It is fine. I get there are changes you are going through. I know better than most but for now I am just going to work out in the morning. If you want to join me you want. Sleep, eat, fly around whichever makes you happy." She took another bite. "Before you get on and start, no I am not abandoning you, no I don't dislike you... but it is clear that how I train all of my body isn't what you want. You want to fly then fly and allow your other aspects to atrophy from disuse. There are a few jedi who had done this in aspects allowing themselves to become highly specialized. I train to have stamina, muscle and fluidity in my movement for combat and getting around."

She finished eating and moved towards the bed as she stretched out in it with a small look on her face. "Hit the lights and go to sleep Xian." She said it while rolling over to find a comfortable position half in and half out of the sheets while she buried her head on the pillow with her hair over most of her face. "But it was good today, the empress is insightful... also tall most of the time I was just looking at those abs you could cut diamonds with." Noriko looked at some of it though thinking about before she nodded to herrself and pulled with her hand out her saber to set it under her pillow just in caase it was needed so it was saafe.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian didn't argue this time.

Not because she suddenly agreed—not entirely—but because she was too worn down to push back again. The last two days had been nothing but snapping edges and frayed nerves, every conversation turning sideways no matter what she meant. And after running off earlier, hearing the Empress's scouts had noticed, knowing she'd embarrassed Noriko… the fight had drained out of her.

She stood near the door for a moment, cloak still wrapped tight around her shoulders even though the room was warm. Her eyes flicked toward Noriko, then to the floor. Quietly, she crossed the room and shut off the lights as asked, the click small and soft in the dark.

"Okay," she murmured—barely above a breath, but sincere.

Not defiant.
Not sulking.
Just… tired.

She moved to her side of the room and lowered herself onto the bed, curling up beneath the blankets. For a long moment she just lay there staring into the dark, listening to Noriko settle, listening to the faint shift of sheets and the muffled sound of her saber hilt sliding under the pillow.

The comment about the Empress's abs made her hide a tiny smile in the blankets. It didn't fix anything, but it eased some of the tight knot building behind her ribs.

After a few seconds, she finally whispered, voice small and even:

"…I wasn't trying to make everything harder."

Another beat.

"I'm… still figuring things out. I'll try not to make you worry again."

Her fingers curled lightly into the blanket, as if anchoring herself.

"And… goodnight, Noriko."

She didn't expect a reply. Didn't need one. But she stayed awake for a little while longer, breathing quietly, letting herself settle, letting the room finally feel safe again.

She would sleep.
She would try again tomorrow.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

"Goodnight" She said it more as a whisper while settling in and allowing herself to breath and drifted toward sleep. The blankets pooled around her like quiet dunes, her breath settling into a patient rhythm. To anyone watching, she appeared simply exhausted, a warrior resting after a long march. But within her mind, a different battlefield unfurled. As her body sank deeper into stillness, the Force folded around her, a velvet current guiding her inward. She felt the first tug of dreaming: not a tumble into chaos, but a deliberate descent, chosen and shaped. Noriko had learned long ago that the line between meditation and dreaming could be thinned, stretched, even rewoven. Tonight, she let it bend.

Her consciousness wandered into a training ground conjured from memory and intuition. The air there was cool, woven with drifting motes of starlight. The ground hummed beneath her feet, as if the Force itself had laid down a heartbeat for her to follow. Noriko stood at the center of this dreamscape, a younger echo of herself yet carrying every scar, triumph, and whispered lesson of her waking years. Her lightsaber flared to life with a muted bloom. In the waking world, it slept under her bedside pillow, but here it thrummed with a resonance that belonged to thought, not metal. She moved through a kata, each step a brushstroke. Her robes streamed behind her like the tail of a comet, though no wind stirred. This place had its own rules, and she shaped them as easily as lifting a cup.

Then the training deepened. Shadows gathered at the edges of the dream, not menacing, but purposeful. They pressed against her awareness like unspoken questions. She welcomed them. Noriko drew them in, not to fight but to study. They swirled around her and formed shifting opponents: possibilities more than beings, each one a scenario she had yet to face. The first advanced with deliberate calm, testing her sense of timing. She answered with a smooth, spiraling parry, the kind that made motion feel like an unbroken ribbon. The second came with unpredictable angles, a puzzle in motion. She split her focus, anticipating patterns before they formed, shaping her counterattacks from intuition rather than logic. With each exchange, she felt her mind refine itself, trimming needless fear, sharpening instinct, polishing discipline.

