Private Help From The Space Monks

[Olaya Astrapí]

Growing up on Arkania, Olaya always had heard of the Jedi. How they were peace keepers, upholders of justice, heroes. Yet, no heroes has ever come to Olaya's aid in her life. Not against her mother, not against the offshot Mandalorian Clan that had enslaved her for a time, and not against her own self. She always had to wander the galaxy alone, and she knew fully well that she had only become a selfish nerf herder for it. A bantha's mother. A witch. Her entire world had crumbled around her, for so long, and she had no idea where to go. Who was she supposed to be? Was she ever able to become a better person? Did she even want to? Standing on the long steps of the Jedi Temple, the ancient Jedi Temple of eons past, she clenched a holopad to her chest. For all the good things she heard of these Space Monks, she needed guidance.

She had done her best to take care of her appearance. Her white hair was curled and bouncy, and she wore a makeup to bring some color to her pale face. She wore her whitecoat proudly, with business attire beneath. Whatever she was walking into, she wanted to look her best. She wanted to look serious. And, her old vanity had never left her.

Walking up the steps, she looked up at the looming statues of Force Users long gone. The architecture here was impressive, leaving her in awe. She found herself before the entrance to the Temple far faster than she had thought she would. There were no doors keeping her from this place. Was security here really that poor? Or could the Jedi somehow sense when people were here? Olaya was Force Sensitive, though her mother refused to let the Jedi take her so she could have her heir. She had never been trained, not in the slightest. Olaya knew there had been moments though. She could just… feel… if something was amiss in the air. She had a history of hunches, and she felt some sort of invisible guidance when firing blasters in the past. Was that the Force? She had always attributed it to just her own traits. She sometimes forgot she was Force Sensitive at all.

Standing in front of the gates, holding a holopad in one hand and a holocomputer in another, she waited. She hoped. She hoped that someone would come to help this hopeless wretch that was Olaya Astropi.

Amani Serys

 

[Amani Serys]

Though the majority of Amani's work was confined to the Halls of Healing, she made efforts to get out and experience the Temple's many other facets when she could. And so when she happened upon a lost-looking figure in the temple archway, it was a mere coincidence of time and place.

Then again, the will of the Force did like to disguise itself in innocuous ways.

Her nose was buried in a datapad, until the silhouette caught her eye, causing her focus to snap onto the unfamiliar sight. With no one else in the vicinity, Amani took it upon herself to investigate. She smoothed out her habit, and approached with a professional smile, "Ahem… Hello? Can I… help with something?" The new arrival didn't exactly look like your typical Jedi, which only made her more curious.

Olaya Astrapí​

 

[Olaya Astrapí]

When a Jedi approached her, Olaya maintained an upright and proud posture. She had been trained to appear confident and professional growing up. She approached the Jedi, her whitecoat flowing in the wind, and observed. This was a mirialan. A species near identical to humans, save for different skin and some natural agility. This individual gave off the vibes of a bookworm or busy librarian. As the Jedi spoke, Olaya listened and waited her turn. Then, she responded.

"Greetings. I am Doctor Olaya Astropi."

It was a formal introduction. And yet, she wanted to cave. Cave and tell this Jedi of the storm inside her. The guilt, the loneliness, the fear. The desire for more. She was an expert at putting on a mask, and she felt like she was going on for a job interview. Yet, being a Jedi was different than your average job. Should she remain the professional doctor? Should she drop the act instead? Her upbringing told her not to crack, but she came here out of desperation.

She gulped.

She lifted a hand and politely cleared hee throat. Then, she continued, "I came here with the interest of joining your order. I have my resume here with me."

For now, it was the glass fragile doctor who spoke.

Amani Serys

 

[Amani Serys]

The mirialan extended a hand and introduced herself, "Amani Serys." A doctor, Olaya called herself. Certainly not a typical arrival at the Jedi Temple. She was quick to specify the reason for her visit, to which Amani blinked, "…Résumé?" The woman's understanding of Jedi operation was clearly limited. Not that it came as a surprise. Many who were not raised in such an environment had little understanding of the Order, "That won't be necessary, I think. All we'll really need is a simple blood test," The Force could be sensed in all living things by a trained sensitive, and Amani could pick up on it within Olaya just as well. She seemed a likely candidate, but further evidence through a test would be for the best.

She turned and stepped back towards the temple, ushering for the doctor to follow, "After which you can decide if you're certain you want to join. What brings you here now?" Most newcomers were children or teenagers. An adult with no previous training in the Force was indeed a noteworthy exception.

Olaya Astrapí​

 

[Olaya Astrapí]

Like a child in a candy factory, but also like a tooka nervously entering the dark, Astrapi followed the Jedi Master Serys through the halls. The statues and simple architecture were amazing. The ancient carpet was soft, yet thin. Looking around, the doctor tried to keep her head high; her nervousness hidden.

Following the Jedi, Olaya looked down at her hand. Her four fingers were of Arkanian heritage. And that, that was where she grew up. The environment of superiority and coldness. She frowned, hints of the proud doctor melting into cracks.

"My mother refused to let the Jedi take me as a child. She wanted her perfect legacy, her heir. And that was what I grew up to be."

