Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Here, Light Still Shines

grace requires nothing of me

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It was odd.

Efret could admit as much.

The strength of the connection she and Corazona von Ascania had formed and the time they had known each other was inversely related, at least at present and from her perspective, but that itself wasn’t what was strange. Strong bonds could grow between any two beings, forged by time and often also tribulation; sometimes, though, their rise avoided explanation. There was a quality, or maybe a few, to Cora that had drawn Efret in closely, quickly, like a planet capturing a rogue object hurdling lost through space. They had been through quite a bit together too, from their visit to Efret's former enclave on Taris early on in their friendship to their exploration of Deep Well to their cooperative work as Jedi councilwomen.

What Efret wouldn’t admit, at least not as readily, was that she considered Cora like a mother to her.

That a Jedi would relate to another her junior in both years and expertise so deeply was the almost-inexplicable part.

After all, masters were supposed to become like parents to knights, padawans, and younglings. Efret had probably filled those shoes for many on Coruscant and beyond, but she found those same shoes empty for herself.

She had a birth mother, of course; Ierran Nalle-Farr, a woman whom the Force told Efret was alive and well in Province Bepru on Lorrd. Even in the ever-shifting tides of galactic conquest, the Farrs’ homeworld seemed destined to be caught between Darksider territories. Thus, it hadn’t ever felt safe enough to visit her family, and that was not the sort of thing it seemed to her like a Jedi should chance.

And though Efret hadn’t seen Ierran for more than two decades, a certain familiarity hung about Cora. It eluded full explanation. Maybe part of it was longing for a surrogate for that specific kind of connection that she had been forced to leave behind.

Yes, that was it. That was what had brought her to the Jedi enclave on Ukatis. She hadn’t arranged her visit, but she hoped that she’d be welcomed here nonetheless. As she walked through the overgrown campus towards the main building, nerves and wonder mingled, fluttering, in her chest.

The fire that the Galactic Alliance had carried might have been snuffed out, but embers from it still smoldered throughout the High Republic and beyond. Efret knew one such hearth to be Shiraya's Sanctuary on Naboo. Though she had only been there once half a year ago, she was able to feel its heartbeat from where she had retired in Lake Country. It was strong and steady, the makings of another great foothold of hope in the galaxy.

Here, too, the Light still shone.

She only dared to hope for herself that the Jedi here—and least of all Cora—didn't consider the former Chief Curator to be an apostate for resigning before the Fall, or worse, a traitor with foresight she hadn't shared.

 

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Cora felt Efret's approach before she'd even crossed the foggy boundary that encircled the temple grounds.

It wasn't an immediate thing, but a faint, familiar brush against her consciousness. Something she couldn't quite parse out at first, but trusted all the same.

She stood in what amounted to the temple’s garden, tending to the wild roses when Lucy began to squirm. At three months, the babe had spent more time in a sling, resting against her mother's chest, than she did in her pram or crib.

"We trim the roses to help them grow," she explained. "If you cut away the dead ends," her shears clipped at withered, woody stalks, "it helps to keep them healthy. When they're too crowded, they compete for nutrients."

Bundled in warm fabric, Lucy let out a soft grunt at the explanation of today's lesson. Cora could feel the wriggling of her little limbs, and with her free hand, gave the bundle a soothing pat.

"Shall we go and see who's come to visit us?"

Lucy gurgled her approval.

Cora gathered her gardening tools, and the pair began weaving through the wild hedges of greenery. The cold winter clouds above them and started to break up, throwing dappled sunlight over them as they moved towards the overgrown courtyard.

Towards something familiar in its warmth.

Efret Farr Efret Farr
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grace requires nothing of me

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Ensil.

A human padawan had stopped sparring his animated dummy made of tightly wrapped vines. When he lowered his training saber to his side, the mannequin likewise stood down. “Who's that?” he whispered.

His Duros friend glanced first to him, then followed his gaze.

Past the limits of the training alcove, a woman with dark hair cascading down her back had entered the main courtyard, her back to the padawans. She wore black, and a saree no less, an attire at odds with the brown and tan tunics she had once worn regularly, but Ensil recognized her anyway. The convor on her shoulder made both of their identities unmistakable.

His red eyes seemed to sparkle in the shy light. “No way…

His friend stepped closer to his side. “What?

That's Master Farr,” answered Ensil.

The former Chief Curator?

Yeah.

Ensil almost felt his friend's scowl. “She left the NJO before it collapsed, didn't she?

The question hadn't seemed intended as an actual question but an accusation, which wouldn't do. Ensil felt moved to stand up for the former councilwoman, so he did. He looked away from Efret at his friend and said, “Coruscant would have still fallen even if she hadn't.

Why would you say something like that?” a feminine voice injected into the conversation. Another padawan, a Falleen named Shermi, had paused her own martial practice sometime and approached the boys. “Because she's Deaf and Blind?

Shermi hadn't shared with many at this enclave that she had a pheromone dysfunction, but what was well known was her admiration of Efret Farr. She had done a research project relatively recently on her and her contributions for Modern Jedi History class.

No, that's not—” Ensil began defensively, then stopped himself. Jedi didn't whine, he reminded himself; they simply corrected. “She's an Archeologist.

His friend offered his own correction. “Was.

A Jedi is always a Jedi, short of a fall," Ensil stated, almost surely repeating something he had heard from a master. That didn't mean that he didn't believe it though. "And if she's here in peace, she hasn't fallen and,” he jabbed a finger into his friend's shoulder, “you should show some respect.

That and,” Shermi added, “I heard that she held out against a Darkside Elite twice.” Both boys gave her looks—Ensil confused and the other annoyed. “What? I read Grandmaster Noble’s after action reports.” She hadn't compiled them for fun. “That's impressive, Dion, admit it!

Not as impressive as what all Knight von Ascania has been through,” Dion argued, crossing his arms. “And she stayed to the end. She was in the Grand Temple when the Empire took Coruscant.

The Force rippled like a brewing sea between the trio.

 
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