Outside the dream, her fingers twitched against the pillow. A faint hint of a smile rested at the corner of her mouth, rare and soft. The dream opponents dissolved, reweaving into something quieter. Noriko floated cross-legged in a sphere of hushed starlight. Here, she listened. Not to strategies or warnings, but to the subtler murmur of the Force, the kind that never shouted, only nudged. It brought her the scent of rain from a world she had not yet visited. It brought the impression of a choice she would soon be asked to make. It brought patience, like a gift wrapped in silence. Her sleeping form exhaled. Master Noriko drifted deeper, carried through the night by her own inner practice, her mind a temple lit from within. When dawn finally brushed her window, she would rise rested, sharpened, and serenely prepared, as if the Force had held her gently while she slept and whispered wisdom into her dreams.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian lay awake longer than she meant to.

The room had settled into stillness—the kind that came only after arguments burned themselves out and words were finally spent. Noriko's breathing had evened, slow and steady, a familiar rhythm that anchored the dark. Xian kept her eyes open, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling, listening.

She didn't reach for the Force the way Noriko did. Not deliberately. Not with intent or practice. But it brushed her anyway, like a draft under a door that hadn't been fully shut.

Something… calm.

Not images. Not visions. Just the sense of motion elsewhere, disciplined and focused, like someone moving through water with practiced ease. Xian didn't try to follow it. She just let it exist, the way she let the sound of Noriko breathing exist. Present. Solid. There.

Her fingers curled into the blanket at her chest.

She hadn't meant to make things so hard. She knew that much. The thought sat heavy and unadorned, without excuses. Tomorrow she would try again—listen better, argue less, maybe ask questions instead of assuming answers she didn't actually have.

For now, she turned onto her side, facing the faint shape of Noriko's bed across the room. The anger had cooled into something quieter: confusion, yes—but also relief. She wasn't alone. Even when she ran, even when she shouted, someone was still there when she came back.

Her eyes finally closed.

Xian's breathing slowed, uneven at first, then steadier. Sleep took her not as a plunge, but as a gradual easing, like sinking into warm water. No dreams followed—only darkness and rest, and the faint, unspoken certainty that morning would come whether she was ready or not.

And when it did, she would still be here.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

Dawn's first light slipped through the narrow viewport, a pale light across the bed chamber floor. Noriko's eyes opened without hurry, the transition from dream to waking as seamless as the kata she had preformed hours before in her sleep. The Force lingered around her like a familiar cloak, warm and unobtrusive. She lay still for a breath, listening: the soft, even rhythm of Xian's sleep from the bed, undisturbed. Good. Noriko rose in silence, bare feet touching cool marle. No creak of mattress, no rustle of fabric she moved as she had in the dreamscape, each motion deliberate, economical. The blankets folded themselves behind her with a subtle nudge of will, settling into perfect alignment. She wore only her underwraps.

She began with breath: slow, measured cycles that drew the Force inward, coiling it through muscle and sinew. Then the forms—a hybrid discipline she had forged over decades, blending the predictive elegance of Echani with the brutal lethality of Teräs Käsi, threaded through with flashes of K'thri's rapid flurries and the restrained power of other arts she had sampled across the galaxy. She opened with Echani foundations: open palms tracing invisible dialogues, feints reading phantom intents, weight shifting in mirrored guards that anticipated strikes before they began. Then Teräs Käsi surged in—piston-like strikes that could shatter armor, joint locks designed to counter Force-enhanced speed, each blow a "steel hand" tempered against Jedi foes.

She wove in K'thri's fluid chains: quick, flashy combinations raining down in elegant cascades, legs whipping through spinning kicks that built momentum like a storm. Subtler elements followed—pressure-point redirects from ancient Bunduki scrolls, evasive rolls hinting at Stava's predatory efficiency all adapted for silence, no impact echoing, no air sliced audibly. Tension holds locked her in place for breathless counts, muscles coiling and releasing in controlled waves. Controlled falls into shadow strikes, palms absorbing the floor without sound. She orbited the small space like a silent guardian, the Force amplifying her hybrid style: Echani's foresight merging with Teräs Käsi's raw disruption, K'thri's speed adding unpredictable bursts.