She continued to look down at her hand. Her tone was soft and quiet, subdued. "I grew into a wretched person. One moment, I was looking after patients in the first aid program I volunteered in. The next, I was mocking any species that was not Arkanian. It made my mother proud, and it made me feel better about myself. I was never good enough for my mother. But being Arkanian, I felt like I was better than somebody. I was manipulative and selfish. My mother's pawn."

"The first act of rebellion against my mother in my life was switching degrees from a geneticist to a doctor. She excommunicated me, it hurt. But I have no regrets."

She shivered, remembering her rough captivity in Clan Yflings. "But it took being a thrall to an offshoot Mandalorian Clan for me to realize it. To realize the horrid person I am."

She closed her eyes, holding back tears, "And I don't want to be that anymore."

She clenched her fist, "That is why I want to be a Jedi. I want to be something else, something better, than what I am now."

Looking up, she cried out, "But if I am too far gone, then by all means, cast me out now! I don't need mind games anymore! But please, if you see any good in me, just give me a chance!"

She paused. With sudden realization, she looked towards a door in the long temple hallways. The Jedi stood in front of it, ready to enter the medical bay.

It dawned on her that there was liquid slipping down her cheeks. She lifted her hand and wiped away tears. She gulped, swiftly clenching the bags she had come with and resuming an upright posture. She blinked, eyes sorrowful and sick, but body upright and tall. "I apologize. I lost my composure, Master Jedi."

Amani Serys

 

[Amani Serys]

Amani was a bit taken aback, as the doctor immediately broke and divulged her whole story in response to what was, on the surface, a rather simple question. She stood, shuffling awkwardly in front of the doors to the Healing Halls until Olaya finished, then offering her a sympathetic frown, "I'm… sorry. I didn't realize you'd been through so much," Everyone had their own demons, and the healer wasn't often one to judge. She opened the doors, and gestured inside, "We're not really in the business of condemning people for past mistakes. A bit of self-awareness and a desire to change go a long way. Here— Follow me."

Amani led into the lobby, which was painted an array of soothing colors and decorated with healthy plant life. It was a calm, almost meditative atmosphere, designed to put the mind and body at ease, "These are our medical facilities: The Halls of Healing," Behind the reception desk, a humanoid droid with a digitized face offered them a wave and changed his face into a ": )". The mirialan waved back, before stepping into a small exam room.

"Now… We just need to test your force-sensitivity. If you wouldn't mind offering me your arm," She searched through a drawer for a small device, holding it out to prick the Arkanian's skin.

Olaya Astrapí​

 

[Olaya Astrapí]

​

Olaya realized just how awkward she had made the situation. Even in her emotional state, she wanted to slap herself. What was she thinking! She never would have gotten away with such an emotional outburst growing up! Furthermore, she was hardly ever socially awkward or inept. What had made her do this just now? Was it desperation? An inability to read what kind of environment she was in, perhaps? Were the Jedi professional or more relaxed? When all they wanted was just a blood test, it was hard to tell! Were they supposed to be disciplined or something? Thoughts racing as she followed the Jedi Master in, she reached up with her hand and clenched her forehead. She was developing a headache…

She lowered her hand when asked for her arm. She placed her equipment on a nearby table and rolled up her whitecoat's sleeve, offering her bare arm. A doctor herself, she never shied away from this kind of stuff. As she offered her arm, she sighed.

"I do apologize for my outburst. I… never do things like that. I do not know what came over me..."

She gritted her teeth, not in response to the needle, but to her own foolishness. Was she losing it? Oh, what kind of question was that! She had already lost it back when she was a thrall! And that was months back now! She was no longer the person she used to be. Did that make her… dangerously unhinged? She most certainly hoped not! Her mind was unstable and shaky, like heavy holotelevision static. Like an kyber crystal on the verge of exploding. It was inbalanced at capable of snapping in a diversity of ways. Was this newfound lack of emotional regulation just one side effect of that? Would she have to delve into her own neuropsychology to figure that out? Neuropsychology was one realm of the medical field she had basic knowledge in, though nothing too in depth. Perhaps, in hind sight, she had been too scared to look into it further while studying for her degree.

Meanwhile, the test itself would show that while her Force Sensitivity was not off the charts like an individual like the legendary Anakin Skywalker's, Olaya indeed would be positive for attuned, though unlocked, Force Sensitivity. And like many families with repeated cases of this, Olaya's entire family infact had Force Sensitivity as a genetic factor. Through her father's side, though none necessarily became Jedi or Sith of great prominence through history. Perhaps a couple cases of unremarkable members of their respective orders, though they were outliers in the family's history of scientists and brilliant minds. While Olaya's father's own Force Sensitivity was never enough to become any kind of Force user, both his daughters were Force Sensitive. Not only Olaya, but her half sister Gwyneira Vizsla as well. Perhaps, it skipped a generation?

Regardless, it was true. Olaya Astrapi was not only Force Sensitive, but showed great potential in her number of midichlorians.

Amani Serys

 

[Amani Serys]

Amani shook her head, "It's fine, really," She tried to assure. With a quick prick, the healer had a blood sample, and inserted it into a scanner which quickly offered an estimate on her Force potential. She studied the results in silence, nodded, then set the scanner, "Well, you're definitely Force-sensitive."

Which only left one thing. Amani leaned against the counter, "What do you know about the Jedi?"

Olaya Astrapí​