Sweat beaded at her temples, tracing cool paths down her neck. Her breathing remained even, almost inaudible. The dream's refinements deepened here instinct sharpened across disciplines, a personal synthesis that turned body into versatile weapon. As the light strengthened, turning from pearl to gold, Noriko slowed. Final stretches, long and luxurious, releasing the built tension in waves. She stood at the viewport then, hands clasped behind her back, watching the station's traffic lanes begin their morning dance. The Force hummed approval: body honed, mind clear, spirit aligned.

Only when the padawan's breathing shifted the first stirrings of waking did Noriko allow herself the faintest smile. She retrieved her robes from their hook, slipping them on with the same fluid grace. By the time Xian opened her eyes, Noriko would be on her morning run. THe force going through her muscles when she could feel it. Force body and revitalization was there before she was allowing herself to go with her saber staff flying into her hand as she clipped it to the low slung belt on her hips. Each muscle looking taut and relaxed before she was going off in a run.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian woke slowly.

Not with a start, not with the sharp spike of panic that used to pull her out of sleep, but with a quiet awareness that felt… settled. Dawn light filtered through the tall windows, washing the chamber in soft gold and pale rose. For a moment, she stayed still, listening out of habit.

Noriko's bed was empty.

The reflex stirred—brief, sharp—but it didn't take hold. The room didn't feel wrong. The air wasn't hollow. Through the Force, faint but unmistakable, Xian could sense Noriko moving somewhere beyond the walls: focused, grounded, exactly where she said she would be.

Not gone.

Xian let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she was holding and rolled onto her back, stretching long and unhurried. Her arms reached over her head, spine arching as sleep loosened its grip. Whatever tension had followed her to bed the night before slipped away instead of tightening.

She sat up, rubbed her face with both hands, and shuffled toward the fresher. Cool water against her skin chased away the last of the haze. When she looked up, dark eyes met her own in the mirror—still sleepy, but clear. Her hair, on the other hand, was a disaster.

She snorted softly and left it for later.

Hunger came next.

Xian changed into clean clothes first, neat and straightforward, then crossed to the small table where breakfast had been set out. Warm bread, fruit, and tea. She ate slowly, seated by the window, watching the planet wake beyond the palace grounds. The sky stretched wide and open, streaked with morning light, birds circling over distant greenery. It felt different from Coruscant—less crowded, less loud, like the world had room to breathe.

And so did she.

When the plate was empty, Xian rose and returned to the fresher, this time with purpose. She combed through her hair carefully, fingers and brush working together until the tangles gave way. She braided it back neatly, smoothing flyaways and checking her reflection until she looked… presentable. Not perfect. But composed. Someone who belonged here, at least enough not to draw unwanted attention. Appearances mattered. She knew that.

Boots on, tunic straightened, cloak settled just right, Xian paused only once before leaving the room. She reached out lightly with the Force again—just enough to reassure herself. Noriko was still there.

With that quiet certainty warming her chest, Xian stepped into the corridor. The palace halls were already alive with movement—attendants, guards, the soft echo of footsteps against stone. The air carried the faint scents of flowers and incense, old and deliberate.

She walked until she found someone who looked unhurried, someone who wouldn't mind a question.

"Excuse me," Xian said politely, chin lifting just a fraction in respect. "Could you tell me where the library is?" The word alone sparked curiosity.

As she followed the directions she was given, moving deeper into the palace, Xian felt something unfamiliar but welcome settle over her. Solitude. Not loneliness. Just space—safe, steady space—to explore, to learn, to be herself for a little while, knowing that when she turned back, Noriko would still be there.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

Noriko moved as she ran and ran and ran, her breath threading itself into the rhythm of her stride. The pathways around the palace unwound beneath her feet like pale ribbons of stone, curving outward and dissolving into the open fields beyond the walls. What began as urgency softened into something almost meditative, her muscles loosening as the air cooled her skin and the scent of earth replaced marble and incense. She slowed only when the land itself invited her to, stretching beneath a flowering rise where the longmas darted and circled in lazy patterns, their movements playful and unbothered by her presence. She ate sparingly, savoring the quiet more than the food, and let her breathing even out as the sun warmed her back. When she finally lay down, she did so without ceremony, spreading her limbs into the soil as though returning something borrowed. Petals brushed her arms. Roots pressed gently against her spine. For a brief, fragile moment, Noriko allowed herself to simply exist, held by the land rather than moving across it.

The empress, meanwhile, lingered far from the training. She occupied the upper reaches of the grand library, her massive frame balanced with surprising ease upon one of the towering ladders that climbed toward the highest shelves. One hand cradled an ancient tome, its pages worn thin by centuries of reverent use, while the other steadied her against the polished wood. Her expression held quiet fascination, the kind born not from novelty but from recognition of how much still remained unknown. The older records were well established, their truths repeated and reinforced across generations, yet even a finna could not claim completeness. Knowledge was not inherited fully formed, not even by vessels shaped for divinity. It had to be sought, questioned, and sometimes wrestled from obscurity. The lesser known vessels, those whose names had faded from common tongue, held fragments of the god emperor's spirit that history had nearly misplaced. And so the empress read on, intent and patient, aware that understanding herself meant understanding those forgotten echoes as well.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian reached the library just as the morning light shifted entirely through the high arches.

It wasn't difficult to find once she had directions—there was a certain gravity to the place, a quiet pull that seemed to bend the corridors toward it. The air changed as she crossed the threshold, cooler and drier, scented faintly with old paper, binding oils, and polished wood. Sound softened here. Footsteps became careful things. Even her breathing felt too loud for a moment, until she adjusted and let herself settle.

She paused just inside, dark eyes lifting.

The library rose around her in tiers and balconies, ladders tracing elegant paths up walls dense with history. Sunlight spilled in through tall windows, catching dust motes that drifted like lazy constellations. It was… beautiful. Not in the ostentatious way the palace could be, but in something older and steadier. A place meant to hold memory rather than power.

Then she felt her.

Xian didn't need to see the Empress to know she was there. The presence was unmistakable—vast, controlled, and strangely patient, like a mountain that had learned how to listen. Her gaze followed that awareness upward, and there she was: high among the shelves, balanced on a ladder with effortless confidence, an ancient tome open in one massive hand.

Xian stopped entirely this time.

She didn't bow immediately—not out of disrespect, but because she wasn't sure what the proper motion was here, in a place devoted to knowledge rather than ceremony. Instead, she inclined her head, a measured, thoughtful gesture, and waited. The Force around the Empress felt focused inward, absorbed in the text, and Xian did not interrupt it.

She stepped quietly to a nearby table, running her fingers along the spine of a book without pulling it free. Her curiosity hummed, tempered by restraint. This was not her space, not yet. She was a guest here—young, uncertain, learning where she fit.

Still, there was no fear in her chest.

Only a careful, growing sense of awe.

Xian glanced up again, her expression open but composed, and when the Empress's attention inevitably shifted—because someone like that always noticed—she would be exactly where she was meant to be: present, respectful, and ready to listen.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

The sounds of someone entering the library brought her awareness more then her visible attention. She didn't need to look down from the seated position on the ladder as the empress did not move down the ladder; she unfolded within it, her presence resolving for a moment as she moved almost bonelessly and quietly down the ladder like a sudden, profound shift in atmospheric pressure. Her height was a pillar of silent authority, her body a testament to sculpted discipline every line of her was both forged and fluid, a paradox of dense, corded power moving with lethal elegance. Her abdomen was a crosshatched monument to relentless training, her legs load-bearing pillars tapering to a predator's poised grace. She stood there in the library and looked down at the padawan with her eyes for a moment.

Her eyes those infamous eyes were not merely cold or focused, but burned with the contained, chaotic fire of a quasar's heart, a light that was both an ending and a terrifying beginning. But today, her hair that cultivated, obsidian wealth had undergone another ritual metamorphosis. Gone was the separated symmetry of flat wraps. In its place was a living, breathing double-helix, a single, intricate system that spiraled around her form from crown to heel in a continuous, sinuous embrace. It began at the apex of her skull, where the immense length of her hair was plaited into two foundational, rope-thick strands. These did not part ways. Instead, they twined around one another in a slow, deliberate corkscrew, descending like the central spine of her new raiment. As they curved over the crown of her head and down the nape of her neck, the twin ropes began their possessive orbit of her physique.

They descended not as separate entities, but as interdependent coils. One thick band would sweep over the formidable plane of her shoulder, and as it curved beneath the arm, its counterpart would rise from behind to cross over her clavicle, each pass exchanging dominance from front to back. The effect was a ceaseless, rotating bondage that framed the severe landscape of her torso. It carved across the stark ridges of her abdomen, squeezed the citadel of her waist, and hugged the powerful flare of her hips, all while maintaining its relentless, double-helix spiral. THe empress strode forward as she held the book in her hand and her bare feet were making no sound as she stepped. The sounds of the small bells jingling for a moment as she stepped one foot in front of the others.

Further down, the helix divided yet remained connected. From the ceaseless twist around her thighs, four flat, tape-like bindings emerged. Two spiraled down the formidable cylinders of her calves to secure at her ankles, while the other two launched upwards, following the natural turn of the helix to sheath her arms in a spiral gauntlet from shoulder to wrist. The design was a masterwork of interconnected tension: a pull on one ankle would telegraph its force up the leg, through the central twist at her hip, and down the opposite arm. It was clothing as a unified field theory, every part communicating with every other. Vast tracts of her pale, flawless canvas were displayed between the dark, coiling tracks the broad sweep of her back, the toned expanse of her stomach, the full, powerful curve of her thigh. The architectural severity of the pattern made the exposed flesh seem both more vulnerable and more invincible.

A constellation of minute silver bells was woven into the junctions where the strands crossed, their chime no longer a framework or a tessellation, but a slow, rhythmic pulse, a sonic representation of the helix's inexorable turn. Her face, all sharp sovereignty and cutting planes, watched from within this living lattice. And as she took a single, silent step forward, the entire structure adjusted with a soft, sinuous whisper, the bells emitting a shiver of sound that seemed to hang in the air like frozen breath. It was the sound of her will, given form and motion. She moved more as she looked down. Noriko came to her stomach when the empress was standing tall but she held a hand out offering an area to sit as her words rolled outwards. "Padawan." She spoke but closed the book though.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian felt the shift before she heard it.

The air in the library changed—not abruptly, not violently, but with the unmistakable pressure of something vast turning its attention toward her. She lifted her gaze as the Empress descended, unfolding from the ladder with a grace that felt less like movement and more like inevitability. Xian did not step back. She did not bow too quickly, either. Instead, she straightened where she stood and inclined her head once, deeply and deliberately, the way Noriko had taught her to acknowledge authority without shrinking beneath it.

The sound of the bells lingered in the quiet like a held breath.

When the Empress spoke, Xian's attention sharpened fully, her dark eyes steady and unflinching despite the sheer presence before her. She took in the offered space, the invitation implicit in the gesture, and only then did she move—slowly, carefully—crossing the polished floor and settling where indicated. She sat with her back straight, hands resting loosely in her lap, posture composed but not rigid. There was no performance in it—only respect.

"Yes, Empress," she said softly.

Her voice did not carry fear, nor bravado. It was the voice of someone young but attentive, someone who understood that this was not a place for either defiance or flattery. The Force around her was quiet, folded inward, not hidden but contained—like a flame banked low rather than extinguished.

"I was told the library was here," Xian continued after a brief pause, just long enough to ensure she was not interrupting something unspoken. "I hoped to spend some time reading. I have… not had access to a place like this before."

She hesitated, then, honestly, added, "I did not expect to find you."

Not surprise. Not an accusation. Just truth.

Her gaze dipped for a moment to the closed book in the Empress's hand, then returned to her face. There was curiosity there—careful, respectful curiosity—but also something quieter beneath it. A recognition that knowledge, in all its forms, was being treated here not as ornament, but as labor.

"If this is not a good time," Xian said gently, already prepared to rise if needed, "I can come back later."

She did not move yet. She waited.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

She looked down at the girl for a moment. "It is fine, I was just reading some of the older journals. The past emperors and empresses did much but not everything is remembered when it is considered mundane." She said it and walked as she held the book. "When I was training for this, when the old emperors body was aging. It was one of my favorite places to be." She said it while she walked and set the book on the table but she looked down at the girl.. she was short already and sitting down. "I am uncertain if you will be able to read our language though but there are some with engravings." She said it while she was walking towards the doors with a glide to her steps.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian's shoulders eased a fraction as the Empress spoke, some of the tension she hadn't realized she was carrying loosening at the calm, almost casual tone. She remained seated where she was, small in comparison but not diminished by it, hands folded neatly in her lap as her gaze followed the taller woman's movement through the stacks.

When she answered, her voice was soft and earnest, threaded with a dry edge of honesty rather than embarrassment.

"I have a hard enough time with Basic most days," she admitted, a faint, self-aware smile touching her lips as she dipped her head in respect. "I don't think your language would survive me trying to sound it out, Your Highness."

Her dark eyes flicked briefly toward the shelves, toward the ancient volumes and the weight of memory they carried, then back again.

"But I like places like this," she added after a beat, quieter now. "Even when I can't read the words… it still feels like they're saying something."

It wasn't flattery—just a simple truth.

She straightened a little, posture careful, respectful without being stiff. "If there are engravings, though," Xian continued, curiosity slipping through despite herself, "I'd like to see them. Pictures make more sense to me. They always have."

She paused, then added gently, as if not wanting to presume, "If that's allowed."

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

"We have no rules against looking at pictures padawan." She said it only grinning a little to herself while she moved and allowed the soft jingle to be a little louder when she found a place. Another book as she opened it with on hand and guided her thumb to flip the pages. She was reading from the seat of the ladder while remaining silent enough. Her head only going up when another person entered. "Empress, we received a transmission. The airship for the jedi is approaching the borrders." The womans head gave a nod as she looked at the padawan. "Let them thrrough, a small treat so they don't have to ride a longma back to the border. I know it is easier to cross our territory then go around for the jedi's next destination."

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian's attention sharpened the instant the word Jedi landed in the air.

Not with alarm—but with recognition.

She didn't move at first, didn't interrupt, only listened as the attendant finished the report and the Empress answered without hesitation. Let them through. A courtesy. A calculated kindness. And suddenly the pieces aligned in her mind with quiet certainty.

The approaching airship wasn't some distant, abstract concern.

It was theirs.

Her shoulders eased rather than tensed, the realization settling like a weight finally set down. Noriko hadn't vanished. She hadn't left Atrisia in silence. She was doing exactly what she'd said she would do—moving, handling things, trusting Xian to exist without being tethered for a few hours.

Xian let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

When the Empress's gaze returned to her, Xian straightened slightly, hands still loosely folded, posture respectful but no longer uncertain. The faint jingle of bells underscored the moment, and for once it didn't make her feel small.

"That would be us," Xian said quietly, dark eyes lifting. "My master and me."

She paused, then added—carefully, honestly—"Thank you. Noriko…doesn't love unnecessary detours." There was the barest hint of humor there, restrained but real.

In response to the earlier comment about pictures, Xian's mouth curved again, this time more openly. "They're safer," she admitted. "And harder to misunderstand."

She glanced briefly toward the shelves towering above them, then back to the Empress. "I was looking for the library," she said, "but I think I found what I needed anyway."

Not knowledge. Not text.

Quiet. Proof of return. The assurance that someone had stayed close enough to come back for her.

"I won't be long," Xian added, respectful and sincere. "I just…wanted to see the place before we go."

She didn't say goodbye. Not yet.

Noriko Ike

 

[Noriko Ike]

Xian Xiao

"She doesn't, certainly surprised me." The empress said it and it wasn't a joke while she sat there with a small look. "The Atrisians, the others outside our borders confuse what we do but in truth our pheromones can be triggering in ways to outsiders." She said it while being there and didn't have toi look up. "Your master seems to enjoy them at least. I haven't seen an outsider respond like her in nearly two hundred thousand years." She said it with a laugh to herself while flipping the page. "But when the airship arrives enjoy it, the mountains on the borders are some of the most beautiful and they go up into the ancient palaces of the dragon riderrs, the heavenly hosts and beings far older then even the ancient atrisians."